#you’re terrified of this because you have thought of every possibility and every outcome and every twist and turn and shadow—- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whchenlvr · 4 months

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omgg hellooooo ! just had an idea for a hc and was wondering if u could write about it!! so the hc would be about the union boys dating the reader but they gotta keep it secret bc they are kinda afraid someone would use their gf as blackmail or hurt them eventho they can defend their so (i hope u get me hfjfj) and if u wanna do one with the eunjang boys i thought they probably could be dating someone who is close to the union or wtv !! its up to u ofc

secretly dating him ;

weak hero x fem!reader

donald na

➤ he’s scared. like genuinely terrified by the thought of anyone finding out who you are, especially since he just declared war against eunjang, and his union is falling apart

➤ you’re thankful that he feels safe enough with you to confide these thoughts to you, and you know how dangerous it can be for him

➤ before, he would have kept your relationship a secret to show his strength, but now, he’s unsure how far people will be willing to go to hurt him, and he doesn’t want to take any chances with you

➤ sometimes it makes you sad that you have to sneak around, but despite all that, he treats you like a princess

➤ “y/n, do you want to rent a movie?” “want me to order us some dinner, darling? or would you prefer if i cooked for you?”

➤ it’s definitely not always easy, but donald makes you feel you feel safe and loved no matter the situation <3

gray yeon

➤ he didn’t mean to fall for you. he didn’t want to, either

➤ you were someone close to the union. the only reason gray contacted you was in hopes of you being able to help him in taking the union down, and though you refused, you found his ambition attractive

➤ you decided to help him after wolf betrayed the union by joining eunjang. it was the perfect opportunity for you to play both fields, and you did

➤ “i overheard kingsley say he was going to try and have ben abducted before the fight to make it seem like he ditched you guys.” “what? where do they plan to take him?”

➤ you take part in helping your boyfriend train eunjang to fight against the union; giving them little tips and tricks about each member they may have to fight

➤ when gray has every possible outcome thought up and planned in his head, he sits you down and finally takes a second to breathe. “what if this doesn’t work?” you knit your brows in confusion and look at him as he continued, “will you be okay?”

➤ you have to assume him that nothing will happen to you, just like how nothing will happen to wolf. you don’t know how true that really is, but it’s enough to calm gray

ben park

➤ he saved you, and now you feel you’re returning the favor

➤ you’d been wanting to leave the union for years, but it’s impossible with your family ties. because of this, you had to keep your relationship with ben a secret

➤ you thought it would be ben trying harder to keep you a secret, but it turns out to be the opposite in your case

➤ you’re so worried that ben will get hurt if anyone finds out you’re dating. the part of the union you’re affiliated with isn’t as forgiving as the portions under donald

➤ “y/n… i hate seeing you stress yourself out with this… it isn’t healthy.” “ben, i won’t let anything happen to you… i wouldn’t survive if it did and it was my fault.” “aw, baby. lucky for us, i’m pretty good at protecting myself.”

➤ still, you’d be triple checking everything whenever you go out with ben, and even scan your room with a bug detector before talking to him on the phone

jake ji

➤ after what happened with his brother kenny, jake doesn’t like talking about the people he loves and cares about with anyone. not even his closest friends in the union

➤ he thinks it’s too dangerous, too much of a risk, and you can only agree as you know how devastated jake was to hear about his brother

➤ you do your best to stay safe and cautious when you meet jake, but he is on a completely other level of paranoid

➤ sometimes, you have to sit him down and take his face in your hands and remind him that you’re safe and nothing is going to happen to either of you. and if it does, it isn’t his fault

➤ that always seems to calm him down until another situation happens. like the time you thought you were being followed and it turned out to be a random student who wanted to compliment your shoes

➤ despite how nervous he can be, jake never hesitates to make sure you feel comfortable at all times. “i kind of want to go out tonight… can we?” “yes, of course y/n. i’m sorry for being so annoying lately.”

gerard jin

➤ you were named the leader of yoosun high after jimmy lost to ben. donald wanted to put someone he trusts in place to teach jimmy a lesson, and he chose you

➤ unfortunately, you’d been seeing the lead singer of slam for nearly a year beneath the union’s nose

➤ while you were quite proud of yourself and gerard for not getting caught, there were a lot more eyes on you now than ever, and you found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder

➤ you don’t know this, but donald had you followed when you first joined the union and knew all about you and gerard. he didn’t tell anyone for three reasons: 1. he trusted you. 2. he didn’t see gerard as a threat to the union. 3. if things did take a turn for the worst, he wanted to see how your story would play out

➤ “what would you do it they found out about us?” gerard would ask as he plays with your fingers, and you’d just sigh. “i don’t know. but i wouldn’t let them tear us apart. i don’t care about eunjang, or yoosun, or the union. all i care about is that you and i are safe.”

➤ fortunately, the secret of you and gerard is one donald keeps with him until the end </3

wolf keum

➤ you were an anomaly in wolf’s life, and he liked to keep it that way

➤ he never had any big secrets. if there was something on his mind that he wanted, he’d get it. he wasn’t quiet in the way he did things, so it’s not like people weren’t always in his business. that was, until you

➤ you were so unlike anything wolf had seen before. you were truly good, through and through, and wolf refused to let his private life corrupt you in any way

➤ not only was wolf keeping you a secret from the union, but he was keeping the union a secret from you

➤ “you trust me, don’t you?” “of course i do, wolf. should i not?” “no, you should. if anyone comes up to you and asks if you know me, you know to tell the no, right?” “right.”

#weak hero webtoon #weak hero #weak hero manhwa #weak hero class 1 #weak hero x reader #wolf keum #donald na #jake ji #ben park #gray yeon #gerard jin

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anika-ann · 2 years

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Love on the Brain - part 6.1

Ch6: Floriography (1/2)

Type: MCU x Criminal Minds crossover series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 5000

Summary: After the long night, you come back to the case with fresh eyes… and a new piece of evidence. You wished more evidence was good news. It’s not.

Series masterlist

Warnings: series includes criminal behaviour such as stalking or kidnapping; graphic violence, gun violence; (mentions of) death; allusions to dub-con; possible PTSD and flashbacks; sexual innuendos and foul language. Loads of fluff and teasing. I’m covering my bases here to make sure - probably sounds worse than it is. If you’re interested in specific warnings for individual chapters, let me know.

A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics; I didn’t want to split this one, but it was getting really really long and no one wants like a 11k chapter. Enjoy 🥰

"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever." — Alfred Tennyson

When you slipped out of Steve’s room, you were met with the smug face of Natasha, the bodyguard ready to walk Steve to the conference room; she assessed your appearance with a smirk on her face, but at least she didn’t dare to say a word beside a good morning.

You questioned whether it was a good one. You strode to your own room to take the world’s quickest shower, jeans and the A.I. t-shirt and hoodie on in a record time, bursting into the room not later than seven minutes after Jarvis alerted you.

Everyone was already in there indeed and they all snapped their gaze to you as you took long quick steps, examining the tables and the white board for new notes. There weren’t many.

“Morning,” you greeted them swiftly, noting that some of them were nursing a small breakfast consisting of fruit, yogurt or granola and fresh juice or a cup of the black coffee, the half-empty pot sitting in the middle of the central table. “What’s the word?”

“Good morning to you too. The word is eat at least a granola bar or a piece of fruit before you ask about work,” Emily hummed good-naturedly, earning an unimpressed look.

Who thought about food when there was clearly some news even if you hadn’t seen any traces of it? They all knew what it was already, you could tell.

But instead of sharing, Emily told to eat.

That could only mean it was not good news, you realized; and you’d be terrified of what it was, but Steve was here, so whatever happened couldn’t be worse than your worst fears.

“She’s right. Sit down and eat something. Drink, Bean,” Spencer supported her, a brief tense smile on his lips.

Grunting, you obeyed, blindly reaching into the bowl of snacks and grabbing a small bottle of water. You took a seat between Steve and Spencer, closer to the latter. Even with the hum of a case in progress, you could sense awkwardness in the air, the unfortunate but expected outcome of the stupid maybe you had told Steve.

Because that was just what you needed now, on top of everything.

Once seated, you moved onto staring Spence down, hoping at least he might spill the beans; the idea that anyone else would was frankly laughable. Natasha wouldn’t budge, neither would Hotch, Tony probably got off of knowing something you didn’t and Emily apparently wouldn’t say a word until you finished chewing.

To his credit, Reid drummed his fingers against his chin, eyeing the board to avoid your gaze. Traitor.

“You didn’t miss anything. As of now, the security team of the Tower is on the highest alert, because of a delivery. We just found out and Tony was about to call Mr. Hogan to give us more information once you’d arrive,” Hotch explained as you took two quick bites and chunked half a small bottle of water.

You nearly choked on it, eyes widening in shock.

Now the semi-ominous faces they all had when you arrived made perfect sense.

This was not good. That meant the unsub was escalating, making contact for the second time in two days and you had a feeling that this time, she wasn’t sending photos.

This was so so not good. It had to have something do with the women in the pictures. God, if it was a body part-

“What kind of a delivery-“

“We don’t know,” Natasha said, not even letting Steve finish the question you would have asked hadn’t you been trying to clear your airways. “Tony?”

“Jarvis, put me through to Happy,” Tony hummed, not even bothering to look up, knowing the artificial intelligence would catch it. “Put it on speaker.”

“Yes, boss.”

You and Reid laid your elbows on the table, leaning forward; he nudged you lightly to finish your excuse of a meal, making you roll your eyes.

You weren’t about to chew when you needed to hear the slightly goofy but most loyal head of the Tower security, one Happy Hogan.

“Hey Tony.”

“And company. Hey,” Tony greeted the voice, the rest of the team following his example. “Talk to us, Happy. What’s up?”

“8 o’clock sharp, there was a flower delivery at the reception desk,” Happy announced matter-of-factly, having you glance at your phone – it was 8:08. This really was relatively fresh news.

Flowers though?

That could mean a myriad of things; and it depended on many factors, starting from the number of flowers, the kind, the price, the type of shop chosen and the area it was stationed at… and most of all, the note if there was one to begin with.

“Okay…? It’s for Steve, I assume?”

“Yeah, unfortunately, that’s all we can do right now. Assume,” Happy replied with a sigh. “There’s no name – no addressee, no signature besides ‘Yours truly’.”

Your eyebrows shot up, heart skipping a beat. It was natural everyone was being cautious – and thank god for that, your mind was already racing, analysing what the signature could mean, the choice of words yours truly rather than more common and less formal secret admirer – but… this could actually be a false alarm.

You prayed it was.

“Oh-kay…?” Tony mumbled, looking just a fraction unsure as he glanced at Hotch and then you.

You exchanged a look with your former boss; a barely visible nod told you he was giving you a green light to take lead on this since Tony seemed a little lost at best.

Steve noted your silent exchange, his foot gently nudging yours in support; even two chairs away, his toes were long enough to reach your insole. Glancing at him with your face as straight as you could muster, you were rewarded with an encouraging smile, causing you to gulp.

Damn him and his stupidly beautiful face and stupidly kind heart.

“Hello Mr.Hogan, Happy, this is Jones. Is there anything else you can tell us about the flowers? Was there something that tipped you off? It’s weird timing for sure, but could it be that the flowers are just for the girl working the reception desk today?” you asked, slipping into the investigation mode and trying your best not to get your hopes up – or to show them.

You fooled no one.

“Not much I can tell. Two dozen of white roses. They’re sweeping them for bugs and prints right now. As for Jody having a secret admirer, well, I doubt that because of the note. It says, and I’m reading word-for-word, ‘I’m sorry I scared you into hiding. I could hurt people who are not worthy of you, if necessary, but I would never hurt you’,” he recited.

The words were like a punch straight to your solar plexus, knocking the wind out of you. You pressed your lips together, hands curling into fists automatically, as if to strike back – but there was nothing you could punch, nothing you could fight off.

Well, except for a stupid bouquet for Steve, no doubt from the unsub himself.

Fuck.

“…fair enough,” Tony said into the stunned silence of the room, causing your eyes to slip shut as you pressed your lips into a thin line. Fair? Nothing was fair about this. “Thanks, Happy, we’ll be in touch.”

You heard the call disconnect, the frozen room coming back to life judging by the shuffling. You looked to your right when you felt Steve’s large hand gently curling around your fist.

So you summoned a smile for him – albeit a lame one.

He needed your head in the game; he needed a supportive friend who’d have his back. Not a weepy shaking weakling. He needed this crazy-ass delusional stalker gone so he could go back to his normal life as soon as possible. He needed a professional BAU agent.

And you were going to give him exactly what he deserved; even if his deep blue eyes told you he would accept anything less than that too.

Loosening your fist, you squeezed his hand shortly before dropping it and rising to your feet.

“Let’s get moving. Spence-“ you turned to him, only to see him already making his way to the board to take notes of what you just learned. “Thanks.”

“What’s the game plan?” Emily asked no one in particular, but automatically turned to Hotch, the team leader. “This is a clear escalation. Two contacts in two days. Less personal touch, but more defined threat of violence towards the women and somehow… more protective of Steve too.”

“I agree. We need to get the NYPD on this, or your agents,” Hotch beckoned to Tony and Natasha, naturally leaving out Steve – the subject of the case – out of the action. Even if the subject appeared much less shell-shocked than you felt; and he probably was, because you were in love with a reckless idiot. “The women for questioning shouldn’t arrive alone.”

“On it,” Natasha confirmed, exchanging a look with Tony, ready to help him choose from the most trustworthy – hopefully trustworthy – agents.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage at the thought: hopefully trustworthy. The circle of truly trusted people became absurdly short after yesterday – in fact, the most trusted people were in this room.

And they needed to stay here.

You knew it made you the biggest asshole in the world but you were just fine with the Avengers and the BAU being exclusively around Steve. You wished no harm to anyone, but if it came down to Steve or some random woman… as much as you’d give everything to protect all, you had your priorities straight.

The person you cared about the most was here, safe, and it had to stay that way.

Momentarily lost in thought, you barely registered the dialling tone from the phone in Hotch’s hand. However, you certainly heard the voice on the other end.

“You called the hot line. Would you like to talk to someone special?”

For the second time that morning, all noise and movement in the room stopped, only the startled faces of the Avengers snapping to the source of the peculiar greeting that could only be a misdial.

Your gaze flickered between all of them – your former colleagues clearly stiffening a laugh, Hotch closing his eyes as he realized his mistake of putting the phone on speaker right away – and despite everything, you burst out laughing. It was incredibly liberating.

It did sound like a misdial; or the BAU’s technical analyst, queen of all things awesome, speaking.

“Garcia, you’re on spea-“ Hotch broke through your laughter, only to be interrupted by her astonished voice.

“Oh my god, is it my time to go to heaven already? It must be, because I’m hearing angels! Was I called by someone special?”

Chuckling still, cheeks hurting from smiling even wider when you saw Steve’s baffled expression, you greeted your favourite IT magician.

“I’m here, Penelope, it’s good to hear your voice. And please, never ever change,” you pleaded heartily, your companions gradually relaxing and returning to their previous tasks.

“Oh honey, I could never,” she promised. “It would break Derek’s heart if I as much as tried to dim my amazing sparkling self. What can I do you for?”

Your smile slipped despite the innuendo, words caught in your throat as your saw movement in your peripheral vision. Bruce was making his way to the conference room, the glass automatic door revealing the huge white bouquet in his hands; and the ominous expression on his face. Your stomach twisted, throat tightening.

“Well, the local tech genius is a little busy, so we wondered if you could track a flower delivery for us?” Emily stepped in, causing your attention to snap back to the call, stubbornly ignoring Bruce as he walked in and set the flowers on the table. “The order would be within the last 24 hours, over two dozen of white roses, and was delivered to the Avengers Tower… exactly 16 minutes ago.”

A rapid staccato of Garcia’s fingers against the keyboard could be heard as the words spilled from her mouth just as fast.

“Who-oou, if I didn’t know we’re talking a stalker case I would have swooned. And they say chivalry is dead...” she contemplated. “Hello to the Avengers if there any, by the way. Is the Captain there? And Black Widow? Iron Man? It’s so cool that you got to work with them! And Thor, the actual god of thunder, not just my chocolate thunder? I’m so jealous…”

“Garcia, the flowers...?” Hotch reprimanded her, half-serious, half-resigned.

And secretly amused all as you all were.

Despite the horror Garcia tended to see on her screens, she was the literal bottle of sunshine that made all of your lives brighter, a force of nature and a ray of hope shining between the grim world of serial killers, stalkers and child abductors.

