#like i get people needing a break and its easier to ask to go to the bathroom

[eosofspades]

okay so maybe it was just me being ahead of the curve or whatever but like. did anyone else have their ultimate misery / severe depression era during middle school instead of high school?

[bqstqnbruin]

ah I love seeing the "teachers are monsters for not letting students use the bathrooms whenever they want all the time" discourse starting again babes please

[rosebudfics]

Professor!reader and severus being married but hiding it from the students, bc they dont want the gossip and are just private people in general BUT one day sev forgets to take off his wedding ring and the golden trio go on this whole mission to find out who hes married to; completely freaking out when it turns out hes with reader cause theyre complete opposites while teaching

(Sorry if this is too long or doesnt make sense :^ i had this scenario in my head for some time lol)

Secret Lovers

Severus Snape x Professor! Reader

Warnings: use of the name "git" a lot lol, reader is the astronomy teacher but you can swap it out for any class, Snape smacks Ron and Harry

A/N: I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH OMG!?!?!?! also this isnt really set in any specific year but its more leaning towards where theyre older since snape you know.. hits ron and harry over the head and harry has the map <3

You and Severus had managed to keep your relationship secret for a couple years now, with the exception of only Minerva and Dumbledore knowing.

Why does anyone else need to know anyway? It was none of their business!

So one regular morning when you and Sev were getting ready for the day in the early hours of the morning, he had somehow forgotten to take his golden band off. You both would usually keep them in a little ring box at home so they were hidden but safe and put them back on at night, but today Severus had just forgotten to take it off.

You would bid your goodbyes at home before you left together, getting one last kiss in before heading back to Hogwarts, then Severus would put his usual cold face back on.

You both headed to your classrooms like normal, Severus still failing to notice the wedding band still on his finger.

When classes started, everything was going how it usually would: he would deduct house points, snapping at kids whenever they would interrupt his teaching, etc. That is until Hermione noticed a particular shine off her teachers hand.

Hermione looked closer before very quietly gasping. "Holy cricket!" She whispered so only Harry and Ron could hear her.

“What?” Ron asked curiously but not very quietly, earning the attention of Severus.

“On Professor Snape’s hand, he was wearing a wedding ring!” She said in a hushed voice.

“You must be crazy Herminone, there's no way that he’s married to someone.” Harry chuckled.

“Yeah, no ones gonna want to let alone be in any relationship with that old git-” Ron was interrupted by getting smacked over the head by Severus, followed up by Harry getting smacked as well.

Hermione just kept quiet, keeping her giggle to herself.

“Would you mind repeating yourself Mr. Weasley?” Severus sneered down at him.

“...no, sorry.” Ron grumbled.

“Mhm. 5 points from Gryffindor, and that's me being generous.”

After class, Ron, Hermione, and Harry all gathered at the library at break. “Are you sure you saw a ring, Hermione? Was it even on his ring finger?” Harry asked as he sat down some books in front of him.

“I'm certain! The real question is though, to who?” Hermione thought for a minute.

“Harry, why can't we just use your cloak to spy on him?” Ron questioned like it was obvious.

“Brilliant!” Harry exclaimed but Hermione smacked him in the arm.

“That's invading his privacy! It's terribly rude.” She scoffed.

Ron then mocked her, earning a smack. After a while of begs and pleas, she finally caved.

“Alright, alright!” She sighed.

They then all made their way back to the dorm to get everything they needed. Harry also grabbed the Marauders Map so it would be easier to find Snape. And then off they went on their little adventure to hunt down his wife.

They had to do some weaving and dodging to not bump into anyone (they bumped into Neville at some point, terrifying him) until they made it to the staff room. Harry looked down at his map to find Snape and you, they're astronomy teacher, alone.

“What are Professor Snape and Professor y/n doing together?” Ron asked in a confused voice.

Harry hushed him and then looked into the keyhole to find Snape and you talking to eachother.

“Are you sure no one saw the ring?” you asked again.

“Yes, dear, I am sure of it.” Snape said in a somewhat annoyed tone. “If someone did see it, I would be getting hounded with questions!”

“Yeah well not if all the students are terrified of you!” you sighed. “Look I'm not mad, I don't want you to think that, it's just we've gone this long keeping it secret it feels weird to just slip up like this”

Severus stepped towards you and grabbed your face in his hands. “Listen love, no one will know. Maybe in the future we can be more open about it.” He then bent down and kissed her gently, and you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer.

Harry gasped quietly and backed up. He was about to say something before he heard footsteps walking towards the door. “We gotta get outta here!”

They all then scurried off down the hall back to the dormitory.

“Harry, what did you see? What were they doing in there?” Ron asked.

“Its professor y/n, that's who he's married to!” Harry was slightly out of breath from running.

“Professor y/n?? But they're so.. so different!” Hermione was shocked.

“You must be seeing things mate, there's NO way Proffesor y/n is married to the old git.” Ron scoffed.

“I'm telling you! They were talking about how he had forgotten to take his ring off or something and then they kissed!” Harry gushed.

They then talked about why you would ever want to marry Snape for the rest of break. Interestingly enough they next class was with you!

Since you were an extremely nice and open teacher, they felt more comfortable talking to you about it.

"So professor y/n, have you been seeing anyone lately?" Ron asked before class actually started.

You were caught off guard to say the least. "Well... I dont really see how my romantic life concerns any of you," you laugh whole heartedly.

Ron then smirked. "You never denied it. Perhaps another Proffesor that teaches here!" Hermione pinched his side as a warning to shut up.

"I don't know what your getting at, Ron" you chuckle becoming a little worried.

"Well the man I'm thinking of is a mean, old, cranky git that likes potions-"

"Thats enough! You don't ever talk about another Proffesor like that!" You scolded him.

"Alright, sorry proffesor... but im right, aren't i?" Ron smirked.

Harry and Hermione perked up to listen.

You sighed, before making sure that no other student or teacher was around, nd then said "You must not tell anyone."

[rboooks]

The bakery is a front!...right? Part 3

Danny carefully finished the last details on a special order cake done by his newest and likely most crucial customer should the man like his pastries.

Bruce Wayne's butler was to arrive in twenty minutes for his youngest son's birthday cake. It was a staking tower and three smaller stacks, each depicting a cow on a farm, and a cat sleeping with a dog in the middle of a leap. Damian had asked for a cake that showed all his pets but was vegan.

It was an honestly fun order even if he didn't quite understand the special instructions.

"Damian's school friends mention a fun new "suger energy" coming from this bakery. I want him not to be seen as someone out of touch, so please make sure to add that in," Bruce Wayne said over the phone to a shocked Danny a week prior. If he got Wayne's attention, then soon his bakery would be the newest hot spot in Gotham!

It would be the perfect cover for bringing over more funds from his Ghost Vault and expanding. He could help many more people with employment without bringing the pesky IRS on his head for having unexplainable cash.

Sometimes doing everything by the book was a headache and a half, but if there was one thing Fentons knew how to do, was make their business significantly legal. How else would his parents file taxes for "ghost hunting?"

Handsome possible mate is near. Phantom purred in his mind while Danny spun the cake one last time to ensure everything was in order.

Sure enough Alvin appears at the kitchen door, not quite within the room, staring

. Danny has no problems with who is in his kitchen, but Andres insisted only kitchen staff needed to be back here. Apparently, they didn't have enough legroom to add more people, taking up unnecessary space.

And Andres had a strange urge to keep all their recipes a secret. It was not uncommon in Gotham for big corporations to send in spies and cause small businesses to go bankrupt when selling their secerts.

Danny, knows he's a good baker, has since he was a child. Even before his move, he could convince other ghosts Rogues to stop mid-fight for a snack break because his creations were tasty. While his original recipes falling into the hands of greedy rich men made him squirm, it was primarily due to someone taking credit for his work rather than any funds lost to them.

So after a while, he agreed to Andres' demands and promoted him to store manager. It was easier to have someone from Gotham run a Gotham shop. It left Danny with more time to bake and keep a eye on the community's recovery.

He was so happy to see that overdoses had gone down by nearly sixty percent since he opened. The homeless population had decreased by forty percent, and overall crime in his area had been a good twenty percent.

It was good to see how he was protecting his haunt.

"Danny" Alvin called after a moment. "Do you need help?"

Now, Alvin is a great guy, cute too but he couldn't decorate a cupcake to save his life. His bother was a better hand in the kitchen.

Bring him to our nessssstttt Phantom urged with a shocking wave of want, almost having Danny tumble over. Ugh, his mating season is getting out of hand.

He had seen Frostbite last week about it, but the yeti told him it was perfectly natural for ecto-beings. He would start to stabilize soon, and hopefully, Phantom would no longer be tripping over its tail to get a significant other and start a family.

His nesting problem only grew recently. Now Danny owned every building on the block- primarily due to the facilities being old businesses that went bankrupt years ago and made it super cheap after sitting there for years collecting dust. He had realized that kids didn't feel safe with adults, so a new building went up for homeless adults on his other side. Then he realized that they could benefit from a laundry place which happened to be one of the businesses that went under.

He got that remodeled and threw more goons into it. Scarecrow's old goons had gotten the word out that Danny paid well, gave excellent benefits, and working for him had the less likely chance of getting their face smashed in. Then a homeless kid asked Danny if he could borrow his bathroom because the temporary ones in the side buildings were small and cold, and the kid really missed splashing around in a tub instead of a shower. He realized he also needed to offer that. So one of the buildings was turned into a bathhouse, with rentable personal spa rooms for regular citizens. Now a community laundromat and bathhouse were open at all hours, helping stop the spread of diseases with good hygiene.

Of course, Danny had to make it seem like the money for all of this came from somewhere. He contacted Vlad, whose status as a billionaire made it easy to wire him the funds. When asked, Vlad would only mention trying to get into his step-kids good side.

He still had plenty of street kids doing bakery deliveries for him, but now he had more space to give them a actually apartment. He of course never ask for commitment and they never gave it to him.

He had a few families approach him to rest out the other buildings for business and he was excited to see different restaurants and cafes blooming to life around him. This whole street, once a dead sad thing, was becoming colorful because of him.

'I'm fine thank you Alvin" Danny says shooting the younger man a grin. Alvin face heats up and Phantom is practically beating its head against a wall. Screaming, crying as Alvin plays with bit of his hair at the bottom of his neck.

Danny swallows down the urge run his fingers through it, focusing on his human side as hard as he could.

"Is that the cake with the special ingredient? The one you send the street kids on deliverieswith?" Alvin asks after a moment pause.

"Sure is. Hopefully, we can get the Wayne's hooked on it. It'll be great for business." Danny smiles. There is a split second where Alvin's face tightens around the mouth like he's angry before it's gone.

"Yeah, I bet. Though with the help of Masters, we won't have to worry about funds for a while, right?"

Putting his tools in the sink to soak, the baker shrugs. "Vlad will help but only after he sees potential in something. The set up I have going got his attention cause of our special ingredient. He's dabbled with it before, you know? That's how he got rich"

Alvin jerks his head in his direction. "So he's an expert?"

"More than an expert. He's the main reason we have so much of this stuff to push. I wouldn't be able to get it on my own without his help," Danny says, absent minded. He's busy trying to beat Phantom back with a stick as his ghost side whines for a child of their own.

He's not going to date any of his employees. That's a weird power imbalance that Jazz would never approve of.

Maybe he should take some time away from the bakery for a while. Danny couldn't find true love if he was always working. He'll ask Tucker and Sam to come to some clubs or something. It could be fun.

I want a baby! Phantom sneered outrage that his demands have been ignored.

Soon Danny promised I'd eat two whole bagels later in the meantime.

"Masters is our leading supplier, and he just lets us manage his goods without instruction? Isn't that a bit unorthodox?

Danny blinks " I guess? Vlad's always done some unorthodox deals. His giving me complete control will likely keep him out of the picture once someone catches on. Gosh, sometimes I wish I got out of the family business as my sisters did, but one of us had done this, or our parents would be unbearable."

Alvin Draper looks sadden "Your parents pushed you into this life?"

"Raised me in it," Danny corrects "My dad and I made his special Fruge for the first time when I was three. Been hooked ever since."

Just then Peter is there looking horror stuck "Your old man got you hooked at age three?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you keep doing it then?"

"The baking? Well, it's ugh part of me now. I'll die of I stop- er die completely. "

Alvin snatched his hand to tug him close, and wow, he was stronger than he looked for a nineteen-year-old. Phantom woofs as the man practically lefts him off the floor to set him on the counter and stare into his eyes. "You don't have to live like this anymore. Let me help you. Let me protect you"

Both Danny and Phantom chock on their shared spit at the best flirting method anyone could use against a protective spirit.

The promise of protection was like someone whispering sweet nothings in his ear during love making.

"I got to go!" He screams jumping away from the brothers to run out of his own bakery in a panic.

Goodness. I need a vacation. Maybe my sisters would be down for some ectoplasm collecting in the Ghost Zone?

(Jason and Tim take the cake for Damian back to the cave, swearing when the test come back as a regular vegan cake. Had Tim stepped in too early and stop Danny from adding the drug?

Jason was angry that Danny was just another kid the adult around him failed. But now Danny was one of those adults, and it's killed him to admit it, but he would still shoot Danny in order to stop the cycle.

