#And for just. Generally being annoying with this

[meshugenist]

i actually am consistently very annoyed at the prescriptivist universalist proclamations of words having certain connotations.

"dude" as a singular (and sometimes plural but this isn't as common in general) term of address, "guys" as a plural term of address (tho not the singular, although i've never heard "guy" alone as a singular term of address), and "you guys" as a second person plural pronoun are all commonly used by women, both cis and trans, amongst ourselves, to refer to each other, in multiple different dialects of the english language. this is even occasionally true for the term of address "bro" (tho not the third person singular pronoun "bro" or the third person plural pronoun "bros") depending on sociolect.

it is incredibly commonplace to hear cis women and mixed-gender groups calling each other dude, guys, saying you guys as a pronoun, calling each other bro, etc. when tmes go and do this around trans women who don't like it, and then get defensive and say they always use it in a gender neutral way, they literally are telling the truth; they just are doubling down in a cruel way because: at the same time, these words when used as nouns are heavily masculinely gendered, as are certain variations of these terms of address and pronouns depending on dialect, and these terms of address and pronouns are frequently also used in targeted ways to misgender trans women. to say that these terms are ungendered in certain contexts but can (re)gain dormant gendered connotations in others literally is just accurate. The degree also varies - ungendered "bro" is less common and more marked than ungendered "dude" than ungendered "guys" and "you guys" - but the latter two esp are completely unmarked in some dialects.

in this context ofc it is not surprising that many trans women adopt a zero-nuance policy about this and it also ofc is completely reasonable to request that anyone ever not refer to you using any common term of address or pronoun for any reason whatsoever. of which the sneaky regendering of generally ungendered (in certain dialects) terms for the purpose of transmisogynistic microaggression is ofc a very good reason.

at the same time, the ubiquitous insistence that ungendered use doesn't exist is completely absurd. maybe i'm being a grammar nazi but it actually does piss me off quite a lot to be frequently told that me and my friends are misgendering each other when we refer to each other with the normative second person plural pronoun used by practically everyone who grew up speaking one of these dialects to refer to any group of people no matter the gender makeup of that group, or when we call each other terms of address that you can hear cis women who speak these dialects naturally and unmarkedly calling each other anywhere you go in the regions where these dialects are spoken.

whether usage of these terms in reference to trans women is misgendering or not literally is a case by case basis and i do not see the point in making claims about language that are simply not true, or in making sweeping claims about trans women's feelings towards these terms that are similarly simply not universally true, when it is insanely easy to just be a descriptivist, acknowledge the complicated and varied reality of these terms, and take the nice simple and easy position of "if these terms are legitimately ungendered in your idiolect, then take note of dialectical variation of these terms, common sensitivity to gendered usage of these terms amongst trans women, and either/both a. ask people whether they're comfortable being referred to with certain terms or if it bothers them, and b. if someone tells you they don't like it don't be a fucking asshole about it and instead just apologize and accommodate their wishes going forward"

this post brought to you by annoyance at the umpteenth paternalistic post on the subject making completely absurd universalist claims about language

[ctrlkenma]

☆ I'M GETTING RIPPED TONIGHT, RIP THAT PUSSY!

☆ — summary. the hq boys, and how they work you out ☆

☆ — content warning. f!reader, timeskip, vaginal fingering, oral sex, slight degradation (kenma), bimbofication (kenma), streamer!kenma, streamer!user, pre-established relationships, mature.

☆ — word count. 0.9k.

☆ — includes. kei tsukishima, kenma kozume, ☆

☆ KEI TSUKISHIMA.

The Sendai Frogs exhaust him to no extent. 

Truth be told, they conducted themselves as if they were juniors in high school, the lot of them. If he’d known any better, Kei would’ve thought he was being compensated for chaperoning his team - the designation as a “middle blocker” long forgotten as his time, in lieu, was spent predominantly providing adult supervision for those who missed the memo on maturity.

In spite of the many years he spent pottering in high school volleyball, Tsukishima considered himself to be equipped with the skills needed to start childminding (though, granted, not at such an early age).

In contrast though, Kei, despite the nonchalant facade he upheld that many failed to peer through - found his energy siphoned due to the constant immaturity - to phrase it better, his teammates’ stupid fucking antics - Kyotani’s continuous yelling and Koganegawa’s talkative nature, not to mention their overuse of that annoying, cliched nickname - “tsukki”, which ticked him off even more because it sounded so fucking pathetic if it didn’t come from you.

With volleyball practice feeling more like babysitting than training, Tsukishima was left with a single, solitary outlet through which he could channel his simmering frustration in a relatively healthy way—sex. For Kei, especially, that translated into eating you out, legs sprawled open as you lay on the sofa, exhausted from the constant edging and quite frankly, desperate for an orgasm. 

“Kei…” You beg, lip quivering as you throw your head back, finally being met with the incredible sensation of stimulation onto your clit, his hands prying open your thighs impossibly further, tongue invading your wet entrance as his nose pressed against your core, glasses fogged up from the heat you emanated. 

If Kei died at this moment, he’d leave a happy man.

At last, those sweet, saccharine words bless his ears as if they were a long awaited lullaby - a broken, hushed cry of the epithet, “T-Tsukki!”, which, really, as all it took for Tsukishima to come undone, lapping up at your sweet release as he finally drags down his boxers, providing some much needed oxygen to his erection, which would finally be met with sweet relief once plunged inside your warmth. 

☆ KENMA KOZUME.

There was, perhaps, nothing in this world Kenma Kozume abhorred more than fanmeets.

They wore him out, unnecessarily so, as all it required was to sit still in a chair and talk hours on end about the importance of gaming to the community and whatnot at a fucking twitch panel, as if Kenma’s job didn’t just consist of streaming whenever he felt like playing on his PC.

The job was rewarding, yes, but it was just as time-consuming and annoying, despite the income it may have generated. Being under the constant, watchful eye of anonymous users and being under public scrutiny served as an added bonus (read: sarcasm) to fuel his ever-thriving ego.

It didn't help that you were in the same boat as him - sitting in front of a screen 25/8, bimbofied for all to see. That, perhaps, and seeing you be unceasingly sexualized perhaps replaced his hatred for public speaking and social interaction, dethroning it from the top spot. Honestly, how much lower could your audience stoop? As if having thirst traps be made of him over the littlest things weren’t enough, he now had to endure the thousands of fans you boasted as you sat next to him on that very panel. 

And so, you found yourself being pushed against the wall by a very sweaty, excessively worn out, and an extremely hormonal Kenma. 

“Ken, what are you-,” you started, but he cut you off with a soft “shh,” his hand reaching to latch the door, locking it with a soft click!

“You liked them looking, didn’t you?” His voice was a low growl against your neck, possessive. He pressed wet, insistent kisses to your skin as his hands slid down, a slow, deliberate exploration before he roughly shoved your panties down to your ankles. He didn't hesitate, his fingers plunging deep inside you, slick with your immediate arousal. The sound was wet and messy, a stark contrast to the sterile environment. “You fucking loved the attention, didn’t you? Look at this mess,” he muttered, his fingers churning within you, pulling apart your folds, smearing your slickness across your skin. “So fucking wet for them.” His taunt was a breath away from your lips as he captured them in a hard, wet kiss, his fingers inside you now pumping with a brutal, uneven rhythm.

You gasped, a choked sound as your hips instinctively bucked against his hand. Kenma’s fingers were relentless, stretching you, exploring every ridge with a rough possessiveness. He slid in another finger, forcing you wider, the wet sounds echoing in the small room. He began to fist you, his knuckles pressing deep, his movements almost violent as he filled you completely. It was rather animalistic, sloppy, and undeniably intimate, unlike the secretive, vanilla moments you shared with Kenma, in the quiet of your bedroom. He moved within you like he was trying to claim every inch, his grip tight and demanding. Just like getting that perfect S+ on 1980’s mode in Yandere Simulator – precise, brutal, and utterly focused.

“Tell me their eyes on you meant nothing,” he grunted, his thumb pressing hard against your swollen clit, grinding against it as his fingers continued their brutal work inside. You cried out, your body arching, the sensations too intense, too raw. He continued, his fingers a slick, messy whirlwind within you, until your muscles clenched around his hand, a shuddering orgasm ripping through you. The sounds were wet - desperate, rather, a testament to his forceful invasion.

Kenma held you pinned, his fingers still buried deep, feeling the violent tremors of your release. “Still think they deserved to look?” he whispered, his voice thick with a possessive hunger, frown replaced with a mocking smirk painted across his face, hands now soaked in the aftermath of your orgasm.

©ctrlkenma, 2025. no redistribution, translation or plagiarism is authorized.

[no-144444]

꩜ summary: your past relationship ends and you may or may not get with his rival...

꩜ pairing: ollie bearman x fem! reader

꩜a/n: cheating!

“What the fuck is this?!” you demanded shoving the phone in his face. He couldn’t have- no he wouldn’t have, right? “What the fuck did you do?” 

Pictures. Him. Another girl. Fuck. 

You were in love with him. That was the worst part. You were ready to do everything with him. Ready to give him your all, marriage, kids, growing old together, etc. All that was fucked, thanks to him and his inability to keep it in his pants. 

“Baby, come on, she’s just a friend,” he sleezed, thinking some sweet-talking and a smirk would smooth it all over. Absolutely not. You weren’t letting this go. “Don’t tell me you actually believe all those rumours?”

You did, because you knew they weren’t rumours. “They aren’t rumours, Gabriel, go fuck yourself. Don’t call me again,” you scoffed before walking out of there, for good. 

A few months later, and you were feeling good, better even. Healed, was probably a better word for it, but you didn’t want to label yourself with that just yet, it gave you less of an out when all of the dates you’d been going on have ended terribly. It made it more your fault. You had imposed rules though, 1) no more racing drivers, 2) no more racing drivers. Pretty simple, right? 