By right, she was thoroughly adored. By everyone.

“Please, sir Hotch, you know I can multitask,” she sassed him, sounding offended as the clicking in the background never ceased.

Even with your heart in your throat, you couldn’t but smile a fraction at her antics, giving her what she asked for – gladly.

“Steve, Natasha and Tony are here, now doctor Banner too. Clint’s around, but no Thor. And believe me, I know for a fact they should be excited as much as you are, working with a team as cool as the BAU.”

You caught Spencer smiling over his shoulder at you, still ready to write down any information Garcia was about to give you.

“Aww, honey! You just say that because it’s true!” Garcia cooed, causing the corners of your lips to twitch. You wished you had her cheerfulness – and her confidence, at least as a mask. “Alright, the delivery was executed by Bella Flora, pretty on the nose to be honest, a local shop owned by Julian Peters for eight years now. He’s clean besides doing dirty to his wife, aka cheating on her with his shop assistant, they divorced three years ago. Good for her if you ask me. The roses were paid from a credit card registered to… one Howard Fleming. I’m searching for—- oh.”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch questioned as everyone grew serious again.

You held your breath in anticipation; but you had a feeling that this was not a good kind of oh, even if you might be a little rusty on reading Garcia’s exclamations.

“Well, Mr. Fleming is 88 years old and lives in Idaho with his lovely wife and three adult children and way too many grandchildren. So I guess he’s probably not our unsub. Sorry, guys. I’m gonna dive into his kids’ background, but I’m afraid it’s more likely his card was stolen and not blocked properly. I’ll keep an eye on the activity on the card, keep digging and call you back.”

“We’ll be looking forward to it,” Spence assured her, not letting his disappointment show. “Thanks, Garcia.”

“Anything for you, Boy Genius. Hug Jones for me. Peace out.”

“He already did!” Tony called out, but the line was already dead. “I like her. Can I steal her for the A.I.?”

The response he got was overwhelming: Hotch, Reid, Emily, Natasha, Bruce, Steve and you managed to all to reply in unisono.

“No!”

“But-“

“Tony…” Steve warned him lowly, causing the man to lift his chin defiantly, a pout on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to deal with his child-like sulking.

“Let’s find each of the women an agent to bring her in, come on,” Natasha prompted him, her index finger poking Tony’s shoulder when he stared blankly ahead, still acting offended. “Your ego wouldn’t handle such competition in the house anyway.”

Considering everything you knew, you couldn’t argue; nor had the time for it anyway.

You had more important things at hand; to add to the profile since despite the new evidence surfacing, you had no names to add to the board.

“Okay. What do we know now?”

It could be barely an hour after the call and you were ready to scream in frustration: because you knew nothing anymore.

As nicely as you had wrapped it up yesterday, with a conclusion and a true sense of progress, the delivery made cracks in the very foundation of your investigation: the profile itself. You had planned to add to the profile after you regrouped in the morning, not to have it fall apart completely.

Too bad, it seemed.

And to add insult to the injury, you had nothing else either.

No useable fingerprints on the flowers or on the card.

No writing to analyse from the graphological point of view, because the card was typed and printed.

There was no residue of a chemical weapon to disguise an attack as a flower delivery.

There were no bugs.

Garcia had texted Hotch that the Flemings were coming off clean so far.

All you had was the photos and plain flowers with a crazy note, with a lot of questions attached to it rather than answers.

You were so fucked; back to square one if not on square zero or square minus one.

“There’s something off about all this… I feel like we’re missing an important variable,” Reid muttered as he watched the board, arms crossed over his chest.

“There’s something off from the start if you ask me,” Natasha said dryly, eyeing him, Emily, Hotch and you. “Thoughts for us with less profiling experience, please?”

You glared at all the notes, refusing to answer. To say you were thoroughly displeased with the development would be an understatement. You were pissed. Because nothing was making sense anymore, which was saying something, since it didn’t seem to make any sense from the very start. You were one step from becoming a nihilist.

Luckily, Emily took initiative, sharing her thoughts.

“Well, at first, we profiled the unsub as narcistic. The not worthy meaning why don’t you notice me, I’m right here, I’m much better than them… but then these flowers, white roses of all things – not passion. White signifies purity or grief, roses are timeless classics, expensive. Even the I could hurt those who are not worthy of you. It’s like she’s saying I would hurt people for you if they hurt you. It’s… it’s almost protective.”

Protective my ass. You did agree with Emily wholeheartedly, but her words only fed your frustration.

The most puzzling thing for you now was the bullets; what kind of an unsub could think of stealing a means of ending the object of her affections in case he’d disappoint her or rejected her so long in advance? More so if she was the protective type? It didn’t make sense – most people would care about this after their target betrayed them, usually using a weapon of opportunity.

Or were the bullets only something to ensure Steve’s obedience? You, my beloved, will do as I say, or I’ll shoot you dead? How was that being protective?

You were no fan of using violence at any cost but you swore you could put one of those modified bullets straight between the unsub’s eyes at the moment. If you only got the change or had any clue about who she was to begin with.

“It’s true that if you look at the note linguistically, she chose different modal verbs,” Reid jumped in, gesturing wildly as he pointed at the note he rewrote on the board, red marker in hand. “I would never hurt you suggests an incredibly low probability, leaning towards epistemic modality. In contrast, I could hurt those who are not worthy of you suggests not only determination, but also the ability, leaning towards deontic modality. She says she is able to hurt, she has the means. I would think she’s talking about the bullets, but those are not any more harmless than a normal bullets to anyone except for Steve…”

You shuddered as you watched him from the other side of the table, hating the invested expression on his face. You adored your friend, truly, but it would be great if he could come down from his genius plane of existence and think about the fact this was not a puzzle to solve for fun, but to save a life.

What was he even talking about? What did it matter?

“What are the chances she didn’t know what she was taking?” Reid asked, turning to Tony, who only replied with a silent confused frown.

“What do you mean?” you scoffed, irritation rising by the minute.

Everything you had put together was falling apart. You weren’t sure of anything anymore; something just wasn’t adding up, the unsub brimming with contradictions.

Protectiveness and care were more likely to point at a female unsub, than again the emphasis on violence was considered typically male.

An apology – I’m sorry I scared you into hiding – was extremely untypical for a narcissist at best.

And now Reid was questioning the intelligence of the unsub and the level of organization she possessed by wondering whether she knew what she had taken? Get the fuck out of here.

“Could she have thought she was simply taking some special reinforced bullets, not knowing they were designed to hurt Steve specifically?” Reid pressed, causing you to grit your teeth.

You believed the chances of that were zero.

But what did you know? What did any of you know anymore? All you had was a bunch of agents and profilers going around in circles.

“I don’t know, G-man,” Tony hummed sceptically, shaking his head. “There are a lot of devices that could do much more damage to anyone. And some of them just as easy to carry. And you said she was… what do you call it, organized? She had to know what she was after, right?”

It was a testimony to how fucking messed up the situation was that for once, you agreed with Tony Stark, even if only on one thing. You could still smother him though, with your bare damn hands.

More damage? Bullshit.

This was bullshit. More damage? How was it possible that something more dangerous than a weapon to murder his friend wasn’t guarded better?

Tony really had the audacity to say that the unsub could have taken something that—that was insane.

How was the theft still an issue with no real suspects in the first place?

Why were you still dealing with this, questioning motivations, the level of how organized the unsub was?

This should have already been done. These were the Avengers and the BAU and an artificial intelligence joining forces for god’s sake!

And yet, you were a mile behind the unsub.

You weren’t working fast enough. You weren’t doing your damn job and someone was going to get hurt. And that someone was going to be the person you cared about the most and that was just so fucking maddening and downright impossible, because this was Steve. Steve had to be okay, he was always okay, even when he wasn’t, because he was Steve---- god-dammnit he was not going to end up like Meyers, he had to be okay and it was your damn responsibility to make sure he would and you WERE going to do exactly that.

‘She knew what she was after?’ Fuck that.

“Who, you mean,” you muttered darkly, unable to hold your irritation at bay anymore.

Six heads turned to you, some swift, others with reluctance. Only Tony voiced his confusion, as eloquent as ever.

“Huh?”

“You meant who she was after,” you corrected him again, realization dawning on his face as you looked him dead in the eye.

The sudden thickness of air was nearly palpable. Good, you thought. The same air felt just as heavy in your lungs for a while now. Your heart was speeding up gradually, blood boiling

No one moved. No one spoke. No one dared to as much as suck in a breath, feeling a storm brewing. You purposely avoided looking at Steve; your voice would break, the indignation would give into self-pity – and you did not want that.

“How the fuck do we still not have a suspect? How the fuck did we just get a flower delivery with a note that screams stalker and the shop just went with it, no fuss, no calling the police? Or you,” you hissed, nodded to Natasha and Tony’s direction. “They were sending an absurdly sketchy stalkerish note to the Avengers Tower and they what, they just didn’t care?”

Were people really so stupid these days or maybe desensitized? Or simply indifferent? Not giving shit about anything anymore?

Natasha took a breath, ready to react, but before she could, Emily stepped in.

“Well… they do care about business. You worked with the BAU, you studied human behaviour… you know what kind of kinky stuff people are into, this is probably far from the creepiest note that went through their hands,” she reasoned, her matter-of-fact tone only feeding your anger.

“I don’t give a damn about people’s kinks or their damn business! They should have known better-“

“Sparkles,” Steve interjected gently, your head whipping his direction on instinct.

You didn’t linger with your gaze long enough to have him shake you, extending your index finger in his direction to stop whatever excuse he had for the damn shop owner – or your poor ensemble of a team.

No, you were done with this shit.

“Don’t- we should all know better. We’re profilers, you’re the Avengers for god’s sake!” you exploded, hands flying in wild gesture to each and every one of them. “We have an artificial intelligence on our side! With so many clues and assets, we should have already made an arrest. Instead, we are comparing modality as if she didn’t choose it completely randomly-“

“That’s not very likely, she is highly organized-“ Reid argued, voice perfectly levelled in contrast to the rising volume of yours.

You almost laughed, the sound tasting sardonic and fake.

For real? Who the fuck was Reid kidding?

“Do we really know that, Reid? Or are we just playing psychic, spit-balling as we go? What if she is so organized that she chose the modality to throw us off? What if she knows everything about damn floriography and she’s playing with us? Huh? Not even with Steve anymore, us, because she knows he came here, she probably figured we have profilers involved because she clearly did her homework on me and Natasha-“

“Sparkles-“

You promptly ignored Steve’s attempt to speak, only raising your voice further to drown him out.

“WHAT do we actually know? We had a profile and now it’s fallen apart! We have more evidence, but instead of suspects, we have fucking ziltch! Some profilers we are, if we’re completely hopeless until a dead body drops, which is not a fucking option here! What are we even-”

“Jones.”

The new voice had your mind come to a screeching halt, an old instinct kicking in, breath hitching.

A fresh flood of emotion – guilt and shame above all – cut off the burst of outrage. It was like flipping a switch on you, your brain in particular.

That was how powerful Hotch’s authority was: a single uttered word, not menacing, but a kind warning; strict, but gentle. Fatherly.

You did not fall silent out of fear; but out of deeply ingrained respect.

“That’s enough,” Hotch added for a good measure, his calmness washing over you like a wave.

You took a deep breath, feeling tears burning in your eyes as you looked at every member of each team, purposely only skimming over Steve again, unable to face him.

It was obvious to anyone who bothered to look: everyone in the room was tired and frustrated too, but also determined. Concerned, because they all cared – about you, about Steve, and about the case.

They were all good people and they were here to help. The last thing they needed was your salty attitude and your inability to deal with stress and past trauma.

You knew that all along; but you needed to realize it again. Just as you had needed to voice your irritation – even if your friends deserved better.

And so did Steve. If you looked at him for longer than a second, you were sure you’d cry.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, everyone. I didn’t mean to yell and—I’m sorry,” you stumbled over your words, taking another calming breath. Jesus, you needed to get the hell out of here. Now. “Uhm. I need fresh air. And some actual non-healthy sugar and coffee. What can I get you, guys? Macchiato with one sugar for Steve, mocha with a double shot of espresso and four sugars for Spence, you guys…?”

The rest of the room obediently told you their preference, not even blinking, tuning down the obvious concern in their expressions for you.

No one protested against your plan. No one pointed out that Tony’s coffee machine was a thing from caffeine addicts’ dreams and could prepare virtually anything. No one offered to help you with the large number of cups and sweet treats you had mentioned, understanding that needing air meant needing some alone time too.

It seemed they could all be pretty smart cookies after all – you would crack this case before it was too late, right? There were no other options anyway.

You motioned an awkward ‘gotcha’ on Emily and Hotch, nodding to yourself.

“Should have remembered those orders – some things never change,” you said wistfully, grabbing your phone with a credit care in its case. “Coming right up, guys. It’s on me.”

“Thanks, Bean.”

You smiled tightly at Spence, all but escaping the room as you felt more and more embarrassed at your emotional outburst – something coffee could hardly make up for, especially since it wasn’t your first scene in the past 24 hours.

You were all over the place ever since this mess started and you really did need to get your head straight.

And since getting a good night sleep in Steve’s room – bless him – didn’t help, your morning slip-up only making for more nerves, it seemed that you needed to do it alone.

→ Next part

Series masterlist // Steve Rogers masterlist // Misc masterlist

Thank you for reading 🥰 We’re entering the second half of the series... and things are happening 👀

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #criminal minds #captain america #mcu x criminal minds #criminal minds x mcu #steve rogers imagine #former bau agent reader #bau agent reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #love on the brain #anika ann

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taleasnewastime · 2 years

Text

Dating advice | Part two

Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Drinking, low self esteem, eventual smut, I think that’s all for this chapter.

Authors Note: Part two is here!

Previous | Next | Series masterlist

You’re buzzing as you walk into the pub. It’s been a little over a week since you were last here. You went away and thought about everything they said, talked to your best friend like Priya suggested. He helped set up you up on a dating page, he was actually a tad annoyed you hadn’t come to him sooner, but that was Jimin all over, given half a chance he’ll be annoyed at anything. You’d selected five good pictures, drafted a bio that Jimin had swiftly ‘edited’ aka deleted and rewrote.

You were nervous before but that was nothing compared to the feeling of pressing submit. Fully putting yourself out there to be judged in whatever capacity that might be. You were happy with how you were portraying yourself but that didn’t mean anyone else would agree. You might have no matches, or you could get a handful, all of them not people you would date. Or you could match with someone great and then have to talk to them and potentially meet and that was possibly the scariest outcome.

It’s the joys of dating, Jimin said, it’s scary and awkward but it’s all worth it when you meet someone you like. How is that ever going to happen if you just sit in your flat day and night? Plus, it’s not like you have to actually date every person you match with, you don’t even have to message all of them – though you have to message some, he emphasised knowing you’d easily use his words against him in the future.

He made a good point, it’s not like you were committing yourself to something. This is what you want. To not be alone. To have someone. And to get that you needed to do this, however grim it sounds.

But here you are, a little over a week later, and you already have a match. And more than that, you have an actual date.

You feel like you’re walking on air. You know that just because you have a single date, that doesn’t mean that all your hopes of having a boyfriend are solved, in fact, if anything, you’re slightly terrified of meeting the man for the first time. But that’s all in the future, for now you’re just riding on the high of having a date.

Priya and Yoongi are behind the bar as you walk towards it. Priya serving a customer, Yoongi absent minded doing something you can’t see. You haven’t seen them since seeking their advice and while you hadn’t really planned to come back, when you got the confirmation of the date you didn’t really think as you started heading here. You wanted to at least thank them for giving you the confidence to go for it.

Now, waiting for Yoongi to notice you, you wonder if they’ll even remember you. It’s not been long, but then they must meet a lot of people doing this job, sure you had a conversation, but that doesn’t mean you were a standout customer.

Before you can over think it much more Yoongi spots you.

“One sec,” he says, eyes going back down to the book you can now see, finishing off whatever he was writing before placing the pen down.

He pushes away from his spot, takes the few steps towards you and when he stands in front of you, eyes firmly on you, there’s no recognition there. Your stomach drops. Of course he wouldn’t remember you, why would he?

“What can I get you?”

You try not to show your disappointment, eyes searching the bottles and taps behind him as if deciding what to drink rather than because you can’t look at his face.

“Pint of Thatchers please,” you say with a small smile.