Bruce, after confirming the cake was delicate, shared a slice with his youngest, who adored the flavor. It was the best cake he's ever had. Such a waste of talent on crime.

At least the Bats had a new lead. Vlad Masters and his mysterious rise to wealth. They would get him and Danny off the streets.

Danny is miles away, fanning his blushing face as his sister demands more information of the cute baker boy that knew how to flirt with protection ghosts. )

( Part 1) (Part 2), (Part 4)

[star-anise]

are we talking about broke therapists yet?

I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.

Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.

After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.

Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.

Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?

I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."

Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?

I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.

Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.

At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.

I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.

I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."

My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.

All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.

Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.

I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.

[darkbluekies]

i have been DREAMING of a silas torture scene!!! i have literally read, re-read, and re-re-read every word you’ve ever written about that man .. you have no IDEA how much I am going to eat up his torture story 🤭🤭 thank you for feeding us!!! <3<3

In the basement

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: you find yourself in Silas' basement once again and he decides to try a new torture technique — which backfires.

Warnings: torture, violence, mentions of starvation, manipulation burning, boiling water, mentions of cuts, mentions of sawing off people's limbs, ripping out teeth and nails, blood, beating, (let me know if you find more, I have been editing and rewriting so much that I've forgotten what is in the story at this point)

Word count: 3.5k

You lift your head when you can hear footsteps coming towards you. The mumble of Silas men greeting someone is all you need to know who’s here to see you. 

“There we have them”, Silas snickers and clicks his tongue amusedly. He’s acting as if he’s talking to a child. “Are we ready to act like a big girl/boy again?”

You glare up at him, where he stands with his hands in his front pockets. If you could, you’d tackle him until he hits his head, but your ankles are chained to the cold floor.

“I fucking hate you”, you mutter coldly. 

“Oh, do you now?” he chuckles cockily  and grabs your chin firmly, tilting it up to look at him. 

Your neck gets strained beyond its limits. Silas is tall and refuses to crouch down to make it easier for you to look up at him.

"Still disobeying?" he asks. "I thought you'd be good by now. I miss you, little thing. I want to have you back in my arms. Who am I supposed to hug at night?"

"Hug a cactus", you spit. "Suits your pleasant personality-"

Silas chuckles and grabs a fistful of your hair. He sinks down in front of you and forces you to look at him. Your eyes widen in fear and your scalp burns at his fingertips. You can feel your heart beat harshly in your chest. Suddenly, you remember why you've been afraid of him before — why his techniques always work. You seem to forget the basement when you've been let out, everything turning into a blur. All you remember is that you do not want to go back. But somehow, you always manage to.

"You don't want me to be nice, do you?" he asks you. "Want me to break that pretty little head until you're bleeding, hm?"

You shake your head quickly. Suddenly, you've figuratively your tongue — and if you're not careful you'll soon literally lose it. 

Silas lets go of your hair and stands up. You keep your head down. 

“Hm, what should we do to teach you a lesson?” Silas thinks out loud and takes a hold of your hand. “Should we … break some fingers?”

You shake your head quickly and try to take your hand back. Silas holds it tightly and brings out a lighter from his pocket. You panic and try to rip your hand out of his iron grip. Silas traps you against the wall with his knee and elbow keeping you in place. He shifts his bodyweight onto you and traps your arm onto the wall by securing your wrist to the surface. With his other hand, he brings out his lighter. You squirm desperately under him.

“Alright, I’m not going to break your pretty fingers”, he says. “You need them to please me.” 

“Please, please, don’t!” you screech and try to kick him. “Silas, don’t!”

He lights it.

“Do you know how my heart feels right now, Y/N?” he asks calmly. “It’s burning. I think it’s only fair for you to feel it too, to understand how hurt I feel.”

He moves the flame to your arm, holding it under your skin. You cry out in pain and apply more force to your wiggling. A stance of burning flesh reaches your nose. Silas holds the flame for a good thirty seconds before removing it. He brushes some soot off of your arm and bends down to kiss it. He moves on to your next arm, then your waist. You finally manage to pull your arms free and push him away. You try to sink down on the floor, but he lifts you up by your shoulders. 

“I need you to stand up for me”, Silas says. “Still with me?”

Your face scrunches up in pain. Silas shakes you carefully. 

“Still with me, baby?” he asks in a loving voice that doesn’t match his manners. 

You nod weakly. Silas smiles slightly and places you back at the wall. Your poor legs are still cuffed and feeling like jelly. Silas chuckles. 

He looks over his shoulder as two of his men come in with four buckets of water. You stare at them with wide eyes. This is new. 

“You know I can’t hurt you”, Silas says and walks over to the buckets. 

“Can’t hurt me?” you repeat in disbelief and show your arms full of cuts and bruises. “You’ve burned me! You’ve cut me!”

“You should see what he does to people he doesn’t like”, one of his men smirks. 

“Don’t talk to them”, Silas warns him and grabs the man by his collar. “Or you’ll get to taste what I do to those I don’t like.”

“Yes, sir, sorry, sir.”

Silas lets him go and grabs one of the buckets. He walks back to you where you stand against the wall. You want to sink into it. With your eyes glued onto the bucket, you open your mouth to ask what he’s going to do but you don’t have time to do so before he throws it at you. You hide your face with your arms and scream. Boiling hot water crashes against your body. Your dirty clothes stick onto you and quickly grow cold. You breathe heavily and look at Silas in shock and pain. He has already turned around to get the next bucket. Suddenly, everything’s ice cold and you scream again. Somehow, it’s worse this time. The quick temperature change feels like sharp needles penetrating your skin. You’re sure that Silas’ men upstairs can hear you by now. 

You shake your head in desperation as you see Silas pick up the next bucket. 

“Silas, please-”, you cry out. 

“You caused this yourself, Y/N”, Silas reminds you. “You have one simple rule: do not leave me. And what did you do?”

You stay quiet. He throws the next buckets full of water. Scorching hot. You scream even louder and start to sob. 

“What did you do?” Silas asks testingly and walks over to the last bucket. 

“I-I tried to run away!” you cry out and hug your shaking body. 

“And?” 

He picks up the next bucket. 

“I talked to a cop!” you sob and press yourself closer to the cement wall. “I’m sorry, I’ll never do that again! Please don’t hurt me anymore! Please, Silas, I-I’ll do anything!”

Silas scoffs. “You wanted to leave me, get me in trouble and destroy everything I’ve built up these last ten years! And I’m just supposed to … forgive you?”

You sob. You know how proud Silas is of his imperium. He's spent the last ten years building it to become the most fearless and powerful criminal in the country. You just wanted him to feel as helpless as you do.

Silas throws the last bucket at you and an icy waterfall greets you. One last scream leaves your panicked body. You sink down in a curled up ball as you hug your body, trying to keep some kind of warmth and shield. You sob and whimper with your head full of fear and nerve system confused. Silas throws the plastic bucket to the side and walks over to you. He sinks down in front of your body and grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb, like he did before. 

“What do I need to do to make you obedient?” he asks. “Do I need to kill everyone to make you stay with me?”

“Please …”, you plead through hammering teeth. “Please don’t, please-”

He hushes and cups your cold, wet cheeks. 

“You only need me anyway”, he says softly. “All those other people — your family, your friends — they don’t care about you like I do, do they? They just pretend to spare your feelings. Have they even tried to find you? Or help you? They’re probably going on with their lives the same, as if nothing has changed, in this precise moment.”

“You don’t know that”, you whisper and sniffle. 

“I do know. I have been watching them.” Silas moves closer to you. “If they really cared about you, they’d tell you when you did something wrong, and then help you fix it. That's what families do, they help you become a better version of yourself. They wouldn’t lie and let you destroy and embarrass yourself. The reason I put you down here, Y/N, is because you're my family, someone I care very much about. I have to teach you a lesson to make sure that you don’t do anything dumb. You’re a danger to yourself. You need me to take care of you, to teach you what is right and wrong.” He caresses your cheeks. “If only you didn’t do such stupid things I wouldn’t have to do these hurtful things. You know I love you.”

You sob and look down. 

"Say it back, Y/N", he urges you. "Say that you love me."

"I … I love you", you mumble.

"Good girl/boy."

Silas warm lips presses a hard kiss to your forehead before standing up. You sit frozen while he walks up the stairs. 

Silas leaves you alone for another twenty four hours before he walks down again, to see if you’ve broken yet. If you haven’t, he’s going to take your clothes and carve in his name in your leg to force you to see his name every time you open your eyes. He sees you curled up in a ball in the corner of the dark, cold basement. You’re not moving. 

“Are you sleeping, baby?” he smirks. “Rise and shine, we have work to do! We’re not done yet.”

You don’t move. You must be weak from hunger. 

“If you act well today, I might get you something to eat”, he smiles and walks over to you. “Would you like that?”

He’s much, much nicer to you than to the other people who have the displeasure of ending up in his basement. He would never talk to them as sweetly as he does to you, never negotiate with them like this. He would never change his torture methods to be nicer to anyone else but you. 

“Y/N.”

You don’t give him any attention. Silas rolls his eyes and grabs your hair to turn your face to him. You moan out a weak painful sound. Something’s wrong, Silas can tell that. He sinks down in front of you and presses his hand to your forehead. 

Shit.

Silas can feel how his heart skips a beat. He should have realized that you would have gotten sick if he left you in this cold basement in your ice cold, soaked clothes and hair. He gulps and cups your cheeks. 

“Are you awake?” he asks quickly. “Baby, look at me.”

You open your eyes slowly and look at him with dull, glossy eyes. Silas looks over his shoulder, towards the stairs. 

“Get me the keys to the cuffs!” he roars. 

He turns back to you and hastily brushes the hair out of your face. 

“Hold out, darling”, he says softly. “You’ll be taken care of as soon as I get the key.”

You cough out a weak sound that seem to come from deep inside of you. Silas helps you by patting your back. 

A woman comes down and gives Silas’ his keys. He hurries to uncuff your ankles and pick your warm, limp body up in his arms. He hurries up the basement stairs and then up the next stairs to your bedroom. He takes your cold clothes off of you and gives you new, dry ones. His sweatpants, his t-shirt. You black out right away. He takes the time to take care of your older cuts and your newer burns before tucking you in bed. Silas watches you with a burning gaze. He clenches his jaw before walking out of the room. His second in command stands downstairs.

"You", he says angrily.

"Yes, boss?" he asks and looks up from his phone. "What can I help you with?"

"Go up to the bedroom and watch over Y/N. I don't want them to be alone."

"Sure, but what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to work a bit. I need to get my mind on other things."

"I will watch them for you."

"Thank you." He grabs his shoulder. "You know the rules. Recite them."

"I will not talk to them if not necessary. I will not answer any questions and I will not touch them if not necessary. I will let you know right away if something is wrong.”

Silas nods and walks away. He walks into his office and sits down behind his desk. Although he tries to concentrate on paperwork, anger is boiling through his veins. He doesn’t know what he’s angry at — himself, you or his men. Himself for forgetting that you could get extremely sick, his men for not warning him … or you for getting out of your punishment before he had gotten to the point he wanted. He tells himself that this sudden sickness is a part of your punishment, but it doesn’t help his racing heart. 

Silas pours himself a glass of brandy, in hopes to calm his nerves. The liquid burns down his throat and warms up his body, but it doesn’t help. Before he can stop himself, he throws the glass as hard as he can against the wall. It shatters into a million pieces. The door opens quickly. 

“Boss, what’s wrong?” one of his men asks. 

“Get me someone I can mangle or else I’ll go insane”, Silas breathes out through gritted teeth. “Take someone from the street if you have to — just bring me someone I can kill.”

You open your eyes and feel how a lump has grown in your throat. You try to cough and rip your entire vocal chords with it. A cough attack erupts from deep inside your stomach. Every cough hurts worse than the one before and every breath in feels as dry as an ocean. 

“Oh, careful”, a voice says and helps you sit up. He holds a glass of water to your lips. “Drink up.”

You recognize the man beside you. Silas’ second in command? Where’s Silas?

“You’re awake”, he states and stands up from his chair after putting down the glass. “I’ll go get the boss-”

You panic and shake your head.

“Please stay.” You’re caught by surprise that your voice comes out as nasally and thick as it does, although it shouldn’t surprise you in the slightest. “Don’t get him.”

“I have rules to follow.”

“I have to ask you something first.”

The second in command sighs and turns his head over his shoulder to look at you. He looks tired, but you can’t let him leave until you’ve had your question answered.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m not allowed to answer your questions”, he says. 

“I really need an answer”, you plead. 

“Silas will answer-”

“I don’t want his answer. He’ll lie to me. Please.”

He sighs and turns to you with his arms crossed over his muscular chest. “Let me hear the question first.”

“What do Silas do to the people he doesn’t like?”

Silas runs his hand through his sweaty hair. The man in front of him cries out. Silas has continued to throw punch after punch, using this strange man as a boxing doll. His fists are sore and bloody. Sweat drips down his back. The man in front of him has gotten his teeth pulled out with pliers, his hair has gotten cut down to his bleeding roots and nails have been ripped off. Silas had forgotten to gag him at first but the second the first loud scream exited the man's body, all he could see in front of him was your terrified eyes waking up to it.

"Boss, Y/N’s awake", a voice behind him says. Second in command.