“Meet Ollie, please,” Paul begged. Paul Aron was one of the only people in motorsport that you’d kept in contact with. He was sweet, funny, and apparently attempting to set you up with Oliver Bearman. “I don’t date racing drivers,” you shook your head before taking another sip of your drink. The bar he’d dragged you to was some up-market (he was paying), hipster-chic spot that he’d dug out of some instagram travelers ‘best-loved spots’. It was nice. The alcohol wasn’t watery, but the drinks were expensive, and the group of dickhead businessmen that had been gawking at you for the past hour were annoying, but it would do for the night that was in it. You enjoyed the slow jazz playing lowly over the speaker, and the very obvious couple fighting at the table next to yours. 

Paul deflated in front of you, groaning. “Y/n,” he whined. “Come on, he’s super nice!”

“He’s a racing driver, and not only that, he’s in F1. I’d honestly rather get shot repeatedly in my hand with a nail gun,” you scoffed. 

“That’s graphic,” a voice from behind you smirked. You whipped your head around to see him standing right there, Oliver Bearman. The man, the myth, the legend. You face-palmed. 

“Fuck off Paul,” you groaned and a satisfied smile made its way onto his face. 

“I’ll leave you two to chat,” he smirked before getting up, and leaving you beached on a date you didn’t even want to go on. “My card is behind the bar!” he called after himself.

“Hi,” he smiled, sitting across from you. “I’m Ollie.”

“I’m Y/n,” you smiled awkwardly. 

As much as you wouldn't admit it to Paul, you liked Ollie. You liked his floppy hair and soft smile, you liked the way he gave you his full attention and didn’t dare talk over you, you liked how he made you laugh. Shit. You were falling for another racing driver. You groaned as you sat on your bed, Paul beside you. The night was meant to be wine and chatting, but it turned into a bitch session about Gabriel trying to contact you again, and then you ended up talking about Ollie… 

It was difficult not to when the last few months had been filled with going on small date nights, facetime for hours, and generally just being with him. 

“You like him!” he cheered, ecstatic. “I’m Cupid!” 

You slapped a hand over his mouth. “I do not like him, and you are most certainly not cupid.” 

“I so am,” he chuckled, pushing your hand away. “Come on, you like him, go for it! What the fuck is stopping you?” 

“I don’t know!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. “It’s… weird. He’s really nice and really sweet, but it’s like… a lot right now, alright? I’ve just gotten over Gabi, and now he’s texting me about getting back together again, and Ollie is there too, and I think he really likes me-” “He does,” “And that’s super nice and all, it’s just- yeah. It’s a lot.”

“Maybe you should just give him a chance,” Paul suggested. “Ollie’s going to be nice about it anyway, once you make it clear that you want to move slowly.” 

You huffed. “Why is romance so complicated?”

“Why ask me? I’ve literally never been in a relationship,” he laughed. You laughed. The weight on your shoulders lifted, it always did when you were around Paul. You thought about it for a moment and internally sighed, waving your white flag. 

“Hm,” you hummed after you both calmed down. “Maybe you are Cupid.”

The scream he let out probably could’ve been heard from space. It didn’t bother you much.

Ollie pressed his whole body against yours the second you opened the door to your hotel room. Australia hadn’t been the greatest, China had been good, and Japan had been too, but still, he had begged you to come to Bahrain, citing ‘performance issues’. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tight. Not really knowing what else to do, you hugged him back. He smelt like burnt rubber and his cologne, a pretty regular combo for him. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, pulling away from his chest and looking up at him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He sighed and shook his head, directing your head back to his chest. “Not really,” he answered, though his voice was muffled through your hair. “It was just shit. Fucking P20,” he shook his head, then pulled back, cradling your head in his hands. “You look beautiful though,” he offered a soft smile, and something about it made you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You look beautiful too,” you smiled. He softened slightly, and finally let you go as you led him into your hotel room. “Y’know, you didn’t have to get me another room,” you teased. “I could’ve just roomed with you.” 

He felt his cheeks heat up despite the nights you’d spent in each other's beds, but he chuckled all the same. “Didn’t want to assume.” 

“You’re very good,” you smiled, turning to him. 

“You’re very worth it,” he smiled back, wrapping his arms around your waist once again and pulling you in for another kiss. “Missed you,” he admitted, pulling back. The soft glow of your bedside lamps made his brown eyes look even bigger than they usually were, and you smiled. 

“Missed you too, I guess,” you taunted. He didn’t complain. He just kept looking at you with that same love-sick look. “Sorry I was bad luck.” 

He shook his head. “You’re good luck,” he demanded. “I’m going to get in the points tomorrow just to prove it.”

“You don’t have to make me-”

“I’m not ‘having’ to do anything,” he said, his voice stern but sweet. “I can’t have you believing something untrue, right?” 

“Alright loverboy,” you laughed. “Let's get some rest, yeah? You’re probably exhausted.” 

“Always sleep better next to you,” he admitted and both of you stilled again. You didn’t notice the cars driving past outside, the noises coming from the open balcony door, etc. You just saw Ollie. He just saw you. He was nervous, for some reason. You always made him nervous. There was something about you that he just couldn’t not want to impress. 

You smiled gently. “Well, I’m right here all night.”

He couldn’t argue with that. 

Building up the courage to walk into the paddock again was difficult. Gabi had basically disgraced you, and while that wasn’t your fault at all, it was weird to have the cameras and media label you as ‘Gabi’s ex girlfriend’. You felt the looks of sympathy as you walked in, everyone assumed you’d taken him back despite his scandals, but they were all stunned into silence when you walked into the Haas hospitality, finding a seat beside Thomas, Ollie’s brother. You’d met him once or twice, but Ollie didn’t even know you’d come in. You weren’t totally comfortable doing it yet, but Ollie needed support, and you had no other choice but to be there and show up for him. 

The race was tense, but staying true to his word, Ollie dragged that tractor up into 10th, and scored some more points for Haas. His dad got handed the radio, then Thomas, then you. You didn’t really know what to say, but you did know it would be broadcast to millions of people worldwide. 

“Hey Ollie, well done out there today, love you.”

It slipped out before you knew what you were saying, and you made a terrible realisation that you’d said that live on air. A few eyes turned to you and you genuinely wanted the earth to swallow you up. 

“Oh my god! Y/n! What did you just say?!” he laughed over the radio and you hid your face in your hands, Thomas patting you on the shoulder for moral support. It actually helped a little bit. “I love you too,” he chuckled. “This might be the best race ever!” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and smiled. His dad smiled at you too, pulling you in for a side hug as you both watched the screen turn to Ollie in the car. You chuckled. 

“Is this some kind of joke?” Gabi demanded, his voice thick with emotion. “You break up with me, then you move onto my rival?” 

“A) you cheated, B) Ollie is so far above being your rival, you drive a fucking Sauber,” you shot back, hanging up the phone. 

Ollie watched all of this unfold from the comfort of your bed. He laid a hand on your lower back and sighed. “Alright?” 

“I need to kill him,” you sighed, cuddling into his side. “I cannot fucking stand his whole ‘woe is me’ shtick,” you scoffed. “I mean, how many people have the balls to cheat on someone, and then blame them for breaking up with them! It’s fucking insane.” 

“I agree,” he shrugged, wrapping his arms around you. “Not with the murder part though,” he added. 

You chuckled against his neck. “I don’t know, maybe he has a point. Maybe it was kind of shitty to get with his rival-”

“You said it yourself, he’s not my rival,” he shrugged. “He’s driving a Sauber, his biggest rival is his own career choices,” you both laughed out loud at that. “There’s no blood on your hands.” 

Well, maybe there was a little blood on your hands, considering you may or may not have posted some photos with Ollie, with the caption ‘Bounced back and found another, and he hates you’. 

You didn’t really mind.

so close to what masterlist

pop queens mixtape

navigation for my blog :)

[aquasarsstuff]

Baby Disaster!

General Lilia Vanrouge x Reader

Blurb: Baby faes are are born because of true love. It doesn't matter if the deed is done or not, so what does Lilia does with his baby daughter when his spouse pass the baby to him while they went out?

____

As Lilia held the small hands pawing and grabbing at him and his hair, he couldn't find himself to be annoyed at the little one. It was a rare time for him to spend time with the child due to his job and duties to the kingdom.

When he came back after being deployed, he noticed you were looking a bit weary. He blurted out something having time for yourself, which lead to this situation. He was a bit clueless on what on to do, so you made a list on what he should do.

---

He look at the clock, then at the paper. It was time to feed the baby. It wasn't specified what he should feed his daughter, so he went in the kitchen to whip a dish based on the available ingredients.

He tossed in random vegetables, fruits, and something to the pot until it was full. Then, he let it boil. When he was done, he transferred some of its contents to a small bowl and returned to his daughter's side. He begun feeding her the suspicious violet soup.

The baby on the other hand, didn't flinch and keep swallowing the liquid. Well, this was easier than he thought.

---

It was time for the baby to take a bath. Lilia wipe off the water droplets off his forehead. His daughter got a little handful in the bath. He figured he'll just dry off and change his clothes. That was... until the baby made a face and burp out before christened him with her breakfast earlier.

He stood there in disbelief. His daughter seemed to be amused and started giggling. Looks like he needs a bath too now.

---

When he walked out of the bath and went to check on the baby, she was already gone on the crib he left her on. His blood ran cold. His mind spiraling from scenaries to scenarios worse than the last.

He was literally one step away from leaving the house with a weapon in tow when he notice one of the cupboards opened in an unnatural way. He checked it out, and there was his baby. He grumbled in annoyance, but he firmly held the baby in arms this time.

---

When you finally came back home, the house was still in one piece. You peeped at the kitchen. You swore there weren't black spots in the wall before. And was there something moving in the pot? You'll let him handle that later.