He nods, picks up glass before he starts to pull your pint. You watch as the veins strain against his skin, don’t notice his eyes flicking back to look at you.

“So how’s the dating going?”

Your eyes widen before shooting to him. His lips pull back into a small joyful smile at your reaction. He does remember you; the fact causes way more joy than it should.

You rearrange your features, try to look nonchalant even though he’s just seen your shock and then subsequent joy.

“Actually, I have a date,” you say, beaming smile easily coming to your lips.

Yoongi continues to smile at you, eyes searching your face before focusing on your pint as the last centimetres of liquid pour in. He places it delicately in front of you.

“In that case, it’s on the house.”

“What?” You question, knowing what he meant but needing a second for your brain to fully compute. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to,” he shrugs.

“But I want to pay,” you argue.

He shrugs again, doesn’t even try to argue. He’s not going to let you pay.

“I’ll just pay Priya later,” you mutter, taking a sip of the cold cider.

“And I’ll tell her not to accept,” he says, stepping back towards the book, picking up the pen to continue writing. “I’m the boss, she can’t go against my orders.”

So that explains the book, he’s the manager. Still, you’re not sure why it irks you that he’s not accepting your money. You should just say thank you and leave it but you push your cider down the bar and take the seat opposite him.

“What are you, some sort of dictator?”

He doesn’t reply but you see the way his lips curl slightly at the edges, something you’ve realised means he’s trying to hide his amusement but struggling.

It’s silent for a few seconds, Yoongi not talking, only the low murmur of the room around you. He’s so focused on filling in that book that you wonder if he doesn’t actually want you here. He is doing work after all and you’ve just invited yourself to accompany him. You sip at your drink more for something to do, eyes wondering around the room. You wonder if you can slip away and take the empty table in the corner of the room without looking too awkward when Yoongi speaks.

“So are you going to tell me about this date?”

You look back at him, his eyes still on the book.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you wanted to know.”

You can almost picture his eyes rolling even though you can’t see them.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care.”

Fair point. The excitement starts to buzz inside you as you start to think over what to tell him. You don’t know how much or little detail to tell him, eventually settle on not giving too much to look too keen. You can build the detail depending on how interested he sounds.

“It’s a guy –”

“Great start,” Yoongi mutters still focused on his book.

“His name is Erik,” you carry on as if he hasn’t spoken, getting used to his dry sense of humour. “He works in marketing and is taking me out for some drinks this weekend.”

Yoongi hums, the noise giving you no hope. He doesn’t sound impressed or particularly pleased by the arrangement so you carry on, determined to sell Erik.

“We’re both into reading and he has a cat. I mean it’s not ground-breaking stuff but he seems really nice.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick up to you before he once again focuses on his book, only for a second though before he’s putting his pen down and fully focusing on you. A small smile flutters to his lips but you can see it’s not genuine, like he’s only doing it to make you think he’s happy for you.

“It sounds great.” You wait for the but, but it never comes.

Is that all he has to say? You know you’re basically strangers, but you’d been so excited to come and tell him and he asked you about it and that is all he has to say? Yoongi must read the disappointment and annoyance on your face because he’s once again trying to rectify it.

“Seriously, it sounds great. I mean a date in just over a week? It’s good going.”

“Why do I sense sarcasm in your tone?”

“Yoongi couldn’t get a date in a year let alone a week,” a female voice cuts in before Priya enters your vision, saddling up to Yoongi’s side, the same wide smile on her lips from last week. “He’s just bitter.”

“I’m not bitter. And, what’s wrong with being happy alone?” Yoongi defends.

“Nothing misery guts,” Priya beams at him while he scowls, their dynamic is interesting. Priya turns her attention to you and while Yoongi still looks less than impressed he remains where he is, listening in. “Anyway, more importantly, what’s this about a date?”

You beam back at her, spirits rising once again now you have a better audience. You repeat what you told Yoongi and rather than a blank expression you’re happy to see the same beaming smile looking back at you.

“Amazing. But most importantly, have you got pictures?”

You tug your phone out of your jeans, open the dating app and click onto the message section. This is the part you hate when telling people. It’s all well and good giving a name and details, but it’s another thing providing photos. It’s one of the good things about the human race, not everyone is into the same thing, what you might find incredibly hot someone else might find a massive turn off. But there are still things that society as a whole deems attractive and unattractive, and while in your eyes Erik fits on the attractive side, that doesn’t mean that Priya and Yoongi aren’t about to massively judge your date.

You swipe through Erik’s five pictures until you land on the one you think he looks best in. Look up to see Priya’s waiting hand and Yoongi trying to look disinterested but failing. You take a small breath before you drop the phone in Priya’s hand.

Even though you selected the best photo for them to look at, you can see Priya swiping through the pictures at will, zooming in on particular details. And though Yoongi was trying to not look interested, he’s completely given that act up now, leaning over Priya’s shoulder to get a look at your phone.

You’ve already shown the pictures to Jimin, had his nod of approval and though you wouldn’t class these people as friends, you strangely feel the need to seek their approval.

“He likes football, hence the second picture. And his friends in the last picture are well over six foot, he’s not short they’re just giants.”

“He’s cute,” Priya says simply, handing the phone back. “Seriously, he looks nice.”

Cute. Nice. Neither word particularly inspiring, but you lap it up. Like you thought earlier, just because Priya didn’t think he was hot didn’t mean you couldn’t.

“Thanks,” you reply. “I’m excited for our date.”

“Just make sure not to drink too much,” Priya warns.

“And don’t invite him back to yours,” Yoongi chips in making you frown.

“Ignore him.”

“No, don’t ignore me. Don’t invite a guy you hardly know back to your place.”

“I’m not the sort to sleep with someone after a first date,” your voice comes out meek despite wanting to say it firmly.

“Not particularly what I meant,” Yoongi carries on, seemingly unbothered. “You don’t know these guys, they could do anything to you and knowing where you live isn’t a good idea.”

The warning makes you blood run cold even though nothing would suggest Erik would be like that and it’s not like you’re even going to invite him back to yours anyway.

“Ignore him,” Priya repeats, a warning seeping into her tone. And though you listen to her words, try to push Yoongi’s words away, the thought has still planted itself in your mind. “You’re going to have a great time.”

Your smile feels smaller now, doesn’t come as easily to your lips.

“I’m excited,” you say.

“So come on,” Priya has way more enthusiasm in her tone then anything she says before. “What’s he said so far? Where’s he taking you for drinks? I need details.”

You know she’s doing it to make you feel better, but you still indulge her. Find yourself telling her about how Erik was the first to say hi and asked you out for drinks after a day of talking. And while Priya mocks being a good audience and Yoongi silently slips away, you try not to let it ruin your mood. You are excited for this date.

#yoongi fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi fan fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi series #yoongi fic #yoongi scenarios #suga fanfic #suga x y/n #suga fluff

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heliads · 2 years

Note

can i request for minho (again lol) where reader is touch repulssd (she hates physical touch) but someone comments on it and she tries to change, she cuddles minho more and holds his hand even tho it makes her uncomfortable, minho realises and angst(if you can figure out where to put it) and fluff with happy ending

if possible , set in the glade please and can reader be british again thank youu!! x

reader is always british. all of them are british. tmr british au

masterlist

It is impossibly difficult to date Minho. That is not to say that it’s hard to love the boy, far from it; loving Minho is the easiest thing you’ve ever done, faster than falling asleep and comes more naturally than breathing. The Creators could wipe your memory and send you up in the Box a thousand new days, and you’d choose Minho every single time. That’s what love is to you, it’s that feeling of safety, of belonging with somebody like you do to no other place.

No, loving Minho has never been the problem. It’s what came after those startled realizations that perhaps your feelings for each other weren’t totally one sided that is causing you grief. Being in a relationship with Minho should feel good, the natural next step in the way the two of you feel about each other. It’s a shame, then, that it doesn’t.

This could all stem back to insecurity, plain and simple. Minho has always been excessively popular even outside of the fact that he’s a Runner. The other Gladers all but hang off of him for news of the Maze or his easy jokes that could lighten even the most desolate of moods.

Minho is crucial to the Glade, but in all honesty, you’re not sure that you are. You work hard at your job, of course, and have your own set of friends that would rather risk their lives than see you hurt, but it’s not the same and it never will be.

On the other hand, there’s the touch thing. Ever since you opened your eyes for the first time in your shattered memory and found yourself rattling upwards in the grim metal contraption known deadly as the Box, you knew that you didn’t like the thought of human touch.

It just makes you uncomfortable, that’s all. You don’t know if there was some terrible trauma buried deep within the memories you no longer have that would explain all of this, but regardless of the reason, the outcome is clear. You don’t like it when someone lays their hands on you, even if it’s so much as a high five from your closest friends. Even when it’s your boyfriend just trying to show his love for you.

Recently, you’ve been trying to do better. You thought you were hiding the whole thing sufficiently well until one of the Gladers commented on how you practically avoided Minho like the plague. It wasn’t true, of course, the two of you always find time to talk to each other and sit next to each other at every meal, but you suppose that everyone else expects you to be holding hands all the time and making out in every corner.

Usually, you wouldn’t let the comments of the other boys faze you, but you remember the look that flashed across Minho’s face when the other Glader called you out. For one brief, flickering moment, his constant confidence had dropped, leaving a boy that for once in his life was terrified, pure and simple. You could see straight through his eyes to discover that he was afraid more than anything that the other Glader was telling the truth and you were avoiding him. Maybe you didn’t even like him at all and were just pretending.

That’s not true, obviously, but the only person who knows that is you. This is only made worse because Minho doesn’t know about your repulsion to touch. You’ve spilled out your heart to him on many different occasions, but you’ve never been able to cross this particular barrier.

Maybe it’s because you know that the second you say something to Minho, he’ll change. Minho is perfect like that, he has always been perfect. You don’t think half the Glade knows how many sacrifices he’s made for them, how many days in the Maze with no answers he’s turned into seeming like the Runners are on the brink of finding the way out. He makes everyone laugh when he’s feeling desolate, he’d choose their success over them about a thousand times.

That’s why you know that if you were to tell Minho that you can’t stand the feeling of anyone touching you, he’d do everything he could to stop. The worst part of all is that Minho would feel every hand you weren’t holding, every time he wants to kiss you or hold you but can’t. It would hurt him, death by a thousand cuts, but he would never say a word to you, because what Minho is best at is pretending that he’s fine to make sure that everyone else is fine.

Still, you can’t pretend that trying to work around your touch phobia is really working at all. It makes you deathly uncomfortable every time, but it’s not like you have any options. The second you slip up and slide away from Minho, one of the Gladers always notices and calls you out on it. There’s nothing you can do except try and act otherwise, but that doesn’t work out all that well either.

Your best and only choice is to try and conjure up a strong enough poker face that nobody can see through it. This works better at times and worse at others, depending on who’s around you and who’s studying your face for some sign that you might be tempted to leave Minho for one of them. That’s another reason Minho is alarmed about your hesitancy to touch him, he’s fearful that it means you’d be more willing to touch someone else.

It’s not true, of course, but Minho doesn’t know that. You wish he didn’t have to doubt you at all, that he could look at you and see only faithfulness, but when you’re already lying to him about this, you’re certain that he can picture other lies wrapping around your tongue whenever you so much as say a single word.

Tonight will be a testament to how strong a shield your web of lies can produce. It’s a Greenie Day, which means that the arrival of the latest terrified boy will be followed by a night more glorious than any other. Bonfire Nights may only happen once a month, but everyone ensures that they have enough fun and make enough mistakes to last over until the next one.

The nice thing is that, once people get enough of Gally’s brew in them, they tend to stop noticing irrelevant details such as the fact that you’ve been cautiously leaning away from Minho’s outstretched arm as the night progresses. Their eyes are blinded by the sheer dumb luck of not being dead and having enough friends surrounding them that they feel powerful.

You consider the scene sprawling before you from your vantage point a little ways back from the central bonfire. You, Minho, and a few other friends have chosen to set up camp for tonight on the outskirts of the festivities so you can watch everything that’s happening and laugh at the other Gladers making fools of themselves.

Someone dragged a couple of logs here a few hours ago, and you’re all leaning against them now, seated on the ground with your legs stretched out in front of you. The night is dark, and inky blackness pools around all of you, lingering in the conspicuous absence of contact between you and Minho. You’re sure that you must be the only one to see it, yet it feels glaringly obvious all the same.

You swear you can sense everyone’s eyes slowly shifting to you. They must all see how far apart you are, right? You can practically hear their minds whirring as they come up with ways to comment on it. You can’t bear to trouble Minho with it on one of the only good nights of the month, so you force yourself to lean back to him.

Your head settles on his shoulder with the weight of two glaciers colliding, and although there may be no blood spilled at the moment you can still feel every inch of your skin begging for you to move back away. It’s like you’re being suspended by iron manacles, how desperately you want to get down, get away, get out of your own flesh before it’s too late to stop it crawling.

Minho’s arm shudders down around your shoulder a second later, locking you in place. Now there’s no way for you to get out. If you slowly tilt your head up, you can see a soft smile on your face. That more than anything cements the idea that this is what you should be doing. It’s making your boyfriend happy, isn’t it? This is what you should have forced yourself to do a long time ago.

Even as the supposedly simple movement brightens Minho’s day, you can feel it dragging down your own. Your skin prickles as Minho so much as draws a breath, and the weight of his arm even casually draped across your shoulders feels like Atlas’ worldly burden to bear. You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up, but you have to. Pulling away from Minho now would give up the whole charade of liking this.

You’re just bracing yourself to keep this up when Minho extends his hand to take yours. The unexpected additional contact makes you lose control for just a second, and you shiver involuntarily. It was a small enough movement that you don’t think any of the other Gladers surrounding you noticed, but Minho did, and that is enough to make him realize that something’s off with you.

He glances at you quickly, and before you can do anything about it, he looks at you, really looks at you. You can feel his stare pressing in at your ragged seams, taking in the silent suffering that you thought you could hide. Instantly, he’s pulling his arm away, disguising it as a casual cough, but he doesn’t put it back.

A second later, Minho announces that he’s going to get a refill of Gally’s special brew, despite the half empty glass at his feet, and asks you to walk with him. You know exactly where this is going, but you still follow him, the two of you deadly silent until Minho has led you a sufficient distance away from everyone else so as to not encourage any eavesdropping.

At last, he turns around, and instead of seeming angry or frustrated that you’re not acting as a supposedly traditional girlfriend should, Minho just looks hurt.

“Were you going to tell me that you were uncomfortable or should I have just guessed that myself?” He asks, voice quiet.

You sigh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice at all.”

Minho rubs a tired hand over his face. “Why’s that? I thought we trusted each other, Y/N. That includes you trusting that I wouldn’t do anything to upset you if I knew you were unhappy.”

You look away. “I trust you, Minho. More than anything. It’s just, well, I want you to be happy too. In those minutes before you realized I was uncomfortable and you had your arm around my shoulders, you looked so carefree. I know I’m the only girl here so you don’t have a lot of options with that sort of thing, but I just want you to feel like I’m worth it, you know?”

Your voice trails off, but the words seem to strike Minho like a blow anyway.

“You thought that you had to force yourself to like me touching you because that’s what I wanted?” He asks, almost incredulous. “Y/N, I want you. Nothing else. I like you for you, not just because I can hold your hand. I didn’t know before, but I know now, and I don’t want to do a single thing to make you uncomfortable.”

He seems to believe every word he says, and you allow yourself to smile cautiously. “Really?”

Minho smiles back at you. “Really. Besides,” he adds matter-of-factly, “if I’m desperate to hold someone’s hand I’ll track down Newt. I’m sure he’d be delighted with the whole idea.”

That makes you laugh, and Minho looks pleased that his joke had the intended effect.