"Fuck, I'm all bloody", Silas mutters and looks down at his black jeans and shirt that he's pulled the sleeves up on. "I can’t go up like this. Get me a washcloth."

The second in command drowns a cloth in a bucket of water. Silas uses it to scrub his arms, neck and face while walking up to you. When he opens the door, he finds you sitting up in bed, hugging your knees close to your chest.

"Hi, baby, how are you feeling?" he asks and sits down on the side of the bed.

Your eyes scan hum warily, stopping at his arms. Traces of blood can still be visible in the hair strands. Silas pulls down his sleeves.

"Don't worry about that", he says with an embarrassed smile. "How are you feeling, darling?"

"It hurts."

Silas reaches out to caress your cheek, but you flinch away. He frowns.

"I'm not going to hurt you anymore", he says carefully.

“Why are you bloody?” you whisper. “What have you done?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Why do you have to like me? Why do I have to go through this?”

You start to ramble for yourself and Silas hushes loudly. 

“You’re not making any sense, little thing”, he says. “Slow down, take a deep breath.”

“Why do you do those things to people?” you almost hyperventilate before starting to cough. 

Tears flow down your cheeks. You’re absolutely hysteric. Silas freezes. You know something.

“Why do I do what?” he asks quickly, grabbing your shoulders tightly. “Did someone tell you anything? What did they say?”

You sob and shake your head. 

“Y/N, if you don’t tell me what someone has put in your head-”, Silas says sternly. 

“You saw off people’s limbs!” you sob. “You … y-you-”

“Y/N, enough. Who told you?”

You don’t answer. Another cough attack erupts. Silas starts to get annoyed. 

“Y/N, who told you?” he asks through gritted teeth. “If you’re trying to hide someone, I’m throwing you back into the basement right away, with a fever or not.”

You sigh and glance up at him in pure fear. “Your second in command …”

“That motherfucker-”

Silas lets go off your shoulders and fly up from the bed. He can’t help but feel a deep ache in his heart. His second in command has been with him since he started his ‘organization’ — he’s been with him through thick and thin, had his back through everything. Him, out of anyone, knows the rules better. Silas trusts him to keep an eye on you alone, knowing that he would never betray him … or at least believing that.

He grabs his second in command and throws him against the wall.

“Traitor!” Silas growls. “You told them?!”

“They said that they had to know!” the second in command answered loudly, defending himself. “They wanted to know if you really love them! They wanted to know if you really were softer on them than others! They thought you’d lie if they asked you! I did you a fucking favour!”

They meet eyes for a few seconds before Silas curses and lets him go. He backs away, running his hand through his black hair. 

“Silas, I didn’t do anything to betray you”, the second in command says calmly. “I answered Y/N’s question in your favor. If I didn’t, they’d be even more wary of you.”

Silas doesn’t answer. His head and his heart are battling. 

He notices how you’re sitting at the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing, coughing into your arm. You’ve dragged yourself out of bed to stop him, but you couldn’t get far enough before your weak, aching body betrayed you.

“Y/N, what are you doing out of bed?!” Silas says sternly. “You need to rest!”

He runs up the stairs and picks you up. You’re tucked in again. 

“If you leave the bed again, I’ll have to cuff you”, he says carefully. “I don’t want you running around — especially when you’re sick.”

You’re very familiar with the chains that he uses to keep you in bed. Silas climbs sinto bed and sits on top of your legs to make sure you stay in place. 

“Y/N, Y/N, listen to me”, he says and cups your cheeks. “I could never do those things to you. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“You hurt me”, you remind him through sobs. “Even if it wasn’t as bad as you do to others, you still hurt me!”

“You know I don’t want to, but I have to. I have to make sure you don’t do stupid things like this — asking my men about my work. You know better than this and I know that. That’s why I’m helping you get back on the right track. If I don’t, you become like this, all frantic and scared. Why don’t you just let me protect you? Aren’t you tired of getting your heart in trouble? I know you are, baby …”

You sob which to him seems to be all the answers he needs.

“Trust me”, Silas says. “Trust that I know what’s best for you and you will never have to feel this kind of pain and fear again, okay?”

You can feel how your body starts to relax against your will. Silas wipes your tears and kisses your forehead. 

“My pretty, little baby”, he whispers comfortingly. “Everything will be okay. As long as I'm here, nothing will ever happen to you. I'll make sure of it, I'll help you.”

You sob and close your eyes. Once again, he wins.

[glitterquadricorn]

Another Leclerc - social media

+ summary: When rumors go around about another Leclerc joining the f1 grid, people automatically assume its Arthur, completely forgetting about y/n leclerc. She'll do anything for a formula one seat. Even if it meant going behind a certain driver's back. +pairing: none. + warning(s): sexism, google translate (I don't speak Italian nor French but if I have something wrong, let me know), like one curse word.

face claim: Lindsay brewer

+ author's note: for a while now I've been wanting to get back into writing, but writing fics stress me out, so I figured making social media/instgram posts will be a lot easier to put together. I've also decided to change how I do social media posts and I'm trying to figure things out, so in the meantime, bear with me.

itsy/nleclerc

liked by charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 20,102 others

itsy/nleclerc: *insert Sebastian Vettel quote here*

view all comments

charles_leclerc: isn't that my jacket? ⤷itsynleclerc: If I said no would you believe me? ⤷charles_leclerc: give me back my jacket or I'll tell mom ⤷itsy/nleclerc: go ahead and tell mom, you snitch

user1: Charles and y/n is exactly how my sister, and I are whenever she burrows my clothes.

patriciooward: when are you going to let me drive your Ferrari?⤷itsy/nleclerc: never. ⤷josefnewgarden: she won't even let me drive it and I'm her teammate! ⤷12willpower: she's let me drive it ⤷patriciooward: Y/N! I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!! ⤷itsy/nleclerc: other than my beloved Ferrari, I only love my bed and my mom I'm sorry!

user2: this made me feel ✨poor✨

scuderiaferrari: you have great taste, miss leclerc ⤷itsy/nleclerc: thank you! :)

user3: you look real good in red liked by itsy/nleclerc

user4: I so badly want her to race for Ferrari with Charles! liked by itsy/nleclerc

arthur_leclerc: is there something you want to share with the class?⤷itsy/nleclerc: nope 🤐

user5: y/n clearly knows something we don't ⤷user6: you don't think she's the leclerc deuxmoi is talking about, right? ⤷user5: I hope not because Arthur honestly deserves that f1 seat more than her.

ScuderiaFerrari:

liked by itsy/nleclerc, charles_leclerc, f1 and 3,689,758 others.

scuderiaferrari: two-time indy 500 winner & one-time indycar champion and the first woman to be in formula one since Lella Lombardi, y/n leclerc joins Ferrari in 2026!

view all comments

itsy/nleclerc: this has always been a childhood dream of mine to race for Ferrari! grazie per questa sorprendente opportunità! (thank you for this amazing opportunity) liked by scuderiaferarri

carlossainz55: you can't be serious

charles_leclerc: papa and jules would be proud ⤷itsy/n_leclerc: I know 😭😭

pierregasly: Congrats little leclerc! ⤷itsy/nleclerc: thank you, mon frère (my brother)

josefnewgarden: I'll miss having you around ⤷itsy/nleclerc: you and misses are always welcome to come to Monaco ⤷josefnewgarden: we might just take you up on that offer

lewishamilton: hopefully this is a step in the right direction in making the paddock more inclusive and welcoming for everyone! liked by itsy/nleclerc

user1: y/n doesn't belong in formula one. ⤷user2: and the fact that she's replacing someone that didn't need to be replaced is astounding! ⤷user3: the pressure will be too much for her and she'll fail like past women who've tried to make it in f1 ⤷user4: I predict she won't make it to summer break before she quits ⤷user5: why is it so hard for you to comprehend a woman being in formula one? I mean, if you hate women, just say so.

user6: my daughter has expressed interest in karting because of y/n

12willpower: I wish you nothing but the best, kid. ⤷itsy/nleclerc: thanks, old man! 😘

user7: y/n signing to Ferrari is great and all, but I'm over here asking myself what tf is in the water in monaco because it should be illegal to be this good looking! ⤷user8: you're out here asking the real questions ⤷user9: all I'm saying is God bless mama Leclerc

Chili man🌶️ How could do this to me? I thought we were friends.

Mini Leclerc What do you mean?

Chili man🌶️ Don't play dumb, y/n. You know exactly what you did.

Mini Leclerc Yes, I did sign with Ferrari. Yes, I did take your seat. You didn't sign an extension and they reached out to me. I saw an opportunity and I took it.

Chili man🌶️ I was getting ready to talk to Fred about an extension.

Mini Leclerc Early bird gets the worm?

Chili Man🌶️ You're a real bitch, you know that?

Mini Leclerc You think that's the first time a man, much less anyone has called me that? You know as much as I do that Formula one is a competitive sport and in order to get a seat, you may have to do some unspeakable things. Let me ask you a question, though. If the roles were reversed and you were me, would you have done the same thing?

*read*

Mini Leclerc you leaving me on read lets me know you would've. But I'll never apologize for my actions, Carlos. If you have any interest in IndyCar, I can give you some resources to help you out. Good luck in any of your future endeavors, Carlos.

---

thank you to @lorarri and @majaverse for helping me out. they didn't have to do that, but they did, so this is dedicated to them! :)

tagging list:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @patzammit @yagirlmexic @tinycyberhacker @keenmarvellover @mrspeacem1nusone @lendeluxe @alexxavicry

if your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you.

I'm going clean out my tagging list again, so if you want to stay on it, let me know.

[sully-s]

Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

[ggsbooks123]

Memories — part two of memory garden

warning: gets pretty angsty here and character deaths 😓 mentions of suicide (jude bby is guilt ridden)

summary: you don’t know how much longer you can take it. The thoughts eating away at you telling you to kill someone in your heart you knew was pure good… but what happens when the voices turn on you?

a lil disclaimer yall i mixed cressidas name with cresta without thinking and realised half way through… i couldn’t be bothered to go back and fix it so i continued using it 😭 cresta is cressida!

— —

The next morning I woke up to Boggs shaking me and asked me to step outside, the sun was only just making its ascent.

I notice my restraint is off, Boggs must have taken them off before waking me up, I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure why he had done it, I was in no right mind.

My eyes lifted at the doorway, Peeta was right there… No. I shook my head, following Boggs out the door.

He stood gazing over the destruction of the city, I tightened my fist when the echo of a voice tried to break through. Not now. This was the outcome of war and nothing I did to them now would prevent this. But the voices never agreed.

“Wanted to check how you were feeling after your first night” He explained once I joined him at his side, it was nice that he cared.

I shrug, glancing back over my shoulder “I don’t think it’s a good idea that i’m here, I was getting help back at the district… I don’t know why i’m here” I definitely didnt think it was a good idea, Coin had sent me here knowing i was far from recovery.

“Coin always has a reason” Boggs muttered like he’d been reading my thoughts “I think she has no use for Katniss and Peeta anymore-“ He eyes filled in the blanks his words didn’t…

“She sent me to kill them” I whisper back realisation smacking into, I was a weapon, again. But it wasn’t the capital this time, it was the rebellion.

When will i be free?

The voice sounds almost sad and I realise that it’s not a voice, it’s my own thoughts. My own depressing and given up thoughts.

“She can try and turn you into some psycho killer but the people in that room care about you, even if you don’t see it. So do I, the three of you kids have seen more hell than anyone deserves” Boggs explains, finally turning from the city to face me. “You’re just kids”

I frown, glancing down at my hands. Kids. We weren’t even eighteen years old, it was something that defined so much about someone and id forgotten.

“Thank you” I whisper, movement from inside alerts me and I reach for my gun, what if Peeta took this distraction as an opportunity but then Katniss stepped out, my heart didn’t slow but my hands dropped.

“What’re you doing out here so early?” Katniss asked stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance, my hand clenched.

She’s with Peeta, they will kill us all. The desire to kill Katniss was easier to push down but when it came to Peeta is was a thirst for blood like no other.

I shake my head, not hearing what Boggs responded with.

“How are things?” Boggs doesn’t respond to this question so I glance up and see they both have their attentions on me.

How are things? I wanted to scoff, but I knew that I was an accident waiting to happen, they didn’t know what would set me off. Apparently just saying how are things is one example. I shake my head and I notice the flash of concern.

“I can only get better right?” I spit, I don’t mean for it come out like that but she flinches and Boggs places his hand on her shoulder.

I feel it, my hand moving on its own before my right slapped down on it, instantly both their eyes slammed to me and without further explanation i declare, “We need to put my restraint back on”

And with that Katniss went inside and woke the others and Boggs cuffed me again.

Finnick was the first to step out, alongside a girl with a vines blooming flowers across the left half of her shaved head “Jude, I wanted you to meet Cresta, she’d one of the directors for this whole thing”

I smiled lightly at her, hoping to be polite since she no doubt had to stay up for an hour and watch me last night. “Nice to meet you, are you from the Capitol?”

She nods, “Do I give off that capitol ignorance?” She asked as a joke but in her eyes I could tell she was pleading I said no which made me smile slightly wider. I liked her.