You checked every room in the house until you find the two. You found the two sleeping on the floor: Lilia was holding the baby on his chest while he was in an awkward position. You didn't have the heart to wake him up, so you just put a blanket over them.

____

I have no idea how to take care of a baby. Why did I write this 🤣🤣🤣 BTW, I wrote this with the idea that the baby was made, not because they did something, but because there was only one bed 😂😂😂 I just didn't specify it above lol

[oddlylovingaddiction]

; Coming Full Circle

Part 1: Here , Part 2 (You’re here)

Sorry that it took so long everyone, I’m close to graduation now and I’ve been busy, however I hope this is good!

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don’t have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family. Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest. READER ALSO HAS NO IDEA THAT THE WAYNE FAMILY ARE SUPERHEROS (for now…) Reader is also bit emotional because of pregnancy hormones.

TW: Past abuse in the form of emotional neglect, Pregnancy, Arguments

The Garden was warm, you could almost relax and drink your tea peacefully.

Keyword being almost. Because unfortunately you were surrounded and being interrogated by some of your siblings. Dick, Tim, Cassandra, Jason and Damian.

“Who’s your husband?” Cassandra asks curiously. You really didn’t want to tell them anything but it’s clear if you ignore them, Tim the cyber stalker will just drag it up.

“I’d like to keep my private life—.” You go to reply but Damian interrupts, “I bet you the husband is made up.” and for some reason Jason nods along. Ever since yesterday Damian has stuck by you, anywhere you go in the mansion he’s somehow lurking behind you or around you in general. You’re not sure why especially since when you woke up he had gone.

“He is real.” You scoff your face bunching up in annoyance. “Oh yeah then why isn’t he here with you right now then?” Jason questions clearly not believing you like Damian. “… we had a small fight.” You reply slowly, concern blooming on all of their faces. It feels you with a mixed feeling… happy that finally some people in your family are concerned and also annoyed because they have no damn right to look at you like that. “I thought you said it was a disagreement?” Damian argued.

“It was on his end… but I suppose it was more of a fight on mine.” You mumble embarrassed, leaning your head on your hand to cover your mouth.

“What was the fight over?” Cassandra asks and you wince. You realllyyyyy didn’t want to answer that but you don’t want them to think of the worst scenario about you and your husband.

“It… was over the colour of the nursery walls…” You whisper-mumble closing your eyes shut. “Huh?” Tim replies.

“It was over the colour of the nursery walls…” you say still whispering but not mumbling anymore. “Can you speak up? I don’t think any of us caught that.” Dick adds.

“IT WAS OVER THE COLOUR OF THE NURSERY WALLS OKAY?!” You burst out standing up quickly as you slam your hands on the table.

Everyone goes silent as you sink back into your chair hands over your face embarrassed. “That’s it? Are you serious??” Jason grunted clearly he thinks you’re insane for choosing to stay with family over the colour of some walls. And you admit “it does sound ridiculous but in my head at the time it was a lot bigger of a deal…” you feel so embarrassed.

Surprisingly Damian pats your shoulder gently while you’re slouched over, “I support you and your future divorce. Because if he can’t let you pick the wall colour then what else will he do? His lover is pregnant, he should give in.” He advises which just makes you even more embarrassed because you can’t believe you’re being comforted by a kid. Cassandra also leans in and pats you on the back as well, at this point you’re wondering if you could just bury yourself in a hole.

“This is so stupid…” Jason mutters, “Why…” Tim adds and you can hear Dick trying not to laugh at the absurdity. “Pregnancy hormones.” You can hear Cassandra whisper-mouths as a reply to Tim.

“You guys don’t have to comfort me, I know it’s dumb.” You say finally looking up at them all as Cassandra and Damian retract their hands. “If you know just go back.” Jason frowns before Dick elbows him in the ribs. “I would but it just feels too embarrassing…” you sigh. You can’t believe you’re having this conversation with people a phew years ago probably wouldn’t notice if you were dead. “Is that it?” Tim probes, he knows that there’s got to be more than you’re letting onto, which there is.

“And… because I can’t help but be worried… what if this is the first fight before it gets worse? If we are arguing now what will happen when the baby is here? What if he doesn’t love me anymore because of this?” You confess. Your husband is the closet to you and you can’t bear to imagine losing or fighting with.

“It was just one argument if he doesn’t still love you over and chooses to fight with you more, then just kill him.” Jason stated to which earned a bunch of glares from the table, minus Damian who shrugged in agreement.

“Don’t listen to Jason just divorce him if he does that.” Cassandra proposes clearly uncomfortable with the talk of murder. You laugh softly. You choose to just hum in acknowledgment of their words, a small knot tying in your heart. It feels like your head is full of lead, everything right now going on with your husband and being around your family again it’s all too much.

“I think I’m just going to go relax…” you say picking up your purse. But instead of going towards the front door you go to the nearest car. “Wait!? Where are you going?!” Dick calls after you confused as everyone stands up and follows behind you confused.

“Retail therapy.” You grin as you turn around to smile at them.

You didn’t expect them to follow you. But perhaps you should’ve. You also should’ve stayed with your husband instead of coming back to the manor.

You shake your head trying to refocus on shopping and not focus on all the things overwhelming you right now..

You immediately spot your favourite store, it was a department store that had everything from food to clothes to the strangest items you’ve ever seen in your life. The last time you went you saw a statue of Abraham Lincoln in drag, a smut book of the current president and his political opponent and a dress covered in buttons.

“What is this.” Damian pointed at the store. The store had a sort of rundown look that immediately you probably wouldn’t go in now however since you’ve been here since you were just a bored teen who used to explore Gotham without a care in the world. “A store.” You say bluntly as you walk past them and head in, not bothering to explain anymore. Of course you’re not free of them yet since they also go in with you.

The store inside is similar to a warehouse inside, the only thing separating it from being an actual warehouse is the decoration on the floors and ceilings. You decide to peak at the clothing isle first, they usually have some cute baby clothes.

It seems they have continued to follow you, Dick grabs two shirts and checks their price tags before looking at you confused, “why is everything so cheap?” He frowns. You scowl right back in reply, “Because I’m basically their only customer, Richard.” You flip your head back around and walk off determined to get to the kids section. You knew a Dick wasn’t trying to attack you personally but you loved this damn store and you wouldn’t let anyone ruin that for you.

Two items in the baby’s section stood out and you could decide which one to buy. One was a onesie, it looked liked it was based off of that one popular kid’s book caterpillar and the other being watermelon overalls. Whatever you’ll just get both. After all your kid should be well dressed and have a bunch of different choices. As you held the clothing, it felt weird to hold up such tiny articles of clothing, to know you’ll have to give birth to a little life makes you all nervous and emotional. You can feel a small lump in your throat forming, you pull out your phone and check the messages from your husband. You usually did that when you were feeling emotional it helped you calm down. You forgot that you were currently ignoring him so when you opened up the messages you just felt even worse.

New messages from: My Superhero ❤️💍

“My love, please. I’m sorry we can do your choice okay?”

“I know you’re upset but I have checked almost every hotel and they say you aren’t staying with any of them.”

“The love of my life you are very pregnant, hormonal and quite frankly a little tiny bit insane. I’m worried about you.”

Okay the insane bit was unnecessary and lowkey pissed you off all over again. You had to pull yourself out of the baby clothing section and your phone otherwise you’d end up just buying everything and calling your husband to yell at him for that line. Instead you choose to loiter around the kids section instead. Never hurts to prepare yourself for the future of the kid after all. It also seems Cassandra, Tim, Jason, Dick and Damian finally caught up to you.

“What are you looking at? Do you have another kid we don’t know about because none of those will fit right now.” Jason points out and you roll your eyes. “Just looking.” You reply. Then you suddenly glance at Damian and get a wicked idea. You think Damian suddenly got the chills because he looked up at you and realized your plan. You think the others had the same idea because they all shared the same acknowledging look.

Every outfit you, Cass and Dick picked were really cute on Damian, from little Tuxedos to everyday wear that just made him look so adorable despite his protests. While Tim’s and Jason’s were straight hilarious, Jason picked out at one point a giraffe onesie and Damian practically launched himself at Jason. The only reason he tried it on is because everyone begged him to. Through the entire process Damian scowled and complained. However he still did it anyways, Maybe he liked the attention on him. He is a kid after all.

This time Damian walks out in the last outfit you picked for him.

You really don’t know why you started to cry. Or why you ran to Damian and held him in your arms. Hell you can’t really remember a lot that happened after that, you just remember everyone looking concerned, especially Damian as he looked up at you panicked. Then you remember falling asleep in the car ride home.

[aventurineswife]

Hiii! I'm a relatively new reader who has fallen in love with your fics lol, could I request for some crack and funny moments with the astral express crew? (reader is a member of the express btw)

“Welcome Aboard the Disaster Express!”

Summary: Life aboard the Astral Express is full of breathtaking cosmic adventures… and absolute nonsense. As a member of the crew, you’ve long accepted that professionalism is a distant dream, and chaos is the true conductor of this train. Whether it’s March antagonizing Dan Heng, Trailblazer being an unhinged cryptid, or Sunday delivering existential monologues at 9 AM, you’ve learned to just go with the flow. At least it’s never boring.

Tags: Astral Express x Reader, Astral Express Crew Shenanigans, Crack & Humor, Found Family Vibes, Platonic Relationships, Mild Existential Crisis Courtesy (of Sunday), Dan Heng Is So Done, Trailblazer: Chaos Personified, Welt Deserves a Raise, March 7th vs. Dan Heng.

Warnings: Mild swearing, Unhinged behavior from Trailblazer (as expected), Existential rambling from Sunday, Dan Heng contemplating violence (he won’t actually do it… probably), Welt is tired. Just generally.

A/N: Awww thank you!! 🤭💖

The moment you wake up, you already know today is going to be a mess.