“Honestly,” he says, drawing closer, “I’m fine with whatever, Y/N. I just want you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, one that makes you smile even brighter than before. You were worried that Minho wouldn’t understand, but you know for sure that he does. What’s more, it doesn’t upset him in the slightest. All the two of you need is each other, and you’ll have that for the infinities to come.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria

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stormkobra-5 · 2 years

Text

An anon requested a 💥 headcanon with the Moon Boys, but tumblr messed up and I lost it. I’m answering it anyway.

~~~

So. You’ve requested 💥 with the Moon Boys. This is dangerous territory my friend. Mainly because if you were hoping for angst you will leave with angst and a happy ending.

Steven:

(I’m sorry I had to it’s required just see Oscar Isaac Simp Laws Section 8 Paragraph 42 Line 3, Angst Requires a Crying Gif)

Fighting with Steven is terrible.

It probably stemmed from something caring. Like, Steven doesn’t want you worrying about him but you do anyway, you get frustrated and he gets frustrated back.

Or, miscommunication. It’s a bitch really.

If he hears the wrong thing he sure ain’t gonna stick around to hear the rest of it and assumes the worst.

Either way, whichever the case, whether you’re living together or not, Steven has the same response.

He goes quiet. He stays in the headspace of the alters a lot of the time, only fronting for work and avoiding you if you come to see him. It doesn’t matter who started it, what it was about, at this point he doesn’t care. He’s terrified he’s gonna lose you.

Poor baby thinks you’re gonna break up with him and he can’t take it, can’t bear the thought of you saying the dreaded words and so he avoids you. Maybe a part of him is hoping that you’ll start loving him again.

You finally corner him.

“Steven you moron. What the hell are you doing?” (Name calling is endearing, not derogatory.)

He promptly blurts out any version of the word “sorry” that exists and says there was no excuse for what he did (even if he didn’t do anything) and please forgive him, don’t break up with him.

His heart pretty much breaks when you start laughing, until you pull him in for a hug that he can’t let go of. Really, you can’t breathe, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that.

“Oh, baby, is that what you thought? No, I’m not gonna break up with you over that, you silly gift shop-ist!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I love you, okay? It was just a little bickering match. Everybody does it. It doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

“Oh, love...”

After that, whenever you two fight, you always make it a point to make up before bed or before leaving the flat, which involves a lot of cuddling and peppered kisses.

Marc:

Fighting with Marc is different. Understandably.

Prepare for some gruffness that gets more intense if you get louder.

He’ll never yell at you, never hit you, and he most definitely won’t walk out the door on you.

This boy has some abandonment/trust issues and would never inflict anyone to cause that distrust in you. He loves you more than anything in the world even if you are so wrong right now—

If you storm off, Marc gets worried. He’ll leave the house with a more promising his return and come back with your favorite flower in a bouquet. He sits by your door and apologizes in every way he knows how.

If he WAS wrong, then he owns up to it and admits that fact.

But he won’t bother you.

At a certain point, he’ll see that you need some time to be alone, so he’ll sit quietly in sight of the door.

Anxiously.

Worriedly.

He sits there and thinks about all the terrible outcomes possible and almost panics.

When you come out, Marc hugs you and tells you how sorry he is, stroking your hair, kissing your temple.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Can we make up?”

“Of course, Marc.” You kiss his cheek.

He may talk a tough game, but he’s a cinnamon roll at heart and the man has been through absolute hell.

He loves you, and he wants you to know that he always will no matter what. So whatever fights happen between you, no matter how big or small, he’ll always make it a point to set things straight between you.

Jake:

The first time you start to fight with Jake, you’re expecting to be met with a fiery temper.

I mean. Have you even met him?

Of course, he’d never, ever hit you, but he sure as hell will yell back.

Or so you thought.

I mean, if he’s pissed enough, he’ll snap and gruff at you.

But Jake, who’s used to being caught in an endless cycle of headspace and fronting only to defend, you’re the one sweet and perfect thing in his life.

So fights between you are more like Ricky and Lucy.

It doesn’t matter how loud you yell or even if you throw something.

The most he’ll do is throw his hands up and rant in Spanish.

If he must, if you push him...

He’ll tackle you to the ground, no matter how angry you are...

And do one of three things, depending on your collective level of anger and frustration.

Tickle you until you can’t breathe.

Fuck you senseless right there on the floor.

OR, he’ll lay on you.

Yep. He’ll pin you down and lay on you, especially if you’re ranting.

He’s not hurting you, duh, but he’s strong. Even if you’re thrashing around he’s not gonna budge.

He especially does it if you’re ranting.

“...You done, mi vida?”

And whichever one of the three options occurs, whether you’re laughing, breathless, or just done, Jake will get out some of your favorite ice cream and cuddle with you on the couch, or just hold you close.

“Let’s not fight, cariño.”

“Yeah. Not ever.”

Jake has enough fighting in his life. He doesn’t need to fight with you, the love of his life.

———

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it anon!

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada

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pridepurgatorium · 10 months

Text

— I’ve tried hard to love you. (Try harder to save me.)

Lucifer/reader, gn!reader, PG13

You can find the original AO3 link here.

Chapter 1/5 [Series Masterlist]

You’ve entered this scene enough times that you’ve memorized every council member's breathing patterns. You’ve been here enough times to know exactly when Mammon will come bursting through the door, but perhaps most of all, you find that look on Lucifer’s face most engraved in your memory. His piercing eyes tell you exactly how he feels about you. It wasn’t like this when you first got chosen for RAD’s exchange program. You were so terrified you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. The next couple lives you’d snuck a glance, and having fallen in love with Lucifer in every life you knew what that look meant. Perhaps that’s what hurt you the most. You were taken out of the council room.

Your new life is starting.

You’d grown accustomed to the twists and turns of the House of Lamentation. Perhaps that’s what annoyed you the most. The pretending. Of course your stupid time curse wouldn’t allow for you to spill your heart to those you loved. That’d be too easy. But then again even if you did would they believe you? Maybe it’s not that far fetched considering Barbatos’s time magic but you were just a human. A magicless one at that. And so your lives went on. Starting in solitude, gaining the love of the brothers, rinse, repeat. You can’t count the number of times you’ve tried to speak about this own personal hell you’d somehow found yourself trapped in. You often fantasize about all the different things you could do. Maybe you could run away and become a pirate. Or maybe you were hysterical and this was all a fever dream.

Of course you’d try to switch it up.

You’d grown terribly bored of the repetition. It was like the ticking of a clock. It never changes and it won’t change unless an outside force wills it to. You’d tried to be a saint in hell. You’d be nice to them from the beginning, you’d do them favors without asking anything in return. You do Mammon’s homework for him on days Lucifer was too caught up with work to notice. But demons are nothing if not untrusting and favors with nothing in return was too good to be true. You’d try to be the worst person you can possibly be (although you can never be too mean to them, they were your family, even if they didn’t know that).

Perhaps that was the worst to think about. That’d you’d have to keep repeating this. It rips your heart out every single time. Remembering Lucifer’s soft embraces on cold nights alone in your room. Or his sweet whispers of reassurance when you’d told him how you were insecure about yourself. Or literally anything about Lucifer. He made you fucking weep and he would never know. You knew the placement of every mole, every scar, every insecurity of his was yours to bear, as his yours. You loved him so dearly it hurt. Or rather, love him so dearly it hurts. You knew that the reason he wore his gloves was because of the scars littering his hands. Nothing was new,

You could not tell him.

And perhaps that was what hurt you the most.

But life in the Devildom moves on. Even if Lucifer has caught on to your longing gazes. It means absolutely nothing to you. There’s nothing that can hurt you now. You know every possible outcome there is to know. Maybe that’s a lie (of course it is), but it’s what you must tell yourself.

The notion of making a pact with Mammon had become unnervingly familiar. When you had first made a pact with him you thought it would be your first and final pact with the Avatar of Greed. You want to laugh at your naïvity, but was it really naïve of you? Maybe you were just jealous of the person who could believe that they still had their humanity. I mean what makes a human a human? If you’re going to live for forever then can you truly consider yourself to be a human? Isn’t a human’s mortality their one blessing and defining trait? If you didn’t have that then what could you possibly be? You briefly wonder if Solomon has ever felt this way but you push the thought aside. He and you were different. He would live forever. You would die forever.

You start reminiscing. How many years has it been? Gosh you’d place a bet that you’re at least older than Luke by now. But no matter, you have a task at hand. Every time you restart your life you have to restart your stupid fucking journal. Ok, maybe it’s not stupid maybe it’s a very helpful journal, but it infuriates you nonetheless. Seriously, how can you live this many years and still not have any fucking solution? What the hell? The journal, containing all the research of your past lives, had been hard to memorize. With new editions to it every life it was the one changing thing in your life. People often say that their lives are always changing, but that they have one constant in their lives, hobbies, boyfriends, it doesn't really matter, does it? Because you will never have that. Or rather, you did have that. And the thought made you want to cry.

Steeling yourself yet again you lament. There is work to be done. You are almost at a breakthrough.

You can feel it.

A/N: I decided to finally make a Tumblr after all these months on AO3. Speaking of, come find me (and the og notes of this work [my first work] [don't you wanna see me breakdown in the notes of AO3?, go follow me]) here. Additionally, be wary of tags that may spoil your fun before you click the links, there are some major spoiler tags. Also on AO3 there are chapter names which is nice.

You can find the original AO3 link here.

#lucifer fluff #lucifer obey me #obey me #lucifer angst #obey me shall we date #omswd #lucifer x reader #obey me x reader #purgatory’s fanfics

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thekrows-nest · 11 months

Note

(anon)

Krowspiracy anon you can't just say 'I thought of scary new possibilities for Eliyah' and not TELL me what those could be.

Hehe >:)

Alright. So I’ve raised all the red flags about Eliyah’s behaviour towards Gabby, how he approached her in a way she really didn’t like and he still subtly won’t back off, and how he now seems to be going after Dove because they’re close to Gabby.

Plus his photography work giving him an alibi to take pictures at places and times that would otherwise be suspicious. And the long range lens. And the ability to lure Dove off alone with offers of shoots. With all that equipment maybe he has a van or a trunk.

Well imagine he does get Dove to go on a date and Gabby secretly follows them to watch out for Dove? Eliyah must know she might do this. I was wondering what if that was the aim? Either to catch her and make her look ‘crazy and paranoid’ to Dove? Catch her and force her into an awkward situation where she has to spend time and tolerate him or kick up a fuss and admit to spying? Get her in trouble with the law as revenge? Or worse, a trap.

LT would hopefully know Gabby’s plan and hopefully she wouldn’t put herself at risk for her friend. But following her friend would take her physically away from LT and make her vulnerable to being snatched if Eliyah is going for that.

I headcanon the theoretical date or “coffee to ask him questions” being in a quiet park or somewhere ‘scenic’, with Gabby watching them from a hiding spot and Krow also there watching everyone with binoculars from a decent distance. (Hiding looks suspicious so he’s ‘birdwatching’.)

I haven’t decided whether LT would be available or at work, and if he knows Gabby’s whereabouts. (I can’t see her entering a risky situation without telling LT, or him disagreeing so she has to hide it. I hope? I don’t know how open she is even with LT about whatever happened and how much they agree about Eliyah. And she especially would be wary of this guy. But say for drama she did argue with LT about it, she underestimated Eliyah, or something unexpected happened.)

A chain reaction could go down quite dramatically if Gabby did follow them alone and Eliyah did pull something, and it could have a number of different outcomes because every person’s goals for that situation clash. It would be a battle royale. I could write a bunch of endings for this story but not necessarily good ones.

I’m missing some important info on Gabby and LT (and to a lesser extent Eliyah) but depending on various things it could work out badly for everyone involved and I can’t decide who the worst affected would be. Some of it could even be down to luck.

Also re the question of trusting Eliyah vs Krow… As much as I openly simp for Krow’s cute backside in a safe fictional setting (yes I know you’re gonna expose that ask now) I don’t trust either of them. I’m not blind to Krow’s horror side and he gets genuinely very scary if you think on it too hard.

Kidnapping is terrifying even in a fictional setting (I like the thriller story and complex characters. IRL Krow wouldn’t see me for dust and I’d be carrying). The only reason I’d pick was if I couldn’t evade both and had to choose who would be less likely to harm or kill me.

Which, while more dangerous from what’s known, and much harder to escape, would be Krow. He at least is known to have some limits, he would treat you humanely, and can be somewhat predicted or negotiated with unless unhinged. Above all he would let you live. There is still a chance to submit and hope for rescue or wait for a very slim chance to escape. (Good luck. I have an inkling of where Dove would be held.)

But I can’t guess what Eliyah’s motives are or what he’s capable of if he did turn out to be bad. I wouldn’t want to work it out for myself.

Especially if I/Dove were disposable and only being used as bait to get to Gabby.

All in all Krow is the more competent and dangerous one but there’s an undercurrent to Eliyah that feels like if something were to happen he has a real chance to turn nasty. Or he might panic with a poor outcome for you. Or you’d have barriers to justice.

Personally I/Dove would be just nice enough to Krow in a casual setting to prevent him escalating. Not agreeing yet means he still thinks he has a chance so he stays placid. Holding out for longer gives enough time for the insane jealousy to show, which is like his one weakness and Dove’s one warning.

Agreeing to an actual date with Krow should be reserved for dire situations, so he’s happily planning an outfit while Dove does a midnight flit. Or even better he’s travelling in the opposite direction while Dove is getting away.

I wouldn’t go on a date or even really talk with Eliyah. I wouldn’t even try and sus him out further. Why? For what? It’s not worth it.

Sure, maybe we don’t even know him and are assuming. But there’s something that really sticks in my craw about dudes feeling entitled to shoot their shot, acting injured and thinking you owe them a chance to change your mind when that’s not something you even want or feel comfortable with. It’s a form of boundary pushing.

You don’t know just by looking at someone whether or not they’re a good guy. (Google ’Shrodingers Rapist). And the manipulative little ‘well get to know me then!’ is just another pushy foot in the door for a date you don’t necessarily even want.

His brand of creepy niceguy seems more common in real life than the movie villain/edge case of Krow, so it’s more threatening on an instinctive level.

I just don’t like Eliyah’s vibes. I don’t like him. Something is screaming at me that he’s off, in the exact way Gabby feels about Krow. I don’t like what I’ve seen of his behaviour, there’s red flags, Gabby knows Eliyah better than Dove does and Gabby hasn’t been wrong about Krow.

Like she says, some people deserve one chance and this asshole doesn’t. If he’s not dangerous well then that sucks but I won’t apologise for exercising caution. It’s not worth the risk.

Krowspiracy anon again coming in with some pretty neato theories.

This is all really interesting, to me, in how you are sussing out not simply Eliyah, but what all everyone would be doing in various scenario's.

Interesting takes. Is it all true? Maybe. Maybe not. :3

In any case, the fact you spend so much time muddling on my lil OC's and this goofy verse I've been (slowly) making is very flattering.

Even if at some points I gotta have you stop. /j /lh

#krowspiracy theories #eliyah asked and answered #gabby asked and answered #krow asked and answered #winndy talks #the krow's nest #the krow's nest verse

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tworoadsandapenny · 10 months

Text

Aftermath: III. Raph

I very much enjoyed writing this one. I find it so easy to write for the older two siblings than I do Mikey and Donnie.

~~~~~

They were going to drown.

The thought didn’t frighten Raph in the least. All he could think about—all his panic and fear was focused on—was his younger brothers, locked in their cells across the way, clinging tightly to each other for dear life. They were going to drown, and he’d have to sit there and watch.

Don was first.

He must have known it was coming because the minute the first cough escaped he’d pulled away from Mikey, probably trying to spare the kid from having to hold his own brother as he suffocated.

It was only seconds, agonizing and terrifying, before Don stilled, convulsions ceasing as his eyes closed.

Then Mikey coughed. And Raph’s world fell apart.

He screamed. Out of anger, out of desperation, out of fear. His entire being was tearing apart from the inside out at having to watch his family die in front of him. Now his head was spinning, his vision was blurring, and he felt his lungs on the verge of forcing his brain to take control and breathe.

It was his turn.

Suddenly the room was draining. Raph clawed above the water with whatever strength was left in him, dragging in the largest breath of oxygen he’d ever taken. He looked to the door that had opened, freeing them from their watery graves.

And there stood Leo. His older brother. Littered in minor burns and bleeding from a nasty cut in his arm. He’d fought to free himself from Shredder. Fought to free them from drowning.

Fought and won.

Leo always won.

“Don, do something!”

“He’s lost too much blood! There’s nothing I can—“

“Then take mine!”

“No Raph!” Don turned on his brother, his panic peaking through the calm of his eyes. “You’re still injured. Taking blood now would only—“

“He’s dying, Don!” The room fell into silence, Leo’s shallow and haggard breathing the only sound to be heard. Raph clenched his fists at his side, growling as he continued. “You and I are the only ones compatible with him, and we can’t risk you passing out right now.” Don was silent as he held his brother’s stare. His eyes said he already knew the logic, he just hated the outcome.

“Raph, the risk is too—“

“I don’t give a damn about the risk!” Raph watched as his brother seemed to war over the idea in his head, probably going over every possible thing that could go wrong. Patience had never been Raph’s forte. “I’ll do it myself if I have to, but it won’t be pretty.”