“No, no. I was just asking didn’t mean to hit right on the money” I shrugged, “Maybe after this I could read palms?” I raise an eyebrow at Finnick who seems to just be smiling at me. “What?”

“Nothing, just glad you’re finally started talking about an after this” And with that Cresta and him left me, sending my mind reeling.

After…

— —

The next few days were especially hard, we had to travel a few streets at a time due to these devices called pods, the game makers had created them, no death should be boring apparently.

One of the pods had contained thousands upon thousands of snakes, luckily they seemed to stop at a certain point. Just like in the games except we could activate them from a distance.

Some of the other pods though, made it harder to remember where I was and who my friends are. Boggs had set off the last pod, four explosions had destroyed the road before them and each explosive made unbidden thoughts enter my head.

Now we were slowly making our way through the Capital streets, it seemed bizarre to think that it was once luxury.

“How’re you feeling?” His voice breaks through everything, and my neck snaps to him as I take a step back, bumping into Finnick who seems to have noticed why and is already guiding me to walk again.

Peeta frowns, turning away for a moment before looking back at me “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” Maybe he was trying to be nice, because we both knew it hadn’t been the reason.

“It’s- It’s okay. Really. Just a lot going on, and I think I’m feeling better. The questions that i’m asking help” I respond, trying to stay calm and push the voices away, though they’re not really there at the moment.

He seems to perk at my words before shooting over his shoulder “Ask one now, can’t hurt” I blow a breath, rattling through my brain for anything and then it clicked.

We’re back in the 75th Hunger Games, it’s a couple days in and we look utterly spent, I don’t even look like i’m making my next five steps.

I try to remember when this was, must’ve been right before the arena been destroyed, Peeta and I had run into the Careers and I’d paid with three strikes to my chest, Peeta not much better off.

The thought of the wounds made me reach for my chest, but they were gone. Magically healed by the Capital just to be tortured mentally.

I watch myself trip slightly but Peetas there in an instant, arm looping around my waist, holding me for dear life.

It looked so natural. Right. Together, his eyes never leaving me, concern dripping with every blink.

I hear him whisper like he’s next to me “We’re almost at the beach alright, just a little further” I can feel the desperation in his words, he needed me to make it.

I remember the exhaustion now, the utter fatigue I felt. The thought to close my eyes was over bearing but I couldn’t let Peeta down… win, I couldn’t let him win!

I snap out of the memory, luckily Finnick has my arms in his hands because i’ve stopped again and Peeta is looking at me with concern over his shoulder every few seconds. “Jude?” Finnick whispers and I take deep breath.

“In the last Hunger Games,” I began, trying to sort out the memory, he was saving me or was he the reason I ended up at the Capitol? “You saved me after the Careers attacked us, real or not real”

He frowned at the question, was it concern or hurt in his eyes, I didn’t know because when he blinked it was gone but then he stopped turning to face me. This time Finnick doesn’t push me forwards. He didn’t save you, and now he knows that he can’t get away with his lies anymore. Kill him!

Before I could act on the voices that abruptly awokened he speaks up, “I got you to that beach, then the arena went out and the Capital got you. So yeah, I saved you from the Careers but I couldn’t save you from the Capital and it’ll kill me everyday that you had to go through that and this and I couldn’t do anything”

His voice grew more anguished and devastated with each word and I found tears falling down my own face as he took deep breaths in front of me. The old me would’ve known how much this was eating at him, would’ve helped him but how could I?

I didn’t know me anymore. Or what I could do before I snapped.

I didn’t know what to say so I said “Haymitch told me that I- I told them if it came down to it, to save you” His eyes sharpened on me somehow, “I don’t blame you for what happened in the Capital, I never will. I’m sorry”

The air hung still as Boggs turned to them finally, breaking the moment “Keep up! We haven’t got all day” Peeta sighed, glancing at Boggs before solely landing on me again.

“Real. I saved you from the Careers” I smiled lightly, kill him, I shoved it down not paying any attention to it.

“Thank you” Finally, we began to follow the others down and around another corner. Soon we were arriving at our next pod, this one had a large arch with completely and utterly destroyed walls surrounding it left to right.

More destruction passed as they continued, how long before it’s too much, until the city isn’t even salvageable. Boggs told us to hide behind the walls while he set it off the next pod and then checked for anymore. We did as told, I took position between Finnick and Katniss and two other guys i didn’t know, Peeta and Cresta, Jackson and Pollux on the other side.

I felt anticipation, the voice had free roam when the pods went off. Too much going on at once, I couldn’t control it.

The pod detonation sent my mind spiraling, as I assumed, this one, four guns emerged from the wall and rained bullets into the archway destroying bits of the wall they were behind.

If you killed them their symbol would be gone, who would push that hope and if not for Katniss and Peeta, it would die with them. The voice stronger than it’d been in days.

No! I crouched further agaisnt the wall we’d taken cover behind, I’d been given my blank gun back for the promo but this was all too much, I felt the butt of the gun against my temple as I curled into my self.

I bring my head up and smack it against the gun, get out of my head. Get out. Get out! “My favourite colour is purple, I can’t wear red bows. Peeta saved me. My favourite-“ I repeat the words, whispered and keep bringing the butt of my gun to my temple.

A hand on my shouldern brings me back, at first my eyes catch the utterly devastated ones across from me. Peeta. He looks like he’d burn the world… For me. I break the eye contact quickly and the look in Finnicks eyes said it all. He didn’t have to go through what I had to understand, I didn’t know if I’d be able to do this without him, or Peeta… No matter how much I wanted to kill him sometimes.

Suddenly an explosion going off catches us off guard, did they set off another pod? “Boggs!” Katniss screams break the air, Finnicks hands move under my shoulders and lifts me to my feet, hauling me around the corner.

We both freeze at the sight, easily three of our squad members had been hit by the bomb. But it’s Boggs who lays in Katniss’s arms that makes my stomach drop and I’m almost sure I would have crumbled if not for Finnick. Bogg’s legs were gone, nothing but two stumps and onrushing blood.

Oh god, oh god. I slam my eyes shut and a ringing breaks out in my head. This is my fault, it’s all my fault, I never should have trusted them, Boggs should have never trusted them. The thoughts come harsher than they have in weeks and I can’t break away from them.

Kill them before they kill us all. This one isn’t my voice and I snap my eyes open sure I’d see his old and drawn face in front of me, but he’s not there. Relief fills me, but the twitch in my hand isn’t as my eyes dart to Peeta.

He must’ve been hit by the backlash of the bomb, Jackson was helping him to his feet as Cresta was helping one of the twins, who’d I forgotten were even there amongst all the chaos. His blue eyes darted around until they met mine and then they drifted to my hands.

I was holding my gun… I didn’t remember grabbing it, and it was full of blanks but it could still be a weapon. Kill him, I shake my head taking a step back at the same time I hear a click from afar, my head shoot’s up and I look to see l the other twin had rushed to help the other and had set off another pod.

I flinched ready for another bomb but instead the walls to the archway we just entered and the three others all begin to close, Katniss now standing from Boggs and holding the device he had seems to catch sight before anyone of us and the look of horror on her face is enough “Run!”

An arm grabs me and yanks me forward but my hands tighten on my gun, it was his fault. I can’t shake away these thoughts anymore, not after Boggs.

“Jude, keep it together!” Finnick spoke from beside me but nothing could bring me back, not after everything, everything that he’d done.

I felt my mind unscrewing, going barbaric at the thought of Peeta being so close and safe, he would make it out of this courtyard. And I tried to fight every single part of me that wanted to change that.

I couldn’t… Not after Boggs. You’re just kids, Peeta was a kid that had been the reason of hundreds and thousands of people… He had to die.

The air thrums around us as we rush up the stairs and I take this moment to look over my shoulder, a wave of black liquid lurches towards us and with utmost certainty I don’t want to find out what happens if it reaches me but then my mind flicks.

No consequences, kill him and die knowing you saved innocents. I wanted to shake these thoughts away, Peeta rushing up behind me tells me that he’d probably only run when he realised I was safe but a larger part of me knew he had some hidden agenda to kill me and cause more harm than good.

I had time.

It was the last confirmation I needed, shoving Finnick off me and throwing myself at Peeta, I let one of hands release the gun as I grab for his shoulder but his foot catches something and I only manage to grab his shirt as we go rolling down a few of the steps as he tries to fight off my grip, I hoped I had timed it right.

“Jude! Don’t” He cried out, finally managing to grab my wrist so I raise the gun in the other, “You have to die” I whisper, unsure why I needed to say it before I bring down the gun and finally, finally-

I’m shoved, NO. Snow’s voice screams in my head and I let out a cry, the yell breaks my skull open and I feel every ounce of rage pouring from the word.

His anger becomes my own and fuels me as I jump up from the ground and grapple the man from our squad who had ruined ruined ruined everything.

I knew it was wrong, some part of me as my ears rang and my mind exploded, but I couldn’t stop stop stop. The liquid rushed behind the man in my arms now, we’d spun, had I done that? Before my foot lifted and connected with his middle and I sent him into the abyss of oil.

Then it was all gone, the ringing, the voices and my mind was clear. I just killed a man. Someone must have grabbed me because i’m moving but I don’t feel it and I don’t care I’d killed someone, killed killed killed.

I feel the tears now as a door slams shut behind me and I hauled up my stairs, these are wooden not stone. The voices come back but they are no longer on my side. And it’s my own voice.

You killed an innocent. You need to die, you’re a danger. And I agree, I scream and scream that I want nothing more than to be dead and I must’ve actually been screaming because soon all I see is the same abyss I had forsaken another to.

— —

An explosion wakes me up and proceeds to remind me of everything that had happened before I succumbed to the darkness, I took in my surrounding the only light coming from the curtained window that Katniss and Gale were peering out of.

Whatever had just happened outside had affected Katniss more than Gale, and as I shift my position to get a better look but it’s useless, Gale lets the blinds close.

I let my eyes dance around the room, there’s more people in our group than I had realised, two men sat together checking the other for injuries, another man I seen but still didn’t know the name of stood with Cresta while Finnick and Peeta sat watching the window that Katniss and Gale were at. Jackson was no where in sight, I didn’t want to see her anyways, the guilt would twist even further. The twins… gone.

I swallow the sickness I feel, I had been so crazed I hadn’t taken the time to even get to know them.

All of the squad was far from me, I realised I was placed on stairs and the rail along it is what my hands are cuffed to.

Now you can’t hurt anyone. That hadn’t changed, no longer would I fight the urge to kill Peeta, somehow my wish of not killing him had been granted. Now I had to try not to kill myself, though that statement was half hearted.

Suddenly the familiar ring of the Capitals announcement played and my veins grew cold until one of the squad members spoke up “All the tvs in Panem are connected to the announcements, if the powers on then the shows running”

I rolled my eyes, the power that they could flush into abandoned apartments was incredible when some districts could barely keep the lights on for an hour or half.

The anthem continued, causing me to close my eyes but that only let the voices free reign in the darkness.

You could’ve been helping them stop this instead you let the Capital control you. I grit my teeth together not being able to take in what was happening on screen from the inner battle I was having with my own thoughts. You nearly killed Peeta and you were proud of it.

I nearly threw up.

My skin was on fire, pure and unadultered disgust and shame with myself, how could I have not realised that killing Peeta was the worst possible thing I could do, I would be nothing. Nothing, there was no way to put into words what would happen if he died.

And by my own hand, I closed my eyes. No. Never again would I let them win, hurt him. Never. I’d kill myself before I ever did something like that again… If I was even given the chance of redemption after what I did.

I open my eyes as I hear my name mentioned and see that the Capital is replaying everything that’s been haunting me since i woke up.

I watch the black oil like substance hurtle it’s way towards us, and I see it clearly now, Peetas eyes are on me waiting until I’m safe and clear before he runs after me and in that split second decision i’ve made one aswell.

Watching it on the screen was horrifying, my arm reaching for his throat but finding his shirt instead, us rolling together and still the look of murder on my face, so twisted it doesn’t even look like me before Mitch yanked me off and I thanked him by kicking him into the pod trap.

His scream echoed through the screen and I flinched, I’d been so full of rage and out of it I hadn’t heard it or seen as a metal cage lined with spikes shot from the oil, encasing the now dead Mitch.

I close my eyes unable to watch the rest. Monster, monster, monster. My voice spits over and over again, these I can’t shut out. It’s simply my thoughts the more I push it triples.

“Well, what’s next?” Jackson asked out of sight, I glanced around the room yet none of them seemed to look at me. I understood why they wouldn’t, some of them knew Mitch.

I killed their friend. Yet no one responded.

Was it not obvious? “I- I killed him” I whispered, all of their heads snapped like my voice was the last they expected “You should either leave me here or put a bullet in my head so no one else dies”

In the corner of my eye I see a hint of blonde flinch at my words, but I’d nearly killed him if it wasn’t for Mitch… Now he was dead, I didn’t get to live. “It’s the only reasonable solution, you can’t tell me i’m wrong”

“You’re wrong” Peeta cut in before anyone else could agree or disagree, I couldn’t tell by their faces and yet none of them cut into Peeta “You are restrained and we have a watch on you, Mitch knew what he was signing up for, we all did”

I looked away from him. This wasn’t right, my thoughts were against me now but what happened when they turned on him again? Because they would.