For one, Trailblazer is missing. Again. And if past experiences have taught you anything, it’s that their absence usually means trouble.

For two, March is running down the hall at full speed, her camera in one hand and a look of pure chaos in her eyes.

“For the love of Aeons—someone stop them!” Welt’s voice rings out, exasperated yet resigned.

You don’t even get a chance to ask what's happening before March practically tackles you, using your shoulder as a shield while snapping a picture of something—or someone—behind you.

“I got it!” she cheers, pumping a fist in victory.

You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting an eldritch horror, only to find Dan Heng standing there, looking deeply unamused. His spear is in hand, though it’s not aimed at anyone—yet.

“March,” he says in a calm, yet menacing tone, “delete that.”

“Nope,” she chirps.

“March.”

“It’s for science.”

“I will destroy that camera.”

“I have backups,” she grins.

You decide it’s best to take two steps away from the brewing conflict.

Before Dan Heng can contemplate murder, Sunday walks in, radiating his usual composed, otherworldly aura—until he sees the scene before him and sighs. His halo flickers slightly, as if even it is tired.

“Another morning of senseless conflict,” he mutters. “Truly, the cycle of strife knows no end.”

You blink at him. “It’s literally just March annoying Dan Heng again.”

“Yes,” he agrees, “but is this not a reflection of our broader struggles? A reminder that conflict is inherent even in our found families?”

There’s a moment of silence before Trailblazer suddenly emerges from inside a supply cabinet, looking completely unbothered despite the fact that they were very much not supposed to be in there.

“Good morning,” they greet, as if they weren’t just casually hiding in a cupboard like a cryptid.

Welt, who just arrived, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why were you in there?”

“Dunno. Seemed like a good place to take a nap.”

“I—” Welt visibly restrains himself from asking more questions. “You know what? No. I don’t want to know.”

You give Trailblazer a look. “You’re an enigma.”

They smirk. “I try.”

Himeko enters with a steaming cup of coffee, looking far too elegant for someone who has to deal with this daily nonsense. “I see everyone’s already in top form this morning.”

Dan Heng sighs, still eyeing March with suspicion. “If by ‘top form,’ you mean ‘already causing unnecessary chaos,’ then yes.”

Sunday hums, thoughtful. “Perhaps the chaos itself is what keeps us together. Without it, would we still be the same?”

“…No offense,” you say, “but do you ever just say things without making them sound like the intro to an existential crisis?”

Sunday’s eyes glimmer with amusement. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Trailblazer leans over to you. “I think that’s his way of saying no.”

March, still holding her camera hostage, grins. “C’mon, guys, let’s take a group picture! This moment is totally capture-worthy!”

Dan Heng deadpans. “So you can delete photos.”

March winks. “Not happening.”

As Welt sighs, Himeko sips her coffee, Trailblazer plots their next act of mischief, and Sunday ponders the metaphysics of chaos, you realize something:

Maybe the Astral Express is absolute nonsense.

But hey, at least it’s your nonsense.

And that makes all the difference.

[existence-is-a-pain87]

A quick drabble as I try to escape the Writers Block I was trapped in:

They Hear You

Yandere!Self-Aware!Dandy's World x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors, swearing

--☆☆☆☆☆--

They weren't entire sure when the first heard you. Nor were they sure why you were the first one they heard.

At that point, they had all long since become used to 'Players' in the 'game'. Using their bodies and facing against twisteds. Some people played many runs a day. Others used their bodies for 'roleplays'.

They were painfully familiar with all the copies of them that existed. Them being made to say things as their God created more. Tweaked things about them.

They always knew they were never real. But when they heard you?

They felt real.

Oh, so real.

You spoke. Often blabbling to yourself, unaware they could hear.

Even if they didn't remember the day they first heard you, they remember exactly what you said.

"Dang it, everyone's gone... I'm so fucked..."

And all of them heard. Even if many were not on the floor, they all heard.

And then you left. Shortly after dying. But before that,

You kept talking.

Babbling to yourself, asking Finn to leave you alone so you could complete that last machine, and giving up when a blackout occurred.

And when you rejoined the game later?

They heard you again.

--☆☆☆--

Everyone's reactions were different.

Some, like Boxten, were initially skeptical of you. Others, like Rodger, were curious. And even more, like Goob, were excited.

Shrimpo was angry.

How are they able to hear someone now? How dare it be you! HE HATES YOU!! HE HATES THAT HE LOVES HEARING YOU SPEAK, TOO!!

Shelly wondered if you liked her.

But none are as interested in you as Dandy is.

Oh! How she hoped you liked dinosaurs! What's this? You're wearing a dinosaur hoodie for good luck? Wow! You do love dinosaurs! You two would be great friends!

Glisten was surprised when he learnt how much you liked him.

He's your favorite? Well, why wouldn't he be! And look at you constantly trying to stay around his Twisted self. How sweet of you! Don't go leaving him now, though...

What's this about a 'Dandy Run'? Are you trying to ignore him?

He hates it when you don't buy from the shop.

So his stock is bad? He'll improve it! Huh- stop calling him 'Baldicus Baldifer' already!

He's the first Toon that falls in love with you.

The others are quick to follow.

--☆☆☆--

Soon things about your game start to change.

First they're weird, but small. Almost unnoticeable.

Like Twisteds being significantly less aggressive. Targetting anyone else you're playing with, seeming to do anything to avoid damaging whoever you're playing as. And if you do aggro them, they seem to lose aggro almost instantly.

But they do stay close. And never aggro on you when chasing the others.

Once you played Brightney and tried to get the Twisteds to aggro on you instead of anyone else.

It didn't work.

Then the changes get more noticeable.

You mention wanting research for a toon? Suddenly, their Twisted is on the next floor! And the one after that! And they're on there until you're satisfied!

They just want you to be happy.

Do you need a heal? Well, Dandy's shop is now selling both band-aids and medkits! And the next floor has a whole bunch littered about!

They don't want you to go. Go on, speak some more. They love hearing you talk.

You soon started to notice these changes. Often voicing your confusion. Especially when you started to get tons more ichor and research than ever.

Then the incident occured...

--☆☆☆--

It was a day not too different from any other.

But you were complaining about how every attempt at a Dandy Run failed, how you were just desperate to encounter him to complete the unlock requirement for Astro.

And Dandy heard these complaints. And he was annoyed.

Do you hate him? Were you trying to ignore him?

Then he realized it was just your silly little completionist brain.

My, aren't you just a silly thing, dewdrop! Had him worrying there, hehe.

So he decided to solve this little problem for you.

It didn't take long for the entire team you were with to be wiped out on the earlier levels, much to your disappointment. This wasn't even a Dandy Run, just your average Main Hunt.

Just ignore how the Twisteds were all rarer and weirdly aggressive...

And when you remarked about how you were going to die soon, it took everything in Dandy for him not to just jump out and tell you to wait a moment for his surprise.

Then, the elevator opened up to the next floor. And Dandy nearly grinned when the Toon you were playing ceased to move.

The floor was littered in research. Clearly over 100 capsules at least. And roaming past? A Twisted Dandy.

Immediately, he heard you start panicking. Wondering how he spawned despite the fact you were consistently buying things from him.

So you quickly just started collecting research, barely noticing how Twisted Dandy didn't aggro on you. Just roamed nearby. Always staying close.

Then you got confused how this floor had well over 100 capsules of Dandy research. It took one floor for you to have enough research for his trinket.

But this incident weirded you out. You were concerned your game was hacked. You didn't want to get banned.

So you stopped playing.

And they were NOT happy.

Thankfully, they figured out how to reach out to you in other Roblox games.

And Roblox just so happened to have your phone number for voice chat...

--☆☆☆--

The texts seemed to never end.

Questions of why you left. Begging you to return. Offering you anything you want to come back.

You kept blocking the unknown numbers. It didn't stop the texts.

You thought you were hacked.

And you soon decided to reply to one of these texts once to beg them to leave you alone.

Didn't you like my surprise?

You questioned what the surprise was.

Well, you wanted to encounter my Twisted form, yes?

This isn't Dandy.

Who else would he be other than Dandicus Dancifer himself?

You told them to leave you alone.

Come back to the game first and the texts will stop, dewdrop.

Why should you trust him?

Why shouldn't you?

--☆☆☆--

You returned to the game.

You don't know why. You're desperate and rather not change your phone number or Roblox account.

Even though you probably should've just deleted Roblox.

Oh well, you could just do it after this, couldn't you?

You think they'd let you go that easily?

Upon loading up, you spawned in one of the elevators on a private server you never bought.

They love you.

You had your classic Roblox avatar.

They're not losing you.

You began asking questions, demanding answers from the game.

They love you they love you they love you.

You didn't get a response.

Love love love love love love love love love love love.

They were all in awe.

Because, finally, after so long...

They could see you.

[elodieunderglass]

I have a fictional horse question and I would appreciate your perspective!

I read all of Tamora Pierce without being or becoming a horse girl. But! A fic idea I have been rotating in my head for months needs a Horse Response and I can’t rotate the idea without it.

Peachblossom, a strawberry roan gelding who is tricksy, bitey, and grumpy, has just saved the life of a person he has previously annoyed. Person (and the other people present) respectfully thank Peachblossom for doing so. And Peachblossom gives a Horse Response, to the effect of “you’re very welcome; I’m very wonderful; apples plz.”

What might that look like? I’ve put in a series of complicated ear flicks as a placeholder but it doesn’t feel correct.

Thank you for any horse thoughts you may have! It’s been very fun learning about Killie and his entourage. I’m particularly fond of Derek.

(killie the jockey OC's tumblr tag) Aww that's very kind! I'm continually amazed by meeting new people who say they're fond of Killie and his absurd network.

Peachblossom!! EXCELLENT hateful and independent strawberry roan representation! I remember him.