Don looked down to their eldest sibling’s frail body and sighed heavily. “Fine. Sit.” Gathering his meagre supplies as Raph shifted his chair to the other side of the bed, Don hooked his two older brothers to each other, blood flowing from Raph’s right arm into Leo’s left. “You’re going to pass out. You’re body’s not strong enough yet for—“

“I know.” He didn’t care.

They were nearly all on the boat. Shredder was fighting Leo, and as usual, his brother was holding his own. Fighting to keep them all safe. Fighting to get home.

The clock was running down, the doors to the hangar were closing, the complex would explode in a manner of minutes, and his brother still fought. Still remained where he was, keeping Shredder from attacking the three of them who were too weak to hold their own.

And then they drove off. They left him there to fend for himself. To fight for his life.

To fight for their lives.

Alone.

And somehow, Leo survived. Came back.

Won.

Leo always won.

“Don?” Mikey watched as his brother washed his hands, eyes lost and face blank. “What do we do now? Is he gonna be OK?”

It took a moment for Don to answer, his mind still focused on all the blood draining down the sink. “I… I don’t know, Mikey. We can only wait and see.”

Dread bowled over the room, knocking any attempts at conversation from their thoughts. Mikey looked from Don to Leo, fear slowly growing in his features. The silence only made it all worse.

“He’ll be fine.” All eyes turned to Raph as he spoke, his glare focused on the rise and fall of his brother’s chest. “Fearless never quits. He’ll be alright.”

There was something about the confidence in how he said it that made no one object. They wanted it to be true.

Begged it to be.

“Raph,” He could practically feel Leo’s pain as his own. Every word he spoke looked like agony. Yet still he fought. “Raph, keep going.”

“Leo get up!” Raph was scared. But not of the darkness pulling him away, he was scared of Leo leaving. He could see Leo’s heart practically lurch from his chest with desire to help, but whatever held him down was far too powerful.

Then Leo looked at him, actual fear in his eyes. Raph couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen that there before. It chilled his blood. “Don’t quit, Raph.” His brother’s words were almost indiscernible behind Raph’s wall of fear, but he clamoured to hear them. Clung to them. With everything that was in him.

“Find home.” With what looked like the last of his strength, Leo found his brother’s eyes and held them, both knowing it could be the last time they locked.

“Raph…”

“I’m here, Leo.” A hand on Leo’s shoulder, strong and steady, cut through the shadows. The weightlessness disappeared as he felt himself fall back into his body. “We’re home.” Sleep beckoned, but the hand on his shoulder anchored him, granting enough strength for him to hold tight to consciousness.

Raph could see the struggle as his brother attempted to open his eyes. If he hadn’t been so desperate to see Leo awake, he would have told the idiot to rest some more. But their fearless leader had only been conscious a handful of times since his return, and Raph had been passed out for most of them.

He needed to see Leo’s eyes. Make sure he was still here. Still fighting to stay with them.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty.” He said as Leo’s lids finally parted.

“Raph.” It sounded more like a sigh of relief than anything else.

The younger turtle gave his brother’s shoulder a slightly tighter squeeze. “Still here.” Leo’s dull eyes wandered weakly across the room and Raph saw the worry already setting in. “April and Casey went to get some more meds, Don and Sensei are talking in the kitchen, and Mikey’s right here.” He stepped aside so Leo could see their baby brother asleep in the chair, his head on Leo’s arm and hand clasped tightly around his brother’s. “Everyone’s safe.” The worry didn’t completely disappear from Leo’s face, but he breathed a shallow sigh of relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was so weak, Raph couldn’t hear him. “What?” He asked, bending closer to his brother’s face.

“Are you… alright?”

Raph shook his head, gawking. “Me? For cryin’ out loud, Leo, I ain’t the one lyin’ in bed covered in bandages like a mummy.”

“You… look terrible.”

That earned a slight smirk from the younger turtle. “Yeah, well, you ain’t winnin’ no beauty contests either.”

There was a drawn out pause as Leo closed his eyes to breathe, and Raph couldn’t help the spike in his heartbeat when it took longer than expected for his brother’s chest to rise and fall.

“Your… shoulder…?”

The way Leo’s voice sounded—all weak and strained like he’d been shouting for days on end—made Raph want to force him to shut up. He couldn’t take hearing it. But his worry was outmatched by the comfort of hearing Leo awake. Alive. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“Raph?”

The younger turtle blinked away his worry and rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I told you it’d take more than that bucket head to bring me down.” His brother seemed to almost smile at that. “Now stop worrying about the rest of the world for a few minutes, shut yer trap and rest. If you don’t get better soon, Mikey’s gonna permanently fuse your hands together.”

Leo’s head lilted to the side, looking to their youngest sibling with his brow furrowed in concern. “How—“ He paused, trying to swallow to wet his throat so it didn’t hurt so much to talk. “How is he?”

“Tired. I don’t think the kid’s used to getting so little sleep.”

Leo nodded to the bandages. “His chest?”

“Healing. Don says he’ll be back to his usual pain-in-the-ass antics in the next few weeks.”

That seemed to settle some more of the worry in Leo’s face. “And Don?”

Raph looked to the door, not sure how honestly he should answer that question. “He’s… fine. Apparently Leatherhead was here last week and fixed him up, but I don’t think he’s been sleepin’ much.”

Leo nodded knowingly, following his brother’s gaze to the door. “Make sure… he eats. Don… forgets about… food… when he’s worried.”

Raph couldn’t take hearing Leo’s voice so weak anymore. “What’d I say about worrying over everyone else? We’re fine, Fearless. Shut up and get some sleep or I’ll knock you out myself.” Leo did as instructed, but the minute he closed his eyes, the shuttering breath he took made Raph want to shake him awake again.

“It was… so… real.”

Raph blinked in confusion. “What?”

“The void.” Raph tensed at the mention. “I saw you… pulled away. I thought…” Leo swallowed thickly again, finding it far more difficult to speak than it should be. “I thought you were…”

“I ain’t.” Raph hated talking about this. “These guys brought me back, same as you.”

Both siblings looked to their youngest brother. Even in sleep there was worry written all over his face. “They’ve… been through a lot.”

“Yeah…” Raph folded his arms across his chest, staring at his baby brother as though he could wipe away the worry by looking hard enough. “Yeah, they have. So make it easier on ‘em and get better already.”

“OK.” Leo blinked, taking a very long time to open his eyes again. “I’ll… do that.”

Falling into silence, Raph noticed his brother stare at Mikey again before looking to the door, unease working it’s way back into his features. Always the worrywart. Raph blew out a long suffering sigh, placing his hand on Leo’s shoulder and staring intently. Adamantly. “Rest, bro. I got them. I promise.”

Another shuttering breath had Leo sighing, the worry draining from his features once more. “I know. You always… keep them… safe.” It was an unexpected compliment that made Raph tense, not sure how to respond. He couldn’t help but stare as his brother looked to him, a fond smile on his face. “Thank you… Raphael.”

Raph stiffened, watching as Leo’s eyes finally closed. His chest felt tight all of a sudden, but he swallowed back the emotions roiling to get out. Such honest adoration from Leo was rare, and Raph hadn’t been ready for it.

Hadn’t realized how much it meant to hear it.

Or how badly he’d want to hear it again.

Forcing his thoughts away, Raph grinned at his older brother. “It’s good to have you back, Fearless.” He only said it because he knew Leo was lost to sleep, but he felt the sentiment deep to his core. Raph wasn’t ready for a world without his older brother, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be.

Ever could be.

Looking back at Mikey and then to the door, Raph considered what Leo had said about Don and food. Now that he thought of it, he couldn’t remember seeing Don eat anything since Leo’s miraculous return. The idiot. He made a mental note. “Figures the genius would be the one to—“

He paused, staring down at his brother. His chest wasn’t moving anymore. “Leo?” Leaning close to listen for breath, Raph heard nothing. He held his fear at bay, placing two fingers to Leo’s carotid and waiting. Waiting.

Nothing.

Raph moved without thought, placing his hands over his brother’s chest and pumping, feeling his own heart rate spike immediately. “DON!!”

The purple masked turtle was there in an instant, his eyes wide as he came upon the scene. No questions were asked, he simply started up his overworked life-support machine, placing the mask over Leo’s beak.

“What happened!?” Mikey cried, eyes brimming with tears at having woken to chaos and fear. Again. Again!

“I have a pulse.” Don announced mechanically, moving Raph aside to assess Leo’s vitals. It was barely thirty seconds before he cursed under his breath, pumping his brother’s chest again.

“Don! What’s going��“

“His heart keeps stopping.” Came Don’s quick reply, not looking away from Leo. “Probably the blood loss from the amputation.”

Raph barely waited for Don to finish, grabbing the needle and tubing before even registering he’d moved.

“I’ll do it.” Don stepped in, grabbing the supplies and sitting Raph right next to Leo.

Mikey watched the blood flow through the tube from Raph into their eldest and clung tightly to their leader’s hand. “Come on, Leo.” Not again. Please not again.

Raph glared at his brother when Don cursed and started CPR once more. “Don’t you dare.” He leaned in close, clasping his brother’s shoulder once again. “I got you too, Leo. And I ain’t lettin’ go.” His grip tightened as fear drowned his heart. “So you sure as hell better not.”

Leo never gave up. “Fight, bro.”

Leo was always fighting for his family. “For us.”

Fighting to keep them safe and together. Whole. “Don’t quit.”

And Leo always won.

“Find home.”

Always.

~~~~~~

9 Months Later

Raph swiped down, attacking an invisible enemy from above and having to imagine the satisfying crunch of bone. What he wouldn’t give to have a thug to pound on right now.

Twisting to attack another ghost, Raph couldn’t stop playing the events of the day in his head. Like a drum pounding on his skull, it beat across his vision with every movement he made.

Again. It almost happened again.

Anger roiled in his stomach as he swung his sai around ferociously, begging for there to be a Foot or a Dragon there for him to—

He suddenly met resistance with a loud clang of metal against metal. Raph looked up to see his older brother standing in front of him, sword raised, fight stance in place, blocking his sai. Had Raph been in a more amiable mood, he might have grinned at the opportunity. But tonight wasn’t a time for grinning.

Tightening his fists around his weapons, Raph threw an attack from the left, forcing Leo to move his guard up and step back.

The spar had begun.

Normally, Raph was very careful when sparring with his brother. Since Leo’s amputation, his fighting prowess hadn’t been up to par, so Raph always made sure not to take things too far.

But not tonight. Tonight he was too heated. Angry. He needed something to attack without mercy and Leo had offered himself as a willing sacrifice.

The battle waged for what must have been an hour before Raph even registered the sweat dripping down his brow. He was too caught up in the fight. Too caught up in the memories.

In the fear.

A swipe to his right caught him off guard, and Raph had to twist to let his shell take the blow. He growled, turning around to lock weapons with Leo.

His martyrus older brother who seemed bound and determined to scare his brothers out of their wits.

Who didn’t follow orders because he knew better.

Knew better than Raph.

Outrage shot through Raph’s body, blinding him to reason. He used Leo’s careful guarding of his right shoulder to attack the left. When Leo blocked, Raph turned, ramming himself into his older brothers stumped limb, sending him skidding several feet.

It took Leo a moment to recover, hiding his pain behind a scowl. But when he looked up readying his sword for more, Raphael was no longer attacking with his weapons.

Only words.

“It was a bomb, Leo! I told you to get back, not run towards it! What if you hadn’t thrown it off the dock in time!? What if one of the soldiers got passed us and slowed you down!? What if—What the shell were you thinking!?”

Raph could feel his anger mounting as Leo just stood there, staring at him with that neutral expression plastered on his face.

“Do you have any idea how terrified Mikey and Don were? They thought we were gonna have to watch you blow yourself up! Again! We thought you were—Shell, you’re such an idiot!! I know you don’t trust me to lead, but you don’t have to get yourself killed to prove your point!! Why in the hell would you pull a stunt like that after everything we went through!? What the hell is the matter with you!?”

Raph was barely aware he was still speaking. His mind and emotions were running far faster than he could ever hope to keep pace with. Rage clouded his vision and for a moment, he could only feel pain. That terrifying pain in his chest like when he thought his brother had died.

When he’d watched Leo stay behind. When the doors had closed him in. When they drove off without him.

When the bomb had gone off.

“AHHH!” Raph shouted. Something loud and guttural and wordless, turning his shell to his brother and throwing his sai at the wall with enough force to penetrate deep into the concrete, sprouting cracks in all directions.

Control came back slowly as Raph huffed in deep gulps of air. When his vision finally cleared, he turned and saw Leo standing there, staring, shame written plainly on his face.

Shame. Raph couldn’t say it wasn’t deserved. He was a terrible leader. Every mission they’d been on since Raph took charge had been one disaster after another. He wasn’t good enough for this. Never could be.

Leo should be ashamed of him.

He was ashamed of himself.

He tensed when Leo started speaking, preparing for a fight.

“It’s terrifying, isn’t it? All that responsibility… it’s supposed to come with power, but more often than not it just makes you feel powerless. Because it doesn’t matter how much you train or how prepared you are or what strategies you think of, life is too unpredictable. People make choices that you can’t control, things happen that you weren’t expecting, and something almost always goes wrong.”

It was the tone of his voice more so than his words that caught Raph off guard. He turned slightly further towards his brother, still huffing deep breaths. Leo sounded so… small. It wasn’t right.

“That’s why it’s never about a successful mission. It’s never about how well you performed or what strategies worked or who did their job and obeyed orders.” Leo paused, his eyes finding the floor. “It’s about coming home. It’s about staying together and making sure everyone makes it back to their bed intact. Every time. If you can get everyone home alive, you’ve lead your team well. Done your job. And that’s all that can be expected of you.”

Raph was completely silent. Still. He couldn’t help but stare as Leo closed his eyes, the faintest of smiles on his face as he called forth a memory.

“About a month into our first patrols, I had a break down. I came to the dojo, kneeled before Sensei, and cried my eyes out.”

Raph’s eye ridges rose in surprise at the confession, but he said nothing.

“It was after our first encounter with the Foot. We all only barely made it home, and even a week after, I couldn’t shake that feeling… the fear of knowing I’d almost got you all killed. I didn’t sleep for almost ten days.”

A vague image of a younger Leonardo stumbling around the dojo with dark bags under his eyes bubbled to the surface of Raph’s memory. He remembered thinking at the time that Leo was just overworking himself with training, like usual. He had no idea…

“When I finally went to see Sensei about it, I cried, and I begged him to make someone else leader because I was too scared of failing again. That’s when he told me that success wasn’t in getting the mission done, it was in coming home. Staying together.” Shrugging, Leo admitted, “I still have trouble with it. I still can’t help but get angry or disappointed when a mission goes south or a patrol ends in disaster, because I know I should be capable of being successful and keeping you guys safe. But Sensei was right… the most important thing should always be coming home.”

Raph barely noticed the silence, his mind was too lost in the words Leo had spoken. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time his brother had been so open with him. If ever.

Suddenly, Raph felt a hand on his shoulder, and it was only then that he realized he’d been shaking. But he couldn’t tell which emotion was causing the tremble, rage or fear? Turning with a glare that was more stubborn than angry, he faced his brother.

“You’re a good leader, Raph. I’ve never thought otherwise. I don’t know why you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. You’re learning strategy and restraint and level-headedness at a rapid rate and you’ve even managed to be more patient when Mikey jokes during a battle, which is something I still haven’t mastered.”

Raph would have smirked at that if he wasn’t so enwrapped in the fondness beaming from Leo’s eyes. When did he become so candid and forthcoming? And why did it mean so much to hear it? See it.

Feel it.

“The bomb wasn’t… it didn’t have anything to do with your leadership. I wasn’t trying to question your strategy, I just… I panicked.” Leo looked away a moment, something in his eyes that Raph couldn’t see, before turning back. “I couldn’t shake the feeling that we wouldn’t be able to fight our way out before it went off. But I saw the clock, judged the distance, and with you three holding the line, I knew I could get to the water in time to chuck it and run.”

Despite understanding the explanation and knowing he would have done the same thing, Raph still couldn’t help the twinge of irritation at his brother’s actions. “…It was still dangerous, Leo. Unnecessarily dangerous. If anything had gone wrong—“

“I know.” There it was again, shame creeping into his brother’s face. And for the first time, Raph began to realize it wasn’t aimed at him. But quick as it had come, it was hidden, and Raph didn’t have a chance to ask before Leo rendered him speechless again. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you think I don’t trust you. I do. You always keep them safe, and that’s what matters most.”

Raph’s shoulder’s hitched as he tried to hide how hungry his heart was to hear those words.

“And I’m sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to—for any of this—…” Leo sighed heavily. “I’ll do better.”

Raph stared at his brother. He felt Leo squeeze his shoulder and couldn’t shake the feeling that it was to draw comfort for himself rather than give it to Raph. Time seemed to freeze as Raph went over Leo’s words in his head over and over, unable to stop his chest from tightening at the relief he felt in hearing how sincerely his brother trusted him.

But nothing compared to the knowledge that Leo was honestly making an effort not to be the martyr he usually was. He’d panicked and acted. Raph couldn’t really fault him for that. It was immeasurably weird to hear coming from Leo, but still… the realization that his older brother made mistakes too was more comforting than it should have been.

Finally unclenching his fists, Raph clamped his hand on his brother’s wrist that was still on his shoulder. “Never thought I’d live to see the day when you actually made a mistake, Fearless.”

“I make them all the time. I just blame them on Mikey.”

Both exchanged a smirk before Raph noticed blood dripping down Leo’s shoulder. His gaze drew Leo’s, who quickly covered it with his hand.

“Just hit a soft spot. Doesn’t hurt.”

But guilt still jolted through Raph’s veins. “I shouldn’t’ve—“

“I gave you the opening, not your fault for taking it.” Stepping away from his brother to pry the sai from the wall—which took more effort than expected—Leo looked the weapon over, eyeing the red leather hilt. “But if you still need to blow off some steam, I wouldn’t mind a rematch. Still can’t move fast enough to block on that side without leaving myself exposed.” He held the sai out to his brother, a glint in his eye. “I could use the practice.”

The tension in Leo’s shoulders as he spoke of his weakness was obvious. Looked like Raph wasn’t the only one in need of punching his way through some issues. And if sparring would help his brother, Raph was happy to oblige. He took his sai and spun it in his hand in sync with the other. “If you think you’re up to it. But I ain’t goin’ easy.”

“Didn’t ask you to.” Walking back to where his katana lay on the floor, Leo picked it up and held it a moment. With his shell to his brother, he knew Raph couldn’t see, so he allowed the irritation and disgrace to run through his eyes for a moment.

It was getting harder and harder to keep hidden. But Leo wasn’t willing to accept help just yet. Couldn’t. He’d clearly been burdening his family enough with worry and concern as of late, they didn’t need his self-doubt on top of it.

He could figure this out on his own. Had to.

For himself and for them.

Breathing deep and closing in the emotions, Leo turned to a ready stance, eyeing his brother with determination in his eyes. Raphael wouldn’t hold back. If Leo could hold his own against his brother, he would know he was improving.

“You ready to get your ass handed to you?”

Leo couldn’t help but grin at the smug smirk on Raph’s face. “Ready to watch you try.”

Raph snorted a quick laugh as he spun his sai again, dropping low to match Leo’s stance. With all the injuries they’d had to heal from this year, it felt like ages since he last sparred with his older brother. He was practically vibrating in anticipation. “Damn it’s good to have you back, Fearless.”

Leo was caught off guard by the sudden statement, but kept it off his face. His grin spread wide as he twirled his katana. “Give it ten minutes.”

The two held each other’s eyes for a moment, each determined to express what they never could in words:

I need this. I need you.

Seconds later, the dojo erupted with the clashing of metal and grunts of exertion that went on for several hours, neither brother willing to admit defeat.

Neither ready to leave the other’s company.