“You saved me once, you’ll be saving me this time aswell if you just-“

“No”

My eyes met his and I knew I’d never seen the fire in his gaze that he’d held this moment, Peeta was not budging on this. I frowned, I was a liability why couldn’t he see that?

My mind flashed to solutions, none came to mind. “There has to be a way where if I know i’m going to snap that I can stop myself” My words break at the end as I gaze around the room, there’s only silence “Please… please”

Gale steps forward and I see Peeta take a step but Katniss stops him, and I’m grateful as the brunette boy crouches down and pulls something from a hidden pocket.

A small pill, it was hard to think it’d do what i asked, delicately Gale pushed the pill into my own hidden pocket and patted it “It’s Nightlock, no pain and instant. Only if you have to”

I nodded, hesitantly but promising “Only if I have to”

And with that they set out, planning a course of action. The pods were too often now, they would have to stop constantly.

It was time to go underground

—

- … sooo part three?!?

—

DONT SCREAM AT ME IK IM AN ASSHOLE IM SO SO SO SORRY FOR MAKING YALL WAIT MY GOODREADS GOAL WAS SLACKING HAD TO CATCH UP HOPE YALL LIKE THIS XXXX

taglist girlies💓: @yazminetrahan @solarbxby @abbersreads @antonietta18

[bigfatbreak]

I love reading about all your AUs so much! They’re all so creative!

I’m curious about the people of Paris in your villains AU. Like obviously Adrian and Mari are the villains but how do the people of Paris fear them. Is it similar to Hawkmoth in the original timeline? Or are they considered more or less of a threat?

Keep up the good work and make sure you’re getting plenty of rest!

the issue is, Paris is really split on the whole notion. Nekydallon and Pavo clearly are willing to go to strange lengths to find the "miraculous" they're looking for, but neither of them attack citizens, and Nekydallon exhausts herself helping the people of Paris.

They cause trouble, but, nothing that... can't be fixed? Meanwhile, Felix Furvus and Coccinella seem to act as though they're Paris' defenders, but- some citizens ask - defenders from what?

Many people see Nekydallon as a faceless entity who's worth admiring, with Pavo as her stalwart representative into the world. Those who've been her champions don't lose their memories like they did with Hawkmoth, and note that she sounds soft and quiet, and delicate. She never demands anything, and she feels like a friend who's letting them borrow her power to do what they need to do, but, easier.

Doctors and Nurses find that, being bestowed with a power grants them to operate with better accuracy or with steadier hands, or they're capable of clotting and healing deathly wounds with mysterious powers. Some Akuma are capable of healing life-threatening illnesses or diseases, or at least helping people cope with the pain.

Firefighters find themselves with the power to spring water from their fingertips or to smother fire with the flick of their hands. Some can suddenly carry six people at a time without breaking a sweat to evacuate a house.

Retail workers in the middle of getting robbed suddenly have the power to fight back. People being kidnapped are suddenly granted the power to escape. Victims have a butterfly bond to them and they find the strength to stand up to their abusers and/or escape their clutches.

Marinette works very hard as Nekydallon. She can hear Paris' woes, and doesn't hesitate to try and assist whenever she can. The rest of Paris sees butterflies as a good omen for the most part, though some are deeply suspicious. However as a whole, its the black cat and ladybug that people are most suspicious of, as they hear a lot of talk but don't see results like with Neky.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Stuck in Planning Stage of Writing

Anonymous asked: Do you have any advice on how to get out of the planning stage and more into the doing stage of writing? I’m up to my ears in notes for scenes and fragments of dialogue between characters. I know where I want to go with the story, I’ve even written a handful of scenes when the ideas come to me, but now that I have this lump of thoughts I need to start organizing and placing them all in their rightful spaces. The one thing I truly know is how much I’d love to see this through. Do you have any advice for a girl who’s unwittingly made herself stuck with a puzzle?

[Ask edited for length]

Planning a novel can sometimes be like digging a really deep hole for a specific purpose, then suddenly realizing you've stranded yourself at the bottom of the hole without a ladder. You've spent so much time digging the hole, you'd like nothing more than to get out of the hole and move forward with whatever project required you to dig the hole in the first place. There's just one problem: you can't teleport yourself out of the hole. You have to climb... or, ideally, build yourself a ladder to climb out with whatever materials are available to you.

That's probably where you are right now with your story. The hole you've dug was necessary, and it's good that you dug it, but as much as you'd like to just magically leap out and write your story, you can't do that. You have to build yourself a ladder to climb out of the hole first. So...

My go-to emergency "get out of the planning hole I've dug myself into" ladders are timelines, scene lists, and outlines.

Timelines: Your story may take place over a single day or several centuries, but either way, time flows in your story. All of those notes and fragments of dialogue and partial scenes are moments or events that happen within the time frame of your story. So, plotting those moments and scenes out on a timeline--according to when they need to happen--is about the easiest way to break your story down into its existing pieces and to see what's missing/where.

There are lots of ways you can format a timeline, such as a table, a list, a horizontal timeline, calendar, or a roadmap timeline. My go-to is a basic two-column document where the left column is date/time and the right column is the moment/event. There are also apps and online tools that will help you build a timeline in various formats.

Horizontal Timeline:

Calendar Timeline:

Table Timeline:

More info: Making a Timeline for Your Story Scene Lists: Stories are made up of scenes, so a list of those scenes is another great way to organize the events of your story. You may even find that creating a scene list is easier after making a timeline, because a timeline may help you see where certain moments or events need to be their own scenes and which can be combined together into a single scene. Just like timelines, scene lists can be as simple or complex as you want to make them. Once again, my go-to is a simple two-column document with the left column for the scene number and the right column for the scene summary, preferably just a sentence or two. Ultimately, once I have my rough timeline and scene list done, I usually combine them into one multi-column document along with my story structure beats.

Table Scene List with Beats:

Complex Scene List/Timeline/Beat Sheet:

More info: Scene Lists

Outlines: Outlines can be really any format you want them to be, and some people count timelines and scene lists as their outlines. My go-to outline is just an exhaustive beginning to end summary of everything that needs to happen. Sometimes, just working through your story from beginning to end can be the best way to make sense of all those disparate pieces you've been piling up.

More info: Guide: How to Outline a Plot Story Structure: Finally, I want to talk a bit about story structure templates like Save the Cat Writes a Novel!, Larry Brooks story structure, seven point story structure, etc. Story structure templates can be a really great way to make sure you're hitting all the right story beats--almost like a road map through your story. It's just important to know you do not by any means have to stick to any particular story structure exactly. Use it as a guide, take what works, leave what doesn't, and don't panic if your beats don't fall exactly where it says they should. As long as your story is working, that's what matters. Some writers even like to frankenplan their stories using a variety of different structure templates.

More info: Creating a Detailed Story Outline (story structure)

Once you finally have a roadmap for moving forward, whether that's a timeline, scene list, outline, or all of the above, you know you're ready to start writing!

Final note: I just want to add that planning isn't for everyone. Some people are discovery writers who let their stories work themselves out as they go. The above is just meant for people who are planners, who have done a lot of planning, but need to pull that planning together into a cohesive, organized document. And... if you have all of the above and still find yourself unable to start, you might find help in the links below. Happy writing! More help:

Beginning a New Story Figuring Out Where to Start a Story Deciding How to Open Your Book How to Move a Story Forward Trouble Getting Started Have Plot, Can’t Write

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

COFFEE & FEEDBACK COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa

[the-au-thor]

Hi!! I have a request for a Spencer Reid x fem reader!!

Can you do something like reader also works at the BAU and they both are in love with each other but have never said anything, and Spencer goes on a date or flirts with a girl when the team is out at a bar or something and reader gets sad and jealous. She like leaves cause she’s annoyed and angry. And Spencer is confused why she’s upset? And eventually confronts her and this leads to feelings being revealed and it ends in cute fluff??

Hey hun, hope you're having a great time! I am a sucker for friends-to-lovers and jealous friends motifs. Thanks for the request. I wrote something, I hope you like it, I wrote it last night cause I couldn't sleep.

The Secret Game and the shy Girl | Spencer reid x fem!Reader

Word: 1.6 k

Warning: Typical cm topics. Nothing gore

Caliope's Bar was bustling. It was surprisingly calm for a bar; usually, it was packed, but people calmly occupied the tables, enjoying dinner with a couple of beers or fancier drinks. The karaoke didn't start until around 10, and the dance floor opened at midnight. Spencer didn't stay until that late hour; he usually left with you when you stepped down from the small stage, carefully placing your electroacoustic guitar on its stand.

In Quantico, it was no secret that you loved music. While your father was a retired cop, your mother had been a talented backup singer in Las Vegas before becoming a nurse. They inevitably passed on their interests to you, ensuring you couldn't escape the excitement whenever you had the chance to sing and let others listen. Although the fact that you sang at that bar had been a secret for a while.

Today was a special day, not just because it was the day of the week you came here and had the courage to play the guitar and sing a couple of songs for half an hour, but also because it was the celebration of your adoption. When you first arrived at the BAU, you were so shy that you could barely speak more than two words. You usually approached Hotchner and whispered your thoughts on each case, avoiding verbalizing them in front of the entire team. After a while, you recognized that Hotch had shown you a lot of patience, as had the rest of your colleagues and friends. The truth was that Hotch had identified in you resilience, talent, and a strong sense of ethics; he just needed you to believe you could do more than the office work you were used to in your previous job in the cybercrime department. That's why he asked Spencer to help you; both had a lot in common, being young and somewhat socially awkward, but Spencer had been in Quantico much longer, and Hotchner knew he could help you break out of your shell. To be honest, Spencer would have helped you even if Hotchner hadn't asked; he had observed how challenging it was for you to adapt to the team and the enormous effort it took for you to go out into the field and chase psychopaths. As their friendship grew, so did Spencer's admiration for you, discovering new facets of your personality that you struggled to reveal. It took a year for Spencer to learn about your adoption, and another year for the team to find out and want to be part of that celebration. By the third and fourth years in the BAU, that tradition had become much more organic and easier for you, someone whose sociometer didn't allow too many social commitments.

There was a night in your first year as a BAU member when Spencer followed you out of childlike curiosity from the offices to Caliope's bar. He didn't expect to find you singing a song by The Carpenters under a dim spotlight, but there you were. After your performance, with flushed cheeks and trembling like jelly, you introduced Caliope, the owner of the place and your best friend, and made him swear to keep the secret. Spencer respected that; every time you decided to open up to the team, it was on your own terms, and Spencer knew you would be comfortable when the time came to share those little details in your life that made you special.

Both remembered that conversation after you stepped down from the stage that night.

"Hey, hey," Caliope stopped you from the counter. "The Carpenters?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she handed you a chamomile tea in a recyclable mug.

You accepted it nodding.

"Uh, yeah. It's my parents' favorite band. Does it sound bad?"

Caliope vehemently denied.

"Not at all."

Taking your second sip of tea, you raised it with a smile.

"Thanks for the free tea. You do know I don't play here for free food, right?" you asked.

Caliope raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh, no queenie" she denied using the nickname she had given you since she met you "Not today. This is an invitation from the curious not ugly man who's been watching you since you arrived"

You turned, surprised, following Caliope's gaze, and found — not just eyes — but Spencer Reid's eyes surrounded by a purple scarf around his neck, sitting elegantly and eccentrically at the farthest table in the bar. Then, you sent him a serious look that Caliope immediately caught.

"Should I call the police?" she hesitated clumsily.

You shook your head.

"No, it's the police" then you smiled to reassure her " I know him."

You walked towards Spencer, seeing him somewhat nervous, as if guilty of eating the last cookie from the bag.

"Good performance up there" he greeted." I didn't know you could sing"

You observed him in silence and shook your head slowly.

"I hadn't told anyone at work. It's just a hobby..." you stammered "...What are you doing here?"

Spencer looked a bit more nervous, then fiddled with one of the laces of his converse while looking at the ground.

"I..." then his voice almost disappeared "... I followed you because I was going to suggest we could take the subway together since we both go the same But then I got curious about where you were going. I promise when I saw you enter the cafe, I thought, 'Okay. She's in a safe place. This is when I leave'" he looked at you honestly "And then I liked the place, and I thought it would probably be good to run into you and say it was just a coincidence."

That caught you by surprise. That didn't sound like Spencer at all. Not knowing what to say, you looked at your chamomile tea and heard Spencer clear his throat.

"Yeah. Since it's late, I thought something caffeine and theine-free would be much better"

You nodded at Spencer's explanation and silently sipped the infusion.

"It's true. It is"

You saw him press his lips with discomfort, and something seemed to bother him.

"Please don't be bothered by this. I never do this, really. I understand we are also colleagues. And now I feel like I intruded into your private life"

You interrupted.

" First, no. Except for Callie over there, I have no friends. And second, please, don't keep justifying it because it somehow makes it worse" you paused and smiled, not really feeling the smile, but trying to be friendly " I have to go home. Don't worry about this"

You said your goodbyes and left the place with your hands buried in the pockets of your jacket.

"Wait. I'm really sorry" you heard him behind you.

"You've already said that!" you replied without turning to him, while you continued walking.You heard his steps behind you diminish until he reached your side.