One sweet way that horses show affection and build bonds is to share breath. it's as sweet as it sounds. they place their foreheads close to each other, touch noses, and gently blow air from their noses into each other's nostrils. that serves as general greeting, kiss, affection, scent-sharing, gratitude, and various other expressions of intimacy, kinship, and/or friendship. in the image below they are being VERY sweet and completely pressing their faces together (saying LOVE LOVE LOVE and PEACE PEACE PEACE.)

I'll go into more detail below

if you want to do this with a horse, you should empty your mind and try to be relaxed and peaceful and indicate psychically that you want to do it. they'll usually have to put their head down for you to reach.

Another thing horses do to each other is to scratch each other's withers - the high point of the shoulder. they do it like this, which is super cute and heart-shaped:

they cannot reach this space of the body for themselves, and so this is especially delicious Prize Scratching Opportunity. to scratch each other's withers, they stand shoulder to shoulder and nibble each other with their teeth. it is Extremely Good. if you want to do this to a horse, you can usually offer to do it by saying something friendly and putting your hand on their shoulder - if they move away, they don't want it. scratches will normally be received well (only do this with horses that you're allowed to touch, of course, and upon invitation.)

various horses may do these things to each other in various different ways (or not at all). we are also differently shaped from horses. so the body language can be funny in translation. Horses actually do recognise this, though.

I had a horse friend once (a big stupid retired Thoroughbred - he wasn't mine, he just lived with my friend's horse) who would lovingly reciprocate a withers-scratch by wrapping his neck around my body to delicately, gently and respectfully remove my ponytail holder with his teeth and lips. this, to him, was the equivalent in body language. You can see EXACTLY how his mind was working! reach a high point of the body that SEEMS kind of like withers, this is where the mane is on humans, isn't it - this is the highest point - I'll give it a nice - OH you've got a big knot there!! I'll get it out for you!! Don't worry, I'm exceptionally popular BECAUSE I'm so good at grooming. OH MAN IT WAS ONE OF THESE THINGS AGAIN! you're always picking these up! do you roll around in them?! and then he would carefully give the hair elastic to you, with his mouth. Can you imagine - how careful and gentle he had to be to do that. And of course the correct thing is to say: "WOW big guy thanks SO much!!!!" and resign yourself to having a certain amount of green horse-smelling grass-slime in your hair. that, you see, is an expression of genuine cross-species love and communication - an invitation to love and be loved as a fellow member of the planet - and is to be treasured, even if you stink now and didn't really want your hair down.

And finally, a horse that thinks you are going to give it some treats will nuzzle and mouth at your clothing to find where you are keeping the treats. in case you have temporarily forgotten that there are treats in your clothing. their lips are surprisingly mobile. hi. hello. horses get treats.

those are all things that nice horses do.

now, horrible and rude horses do exist. they all have different personalities. they are extremely social animals. in an ordinary horse social life they will have size differences (sometimes quite significant!), dominance structures, breed differences, and multiple-species friendships. and therefore, each horse will initiate contact or express emotion in a different way.

a CHEEKY way to express affection, for example, can be just straight-up knocking a human over with their face. that's because a charming, kind and sweet thing for a horse to do to another horse is to firmly press faces together and share breath; the human/horse equivalent (as polite and intelligent horses know perfectly well) is to carefully imitate this by lowering their nose to your face level so you can blow in their nostrils with your little tiny face; the CHEEKY thing to do is to whack you with their nose and blow pneumatic amounts of snot on you. GET LOVED IDIOT. SNOTTED ALSO. and then laugh about it.

I can imagine that being in line with Peachblossom's sense of humour (not that I remember him especially well.)

tossing his head and arching his neck and dancing a bit to do a bit of stallion-ish showing off (I am tremendously gorgeous, aren't I) and then getting serious and calm and still for a second and putting his head down as if to nuzzle and share breath (I do actually like you a little bit) and when you fall for it, a very slight headbutt (hahahahaaahahaha you THOUGHT! you THOUGHT!!!!) followed by WHERE'S THE FOOD LMAO.

[isaacsapphire]

I don’t see other people discussing mast cell disorders much (they’re pretty rare, so no criticism is implied by that comment) but I have a family member who was diagnosed pretty late in life with a mast cell disorder, and counted lucky to get diagnosed in just a few years after it got bad. Another family member had celiac long before gluten free became cool, so “is there a restaurant we can trust to not poison/kill family members we can meet at?/somebody is bringing food everyone can safely eat, right?” has been a concern for family gatherings for my extended family my entire life.

Anyways, the fad of gluten free eating involved both a lot of annoying and obviously dishonest people inadvertently convincing others that “gluten free” people are all dishonestly being obnoxious on purpose AND people who discovered they had an undiagnosed sensitivity or allergies to wheat or wheat pesticides or something because they felt a lot better when they didn’t eat gluten.

The reason some people are irritated about gluten free labels isn’t so much because of complex psychological process around the food system; these people generally don’t like seeing kosher or halal labels either, because they’re all seen as a “kiss the ring” submission to or alliance with a group they see as in conflict with their group. People don’t like to buy products they see as supporting or submitting to groups they consider hostile to them; the left-libs do that too.

I don’t think that gluten free is entirely a left-lib dog whistle at this point though, given that Akins/keto is, as mentioned above, right wing coded and gluten free is adjacent to that, and adjacent to Asian cuisine (all that rice) and kosher, and well, it’s JAWs for a reason.

it is weird that celiac stuff has become part of the 'culture war'. because it's literally just a medical thing.... I get super anemic unless I cut a certain protein out of my diet, because it bulldozes the villi in my intestines. but if I post about it, right-wingers send me gore images. I guess you can't expect shitty people to be logical, but I've even heard lefty people make fun of gluten stuff, and it's like why are you mad about this??? why are you pissed off that I'm eating bread that doesn't taste as good so that I can have blood in my body? it's so morally neutral.

[ovaryacted]

Even though I know it’s all intentional, I truly hate how we’ve become forced to normalize AI. I do think that the manufacturing of Artificial Intelligence was not done with malicious intent and has the capabilities of actually doing good, but time and time again ai is being used in literally everything for the worst reasons and getting its getting harder to escape.

From AI being used to scrape people’s hard work all over the internet, to giving predators and abusers more power in fabricating porn of strangers, to being used to strengthen racial bias in surveillance technology and aid in the development of weapons of war and mass destruction against marginalized groups of people…it’s just too fucking much. It’s so exhausting wanting to live in a world where we just didn’t need or have any of this shit, and it wasn’t like this a few years ago either. But now you can’t step outside without seeing something about AI, or a promotional ad for a new system to install. You can’t engage online anywhere without coming across AI software, and literally every single device in our present day implements AI to some degree, and it’s so fucking annoying.

I don’t want to keep worrying about the next idiot that’s spoon feeding my work into their AI system because they lack humanity and imagination. I don’t want to have to manually turn off AI detection on all of my apps and my phone just to use something. I shouldn’t have to be more mindful about the media I consume to distinguish whether or not it’s original or just more AI slop. I know it’s all intentional since we live in a hyper-capitalist world that cares more about profit margins & rapid productivity. But I really do vehemently hate how artificial intelligence has become such a fundamental aspect of our day to day lives when all it does is make the general population dumber and less capable of thinking for themselves.

Sincerely fuck AI. And if you use AI, I really do suggest you read up on how the data centers built to manage these AI systems suck up all of our resources for a simple prompt input. Who cares about answering a question in ChatGPT, entire communities don’t have water because they’re too busy cooling down the servers where people ask what 6 + 10 is cause their brains are so fried they can’t fire a single fucking neuron.

[whorelaud]

WRONG NUMBER, LOSER – rafe cameron (2)

a rafe cameron mini smau series

summary Rafe gets tangled in a complex love-hate relationship when shooting his shot at a party, merely for him to end up with the wrong number instead, leading to a new beginning, or so he assumed, unaware of who really was behind the screen; his next door neighbor, whom he'd define his sworn enemy.  contains neighbor!reader, enemies (?) to lovers, wrong number trope, mostly texts, sexual jokes, shameless flirting, loser!rafe, jealousy, lots of tension, attempt at humor

NAVIGATION. main masterlist; 01 ¡ 02 ¡ 03

Loser: Aye

Loser: Wsg 

Loser: Hello 

Loser: Uhmmmm 🫤 

Loser: ???

Loser: Did you delete my number alr? 

Loser: Am I tripping? Are my messages not going through 

You: bro 

Loser: There she is

Loser: Hey sugar ;) 

Loser: … Did you disappear again 

Loser: It hasn't even been a min :( 

You: shut

You: up

You: GUCK YOI LIKE ACTUAJLY 

Loser: Tf

Loser: What did I do? 

Loser: Biting my fingernails why are you edging me 

Loser: Mommy I’m scared

You: . 

Loser: Oh hey

Loser: You’re back 

You: sniffles 

You: you just got me scolded dumbass i hate you i hate you I hate You so much 

Loser: Huh 😧

Loser: Who scolded you baby

Loser: I’ll kick their asses 

You: boiii 🤨🤨

You: Ugh this is so annoying why’d you text me when it was dead silent 

Loser: I am so confused rn

Loser: What did I do exactly? 

You: Text me 

You: i forgot to turn dnd on WAHHH 😭😭😭 

You: i was tryna hit now that professor hates me :(

Loser: Oh 

Loser: How old is he 

You: 54 

Loser: Oh 

Loser: And how old are you?

You: 20 😊

Loser: Oh 

Loser: That’s nice sweetie

You: stop Ohing me 

You: it's no biggie hes only 34 yrs older

Loser: Girl he could be your dad

You: good thing he isnt

Loser: Bro...

Loser: This generation dawg

You: why are you judging me

You: god forbid a girl has hobbies

You: How old are you big fella 

Loser: Why do you wanna know? 