~~~~~~

Previous < - > Next

My interpretation of the turtles blood types (based entirely on human blood types because I know very little of turtle biology and whether or not they share the same antigens): Mikey is AB+ (can receive any blood type, but cannot donate to everyone), Donnie is A+ (can receive any A or O blood types, and can donate to A or AB), and Raph and Leo are O- (can donate to all blood types, but can only receive O- in return). That's my head cannon anyways. There's a detailed reason why, but for now lets just say... cause it's my story and I say so.

End of Line.

-TRAaP

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt fanfiction #tworoadsandapenny #torturedsouls #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #TRAaP #Aftermath

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wisteriafaery · 1 year

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on flanagan’s the midnight club

“and she was kind even when she was in a lot of pain. that’s hard to do”

'Grief is not selective. you'll be surprised what grief can grow on.'

'People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. At the point of death, pain is over.

"World's got a funny way of doing what it wants. You pull a rubber band, you can stretch it out. But sooner or later, it's going to want to snap back the way it was. Universe is stubborn.'

"It is not up to us. We don't make the rules, and we do not set to change the outcome. And when people try to find some shortout, some loophole, some advantage over life, over death. People can get hurt.'

"i hope you hear me when say, we're all with you there, and we always will be. You're not alone. Everything's going to be okay.

'It's going to hurt so bad if you stay. It'll be so hard. Life is so fucking hard. And it'll hurt. But I'm fighting for you.'

'Every single one of us is going to die someday. And before we do, every single one of us deserves love.'

‘Time has a permanent hold on us the moment we're born. It allows us to grow, to get big. We go to school, we find jobs, we fall in love. Time lets us do all of these things. But then, in the end, it kills us.’

'That's the thing about time. It brings only one thing with it. Change. It's the only thing certain in the universe. Add time to anything at all, and you get change. A little, or a lot.’

"i don't know if it's possible not to hurt the people you care about. It doesn't mean you have to be alone.”

‘A short, short life. It's not length of life but depth of life.’

‘Ralph Waldo Emerson, he had one more I've always liked. "It is the secret of the world that all things subsist and do not die, but retire a little from sight...’

“I really thought I didn't want to live. you know, depression is amazing like that. your own brain is trying to kill you. Your own thoughts are trying to kill you and I.. I listen to them. Then.. I thought I wanted to die. but I survived, and I realized how much I wanted to live. And I found out I was dying anyway.”

ok the fact that epitaph by merrit malloy is what reminded me of haunting of hill house, finding out that it’s being mentioned in the midnight club.. both directed by him it feels very dejavu

i teared up when illonka read the poem.. truly truly love how mike flanagan uses horror as a tool to explore the ideas of death, loss, time and grief

I might just be grasping here though, because the theme of dying with dignity but still grasping onto life resonates with me a lot

"i think it's that wonderful connection between a great love story and a great ghost story. The two are really the same thing how each of us when we fall in love is kind of like giving birth to a new ghost, something that's going to follow us for the rest of our lives."

flanagan doing heart wrenching horror.. how desperate everyone in MC was just trying to find something to believe in how nobody questioned illonka for what she wanted to do for anya,how every ghost in their stories are just them coping with their pain & disease..

how fantastical is it that they held onto something so tightly, but it slipped through. like the sunlight in the trees or the wind through the grass. at the end of the day all they wanted was each other to do better. to live.

how terrifying is it to know that you cannot live for much longer? to accept it? to let go of the ghosts and to simply stay present? how do you love and how do you lose? how do you accept loss? how do you grieve? how do you hold someone’s hand and not let go even when they do? how do you let someone go when they’re ready to but you’re not?

but death is an inevitability for all, some sooner than others, and seeing it depicted as something scary, yes, but also something we can gently approach meant so much to me. It feels less like giving up and more on placing our priorities on the depth of life than the length of it. On telling scary stories to friends in the dark while waiting for their ride to whatever comes next.

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creatorofcalmqueerchaos · 2 years

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A snippet into what being an androgenous and disabled person of color is like in southern USA

I went camping last week with my mom and dog. It was an hour away and on a lake, and we had a great time. But there was one thing that happened.

For context, I am a person of color - my skin is brown, I have non-white features (button nose, thin eyebrows, etc.). I also tend to dress androgynously - that day I was wearing a swimming shirt and shorts, with a slight bump where my boobs were (don’t bind and swim unless you’re wearing a binder made for it!!), and a backwards baseball cap. I am also disabled - I was wearing braces (knees) and was ticcing (little ha’s, look out’s, and head jerks).

I was waiting in line, doing my own thing, minding my own business, when I turn around for a second to see a man watching me. He was pretty tall, hefty, and was glaring at me.

“Can I help you?” I asked after a moment. Every possible outcome went through my head.

But he scoffed and rolled his eyes, disgusted.

“I bet you haven’t seen a tranny or a cripple in a while, have you?” I said.

He looked shocked, and I turned around and ignored him.

I was terrified. It flew out of my mouth before I could think twice. I stood up for myself by calling him out, pointing out his issues, and then ignoring him, as well as reclaiming two slurs. However, I could have antagonised him. I could have made him mad. I could have made things so much worse.

At the end of the day, I doubt anything much changed. He probably just thought that I was a jerk, and didn’t think anything more. I’m physically safe. But it made me feel more powerful.

I don’t know what the message of this is, but this is the sort of thing that I deal with every time I go into public. Being a person of color is an experience that has no comparison. None. Being physically disabled means that you can be hated for the way your body is, and being a POC means being hated because of how much melanin is in your skin (simplified).

I guess there are two things that I want to say:

1) If you see someone staring at someone else in disgust, hatred, etc., and you are safe to do so, say something. To the person staring or the person being stared at. A simple ‘leave them alone’ or a quiet ‘I’m here in case something happens’ goes a long way.

2) Do not compare the struggles disabled people of color face to anything else. Just don’t. I don’t care what you face, it is not the same. Might be worse overall. Maybe. But it is not the same. At the end of the day, why compare things at all? Especially if you’re white. Admit you’re privilege or suffer the consequences of your own beliefs.

#disabled #actually disabled #poc #person of color #actually poc #physically disabled #transgender #racism #ablism #transphobia #activism #say something

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missmentelle · 3 years

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Why Smart People Believe Stupid Things

If you’ve been paying attention for the last couple of years, you might have noticed that the world has a bit of a misinformation problem.

The problem isn’t just with the recent election conspiracies, either. The last couple of years has brought us the rise (and occasionally fall) of misinformation-based movements like:

Sandy Hook conspiracies

Gamergate

Pizzagate

The MRA/incel/MGTOW movements

anti-vaxxers

flat-earthers

the birther movement

the Illuminati

climate change denial

Spygate

Holocaust denial

COVID-19 denial

5G panic

QAnon

But why do people believe this stuff?

It would be easy - too easy - to say that people fall for this stuff because they’re stupid. We all want to believe that smart people like us are immune from being taken in by deranged conspiracies. But it’s just not that simple. People from all walks of life are going down these rabbit holes - people with degrees and professional careers and rich lives have fallen for these theories, leaving their loved ones baffled. Decades-long relationships have splintered this year, as the number of people flocking to these conspiracies out of nowhere reaches a fever pitch.

So why do smart people start believing some incredibly stupid things? It’s because:

Our brains are built to identify patterns.

Our brains fucking love puzzles and patterns. This is a well-known phenomenon called apophenia, and at one point, it was probably helpful for our survival - the prehistoric human who noticed patterns in things like animal migration, plant life cycles and the movement of the stars was probably a lot more likely to survive than the human who couldn’t figure out how to use natural clues to navigate or find food.

The problem, though, is that we can’t really turn this off. Even when we’re presented with completely random data, we’ll see patterns. We see patterns in everything, even when there’s no pattern there. This is why people see Jesus in a burnt piece of toast or get superstitious about hockey playoffs or insist on always playing at a certain slot machine - our brains look for patterns in the constant barrage of random information in our daily lives, and insist that those patterns are really there, even when they’re completely imagined.

A lot of conspiracy theories have their roots in people making connections between things that aren’t really connected. The belief that “vaccines cause autism” was bolstered by the fact that the first recognizable symptoms of autism happen to appear at roughly the same time that children receive one of their rounds of childhood immunizations - the two things are completely unconnected, but our brains have a hard time letting go of the pattern they see there. Likewise, many people were quick to latch on to the fact that early maps of COVID infections were extremely similar to maps of 5G coverage - the fact that there’s a reasonable explanation for this (major cities are more likely to have both high COVID cases AND 5G networks) doesn’t change the fact that our brains just really, really want to see a connection there.

Our brains love proportionality.

Specifically, our brains like effects to be directly proportional to their causes - in other words, we like it when big events have big causes, and small causes only lead to small events. It’s uncomfortable for us when the reverse is true. And so anytime we feel like a “big” event (celebrity death, global pandemic, your precious child is diagnosed with autism) has a small or unsatisfying cause (car accident, pandemics just sort of happen every few decades, people just get autism sometimes), we sometimes feel the need to start looking around for the bigger, more sinister, “true” cause of that event.

Consider, for instance, the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II. In 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot four times by a Turkish member of a known Italian paramilitary secret society who’d recently escaped from prison - on the surface, it seems like the sort of thing conspiracy theorists salivate over, seeing how it was an actual multinational conspiracy. But they never had much interest in the assassination attempt. Why? Because the Pope didn’t die. He recovered from his injuries and went right back to Pope-ing. The event didn’t have a serious outcome, and so people are content with the idea that one extremist carried it out. The death of Princess Diana, however, has been fertile ground for conspiracy theories; even though a woman dying in a car accident is less weird than a man being shot four times by a paid political assassin, her death has attracted more conspiracy theories because it had a bigger outcome. A princess dying in a car accident doesn’t feel big enough. It’s unsatisfying. We want such a monumentous moment in history to have a bigger, more interesting cause.

These theories prey on pre-existing fear and anger.

Are you a terrified new parent who wants the best for their child and feels anxious about having them injected with a substance you don’t totally understand? Congrats, you’re a prime target for the anti-vaccine movement. Are you a young white male who doesn’t like seeing more and more games aimed at women and minorities, and is worried that “your” gaming culture is being stolen from you? You might have been very interested in something called Gamergate. Are you a right-wing white person who worries that “your” country and way of life is being stolen by immigrants, non-Christians and coastal liberals? You’re going to love the “all left-wingers are Satantic pedo baby-eaters” messaging of QAnon.

Misinformation and conspiracy theories are often aimed strategically at the anxieties and fears that people are already experiencing. No one likes being told that their fears are insane or irrational; it’s not hard to see why people gravitate towards communities that say “yes, you were right all along, and everyone who told you that you were nuts to be worried about this is just a dumb sheep. We believe you, and we have evidence that you were right along, right here.” Fear is a powerful motivator, and you can make people believe and do some pretty extreme things if you just keep telling them “yes, that thing you’re afraid of is true, but also it’s way worse than you could have ever imagined.”

Real information is often complicated, hard to understand, and inherently unsatisfying.

The information that comes from the scientific community is often very frustrating for a layperson; we want science to have hard-and-fast answers, but it doesn’t. The closest you get to a straight answer is often “it depends” or “we don’t know, but we think X might be likely”. Understanding the results of a scientific study with any confidence requires knowing about sampling practices, error types, effect sizes, confidence intervals and publishing biases. Even asking a simple question like “is X bad for my child” will usually get you a complicated, uncertain answer - in most cases, it really just depends. Not understanding complex topics makes people afraid - it makes it hard to trust that they’re being given the right information, and that they’re making the right choices.

Conspiracy theories and misinformation, on the other hand, are often simple, and they are certain. Vaccines bad. Natural things good. 5G bad. Organic food good. The reason girls won’t date you isn’t a complex combination of your social skills, hygiene, appearance, projected values, personal circumstances, degree of extroversion, luck and life phase - girls won’t date you because feminism is bad, and if we got rid of feminism you’d have a girlfriend. The reason Donald Trump was an unpopular president wasn’t a complex combination of his public bigotry, lack of decorum, lack of qualifications, open incompetence, nepotism, corruption, loss of soft power, refusal to uphold the basic responsibilities of his position or his constant lying - they hated him because he was fighting a secret sex cult and they’re all in it.

Instead of making you feel stupid because you’re overwhelmed with complex information, expert opinions and uncertain advice, conspiracy theories make you feel smart - smarter, in fact, than everyone who doesn’t believe in them. And that’s a powerful thing for people living in a credential-heavy world.

Many conspiracy theories are unfalsifiable.

It is very difficult to prove a negative. If I tell you, for instance, that there’s no such thing as a purple swan, it would be very difficult for me to actually prove that to you - I could spend the rest of my life photographing swans and looking for swans and talking to people who know a lot about swans, and yet the slim possibility would still exist that there was a purple swan out there somewhere that I just hadn’t found yet. That’s why, in most circumstances, the burden of proof lies with the person making the extraordinary claim - if you tell me that purple swans exist, we should continue to assume that they don’t until you actually produce a purple swan.