"Seriously. I didn't mean to intrude — he said, gently wrapping his arm around yours.Both stopped, and you recoiled, almost as a natural reaction, making Spencer take a step back and let go of you. That obviously surprised him, but he didn't say anything.

"It doesn't matter now. It's not a state secret. Just, what? did you discover that I play the guitar and sing decently? That's it. Seriously" you kept walking, and Spencer decided to accompany your steps.

"I'm your friend"

That statement stopped you in your tracks. You looked directly into his eyes with a surprised look.

"What?"

"Yeah. You're my friend. That's how I see you," he clarified almost shyly. "Although friends don't keep secrets, but we can work on that," he said with so much confidence that you could feel the walls around you crumbling.

After that, Spencer suggested the plan of revealing a secret from time to time, even if it was tiny and of little importance. He never pressured you, though, and that made you feel safe. A couple of months ago, you had managed to tell your team about your hobby when you announced that Caliope had offered you a table with free snacks and drinks for the anniversary of your adoption, and everyone was invited.

You had been adopted at the age of 12, which meant you had spent much of your life in foster home and temporary homes with guardians who had accepted you more for government benefits than out of a kind and giving heart. You knew that was the main reason why your shyness was a huge personal enemy. When your parents adopted you, you came to your new home with many reservations. What kind of people adopt an almost teenager when they could easily adopt a baby and raise it without all the traumas and problems you carried? You had been in therapy because you couldn't speak more than two words in a sentence, and you brought with you a bunch of deeply ingrained habits that you no longer had to carry out; your parents genuinely loved you and wouldn't send you back to the orphanage for breaking a plate or not making your bed perfectly. Although you had created a connection with them and felt comfortable around them, it was still difficult for you to interact with the world. Your parents made an effort to plan barbecues with your father's entire police department and instill in you the confidence to earn your own money and step out of your comfort zone. That helped you take risks; you went to college in a place far from New York at Caltech, then joined the FBI, and suddenly you found yourself in a job interview at Hotchner's office. You had been alone, and the weight of the sudden responsibility that your job required hit your shoulders hard; you had no idea, however, that Spencer Reid would be right by your side all the time to make that weight lighter.

Obviously, you would fall in love with him.

Due to your history, it was difficult for you to give your heart a chance to risk feeling something for a guy, and because of your personality, it was difficult for a guy to even get close to you and decide to be your friend. Spencer broke those walls and also built a bridge for the rest of the team to cross and get to know you.

You had let him in; he helped you with your little aversion to kids. You went from feeling terribly uncomfortable with them to not knowing how you could live without Henry and Mike. He knew about your fascination with compost and Californian worms without thinking for a minute that it was disgusting and that you were a weirdo. He had even entered your kitchen and followed every instruction from the recipe book your mother had given you but that you had never used because you were very bad at cooking.In retrospect, you opened the doors of your life, your mind, and practically let him into your heart with a welcoming committee.

And it was so damn painful. Especially because he was beautiful, brilliant in more ways than intellectual, and an excellent match, and even if he didn't realize it, other girls did. And the frustrating part was that you were all too aware of the female attention he received.

"Listen; no talking about work tonight," Penelope threatened from her seat while urgently drinking a piña colada through a straw.

You had stepped down from the stage a few minutes ago and sat at the table with your friends. You had mare your own version of "Child Of Mine," the anthem your parents had decided to dedicate to you and the song that had become your favorite since then.

"Olivia, Deacon," Will drew your parents' attention as he hugged J.J from his neck. "A couple of days ago, we celebrated Henry's birthday. Do you know what he asked for as a gift?"

"From your expression, I'm going to guess it wasn't a scale model train," Derek, Who couldn't attend to the party replied with a curious expression.

Will raised a half-smile and shook his head.

"It wasn't a scale model train or an animatronic dinosaur, no."

"It was a gardening and composting kit," J.J answered, making your parents laugh.

"He spent half an hour lecturing us on the structure of a cocoon," Emily drank from her drink and looked at the ceiling. "Ah, I just wanted to eat cake," she recalled, also reminiscing about her frustration, making you laugh.

"I think we owe that to our dear girl here," Rossi pointed to you with his glass and proceeded to make his traditional toast.

Spencer watched your cheeks change color to a nervous pink and lower your gaze, causing your lashes to brush your cheekbones.

He knew why those little bugs fascinated you so much; daily they did essential work for the ecosystem that no one saw and laid thousands of tiny eggs protected by a cocoon that enveloped them until they were ready to hatch. Those characteristics made you unconsciously identify with them.

His eyes studied you from top to bottom, enjoying the microscopic reactions that only he, because he knew you so well, could see, and he felt somewhat overwhelmed. Lately, this happened to him frequently; he even considered getting medical exams again to check that everything was fine. Maybe he just needed to lift himself a bit.

"Pizza and strawberry juice?" He offered, knowing that under no circumstances would you drink alcohol.You looked up at him as the rest listened to your father tell a story from his years in the police.

"I can go, don't worry," Spencer said.

"Spencer, I can do it, it's not a problem" you replied.

Spencer raised a small smile and unconsciously, for a brief moment, placed his hand on yours.

"No problem as well, I'll go order and be back in a minute," he promised and quickly walked to the counter where your friend was talking to a few clients.

You watched his back with a somewhat lost look. You repeated to yourself over and over that you had to try to see yourself as he did: his friend, nothing more.

Of course, your emotions had decided something completely different.

You averted your gaze from Spencer and decided to make an effort to engage in the conversation at the table to distract yourself for a while. The "minute" turned into half an hour, and then you realized Spencer still hadn't returned with the juice and slice of pizza he had promised you. You searched for him throughout the bar until you found him at Caliope's counter, confidently pulling a coin from the ear of a fascinated girl sitting there.

The elegantly shaped woman, sporting heels that only accentuated her already lengthy legs, held a martini in one hand and had Spencer's full attention in the other. He animatedly spoke to her, occasionally touching a strand of her hair while asking her questions about something that seemed to greatly excite him.

You observed yourself, feeling overly aware of all your flaws and the fact that, of course, Spencer wasn't by your side at the moment. He was too busy performing his coin trick again with the unknown woman.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling a tight knot in your stomach, pulling your guts, remembering the scene you just wanted to escape from. Spencer was charming, and when he talked about something that interested him, his eyes shone and magnetized the area, so much that there was no other option but to gravitate around him, unable to deny him attention. This time was no exception; Spencer's charisma stealing the attention of the captivating woman with a perfect impeccable smile.

Jealousy, like an unexpected storm, seized your veins, pulling at them and tensing your body. Involuntary glances towards Spencer and the captivating brunette revealed your internal turmoil. Spencer's subtle flirting gestures turned into a vivid picture, leaving an indelible mark on you.

Panic surged through you; you were at a table full of profilers, your parents being the best in the field, even though they had never studied it, but they would analyze you perfectly because they just knew you that good. They would read you; you had to leave there quickly before they noticed, and could only feel pity for you.

"I'll get some fresh air," you whispered confidently to your mom.

She knew that social situations easily drained you, so she wouldn't suspect. You stood up, trying to appear natural, and walked away from the scene that systematically broke your heart, making you want to confront Spencer even though he owed you nothing. He was single, and you were just his best friend.

You took a deep breath once outside, running your fingers through your hair, trying not to lose your composure. You had to leave, right? Invent an excuse; a stomach virus or something. You could pretend something like that without them realizing you were faking. You just had to seem convinced.

Outside, the air was cold in contrast to the boiling emotions within you. You tried to calm yourself, and when you thought you had succeeded, you turned to re-enter the bar, only to collide with Spencer, who was hurrying out with a concerned look that didn't relax until his eyes met yours.

"Are you okay? You left in a hurry, and I got worried," he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek, but that didn't stop you from responding with too much harshness, "I'm fine. I just needed some air. I'm surprised you noticed me leave; you seemed very comfortable."

Spencer looked surprised. You had never spoken to him like that, and he couldn't find a logical reason for it.

"Comfortable? What are you talking about?"

You lowered your gaze. Of course, Spencer Reid wouldn't be aware of his own flirting.

"With the girl at the bar. You left for a slice of pizza and didn't come back" That seemed to make Spencer piece together part of the puzzle, and he genuinely looked embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I just got distracted."

You wanted to yell at him and drag him away from the bar, but instead, you muttered an almost emotionless "ah."

"I'm sorry for lingering at the bar."

"You know? I think the fresh air hasn't done anything. I must have caught a virus or something. I'll get my things," you excused yourself, knowing you couldn't have acted less convincingly.

"Maybe it's just fatigue. Let's go for your pizza, and you'll see that you'll feel better," he said with a repentant tone.

You shook your head without looking at him.

"No, no. It's not that. Seriously, don't worry. Go back to the girl, and I..." you took a difficult breath, searching for air, "You go back to the girl, and I'll get my things."

Concerned, he might have sworn he saw tears starting to well up in your eyes, triggering alarms inside him. What was happening?

"What? No! I'll take you home. I'm done with her anyway."

That made you feel nauseous. What did that mean? He had finished talking because they had exchanged numbers, and he no longer needed to keep charming her, treating her like a human ATM. He could charm her on their upcoming date, or...?You furrowed your brow.

"You're done with her?"

"Yes. She's a friend of Caliope. She joked about adding a magic show to the bar nights, and her friend asked me to teach her the coin trick to use it to get a date."

You blinked, stunned by that revelation, and looked up at Spencer, who wore the most innocent expression a man of his age could have. That made you forget your distress for a few seconds.

"Spencer..." you called him, "she was just flirting with you."

He blinked quickly, confused. "No, she..."

"She asked you to teach her a trick to flirt because she was flirting with you," you clarified, realizing that all this time Spencer was genuinely teaching a trick to an unknown girl while she genuinely thought she was doing a good job of flirting with him.

That simple explanation seemed to have a clarifying effect on Spencer. His cheeks turned slightly pink. Surely, he felt like a fool.

But here, the only fool was you. You had fallen in love with your best friend and had made a scene of jealousy without justification. What's worse, even though Spencer wasn't interested in the stranger this time, someday, someone who capture his attention would appear, someone he would want to be with. You would have to step back and watch as your best friend, the love of your life, was happy with someone else. You would lose him before even have him for a stranger who he would love dearly. You didn't know if you could bear it.

Spencer observed your face, almost able to imagine all the gears turning inside you. You looked upset and embarrassed. He wondered what you could possibly be thinking. He knew you well and had never seen you so distressed. You didn't want to look him in the eyes, and you weren't sure if you could handle that.No. He needed to fix whatever he had ruined so that you would look at him again with your precious eyes. He saw your guilty expression and accusatory gaze, and then something suddenly clicked. Spencer's heart took a sudden leap.

"Don't tell me I missed the story of your adoption. It's my favorite."

You shook your head, grateful that Spencer changed the subject, but your masochistic side wanted him to keep investigating. That would be the only way Spencer would know how you truly felt.

"No, Dad was telling eberybody the story when he discovered a drug cartel operating in an abandoned gym.

"Spencer nodded in silence, genuinely relieved. "Great. I love the story of your adoption, especially because your dad always adds a new detail."

You shook your head. "I'm sure he makes them up," you replied with a half-smile.

Spencer chuckled. "Whatever. He's good at telling stories," he said, seeing you sigh and nod slowly.

"Yeah, he is. Let's go inside," you said gently. "Maybe we're still in time to hear some of his new creative liberties."

You made a smooth move, but Spencer didn't release his grip on your arm. Instead, he held you with a little more firmness, earning one of your confused looks.

"Hey. A secret of mine for one of yours," he used the phrase he always used to get you to open up and confide something you wanted to tell him but couldn't find a way to.

You furrowed your brow."I... have nothing to—"

"Okay, how about this? I'll tell you my secret first."

You furrowed your brow with curiosity, still confused about what Spencer wanted to achieve with all this. So you nodded to understand.

Spencer looked directly at you. "I think you don't have a virus, and instead, you felt jealous."

Your cheeks turned red, and mortified, you just wanted to disappear.

"Spencer," you pleaded, closing your eyes in embarrassment, "please, let's go inside."

Spencer pressed his lips with excitement, feeling his heartbeats so strongly he could almost hear them in his ear. His hand traveled to your chin, touching your soft skin and directing your face towards him.

You resisted opening your eyes, and you seemed genuinely affected.

"Wait, I haven't finished telling you my secret," you moved away from him almost abruptly, trying to escape from that situation with the least possible damage. He called your name, trying to stop you.

You turned towards him, the tip of your nose beginning to blush; the first symptom that you might soon cry, and he wanted to clarify the situation before it got worse.

"No, Spencer. I won't stay here to hear something I don't need you to say."

He sighed. "Please, angel, just... trust me."

For some reason, that request broke your heart, and the irrational fear that you would leave there with his feelings hurt tore you apart inside. But he looked at you pleadingly, and the gentleness of his request broke down your protective barrier. You didn't say anything, but you didn't leave, so Spencer took it as a green light to keep talking.

"I wasn't flirting with her. Seriously. And I'll tell you why; here's the secret," he took a step towards you but still wasn't close enough. He seemed nervous but didn't hesitate for a second when the next words left his mouth, "I can't flirt with anyone else because the only person I want to do it with is you."

That revelation left you completely stunned. Your lips parted in surprise, and nothing came out of your mouth for a couple of long seconds.