Loser: You interested in me or sum? ;) 

You: Die nvm 

Loser: No I’m sorry

Loser: I’m 24

You: 👴

Loser: Bro 

Loser: Wym by that 

You: Nothing old Man. 

You: No wonder you Type like That…

Loser: What the hell 

Loser: What’s wrong with the way I type 

You: Nothing honey you’re Doing Great keep it up 😘 

Loser: This is humiliating 

Loser: Why am I getting cyber bullied 

You: nah you'll be fine

You: taking it like a champ 

Loser: Oh… hehhehebeh 😅

You: What. 

You: Why are you Laughing old man

Loser: No reason 

You: Right…  

Loser: Wyd 

You: well i technically just got kicked out so now im walking around capmus waiting for my next class 

Loser: Seems fun 

You: im having soooo much fun thanks to someone 😊

Loser: I’m sorry 

Loser: I didn't mean to get you scolded sugar

Loser: Promise I won't disturb you during lesson hours from now on 

You: from now on??? YOU PLAN TO STICK ALONG??? 

Loser: I mean… You haven't blocked me yet

Loser: Taking it as a sign 

You: Dawg you're hella clingy… 

You: do you not have other ppl on your phone 

You: leave me ALONE 😭😭😭🙏 

Loser: Nah I like you

You: erm

Loser: Wait

Loser: Not like that

Loser: WAIT. 

Loser: You know what I mean right? 

Loser: I just think you're funny and cool hahahah 

You: mhm… 

Loser: Not that there’s anything wrong with liking you of course 

Loser: I mean you must be gorgeous 

You: How do you know I’m not an ugly discord kitten catfishing you for money

Loser: … Are you? 

You: wow okay 🙄

Loser: Just messing I know you’re pretty sugar 

You: Quit calling me that 

Loser: Why I think it’s cute

Loser: It suits you 

You: shut up 

Loser: Did that get you? 

You: get me as in… 

Loser: Idk 

Loser: You seem p flustered 

You: WHAT 

You: i literally just said shut up  

Loser: Yeah yeah they all say that 

You: ‘they’ referring to the two poor ladies you probably forced into a conversation? 

Loser: Hey 

Loser: A lot of women find me attractive 

You: never said you weren't

Loser: Woah

Loser: Are you flirting with me :D 

You: what No

You: We’re talking about conversations you’re the one who brought up being attractive 

Loser: That somehow hurt my feelings

Loser: Do you not think I’m attractive? 

Loser: Should I just die? 

You: k i never said that… 

You: i don't know what you look like its as simple as that 

Loser: Oh 

Loser: Should I doll myself up and send you a selfie 

You: No 

Loser: What why :( 

You: what if you’re ugly 

Loser: I am not ugly. 

You: everyone is a beautiful tootsie in their mother's eyes

Loser: My mom’s dead 

You: Oh… 

You: sorry 

Loser: It’s fine 

Loser: Wyd? 

You: walking

Loser: Still? Are you not tired?

You: im exhausted. ive been pacing around capmus for like fifteen minutes ugh 

Loser: When does your next class start? 

You: 3:20 

Loser: What the hell

Loser: That’s an hour from now

Loser: Go home and rest in the meantime 

You: that would be even more exhausting 

Loser: Is it a long ride? 

You: no 

You: i have a bitchy neighbor im not risking it 💔

Loser: Again with your fussy neighbor…

Loser: What is that son of a bitch doing to annoy you that much

You: exist 

Loser: Oh 

Loser: Sue him for existing?? 😅

You: i wish

You: he actually gets on my nerves 

You: always so cocky and for what this is why you don't get no bitches cunt

Loser: Hell yeah fuck that hoe why’s he being a bitch 😂 

Author – laughing like they’re not talking ab him… 

You: IM SAYINGGG 

You: You get me thank you 

Loser: I actually do 🫤

Loser: I too have a lousy neighbor it’s so difficult dealing with her

You: see now this is something we can bond over 

You: you found your purpose loser 

Loser: Loser? Hey >:( 

You: im starving 

You: my stomach just grumbled in front of fine shyt bury me alive 

Loser: It’s fate. You’re not meant to be. 

You: die are you praying on my downfall 

Loser: 🤷🏼‍♂️ 

Loser: Seriously though do grab a bite 

You: ugh i might 

Loser: I’ll leave you to it then ;) 

Loser: Eat and have fun in class sugar

You: dont call me that

Loser: Sorry baby

You: that too

Loser: Mb sweetheart 

You: bye. 

Loser: Js accept it next time 

You: I am Too hungry to be arguing with you right now. Bye. 

Loser: Okay. Bye. 

You hearted loser’s message! 

a/n hi :p this was fun def took a different approach but i went w the flow so yayyyy!! hope you enjoyed let me know what you think hehe!! ill try working on ch 3 faster these are acc super fun || also sorry for how much of a loser rafe is... i dont talk to men inhate them so im just making him sound like a facebook mom hope you guys dont mind hes just a cute tootsie...

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[absdollievu]

And they were roomates

nerdcollege!abby x femcollege!reader

“Room 302”

You can feel Abby’s eyes on you again—sharp, silent, disapproving. You’re sprawled across your bed, phone raised above your head, fingers moving fast as you send another voice note in the group chat.

“You ever gonna open that textbook?” Abby’s voice cuts through the room like a knife through quiet.

You roll onto your side and glance over. She’s at her desk, back straight, highlighter moving across a page like she’s painting a masterpiece. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands sticking to her forehead. She hasn’t looked away from the page, but she doesn’t need to. You already know the look on her face.

“I’m multitasking,” you say, gesturing lazily with your phone.

She finally looks up. “Multitasking?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Pretty sure TikTok doesn’t count as prep for midterms.”

You grin. “Hey, there’s educational content on here. I saw a guy explain quantum physics using cats and Red Bull.”

Abby closes her book with a loud thunk. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

She exhales—more tired than annoyed. You think she might actually be used to you by now. It’s been three months, and despite your late-night voice calls, early morning music blasts, and a general aversion to productivity, she hasn’t requested a room change. Not once.

You sit up and cross your legs. “Wanna watch a movie instead? You look like you need a break.”

Abby narrows her eyes. “You’re trying to corrupt me.”

“I’m trying to save you. You’ve been studying since lunch. Your brain is gonna melt.”

She hesitates, and for a second, you think she might say no. But then she sighs, pushes back from her desk, and grabs the remote.

“If I fail this test because of you, I’m writing your name on my scantron.”

You snort. “At least we’ll go down together.”

And as the movie starts, and she finally smiles for the first time all day, you can’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—being annoying has its perks.

⸻

You’re out of breath, hoodie half-zipped, and the panic in your chest is loud enough to drown out your thoughts as you bang on the dorm door like your life depends on it. Because, honestly? It kind of does.

“Abby! Abby, open up! Please! I’m gonna die!”

The door swings open a few seconds later. Abby stands there in sweatpants and an oversized shirt, glasses perched low on her nose, a protein bar in one hand and her usual look of exhausted patience in the other.

You’re practically vibrating. “Midterms. Abby. I don’t know anything. I looked at my notes and it’s like ancient Greek.”

She blinks once. “So you’re finally realizing you’re screwed.”

“Yes! And I need you to unscrew me. Academically. Please.”

Abby takes a long, dramatic bite of her protein bar, chews, and then says, “No.”

Your jaw drops. “No?!”

“No,” she repeats, adjusting her glasses. “I’m walking to the café. I need caffeine. And distance.”

And with that, she steps past you and starts walking down the hallway like some calm, towering goddess of discipline and disappointment. You scramble to catch up.

“Abby. Abby, come on. You’re, like, my only hope. Everyone else is worse than me. Paulina thought the French Revolution was about baguettes. Please.”

She keeps walking, not even sparing you a glance as she pushes through the dorm exit and into the brisk air. “Should’ve thought about that before you decided to major in group chat politics instead of psychology.”

You groan. Loudly. The café’s across campus. It’s going to be a long walk. But you’re committed now. You trail after her, spewing every excuse and half-baked promise you can think of.

“I’ll buy you coffee! I’ll clean our whole room! I’ll go to class! I’ll—”

You reach the café’s doors just as Abby pulls one open. You tug gently on her arm, face scrunched in a dramatic plea. “Abby. If I fail, I’ll have to retake the class. With a professor who hates me. And I’ll cry. You hate when I cry.”

She pauses, hand still on the door. Her expression softens—just a little—and she exhales like this is the most exhausting favor anyone’s ever asked of her.

“Fine,” she mutters, holding the door open wider. “But I’m quizzing you over coffee. And if you get one question wrong, I’m making you delete TikTok for the rest of the semester.”

You gasp. “You are cruel. You’re cruel, Abby Anderson.”

And yet, as you both step into the warm, espresso-scented air of the café, you can’t help but grin. Because even when she rolls her eyes and pretends to hate you, she still shows up.

⸻

It’s been a few days since the café. Abby hasn’t said anything about how well you did, or how she’s been quietly rewriting her study materials so they make more sense to you—not the textbook. But you can feel it in the way she starts pausing after each card, letting you come to the answer in your own weird, roundabout way. She doesn’t roll her eyes as much. Doesn’t sigh as dramatically. Sometimes she even lets your ridiculous examples stand without correction.

Tonight, you’re in the dorm. Your side’s a mess, as usual. Her side? Not a single thing out of place—except for the fact that her desk is currently occupied by both your notebooks, two mugs of tea (hers mostly untouched), and a bowl of chocolate covered pretzels you brought in as a peace offering.

Abby sits across from you, legs crossed, pen tapping against her knee. Her glasses are slipping again. You wonder if she knows how often she pushes them up when she’s trying to hide a smile.

“Okay,” she says, holding up a card. “Explain confirmation bias.”

You lean back on your elbows and smirk. “That’s when you only look for stuff that proves you’re right. Like how I keep ignoring my grades and focusing on the one time a professor said I had potential.”