Conspiracy theories, however, are built so that it’s nearly impossible to “prove” them wrong. Is there any proof that the world’s top-ranking politicians and celebrities are all in a giant child sex trafficking cult? No. But can you prove that they aren’t in a child sex-trafficking cult? No, not really. Even if I, again, spent the rest of my life investigating celebrities and following celebrities and talking to people who know celebrities, I still couldn’t definitely prove that this cult doesn’t exist - there’s always a chance that the specific celebrities I’ve investigated just aren’t in the cult (but other ones are!) or that they’re hiding evidence of the cult even better than we think. Lack of evidence for a conspiracy theory is always treated as more evidence for the theory - we can’t find anything because this goes even higher up than we think! They’re even more sophisticated at hiding this than we thought! People deeply entrenched in these theories don’t even realize that they are stuck in a circular loop where everything seems to prove their theory right - they just see a mountain of “evidence” for their side.

Our brains are very attached to information that we “learned” by ourselves.

Learning accurate information is not a particularly interactive or exciting experience. An expert or reliable source just presents the information to you in its entirety, you read or watch the information, and that’s the end of it. You can look for more information or look for clarification of something, but it’s a one-way street - the information is just laid out for you, you take what you need, end of story.

Conspiracy theories, on the other hand, almost never show their hand all at once. They drop little breadcrumbs of information that slowly lead you where they want you to go. This is why conspiracy theorists are forever telling you to “do your research” - they know that if they tell you everything at once, you won’t believe them. Instead, they want you to indoctrinate yourself slowly over time, by taking the little hints they give you and running off to find or invent evidence that matches that clue. If I tell you that celebrities often wear symbols that identify them as part of a cult and that you should “do your research” about it, you can absolutely find evidence that substantiates my claim - there are literally millions of photos of celebrities out there, and anyone who looks hard enough is guaranteed to find common shapes, poses and themes that might just mean something (they don’t - eyes and triangles are incredibly common design elements, and if I took enough pictures of you, I could also “prove” that you also clearly display symbols that signal you’re in the cult).

The fact that you “found” the evidence on your own, however, makes it more meaningful to you. We trust ourselves, and we trust that the patterns we uncover by ourselves are true. It doesn’t feel like you’re being fed misinformation - it feels like you’ve discovered an important truth that “they” didn’t want you to find, and you’ll hang onto that for dear life.

Older people have not learned to be media-literate in a digital world.

Fifty years ago, not just anyone could access popular media. All of this stuff had a huge barrier to entry - if you wanted to be on TV or be in the papers or have a radio show, you had to be a professional affiliated with a major media brand. Consumers didn’t have easy access to niche communities or alternative information - your sources of information were basically your local paper, the nightly news, and your morning radio show, and they all more or less agreed on the same set of facts. For decades, if it looked official and it appeared in print, you could probably trust that it was true.

Of course, we live in a very different world today - today, any asshole can accumulate an audience of millions, even if they have no credentials and nothing they say is actually true (like “The Food Babe”, a blogger with no credentials in medicine, nutrition, health sciences, biology or chemistry who peddles health misinformation to the 3 million people who visit her blog every month). It’s very tough for older people (and some younger people) to get their heads around the fact that it’s very easy to create an “official-looking” news source, and that they can’t necessarily trust everything they find on the internet. When you combine that with a tendency toward “clickbait headlines” that often misrepresent the information in the article, you have a generation struggling to determine who they can trust in a media landscape that doesn’t at all resemble the media landscape they once knew.

These beliefs become a part of someone’s identity.

A person doesn’t tell you that they believe in anti-vaxx information - they tell you that they ARE an anti-vaxxer. Likewise, people will tell you that they ARE a flat-earther, a birther, or a Gamergater. By design, these beliefs are not meant to be something you have a casual relationship with, like your opinion of pizza toppings or how much you trust local weather forecasts - they are meant to form a core part of your identity.

And once something becomes a core part of your identity, trying to make you stop believing it becomes almost impossible. Once we’ve formed an initial impression of something, facts just don’t change our minds. If you identify as an antivaxxer and I present evidence that disproves your beliefs, in your mind, I’m not correcting inaccurate information - I am launching a very personal attack against a core part of who you are. In fact, the more evidence I present, the more you will burrow down into your antivaxx beliefs, more confident than ever that you are right. Admitting that you are wrong about something that is important to you is painful, and your brain would prefer to simply deflect conflicting information rather than subject you to that pain.

We can see this at work with something called the confirmation bias. Simply put, once we believe something, our brains hold on to all evidence that that belief is true, and ignore evidence that it’s false. If I show you 100 articles that disprove your pet theory and 3 articles that confirm it, you’ll cling to those 3 articles and forget about the rest. Even if I show you nothing but articles that disprove your theory, you’ll likely go through them and pick out any ambiguous or conflicting information as evidence for “your side”, even if the conclusion of the article shows that you are wrong - our brains simply care about feeling right more than they care about what is actually true.

There is a strong community aspect to these theories.

There is no one quite as supportive or as understanding as a conspiracy theorist - provided, of course, that you believe in the same conspiracy theories that they do. People who start looking into these conspiracy theories are told that they aren’t crazy, and that their fears are totally valid. They’re told that the people in their lives who doubted them were just brainwashed sheep, but that they’ve finally found a community of people who get where they’re coming from. Whenever they report back to the group with the “evidence” they’ve found or the new elaborations on the conspiracy theory that they’ve been thinking of (“what if it’s even worse than we thought??”), they are given praise for their valuable contributions. These conspiracy groups often become important parts of people’s social networks - they can spend hours every day talking with like-minded people from these communities and sharing their ideas.

Of course, the flipside of this is that anyone who starts to doubt or move away from the conspiracy immediately loses that community and social support. People who have broken away from antivaxx and QAnon often say that the hardest part of leaving was losing the community and friendships they’d built - not necessarily giving up on the theory itself. Many people are rejected by their real-life friends and family once they start to get entrenched in conspiracy theories; the friendships they build online in the course of researching these theories often become the only social supports they have left, and losing those supports means having no one to turn to at all. This is by design - the threat of losing your community has kept people trapped in abusive religious sects and cults for as long as those things have existed.

#missmentelle #askmissmentelle #conspiracy theories #cults #psychology #science #neuroscience

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proud-mama-joyce · 2 years

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Headcanon at the moment for Mike’s initial days in California:

Mike is terrified of Will finding out about his feelings for him, and he’s DONE dealing with people checking in on him, so it’s easy for him to fall into the complacency of acting like everything is normal with El for a while. She’s happy to see him, so that makes it simple. He wants Will around and doesn’t want to be a bad friend like last summer, so he thinks, the solution is to do more things with El and Will together, right? But he’s too self-conscious to interact normally—or much at all—with Will right away, and Will can tell something is off. Mike still keeps tabs Will, pining from a fear-induced distance and hypersensitive to reactions that could indicate that he’s screwed up and made Will aware of his feelings. (The outcome could only be horrific, in Mike’s mind. He might lose Will for good.) This creates a burning desire to know what’s wrong whenever Will seems upset, but he has trouble being his old, caring self around Will. It’s confusing to navigate, and it risks being revealing. It’s easier to be a little angry instead.

Some roller rink angst where I could imagine part of this playing out (disclaimer…I’m a complete newbie writing anything like this):

[Will leaves the skating area, returning his skates. He needs to get away from Mike and El, as quickly as possible. Why was I invited if Mike only has eyes for her?]

[Mike bursts through the door to the men’s room to find Will leaned over a sink, eyes closed and looking lost in his thoughts.]

“Will, what the hell? Why did you leave?”

“Oh, so this is the only way you’ll talk to me alone.”

“I thought you and El were friends now. What’s the problem?”

[Will looks up quickly, locking eyes with Mike.] “The problem? El’s not the problem, it’s you. You’re still acting like I’m not even here! This is just like last summer, except now I’m in the same room and forced to watch instead.”

“Well whose fault is that? I try to include you but you’ve barely spoken a word since I got here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a little hard to get a word in when you’re all over each other every second.”

“She’s my girlfriend and she hasn’t seen me in months! Do you expect me to just ignore her?”

“Just—why did you come here, Mike? Was it just to see her? Because if it was, just tell me and I’ll leave you alone and we can stop pretending that we’re even still friends.”

“Still friends? Wait—what do you mean?”

“What else am I supposed to think? Did all of my letters go missing?”

“No—no! I was just—things kind of got crazy for a while, and I—"

[to himself] “Crazy.” [Will looks toward the ceiling for a moment, eyes glassy.] “Did they?”

[Oh.] “I didn’t mean—what I meant was—"

“I guess—” [Will’s voice lowers with a tense glance at the door]—“since I don’t like girls, that makes everything weird now for you? God, I’m so stupid for thinking we actually moved past that. Do you even know how much that hurt, coming from you? I forgave you, but maybe I shouldn’t have. Were you ever actually sorry? Do I just disgust you now?”

[Mike freezes. Will doesn’t like girls? Will’s face hardens with the silence.]

“I get it. Well, good thing I’m learning to live without you.”

[Will turns abruptly to leave.]

“No, Will, wait—”

[Will looks back as Mike makes a motion to reach for Will’s wrist, but hesitates and pulls back at the last second. It does not go unnoticed.]

“Fuck you, Mike.”

[A loud crash and screams snap their attention outside, and they scramble out the door to find out what’s wrong. Mike’s mind is reeling.]

#byler #byler tumblr #mike wheeler is gay #will byers

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zachsreaderinserts · 3 years

Text

sleepy boys inc x gn!teen! reader headcannons

trying something new! i like bbs and all, but i wanted to write for other youtubers! lemme know if yall wanna see more content like this lol.

this takes place in a minecraft au!!! also, mentions of bad parenting/abusive parents

wc: 2,319

okay the sleepy boys

chaos incarnated, all of them. you can’t deny it

so, when tommy invites a friend from a local village, at first, everyone else is skeptical. since when has tommy made a friend who didn’t hate him within 20 minutes from all the screaming and insults he spewed?

unlike his friends, phil is more excited than anything. though he isn’t tommy’s dad, he feels like it sometimes, so he really wants to meet this new person who has caught the youngest’s attention

techno is very much not on board. he has a hard time trusting people at first glance and having been friends with tommy for the longest, he knows that tommy readily jumps the gun and attempts to befriend literally anything just because he can

and wilbur? indifferent for the most part. yes, he feels the need to make sure tommy is protected and cared for, but he also recognizes that this situation is out of his hands. the best he can do is hope that their friend isn’t an absolute asshole

so, it’s saturday. all three men are sitting on the couch in phil’s cottage, talking amongst themselves as they wait for tommy to come back. techno makes a joke about murdering them, which leads to phil scolding him about his violent tendencies

“you haven’t even met them yet, techno, what the fuck.”

wilbur is simply adding fuel to the fire, making little remarks here and there and watching the whole thing escalate to phil lecturing the piglin hybrid.

because of this, not one of them had noticed that tommy returned, with his newest friend. they both stopped at the sight of phil in dad mode, tommy considering just turning around and taking his friend as far away as physically possible

too late, since techno’s sixth sense made him whip around and stare at the newcomer. this made phil stop lecturing and wilbur quit giggling long enough for tommy to introduce his friend

after saying their name, the friend lifted their hand shyly, face burning from slight embarrassment. their other hand was latched onto tommy’s, feeling intimidated.

can you blame them? the fucking blood god looks like they wanna skewer them and cook them over a campfire.

tommy took notice of their shyness and cleared his throat, “we were planning on going to the carnival in their village if you three assholes feel like tagging along.”

like there was any way they were gonna let tommy and his friend go out without chaperones.

tommy turned back to his friend, “give me a second, i’m gonna go grab my sword just in case.” and proceeded to run up the stairs and towards the guest bedroom in phil’s house that he claimed.

the millisecond he was out of earshot, techno grabbed his friend by the front of the shirt.

“what are your intentions with tommy?”

the friend blinked once, twice, then bit back a smile. “you’re asking that as if i’m about to date that motherfucker.”

this time, it was wilbur who bit back a grin of his own. who would’ve expected the originally shy kid to have replied like that????

techno’s brain short circuited and his grip on their shirt loosened slightly. did.... did this kid just brush off his question???

“can you put me down? you’re gonna stretch my shirt.”

techno’s brain blinked back into focus and he gripped the kid’s shirt harder, shoving them against the nearest wall. “i asked a question, kid.”

“you know, tommy told me something like this would happen. i’m glad i came prepared.” and then, tommy’s friend sucked in a deep breath. techno leaned back, expecting the worst...

“MWISTER TECHNWOBWADE, PWEASE PUT MWE DOWN BEFWORE I SCWEAM”

oh god, this was far worse than anything he thought of.

he dropped the teen out of disgust more than anything, reeling backwards. if there was one thing that haunted his dreams, it was uwu-speak.

phil started howling of laughter, clutching his stomach and hunching over. originally he was going to stop techno from threatening a literal child but this outcome was so much better than anything he was anticipating

wilbur was no better, already tearing up from how hard he was snickering. he started choking on his own spit at one point, smacking his arm against the couch.

tommy was so fucking confused when he came back down the stairs, seeing the mayhem that was, for once, not caused by him. he glanced at his friend, who had the world’s biggest shiteating grin.

yeah, they were gonna fit in just fine.

and they did! phil took them under his wing (both physically and metaphorically) and allowed them to come visit his home whenever they wished. and whenever they did, phil was the first to ask how they’ve been and what they were up to

to phil’s surprise, the kid was overall calm in their choice of activities. things like playing soccer or drawing or figuring out how to learn instruments in their free time. it seemed like they were desperate to get their hands on anything and everything just to learn

he found it funny, though, when their chaotic side shone through. they easily were on tommy’s level when they got into that headspace and it was so hilarious to him.

his favorite memory of the kid was when they walked into the house and marched right up to where techno was reading idly in the corner. planting their hands on their hips, they spoke.

“if you were to fuck a clone of yourself, would it be masturbation or would you be considered gay?”

phil, who was washing the dishes six feet away from them, just about crumbled into a ball on the floor from how hard he was laughing and sobbing.

of all questions, that was the one that came out.

but he had no idea that the chaos was a coping mechanism. he just thought they were naturally like that in their free time.

he soon found out the truth when they came home with tommy, who was cursing up a fit, visibly angry. his friend was slumped over, as if trying to hide themselves from the world

when phil asked what had happened, tommy exploded.

“their fucking dad took all their money from their savings! said he needed it more than them and when they asked for it back, he called them a fucking disappointment! that fucking bitch--”

phil can count very few times when he felt true anger and he can confirm that when tommy had told him what had gone down, he saw red.

but he knew better than to outwardly show it. judging by how hunched over and defeated the kid was, what they needed was a stable support system

so he walked over and shut tommy up with a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we take the rest of the night to build up that game room you wanted in the basement. i’m sure if we knock it out before techno and wil are supposed to be back, we can all play something like monopoly.”

seeing where phil was headed, tommy nodded and brushed away his anger. he knew that what his friend needed was a serious cheering up. tommy ran towards his guest bedroom, claiming that he was going to find his blocks.

phil crouched in front of the teen, tilting their head up to look him in the eyes. “you’re not a disappointment. you’re an amazing person with a chaotic joke machine going 120 kilos over the speed limit in your head and you are talented. your dad doesn’t know shit about what you’re capable of doing.”

oh boy, the kid’s crying. those are tears, full on tears.

that night was one of the best nights of their life, however. they enjoyed the entire three hour long game of monopoly where they watched the light leave everyone’s eyes. it was funny when wilbur lunged across the table when he landed on a railroad, out for phil’s blood.

speaking of wilbur, he enjoyed every minute in the kid’s presence. they often asked creative and random questions and went along with the abstract jokes he made, the two of them laughing heartily the entire time.

when the kid first mentioned wanting to learn how to play the guitar, he practically burst through the wall of the room next door, breathing heavily and exaggeratedly.