"I... you," you murmured, unable to believe that he had actually said that, "don't joke with me," you pleaded in a thin voice.

He shook his head seriously, and it seemed like he hadn't finished telling you the secret because he kept talking.

"And I want to flirt with you because the truth and the secret are that I love you."

And yes, that's how a person falls apart, piece by piece. Your chest felt too small for your heart, which seemed to be growing inevitably inside you.

It wasn't possible that he had actually said that. He watched you at the same safe distance and raised his eyebrows, hoping you would say something, hope filtering through his gaze.

"Do you have any secrets to tell me?"You looked down at the pavement, not sure if you could move. Your feet were anchored to the ground, and finally, you nodded, trying to find the strength to speak.

"Yes," you admitted, adjusting your hair and clearing your throat as you tried to maintain a pose and say more than one word, "yes, I have a secret," you clarified, looking directly into his eyes with a burst of courage, "I also want you to flirt with me, and-and flirt with you," you blinked rapidly, "because I've been in love with you for a long time now, and I really don't know what to do with that."

Spencer watched you slowly with studious slowness, and finally, a satisfied little smile appeared on his face, slowly rising and with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He approached you, circling your lower back, and his breath collided with you.

"I do know what to do," he replied confidently, and then closed the remaining centimeters that separated you to give you a kiss that both had waited a long time to happen.

The kiss carried a quiet intensity, as if time stood still for both of them. Spencer's tenderness was a silent promise that he was willing to navigate through your complexities with patience and care. His touch, a soothing balm, erased the doubts that had persisted in the shadows of your mind for the past few years.

Upon parting, the street seemed to exhale a collective sigh. Spencer's gaze radiated a newly discovered warmth, and you, with your heart echoing the unspoken feelings, realized that sometimes, in the simplicity of a kiss, truths could be expressed more eloquently than words. The night air carried the weight of that shared revelation, and under the embrace of the lamppost light, Spencer and you looked at each other breathlessly.

"I think we're really missing my father's story right now," you whispered, raising your hand to Spencer's face at last, satisfying your eternal hunger to touch him.

He smiled, taking your hand and kissing your palm affectionately.

"With all due respect; right now, I'm writing one just as good as his," he said, making you laugh, "you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You felt your cheeks warming.

"Oh, stop," you asked, but he made no promises as he took your hand and began to walk towards the bar "Now let's go for your pizza, I guess your virus left as quickly as it came."

You sighed.

"How brave" you replied, but you moved closer to his side and nestled into him as he wrapped his arm around you.

He would keep you by his side, keep you by his side for the rest of his life.

[libraford]

Was talking to a teacher friend about how people behave when working together on a project and she said that she hates personality types but she did find one analogy that she thinks is a good descriptor of the kinds of roles that people fill when taking on a large project together. And I think I found her description to be really interesting.

People are shapes.

There's squiggles. Sqiggles are always coming up with different, new, interesting ideas. Some are good. Some don't make any sense. But they're always willing to come up with a new one and they're very good about having new material.

Then there's squares. Squares are the note-takers, the accountants, the lawyers. They keep the squiggles grounded. They have no problem saying 'no, you can't do that- that's illegal.'

Squiggle says: Let's do this!

Square says: I think you have a cool idea but this is breaking four laws and new laws may be written specifically about this if we try it.

Then there's triangles. Triangles are good at connecting the dots and making an idea into a solid plan.

Triangle says: Okay, maybe it DOES break a law, but if we go through the right avenues and talk to the right people we can get a permit that says we, specifically, have the right to do this.

And then there's circles. Circles are people people, who are good at talking, persuading, mediating. They're PR people, but they also make for good faces of the company.

Circle says: If we have to get a permit, I can be the person who gets it on behalf of the project so that the rest of y'all can keep doing the legwork of the planning process.

And a person can be more than one of these shapes- you can lift a project off the ground with less than four people. But you can't have a group that's all squiggles, and you can't just be squares or circles or triangles.

She was making a case that having a team of all squiggles can go nowhere fast, but I thought that it's also a really good metaphor for burnout.

I'm sure that its possible to be all four shapes as a single person, but requires constant shifting of modes and changing of hats in order to get a single project done. I've been the only person in charge of a project before and its not easy. Switching into triangle mode has saved my ass because knowing what resources are available to me to make it easier has been the saving grace.

But sometimes the triangle isn't triangling. Sometimes the square don't square, the circle is in the drain and the squiggle is more like a line.

Anyway, I think the point is that you can get really in your own head about how things are supposed to be that you don't ask for help on your passion projects. But we're supposed to ask for help! Doing stuff alone SUCKS! People are happy to help others, and just because they say 'this is not a good idea as is' doesn't mean that its not a good idea- it means you need to find more support for it until the idea IS good.

Get what I'm saying?

[irisinluv]

Yandere Stardew Valley- Sebastian

I've been playing some Yandere Stardew mods recently. While I love them..... I feel like they do my husband (Sebastian) wrong. The citizens of Pelican Town are telling me that they can't hang out with me because Sebstian threatened them. That they've noticed some weird behavior. That he's physically violent. I disagree with all of these for Sebby.

He's our hot programmer boyfriend who lives in his basement bedroom, and only emerges to enjoy a smoke break, or to go see his friends. Now, while again, I do enjoy playing the mods...... I think his cannon behavior sets him up to be the perfect chronically online yandere. Pelican Town isn't exactly the most connected (6 out of the 11 rivals have access to a computer), but there's still potential. Obviously they're gonners if they have a computer. Sam finds himself doxed after making a comment about the gifts you gave him this week, and poor Haley's socials are blowing up with hate comments- from her personal insta to her photography blog.

But what about the other 5? The ones who are more disconnected? Well. It's easy enough to get Shane fired from joja. A little email to Morris from "HQ" saying he either fires Shane or his own pay gets docked..... well. Suddenly, everyone's favorite alcoholic doesn't even have a job anymore. Elliott suddenly has all these taxes he hasn't paid on his little shack..... beachfront properties cost a lot, you know. The parents stop letting Penny watch their kids after some..... explicit photos get leaked. It doesn't matter that they're edited. These people don't know about Photoshop. All they know is apparently Penny's making ends meet to support her mother..... and there's a new favorite subject to gossip on between all the older women. The other rivals are equally taken care of. All you need to focus on now is how Sebastian is the only reliable option in the whole damn town.

And he knows you so well, doesn't he? You, who lived away from it all until now. You, who WAS connected to the internet. Who had their entire life detailed through Facebook updates and Instagram posts. Honestly, Sebastian thinks that maybe he DOESN'T need to leave Pelican town... looking at the life you lived before coming to the valley, he thinks its much easier to keep you safe when he can control everything that goes on. There were too many factors to your old life. Too many parties to go to, coworkers to talk to, ex-boyfriends/girlfriends worry about. No. Sebastian thinks that city life isn't fit for the two of you to start you life together.

While he enjoyed seeing the trip down memory lane of who you were before becoming the farmer, and learning more about your likes and dislikes, he much prefers this version of you. The version of you who he found bouncing on their toes outside his door, excitedly shoving a frozen tear at him. Who eventually became the only person he was genuinely excited to have come barging into his room unannounced. And the thought of moving into the farm with you was all together far too tempting. He can picture it already. He'd set up a little area to work on his bike, he'd help out around the farm for you (he saw your hands covered in scrapes and splinters one day, and you sheepishly told him your fences had started wearing down.... but fixing a fence was another first for you. So you ended up scraping yourself up a bit on the old wood. Now, Sebastain, who, while he doesn't enjoy it, grew up with a carpenter mother..... well. He's going to make sure you never have that many splinters again.) Oh and he can already imagine it. The two of you, far away from the rest of the town, from prying eyes, no one to hear what you two would get up to as he helped you relax after a long day of working the feilds.....

This fantasy would sustain him until you eventually asked him to marry you. I don't think he would rush anything. To you, and the rest of the citizens, he was just normal Sebastian. Showing up for band practice, playing pool at the bar (although he seemed to play much better when a certain farmer came to watch). He just realized that the best way to control all the factors in town would be to remain anonymous. Avoid suspicion. After all. In a small town like that, it would be all too easy to turn against him if he decided to publicly threaten someone. And how would you react if you came to drop off some fresh sashimi to your boyfriend, only to find him being dragged out of his house by Clint, with Marlon standing nearby, ready to ship him off to face justice in the adventurers guild? No. That wouldn't do. He can't add any more stress to you like that. He'd remain the puppeteer, pulling the strings of the valley.

This isn't to say Sebastian never stalks you in person or anything like that. He can't help himself. He's a night owl. He knows the villagers schedules, has since before you even came to town. So, he knows he can get away with digging in the trash to find the straw you threw away at the bar. And if someone does hear him.... well. Linus is going to be everyone's first thought. He does, however, start adopting a stricter routine as far as monitoring your house after you mention how you sell your produce.

Sebastian was rightfully horrified when you explained that Mayor Lewis comes by your farm at night to collect anything you wish to sell. How it's such a relief to be able to just chuck things in the the bin as you're rushing to bed at 1:50 in the morning, only to get up first thing and start your day again, and not have to worry about lugging all your goods to the store. Sebastian won't criticize you for the lack of sleep..... no. That's not what's worrying. What's worrying is that this old man who has a gold statue of himself and who gets it on in the bushes with his secret girlfriend (of course Sebastian knows about that) is showing up to your house sometime after 2 am. His mind flashes back to his fantasy of the two of you, completely alone on the farm.... and then is mortified as this fantasy morphs into a nightmare where he looks up from bed with you, and sees Lewis' wrinkled face peering through the window. Yea. No. Sebastain installs some hidden cameras to make sure Lewis doesn't get up to anything funny while you're defenseless, asleep, alone..... ok he might need to get a new mayor elected. The old man might just have to go. Perhaps to a home outside the town. Regardless, he makes sure Lewis stops coming by as frequently. Frustratingly, he isn't able to completely stop it, but that'll be an easy fix once the two of you are married. He'll act surprised, "wow Lewis, that's so kind of you to help out the farmer all this time. But hey, don't worry, I'll take over. I'm up late anyways, and it's the least I can do!" But Sebastian still wakes up in a cold sweat and frantically rushes to check the cameras, making sure you're OK. That Lewis really is just checking the shipping bin.

Once y'all get married, he shows a bit more of that possessive side to you. But you chalk it up to just bedroom spicy time, and honestly find his hand tightening on your waist as Elliot asks you to read his latest poem hot.

Just. Yandere Sebastian brain rot.

[hearts4hughes]

hits different | trevor zegras

(trevor zegras x fem! reader)

a/n: i’ve had this idea in my notes forever, and i’ve just managed to finish it😭 it took wayyyy too long, but i’m proud of this!

warnings: intoxication, alcohol, angst, light swearing

the pulsating bass reverberates through your body as you stand at the bar, drink in hand, trying to wash your hands of the memories of a love gone wrong. your mind drifts to the mess that trevor made of you and the hurtful images that linger in your thoughts.

you wondered if he had already moved on. if he was cooking for another girl at his apartment, or if he had strolled through the streets of anaheim with her hand in hand. had he forgotten about you? three years of love washed down the drain like dirt and filth as he confided in another woman with his love. just the mere thought sends waves of nausea through your body.

it didn’t make sense. you thought breaking up with him was the right decision, but since then, all you’ve felt was pure heartbreak.

it all started with the duck’s bad season. he was frustrated and stressed. he thought he was the problem- even though he wasn’t- and he went into an emotional hole. at the time, you didn’t understand what was happening. you thought he fell out of love with you, so as hard as it was, you broke up with him. the second the words flew off your tongue, he broke down- sobbing, yelling, begging, anything that would help you stay.

you can't help but reflect on how you used to move on so easily, like switching out partners and escaping town, but everything feels different now. the bars you visit play songs that remind you of what once was, and it hurts like nothing you've experienced before.

“y/n,” julia calls out, snapping you back into reality, “you have to stop thinking of him, it’s not going to help.” her hand rubs comfortingly up and down your back. you look at her, your face completely blank of emotion. it’s easier said than done to forget about someone who preoccupied so much of your time, and the alcohol in your system isn’t helping.

“i know, i just,” you stammer, “i just can’t escape him. it’s like he’s haunting me. everywhere i look i’m reminded of the memories we made.” she looks at you with pity.

“love is a lie, babe. you know this already.” she says- the same thing she’s been telling you since forever. “remember when you broke up with aaron?” she asks and you nod in response. “you thought he was the one and that you’d never ever move on, but after a little bit you did. you just need to give it time and you’ll get over him.”

whining, you grab your shot, throwing your head back and downing it. your nose scrunched as the alcohol burned down your throat. “but what if i don’t want to get over him, jul? i don’t want to forget about him. i just want to be with him, i just want trevor.” your words were slurred- almost incoherent.

people around you began to stare and watch the unfolding scene. protectively, julia brought you into a hug, shielding your face from everyone before they saw your tears. “let’s get you home, honey.” she cooed, wrapping her arm around your waist and helping you out of your seat.