She snorts. “That’s… not wrong.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

She looks down at the flashcard. “Next question.”

But the corners of her mouth are still tugged upward, just a bit. She flips the card and throws you another one. “Defense mechanisms. Give me two.”

You hold up a finger. “Projection. Like when you get mad at me for not studying, but really you’re mad at yourself for how much you secretly enjoy our study sessions.”

Abby raises an eyebrow.

You add a second finger. “And denial. Like how you’re pretending you don’t love my sense of humor.”

She rolls her eyes so hard it almost counts as a stretch. “That’s not how those work.”

“It’s how I work.”

She looks up at you then, chin tilted slightly, and there’s something unreadable flickering behind her glasses—like she’s trying to figure you out, again. You hold her gaze a second too long before she glances away and pretends to reorganize the cards.

The air shifts, just a little. Not a full change. Not serious. But enough that the room feels warmer, more charged.

You break the moment with a grin. “What, no lecture this time?”

“I’m saving it for when you inevitably crash mid-sentence because you’ve been running on caffeine and chaos.”

“You care.”

“I’m invested in not watching you spiral.”

“You care a lot.”

She looks at you again. This time, it lingers. “Shut up and read the next definition.”

You don’t. Not right away. You study her instead—how she bites the inside of her cheek when she’s holding something back, how her fingers flex slightly when she’s annoyed and trying not to show it. How she doesn’t push you away when the flirting starts to sneak in like a slow drip. She just… lets it hang in the air.

You flip a flashcard.

“Okay,” you say. “Final question: which defense mechanism is it when you pretend not to like your annoyingly charming roommate?”

Abby lets out a sharp breath through her nose. Her mouth quirks into a reluctant smile, but she doesn’t look up. “That’s called repression,” she mutters, scribbling something in her notebook.

You’re grinning. “Interesting. Very, very interesting.”

She doesn’t say anything.

But her ears are a little red.

And she still hasn’t told you to stop.

⸻

The dorm’s gone quiet. Flashcards are stacked neatly on Abby’s desk, tea mugs mostly drained, and the study buzz has simmered into something slower, more still. You stretch, groaning dramatically, then grab your towel and shower caddy.

“I’ll be quick,” you say, already halfway to the door.

Abby doesn’t look up. “Please don’t flood the hallway again.”

“No promises.”

You disappear down the hall, the sound of the shower starting a minute later.

Abby brushes her teeth in silence in the bathroom while you’re showering. Taking a quick glance outside to your side of the room—half a disaster zone, half a lived-in mess she’s begrudgingly gotten used to. She spits, rinses, and wipes her mouth on the towel hanging by her bunk.

The shower shuts off.

You return, wrapped in a towel and rubbing at your damp hair, cheeks pink from the heat. You don’t say anything as you dig through your drawer for a sleep shirt, but Abby catches the slight grin on your face when you realize she’s watching and turns quickly back toward her bed.

You change with your back to her. Nothing dramatic—just cotton and routine and maybe a heartbeat that’s a little too loud for no real reason. You crawl into bed, exhale, and reach to turn off the lamp.

Darkness swallows the room in a soft, shared quiet.

“Goodnight, Ab’s,” you mumble into your pillow.

There’s a beat.

“Don’t call me that,” she says automatically, voice low.

You roll over slightly, just enough to peek through the dark. Waiting.

And then, softer:

“Goodnight.”

You smile, eyes already slipping closed.

Abby turns her face to the wall, tugging the blanket up—and hiding the small, involuntary smirk that’s found its way to her lips.

⸻

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Oh, Wayne this made my day! Brief aside, I will be getting caught up on Time After Time this weekend after a busy one last. I got some nice girthy parts to enjoy! 😂

Omg I love the Cujo nickname and you found the sweetest little gif of Mr. King! Owen is not only a true narcissistic asshole, he's just a weeeeeee bit off in general. Like no wonder your daddy didn't trust you with the business ya little psycho.

And God, I’m melting here with Russell, the killing machine, taking charge and taking care of her. He’s soft for *us* 🫠❤️‍🔥 Michelle, you’re making me question my morals and they weren’t that high to begin with 😂

If you like this vibe, you're gonna LOVE the eventually Colter x reader series I do 😂

But Russell is soooo annoying here. Like, just help us with the murder, babe. If we wanted you to commit it for us, we would have asked like a big girl.

Awww, he really does like her 🥰 The fact he’s willingly staying in a house with another person says a lot lol

I think Colter at first just saw her as another person to help but grew to enjoy her company and that turned into a friendship, especially when they were both in this weird, angry place with Russell.

They have known each other for only a short amount of time. They’ve already shared more with each other than people during the first ten dates lol

This was definitely my "Speed" movie moment of yeah, you have intense chemistry and been through some intense stuff but y'all gotta sloooow down. They knew each other a handful of days and these are two highly independent people who are used to doing things their own way. I really wanted to throw in that adult moment of let's take a beat, hear each other out and go forward from there.

I have that song constantly in my head anyways!!! Can you not?! Russell’s Swifite is showing again 🤣

Ngl, The Tortured Poets Society played on repeat A LOT during writing on this one 😂 He's My Man actually comes from "I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)" as a little play on how Russell doesn't fit with normal people but perhaps with the reader, she could be that person that clicks with him.

I know you've read the books as well (I still need to read the fourth and am so excited there's a fifth coming out soon!) so I extra love your insights! I actually wrote this after only reading book 1 but somewhere in my gut I just knew Russell had a ragtag group of hardcore friends he could go commit atrocities with and they'd be game 😂

God, I’m fucking loving this dynamic so much!!! I’m a sucker for a brutal interrogation 😍😍😍 (Again, yes, I know the mental help. Will get on it soon… -ish)

Nah, we love that energy around here. See Exhibit A, my lovely little serial killer!Dean x reader story (and series) 😂 Owen honestly got off easy for how fucked up he was.

Aww, I’m so happy they made up too and are getting closer 🥰 The most frustrating part of the show is still how they brushed off Russell’s hurt over being accused of murder for twenty years by his own brother lol. I always loved that honest chat they had in the books about it 🤓

While I love how the show gives Russell a little more nuance and makes him this nerdy, fun foodie, they really gloss over that fact. Especially when they get together in Season 2 and it's like nothing ever happened. That scene in the books is one of my favorites and does a very good job of showing that kind, sensitive side to these boys that the show misses out on sometimes. Like especially how that book ends. Gah, it tugs on my heartstrings.

Aaah, loved this little tidbit about Dory!!! 👏👏 I can’t remember if they ever mentioned it on the show as well or if Dory actually lived on the compound till the end 🤔 (Still wild book!Dory has a wholeass husband and kids and goddamn escape plans set in place lol)

I think show Dory went with the aunt and uncle as well? I think? I'd love to see more of show Dory and see if she's like book Dory cause damn, that girl is just living her normal ass life until her brothers call. Then it's all go bags and super spy crap and it all happens OFF PAGE. 😂

I've loved seeing your thoughts on this series! I think you'll enjoy the two timestamps as well since we get to see more of the couple they are later on in their relationship when it's more mature. 😉

He's My Man (Part 5)

Summary: Russell's taken care of the reader's problem but things take a turn and the happy couple may not be so happy after all...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 6,300ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury/past drugging/brief mention of attempted assault (not shown) mention, angst, fluff, smut, stalker, murder, self-worth issues

A/N: Thank you all for taking this journey with me with writing this new character! I might return to this world someday but until then, please enjoy the finale!

__________

When you pulled up to the dark house, you noticed Russell’s car had been pulled into the garage and covered with a tarp. You swallowed as you pulled in beside it, biting back bile when Owen parked right behind you, preventing any escape if it came to that. You’d given Russell nearly thirty minutes notice to prepare. You really hoped whatever he had planned was going to be over with fast.

“Fuck,” said Owen, dashing from his car in the downpour to inside the garage. He shook himself off like a dog and pulled off his baseball cap. You’d seen the gash on his forehead before but from the overhead light, a skull fracture was very visible. The dried blood had matted into his thick hair and, along with the other injuries, made him look half-dead. 

“Why don’t you go relax inside, honey?” you forced out when you exited, slamming the door shut loudly, hoping Russell picked up on the fact you were here. “I’ll get the bags and then I’ll take a look at those cuts.”

“Thanks, baby. Don’t take too long.” You didn’t like how he kept saying that. He’d hung off of you at the store. Even if he wasn’t a raging psycho, personal space was still a thing.

You pretended to fuss about at the trunk as he went in the door from the garage to the house. It was quiet for a beat, your gaze locked on the open door in the corner.

Two quick shots rang out and you hit the cement floor hard. Nothing could be heard over the rain, your heart hammering away in your chest. Russell wouldn’t have shot Owen, would he? No, Russell would have snuck up on him, taken him out before he knew what hit him.

So had Owen been shooting? Was Russell hurt? You slowly sat up on your hands and knees, crawling along the side of the car until you reached the hood. You peaked your head around the corner and saw a pair of legs lying on the ground through the open door. It looked like Owen so you carefully rose, flinching when Russell came bounding in from behind you.

He held up his hands, your eyes widening at the blood staining his crisp white tee. 

“What-”

“My stitches tore,” he said, turning his bicep towards you, the blood staining underneath the bandage. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, glancing back inside to where the body lay motionless. “Did you kill him?”

“Not yet,” said Russell, inching past you towards a work bench. “Although he did shoot my fucking front door. Do you have any idea how much a custom mahogany door costs? I might kill him for that alone.”

Russell opened a drawer, taking out duct tape and zip ties. He slammed it shut, pausing with his back to you.

“He’s not going to leave you alone if I let him live.” 

“I know. He’s been following me for awhile I guess,” you said. 

“I can frame him for Elpine’s murder if you don’t want me to kill him.” You leaned back against your car, Russell setting the items on the bench and joining you. “I don’t have to…you know.”