“did someone say guitar”

yeah, he’s feral. that’s canon.

they proceeded to spend the entire day in phil’s garden, each of them equipped with a guitar. despite their outwardly smooth brain and stupid demeanor, the teen was a fast learner and could play the most basic chords by the time the sun was setting.

wilbur’s favorite moment was the first night they met, when they went to the carnival. there was the game where you shoot the water and fill up the balloons and the kid was going head to head against techno and tommy.

it was when techno won that the teen turned to techno with murder in their eyes and spoke in a deadpan tone of voice,

“you’re lucky you won this time, you gentrified mayo monkey.”

wilbur’s jaw dropped, as did techno and phil’s. tommy was already in hysterics, smacking his hand against the counter that held the guns.

needless to say, wilbur found his favorite, not-quite sibling in a heartbeat.

techno was the last to come around with the child. can you blame him? every time he tried to threaten them or had beaten them at something, they would respond in a cryptic threat--

“i’m going to pee your pants if you don’t let me win”

or just brushed him off. without a second thought.

“anyways, i was murdering a chicken the other day, and the fucker had the audacity to ribbit at me.”

to say he was confused was an understatement. he was terrified of the fact that a literal child held so much power and disinterest in things like their own life. so for the first few months, he avoided them.

but he had seen past that when it was around midnight on a weekday. tommy was hanging out with tubbo and ranboo in their village miles away from the area. wilbur was out drinking with schlatt, niki, and fundy, and phil was already asleep.

techno wasn’t too far behind, sitting in front of the fireplace and staring out of the window that showed the front yard. it was only then when he saw the flash of a familiar face and looked closer as the teen walked up to the house quietly. their head was down and they carried a small bag with them.

techno opened the front door with a long creak as they reached the porch steps. it was only when they jumped and looked up in surprise that techno had noticed a deep bruise on their left cheek in the moonlight.

despite the fact that he kept away from them, techno was very protective and territorial of tommy, phil, and wilbur. and since they were attached to the teen, he became protective of them as well.

so all the voices in his head went quiet for a second. before exploding into a mixture of screams and threats, all leading back to protecting the child in front of him.

without thinking, he reached forward and cupped their face for a better view of the bruise. at the warm and soft touch, tears slipped down the kid’s cheeks and they sniffed pathetically.

the voices quickly took a 180, all screaming to take care of them. make them feel better. so, techno led the kid inside and let them spend the night in his room, with them falling asleep on the bed and him falling asleep on the rocking chair in his room.

phil did not hesitate to officially declare himself as the teen’s official father, saying that their biological father was a “little bitch”

now somewhat living with the teen, techno found an appreciation for their quieter moments, when they were reading or simply daydreaming. it was cute, in his eyes. but he also grew to enjoy when they were absolutely feral, especially toward tommy.

his favorite moment with them was when they had gifted tommy a music disc for his birthday. it was sweet and sentimental and tommy just about burst into tears when he saw it.

all of the sappiness quickly vanished when tommy put it into a jukebox.

“FUCK THIS PUSSY, BOY, FUCK. FUCK IT RIGHT, BOY--”

tommy had let out the most terrified scream and it practically engrained itself into techno’s brain. it was the first time he ever laughed at something the teen had done and the teen felt proud of themselves.

and finally, tommy. he was already happy to call himself a friend of the teen’s. they were like peas in a pod, working together.

tommy came to them when his insecurity felt heavy and they came to him whenever their dad’s words got to them. they had a nice system of dependency on one another and neither of them would trade it for the world.

tommy’s favorite moment of being friends with them was during their first birthday living in phil’s house. it was a birthday befitting their personality, with brightly color streamers hung and confetti all over the floor. he knew that they enjoyed it severely and once the cake was cut, the kid turned to phil.

“phil, where’s the big tiddy strippers i requested?”

tommy was GONE

he all but choked on his slice of cake and walked away, shaking his head while trying to stifle his giggles. but when he heard phil’s scream of “WHAT”, he just lost it.

all in all, his friend had made a fine part of the sleepy boys. they were a happy face in an otherwise somewhat bleak and dangerous world. and all four men appreciated it.

#sleepy boys x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc #sleepy boys inc #sbi x reader #x reader #reader insert #teen! reader #mcyt x reader #minecraft youtubers #minecraft youtubers x reader #dreamsmp x reader

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mhathotfic · 2 years

Text

Part 2 this finally up! Already thinking about a part 3

Warnings: swearing, pining, addressing unspoken emotions, I mean sorta? Not really though because the vide is more like I like you and I know you like me so let’s fuck and talk later, masturbation (male), some angst, fem reader, written with plus sized reader in mind

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

In his defense, it was nearly impossible to get over someone who doesn’t even know how you feel about them. When you’re so completely and undeniably wrapped around their fingers and they so obliviously pull at your heart strings and bring you to your knees.

He knew he was stalling.

He had to talk to her about this at some point, but it was utterly terrifying.

Bakugou hated to admit it, but emotions wasn’t his strength. Dealing with and accepting changes wasn’t any easier for him and this was probably the worst situation he could have found himself in.

Spending night after night feeling sorry for himself after blowing her off just to pathetically call out her name like a prayer.

It wasn’t his fault though!

Every time he got the courage to tell her. Thought he could handle the rejection that might come, she looked at him with that cute smile on her round face and gave him her full attention.

And his heart would drop.

He’d be hit with the reminder that there’s only two possible outcomes. Either she loved and accepted his feelings and he can stop feeling so guilty, or she tell him she didn’t feel the same for him and he’d have to face the fact that he was so desperate for someone who didn’t want him the way he needs them.

No matter the option, their friendship wouldn’t be the same. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted that answer.

Sometimes not knowing felt safer.

She didn’t have to know. He could just pretend everything is fine and not lose his best friend during the day. Then, once he’s alone in the comfort of his dorm, he could take care of those desperate needs.

Could fantasize about her all he wanted and she’d never need to know about how his body and mind betrayed him when he thought about her. How her name came out in stuttering grunts and groans when his hips would buck up in to his fist. How utterly shameless it must look when he straddles his pillow and pretends it’s her he’s fucking instead, desperate declarations of his love mumbled out when he felt like he just couldn’t keep it in anymore.

He knew it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but what else was he supposed to do?

Confess? No.

So he tried to convince himself it wasn’t a problem. That it’s fine, he’ll get over it eventually.

Eventually never seemed to show up though.

You know what did?

Her. Of course her.

“Katsuki you ass! Wanna tell me- whoa! Uh I-“

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Who the fuck just barges into someone’s room like that?!” he snapped, quickly scrambling to cover himself up while she stood there, mouth agape and shocked eyes fixed on him.

He took it back, this was the worse situation he could be in.

“I- well you should have locked the door! Who doesn’t make sure it’s locked before, before you know a-and it’s not like you don’t come barging into mine when ever you feel like it!”.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, mouthing off and you can’t even say jerking off, just shut up and get out woman”. He grumbled, too flustered to find it in him to fight about this. That and his still throbbing cock hidden behind his pillow was desperate for more attention and he couldn’t do anything with her still present.

He would’ve thrown said pillow if it didn’t mean exposing himself just to get her out faster.

“You know what? No”.

“No?” He repeated dumbly, too shocked to even think of anything else to retort with.

There’s a moment of awkward tension. What was likely just a few seconds that felt like eternity. Then like in one his fantasies, she locked the door before finally continuing with whatever her plan was.

“No, we need to talk Katsu”

He wasn’t sure what her game was. Why she’d stubbornly stand her ground in such a situation. Why she’d try to talk now of all times.

“(Yn)-”.

“Oh my go- look we can do the awkward confession thing even though talking about feelings makes you uncomfortable, or we can skip to the part where I ride and figure out the rest later. You’re choice”.

He swore if she didn’t kill him of a heart attack from shock it’ll be a broken neck from whiplash.

“Where the fuck did that confidence come from?!” he spoke just a tad too loud while tossing the pillow to the side.

Throbbing cock pulsing with need on full display for her, she didn’t even hesitate to seat herself on it. Hissing at the stretch and cursing him when he huffed about how she should have let him prep her first.

“Shut the fuck up” she groaned out, rocking her hips slowly to get adjusted before picking up pace and bringing a hand up to play with her chest “I can handle it”.

He rolled his eyes at her, letting her have her little power trip moment. Honestly he was just happy to finally know how her soft doughy hips felt in his hands.

How she let out little squeals when he squeezed and smacked her ass. Even give him the treat of her tight cunt squeezing him just a little more.

And god that little cunt all on its own. Better than his dreams. So much wetter and tighter, he felt like she was choking him with it.

She was perfect, so overwhelmingly perfect. And his. Or at least she will be once he’s had his fill of her body for that night.

#katsuki bakugou x reader smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader smut #bakugou x reader smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader smut #x plus size reader #chubby reader

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druigswhores · 3 years

Note

fluff prompts 10 & 19 with pietro maximoff would be so cute 🥺

elevator talk

summary: while on a mission with the avengers team you manage to save pietro’s life leading him to want to show his appreciation for you inspired by this prompt list

content warning: pietro maximoff x fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, mentions of blood, set after age of ultron but pietro never dies and civil war doesn’t take place <3

note: i hope i don’t disappoint you with this fluff! i’ve been reading more quicksilver comics recently and this is the outcome of that :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (lmk if you want to see anymore content like this <3)

masterlist

"Remind me again, why did the ENTIRE team need to come on this mission?" You complained, fighting off two grown men while waiting for the signal Tony was supposed to give to tell you it's safe to go inside the building.

"Call it a group bonding session." Tony teased while flying near the building in his Iron Man suit, trying to figure out how to lower the shields. Ever since the fall of SHIELD, it became even more difficult to find the remaining Hydra bases and due to the Ultron situation that occurred a few years ago, the difficulty only increased.

"Could we do a little less chitchat and a little more fighting?" Steve demands, you could hear Cap's grunts through your earpiece, making it obvious that he's struggling to fight off the Hydra goons.

You were a couple miles away from the building attempting to make your way closer to it, the enemies clearly noticed your arrival when they saw a person in red and yellow suit flying pass their windows, easily recognising the well known Iron Man.

And because a huge green angry Hulk isn't exactly easy to ignore.

"Clearly Cap can't keep up with us superheroes." Pietro teased, with a blink of an eye he knocked out the enemies surrounding both you and Steve.

"Thanks for the help Sonic, I'd give you some onion rings but I don't have any on me right now." You joked, smirking at the exasperated speedster that stood in front of you.

"I just saved your life and this is how you repay me Prinţesă?" He feigned hurt, placing his hand over heart.

"Saving her life? That's a bit of an exaggeration even for you Piet." Wanda's voice was heard from the comms, she managed to make her way into the building effortlessly, fighting beside Vision.

"Mind your business Wanda." Pietro scoffs biting back the smile forming on his face, he could hear his sisters laugh through the earpiece.

"As much as I love hearing the two of you argue with each other, now may not be the time." Natasha commented, followed by Clint agreeing.

You sighed, knowing they were right, focusing on the mission instead of the twin in front of you, glancing around at your surroundings. You noticed the enemies lined up behind Pietro preparing for an attack. You would've seen it earlier if it wasn't for the conversation distracting you.

You thought it was too late when you saw the bullet fly through the air, aiming directly at Pietro, it felt as though it was moving in slow motion. The piece of metal cutting through the air making its way to the speedster. Not registering the fact that Pietro had super healing abilities your mind recalled what happened in Sokovia. The bullets going through Pietro in every angle possible. Him falling onto the ground, the colour drained from his face, everyone thought he was dead, Wanda included. That was until the speedster managed to spit out a joke about Ultron's good aim.

You didn't register what you were doing until after you did it. Rushing to protect him from the bullet you pushed him out of the way last minute, the bullet barely missed him, you felt the bullet scrape against your arm instead. Pietro fell to the ground with a yelp as you fell on top of him, wincing due to the pain the bullet caused you.

Steve ran over to the two of you after knocking out the culprit.

"They're both down." Steve states, Pietro shakes his head, attempting to sit up, lifting you up and placing you in his lap comfortably.

"Why'd you do that? You know I can take bullets right?" Pietro scowled, glancing over your body to check for anymore injuries besides the bullet wound, his hands were gentle, brushing over your body in a caring manner as he lets the palm of his hands rest on the sides of your face, holding your face in his hands.

"Now i saved your life." You joked, blushing at the position the two of you were currently in and trying to hide the pain the bullet was causing you. You weren't a super soldier or someone with super healing abilities, so jumping in front of a bullet to save someone that could survive getting shot multiple times wasn't smart thinking on your part.

But you couldn't help it.

You wouldn't say you and Pietro were best friends, you did get along well but the twin refrained from getting close to any of the avengers. Your relationship consisted of teasing each other often and bumping into each other constantly during midnight, resulting in the two of you having your own midnight sessions where the two of you sat in the kitchen drinking hot chocolate.

You reminisced on the last time you had your 'midnight session' with Pietro, not being able to focus on what Pietro and Steve were saying to you, there was a loud ringing in your head, echoing as you closed your eyes to stop the headache that was forming, you felt yourself being lifted up in someone's arms.

Maybe you underestimated how bad the bullet wound was.

"Fine weather we're having don't you think?" You laughed, glancing over at the window, the heavy rain pelted against the glass of the compound, that alongside the wind that sounded much louder in your bedroom made it difficult to even attempt to sleep. You could just barely make out the trees in the distance due to the night sky.

"Didn't think you'd show up tonight, don't you need the sleep before our mission tomorrow?" Pietro questioned. He was facing the stove, you could smell the hot chocolate that was heating up. You made your way next to him, grabbing two mugs and placing them next to him before moving to the fridge to grab the whipped cream.

You swapped positions with Pietro, passing the can of whipped cream to him and grabbing the spoon that was used to stir the hot chocolate.

"Oh wait! I made cookies today, we could have them now!" You remembered, grabbing the plate of cookies from the cupboard and placing it on the table, Pietro immediately reached out for one, and then another.

"I don't know if you know this yet but, I love you." Pietro confesses, grabbing another cookie. You pushed the plate away from him before he could grab another.

"You gotta slow down Piet, don't want you emptying the plate before we even get to have the hot chocolate, now do we?" You grinned and he complains, reaching out for another.

"It's nice to know you care so much about my well-being dragă." You rolled your eyes at the smirk plastered on his face. With the blink of an eye he was stood across from you, closer to the plate of cookies, with another in his hand.

The two of you couldn't stop the smiles that formed on your face, even going to bed in a much better mood than you were in previously.

It was hours after the mission, you were patched up as soon as the quinjet landed at the compound. After a long lecture from Steve and the debriefing, you were finally able to be alone, only wanting to go back your room and sleep for days.

You made your way to the elevator that would take you to your floor, too tired to take the stairs. You attempted to fight back the tiredness, blinking harshly to keep yourself awake, missing the blue streak of a superhero making its way into the elevator and right beside you.

"How are you feeling Dragă mea?" Pietro speaks out after a couple moments, you jumped in shock not realising the speedster was next to you.

"Dammit Piet! What did I say about doing that?" You held your hands over your chest, frightened. He looked at you apologetically before moving to the elevator buttons, pressing the button that stops the elevator from moving.

You stared at him as he sighed, struggling to put his thoughts into words.

"Piet... what's wrong?" You whispered, analysing his face and posture, you could tell he was stressed. He turned to look at you, his face softening when your eyes met.

"I can’t lose you prinţesă." He manages to say, making his way to you, reaching out for your hand.

His hand was warm in yours, he held onto your hand tightly, you looked at him confused, raising your hand to rest against his jaw, your thumb stroking his cheek gently.

“You’re not going to lose me, where’s this coming from Pietro?” You asked softly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, your head rested against his chest. You could feel his uneven breaths, almost as if he’s on the verge of having a panic attack. Pietro struggled to even out his breath, panic bubbling up inside of him, he can’t lose you. Even the thought of losing you filled him with dread, he doesn’t deserve someone to risk their life for him, especially someone like you.

“How did I manage to get you?” He finally whispers, pulling back to look at you.

That’s when you understood what he was trying to say.

“I don’t want to lose you too, you know? Even the thought of it, it just-” You take a deep breath, smiling solemnly at him. “Every-time we go on a mission I’m terrified Piet, after what happened in Sokovia- after what happened to you. I cant lose you, I care too much about you.” The memories of what happened in Sokovia haunted you. You weren’t close to the Maximoffs then but you understood them, you understood their pain and loss. Similarly to them you had no one, no family, no one to say ‘I love you’ too.

Until now.

“That’s a very complicated way to say you love me, dragă.” He teased, you could see the redness in his eyes from the tears that were threatening to spill.

“Well no one else enjoys my baking as much as you do.” He rolled his eyes in response knowing your referencing the night before, while still holding you in his arms, he reaches out to turn the elevator back on.

No more words were needed to be said, not for now at least. You had each other, and that’s all that mattered to you, for now.

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