-

julia brought you home, making sure you got into your house safely before driving away. you swung the front door open and stumbled into your apartment. the digital clock on the wall read 2:20am. you ripped off your heels, discarding them somewhere in your living room, and walking into your bedroom. your hair was a frizzy mess, lipstick smudged, mascara smeared everywhere, but you could care less.

you find yourself alone in your room, surrounded by memories of the past, with one particular item catching your eye- trevor’s hat. it sits on a shelf, seemingly untouched since the day you parted ways. the sight of it evokes a rush of bittersweet emotions, and you can't help but pick it up, feeling its fabric against your fingertips. the hat holds a piece of him, a piece of the love you once shared, and the weight of the memories is overwhelming.

as you hold the hat in your hands, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. memories of your time together flood your mind – the laughter, the inside jokes, the intimate moments shared under that very hat. you miss him, and the feeling intensifies with each passing day. the warmth and comfort that his presence once brought into your life are now a distant memory.

you bring the hat close to your chest, hugging it tightly as if it was him. the scent of his cologne, faint but still lingering, brings you back to those tender moments when he would embrace you, and your heart aches.

with each tear that falls, you let yourself feel the grief, the longing, and the emptiness that comes with a wound that hasn’t completely healed. you find yourself whispering his name into the fabric, wishing he were there, holding you.

suddenly, you hear a key turning in the door down the hallway. is it him? is it trevor? or has julia come to take you away from your apartment and the suffocating reminders of him?

the door closes and you hear footsteps approaching your room. the footsteps become louder as the mystery person gets closer. you close your eyes, not bothered to know who it is; however, a small part of you hopes, even wishes that it’s him.

“love?” he calls out, causing your eyes to shoot open. you see him standing in the doorway- a blurry version of him due to the alcohol and crying. a frown adorns his lips as he looks down at you. your tear stained face and bloodshot eyes give him a hint of what you were just doing. “oh y/n,” he coos, making his way over to you and repositioning you into his lap.

his arms snake around your body, pulling you close to his chest. you open your mouth to say something, but the words get caught in your throat. he presses reassuring kisses to the top of your head as you cry into his embrace.

"i’m so sorry, y/n," he whispers, his voice filled with remorse. "i messed up, and i’ve been a mess ever since you left." you try to find the right words to say, but your emotions are too overwhelming, your heart too raw. instead, you bury your face in his chest, holding on to him as if he might slip away again.

"fuck, i thought you moved on," you manage to say through your tears, your voice shaking. "all i could imagine was you with another girl, trev.”

he sights, gently rubbing your back. "no, love, there hasn't been anyone else. i’ve been miserable without you. you were always the one."

“i thought you had fallen out of love with me, that’s why i broke up with you.” your voice trembles with hurt as he feels a pang of guilt in his heart.

his expression softens, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "i was going through a rough time, and I didn't know how to handle it. i thought i was the problem, and i didn't want to bother you with my struggles. i never meant to hurt you." you move your head away from his body, staring deeply into his eyes. he’s been crying too. in that moment, you realize that he's hurting too, and maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for healing and forgiveness.

"i miss you, trevor," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "my friends try to take me out to have fun and get drunk, but i always end up slurring your name until someone puts me in a car. they’re going to stop inviting me soon.” you joke- a coping mechanism you’ve had since you were young.

he lets out a small laugh, bringing his hand up to wipe away stray tears, “i’m here now," he replies, "and i want to try again, to make things right. i love you, and my life is a fucking wreck without you."

“i love you too,” your voice is soft and sincere. a smile graces his lips and for the first time since forever, your lips connect with his, reviving what you thought was gone.

[scarthefangirl]

A fix ~ Admit it Pt 2

Hobie Brown x fem!reader

Description: You and Hobie can't be together, its not canon. But he is determined to find a way. Part 1

Warnings: Language, Hobie breaking into your house lmao

Story type: Series

A/N: Sorry this is so short, comment or request if I should do a part three!! I know its not that good I'm sorry

Part 1 |

Masterlist | REQUESTS OPEN

I feel so small as Miguel stands here in his office, telling me off. I wish I could shrink away and disappear. I already know what a screw up I am.

"How am I supposed to fix this Y/N?" He screams and I let my warm tears stream down my face as I hiccup the tears away.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, unable to say anything else. He just stares at me with so much rage it makes me cry harder.

"I tried to help you! I tried to tell you. Now what am I to do?" He shouts but instead of yelling back, telling him I already know, or storming out I just run into his arms and cry into him. He is taken aback and doesn't reciprocate the hug.

"Y/N-" he starts but I just hug tigher. He sighs and loosely puts his arms around me, patting my head gently. Although he's very tense, I appreciate the pity hug.

"It's all my fault." I hiccup and pull away from him. I can't look him in the eyes, so I stare at the floor in shame.

"Listen, I like you kid. That's why instead of kicking you out I warned you again and again. But you messed up, I can't save you now." He says sharply and I try to suck in my sobs.

"There has to be something we can do." I tell him while breathing rapidly to keep in the sobs. "One kiss can't make my universe collapse." I try to convince him, but really myself. I love Hobie, but I didn't mean to end my life. My shoulders slump as I remember the kiss. It was so amazing, and I kick myself for getting butterflies just thinking about it.

"It can." He growls. I feel myself slump even further, sniffling.

"Please, I just want to date a boy and have my universe. Can't I have both?"

"No." He snaps. "I'm sorry but I'm going to have to ask for your watch Y/N."

"Please, don't! I promise I'll end everything with him. I won't do anything to jeopardize the arachno-humanoid poly multiverse," I say the name slowly, having a hard time recalling his name for it. Then I just plainly add, "Please,"

"Don't make this harder kid, hand me the watch and I'll walk you to the device that'll send you home. I have to figure out how to clean up your mess so you are now under an extended break.."

"Please Miguel, I need this job. This is like, all I have," I cry.

"You should've thought of that. Now hand it over, you are relinquished from your duties here."

I just stare at him for a bit. I can't do it. I can't give this up, it's my life. Saving people is what i do, and with this job I could save even more.

But, despite myself, hand over the device on my wrist and he sends me home.

I didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone.

~

I sit up in shock and jerk to the corner of my bed, having been suddenly woken up by someone shaking me. I pant, trying to catch my breath as I slowly register who is lurking around in my room in the dead of night.

Hobie Brown.

"What are you doing?!" I exclaim, still breathing heavily. My racing heart isn't just from surprise anymore, but also from his presence that I've been lacking for the last few days. Avoiding him was easier when I still saw him and worked with him.

"You haven't been at work for four days," He says blankly. He is looking right into my eyes and I look back, but I don't know how to explain. A cool breeze blows through the window that is open from Hobie's entry way. He's been to my apartment before, so I suppose he knows his way around.

"Wow, how observant," I roll my eyes but immediately feel a pang of guilt in my chest for the attitude. It is meant to be sarcastic but it just makes me sound bitchy. He glares at me and I feel myself melting under his stare. "What are you doing here? In my room, in the night time, scaring me half to death?" I ask. He shouldn't be here. We can't do this anymore, and really we never should have.

"You owe me an explanation." He replies plainly. I stare at him for a moment, eyes widened, before looking down at my lap and nervously play with my blanket.

"I know," I grimace. I scoot to the side of my bed and sit up completely then cross my legs so I'm sitting criss cross. He sits down next to me with his feet to the floor, staring at me. I feel my heart beating rapidly and a sinking feeling of guilt in my chest down to my stomach.

"I'm listening," He chuckles but something about it makes the sinking feeling worse, my stomach doing summersalts. I open my mouth to speak, but I can't find the words to explain. How can I make him understand? "Okay, I'll recap for you. You pretended not to like me than finally we kissed, than all a sudden Miguel is dragging you away and you're crying then you stop coming to work. Miguel told me to forget the kiss ever happened. But I can't. I love you Y/N, I'm sick of having to not say it. I can't forget and I don't want to so I'm not gonna."

I try poorly to hide my surprise at his sentiment. I want to tell him I love him back, and that I will find a way for us to be together. But I dorm want to prolong the suffering, I might as well rip the bandage off now. For both our sakes. So, I try my best to give a frank explanation.

"I broke my canon when we kissed, and I had been trying to avoid you because I knew that if the opportunity presented itself I wouldn't be able not to. And I was right. I wasn't able not to. Because I love you, but I'm not allowed to. Its not canon."

"Who gives a fuck about canon events?" He snorts and my eyes flicker up to meet his.

"Miguel says it'll destroy my universe. He wants to help me."

"If he wanted to help ya he wouldn't kick you out of the spider society for one bloody kiss," He says but I look at him wearily. "Look around Y/N, your universe is fine!"

"I messed up, I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm such a screw up," I say, tears threatening my eyes. I notice Hobie's gaze soften and he puts his hand on my leg, unintentionally sending electricity throughout my body.

"No you're not. Nobody cares about 'canon events' love. Your universe will be just fine no matter who you date or marry or kiss or whatever," He smiles in a comforting way. Did he say marry or did I just hear what I wanted to hear? But regardless, no. He's wrong. If you mess with the canon than the multiverse will suffer, and it's selfish of me to think I could be the exception. I push his hand off gently, even though it breaks my heart.

"I'm already on an 'extended break' from the spider society, and we all know what that means. I can't just throw my life away! My job is to protect these people, the people of my earth, not to risk their lives for personal gain." I explain, desperation filling my voice as I plead him to understand. "it's better to love each other from a distance."

"I refuse to accept that!" Hobie exclaims, crossing his arms against his chest. I can tell he had been in bed before coming here because of his ninja turtle pajama pants and a blue shirt with clearly home-cut cut off sleeves that reveal his toned arms, not that I noticed..

"I'm sorry," My glossy eyes fall to my fidgeting hands, and I jerk slightly in surprise when Hobie's hand grabs one of mine.

"I'm going to fix this Y/N, and we're going to be together. Trust me darling," Hobie says, placing a swift kiss on my forehead before standing up.

"Hobie-" I start but he cuts me off with a shake of his head. With that, he leaves out my open window and I stare at the window for at least five minutes. I don't know if I want him to come back and hold me and promise me everything will be okay, or leave and never come back so I can move on. I don't know if there's a way to fix things. I don't know what he can possibly do.

All I know, is I really want him to find a way.

~

I spend three excruciating weeks wondering, worrying, and wishing. When the one month mark hits, I finally give up most of my hope. He didn't find a way, or maybe he just moved on.

I have painfully carried on my responsibility of being spider woman around my city. I can't lie and say I do so joyfully, I do it begrudgingly. I know i should love my job, helping people and keeping my city safe, but everything reminds me of not just Hobie, but the whole spider society.

No spider people have contacted me, which I tell myself is for the best. Its hard to convince yourself that something so painful is the right thing, but whay else can I do? If I give myself time to sit and think about things, I'd be even more angry, sad, bitter, and I'd go into a funk. So instead, I spend hours and hours doing anything I can to distract myself. If I'm not going to lay in bed and immediately fall asleep than I'm not tired enough, because I'll lay and begin to think. When I start to think, I start to shut down.

Tonight was particularly exhausting. I yank my mask off, throwing it in my hamper. I take off the rest of the suit, leaving it on the floor as I sleepily stumble to the bathroom. Somehow I manage to shower, my hair thrown in a knotted and tangled messy bun. I throw on some fresh underwear and an oversized t-shirt. I brush my teeth lazily and then get into my bed. Immediately my eyes droop, falling into slumber. Before I can be deep asleep, my window is opened loudly and someone steps inside. I can hardly open my eyes I'm so sleepy, but I can make out Hobie Brown. His tall frame sends my heart plummeting and I roll over in bed, burying my face in my pillow. Maybe if I ignore him he'll leave.

"Y/N, im sorry its been so long." He apologizes and I just groan, still attempting to tune him out. I don't want to deal with this, as selfish as that seems it's true. I've spent a month trying not to think about him but really I have thought about it, and I love him and I think I always will. The longer we try to salvage it the worse it is for us.

"There was a lot of work stuff, and I didn't want to come see you without a fix," He says and all although I couldn't see him, he was grinning at me. Something about his words sparked the hope that I had tried to give up and I roll over so I'm staring up at the ceiling.

"But you're here, so do you have a fix?" I ask, my voice raspy from exhaustion. He jumps onto the bed next to me, laying down next to me on his back. We both gaze at the ceiling and I try not to be too hopeful.

"I do, honestly I can't believe you'd ever doubt me." He chuckles and my heart begins to beat quicker.

He found a way.

~

Part three?? Sorry this one was short!

Tags: // @liliummz // @themarvelprince // @misselsbells06 // @american-sataness // @cr0ssoverf4n4tic // @depressednoob // @cerene-ciderr // @leighanne03 // @inluvwithfictionalwomen // @singhfae // @mythixmagic // @itsyourboymicheal // @ravensinthedaylight // @dai-tsukki-desu // @url0calw3irdo // @daisydark // @snzzysstuff // @0-n-1-x // @darkdakota8998 // @narcissticassidy // @abbiejoker10 // @bellabnuuy // @alex--awesome--22 // @edgyficuselastica // @zombieblogx // @lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache // @koalaray // @justareader18 // @hobiespick // @sukisprettyface // @furblrwurblr // @grellshottieboyfriend // @i-love-ptv // @inspace1 // @seulg1luvr // @danis-stuff-is-here // @solecitoszn // @swaggybbq //

Join my taglist!