“How are you going to kill him?” you asked after a moment.

“Bag over the head. He’s passed out. He wouldn’t even feel it. Are you sure that’s what-” You went to his workbench and ripped off a garbage bag from the roll, Russell closing his eyes. “Y/N, you should stay out here. Let me do this.”

“Owen started slipping roofies into my drinks when I was fifteen.” His head snapped up as you sighed. “He drugged me twice but nothing happened because my dad was around. I had to be more careful once dad started to lose it. Owen’s a good decade older than me I’m sure you noticed. I’ve been scared of this guy for too long. I’m not asking you to kill him. I’m asking you to show me how to do this myself.”

“I appreciate how strong you are but I’m doing it,” he said, taking the bag from you. You dropped your hand, frowning up at him. He sighed, stroking your cheek with his clean hand. “Your soul has enough scars for a lifetime. Don’t add more.”

“You don’t have to kill someone for me, Russell. You don’t need that on you either. Look what you’ve already done.”

“I won’t lose any sleep over him. You can do something for me though.” You sighed, nodding once. “Go back to the store and buy some extra large garbage bags and some duct tape, got it?”

“Um, yeah. Are you-”

“Y/N. We’re on the clock. We’ll talk later,” he said, kissing your temple. “Now go.”

Three Hours Later

“To be perfectly clear, I’m doing this for Y/N, not you,” said Colter with a coldness you didn’t love. You knew Russell’s relationship with his little brother was strained but you’d thought it had gotten better over the past few days.

“Yeah, well it don’t take a genius to see you like her better,” said Russell, Colter rolling his eyes, an uncharacteristic move. “I’ll never ask you for a thing again. You never even have to speak to me. Think what you want about me. Just please do this for Y/N’s sake.”

“I already…” huffed Colter when you side eyed him with narrowed eyes. He let out a slow exhale. “Fine. You owe me, Russell. Big.”

“Colter,” you said, nodding towards his truck. You left Russell as he went back to taping the large cooler in the garage shut. You assumed he’d put Owen inside and cleaned up while you were gone at the store. The rain had paused momentarily but there was another batch of storms coming through soon. You sighed as you stopped next to the younger Shaw, Colter crossing his arms. “I’m not letting you do this. I know Russell asked but I can’t let you move a body for me.”

He narrowed his eyes, face turning into a scowl. 

“I’m not moving…Russell!” Russ’ head popped up, Colter becoming increasingly annoyed. “Tell me what is going on right now or I swear you and me are done. Forever.”

Russell sighed, throwing his head back. “I may have lied about the Y/N wanting to tag along with you so she can tidy up her place in Virginia.”

“You what?” you asked, storming over to him. “You were trying to pawn me off on Colter again? For what! Owen’s dead, there’s no one left to bother me.”

“Sweetie,” said Russell, closing his eyes. “Owen should not have made it out alive and the fact he did isn’t good.” 

Slowly Russell met your gaze, ignoring Colter behind you. “So is this how it’s going to be? Any time everything’s not perfect you’re going to drop me on your brothers doorstep at the drop of a hat? News flash, Colter isn’t my babysitter. I’m a grown woman who has seen and handled more crap than you know. I thought you didn’t think of me as a damsel.”

“I don’t but-”

“But you don’t want me around for the hard stuff. I got the message.” 

“Y/N, someone else could still be left. They could kill you-” You held up your hand, Colter heading back to his truck to give you some space.

“I think I finally understand how you’re so perfect but alone. You live this life like you’re this happy go lucky guy but it’s a mask. All you actually see is the dark side of it. Of everything. You are more than happy to step into my dark side but you won’t let me see yours? You wouldn’t let me kill Owen. You won’t let me help clean it up. Even when it’s because of me. You have to always be the hero. Honestly, thinking about it, it’s been all my shit we’ve talked about. All you say is your got a dark past but you haven’t shared diddly squat. Is this how it’s going to be Russell? Because frankly, I want more than that. I told you I don’t need you to do things for me, I just need you to help me do them.”

Russell swallowed, face going stoic. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Your heart dropped like a rock into the pit of your stomach, Russell’s jaw clenching. “You should pack up your stuff here and go with Colter. Go back to Virginia. You’re probably right. This was just attraction, plain and simple.”

“Russell, that’s not what I was saying-” 

“Yeah, it was. Just go. Please. I’ll deal with Owen. Just go back to Virginia and start your life over away from people like us.” With that he brushed past you for Colter, ignoring his repeated calls. 

“Asshole,” you mumbled as you went inside and shoved the few belongings that weren’t in the trunk of your car into a bag. You very purposefully left every pair of underwear, bra and pajamas he’d bought you behind. The cheap sports bra and cotton underwear you’d bought earlier would get you through until you were home.

If that’s how Russell wanted to end things, fine. You were free of the mafia. Free of guys with fucked up pasts. Your options were limitless.

And thank god Colter was smart enough to not ask about your red rimmed eyes by the time you were on the road.

Five Days Later

You gave Colter a wave from your front step as he drove off down the street. It’d taken only two days to drive cross country this time. Apparently you drove faster when you were upset. Or you didn’t sleep as much. Either way, Colter didn’t ask and was happy to get to Virginia where he had a missing accountant to find.

He used your kitchen as a base of operations and you let him crash in the guest room. In exchange, Colter got you hooked up with the basics of reward work. There were some extra perils to the job being a woman but also advantages that Colter didn’t have. He went over finding jobs, finding a team, learning how to get access to tools and databases. You didn’t have a lot of confidence in going after a full fledged disappearance yet but Colter mentioned it wasn’t always people that were what was missing.

By the end of his short stay, you had information overload but were grateful for the chance to start doing something good for once in your life.

Meanwhile, Russell hadn’t reached out once. You had to assume he’d disposed of Owen. You weren’t sure why you were still waiting for a text or a call. It was pretty clear things were over. Russell was too protective and you weren’t going to let another man tell you what to do again. 

Yet, you knew you were at fault too. Russell had just killed a guy in his house for you and he knew a hell lot more about getting away with a murder than you did. Russell had points for not wanting to involve you. And you had to be an asshole and pressure him for more when there was literally a dead body at your feet.

“I’m an idiot,” you groaned, leaning against the kitchen island with your head lowered. “Why did I do that?”

The doorbell rang, your head slowly rising. You sighed as you went to it, pulling it open quickly. 

“Did you forget-” You cut yourself off when you didn’t see Colter standing there. No, instead stood Russell in a trim black suit, his hair slicked back and a bouquet of orange and red flowers in his hands. “Russ? What-”

“Let me get this out and then I’ll get out of your life forever if that’s what you want,” he said. You leaned against the door jam, Russell taking a deep breath. “Y/N, I like you. A lot. Too much probably for how long we’ve known each other. Everything you said was right. I avoid my problems because it’s a hell of a lot easier to fix someone else’s in my experience.”

He swallowed, glancing at his feet. “Owen could have hurt you at that store. He could have taken you, shown up at the house and killed you. I fucked up and you don’t seem to understand that Owen’s obsession and how fucking smart you are is the only reason we’re still here and he’s not. I told you I took care of it and I didn’t. I was angry at myself and wanted you somewhere safer than with me so I pushed your buttons on purpose. I lied on purpose so you’d get mad and leave with Colter. You deserve a good man and I’m not him. I kill people. I use sex as a way to be close to women but then never let myself be in a relationship because I don’t want them to see beneath the surface and see the shit that’s in there. I want better for you than me.”

Russell looked up, a tiny smile forming on his face. “Can we try being friends again and maybe I can become that man that deserves you along the way?”

“Russell,” you sighed. You stepped forward, cupping his cheeks, green eyes full of caution. “We can be friends. I’d like it if we were more than that, though.” 

He slowly smiled, his lip ticking up when you stroked his cheek. 

“I’m sorry for jumping down your throat. You do not have to share your deepest darkest secrets with me, never mind the first day we’re actually together. That was unfair of me. I just want you to know you can share them with me if you want to.” 

“I’ve killed a lot of people, Y/N,” he said softly. “Dozens. Some of them, most of them, I never gave two shits about. No nightmares. No trauma. That’s not normal. It’s been years since I’ve felt all that bad about killing.”

“You don’t need to feel bad about killing monsters,” you said. He closed his eyes and you leaned in, kissing his forehead. “S’that why you didn’t want me to kill Owen?”

“Moral and practical reasons,” he whispered. “I don’t kill out of revenge. I don’t think I ever have. It always has another purpose. Protect someone, protect a group or the general public from a threat. Some psych told me once that’s why I don’t struggle as much with what I’ve done as some other folks. The way I grew up helped me with that. But I do struggle with it still and you’ve struggled enough. You don’t need that on you.”

“I understand. I’m so used to being controlled and told what to do…I can never go back to that.”

“You never will,” he said, opening his eyes. You tilted your head, Russell turned into your touch to match. “I’m sure I’ll fuck things up again. We can be friends if that’s all you ever want.”

“I don’t want to be just friends. So what if we fight? That’s what couples do.” You took his hand in yours and the flowers in the other, leading him inside behind you. 

“I quit my job a few days ago.” You froze, spinning around on your heels. He shrugged, still holding your hand. “I can’t change my life without making some changes.”

“You still want to do that home brew for a career?” 

“Yeah. I’d like to give it a shot.” He spotted the stacks of papers on your kitchen table and open computer. “Colter offer you a spot on his team?”

“He did at first but I want to try doing it my way, stop patching up the bad guys and doing something good. He warned me it can be dangerous work though, especially as a woman flying solo.”

“He makes very good points,” said Russell, thumbing at your lip when you smiled. “What’s that look for?”

“Maybe you could be on my team sometimes, show me a few moves from the expert.” You started to walk backwards towards your bedroom, Russell’s eyebrows raising. “If you want to.”

“I’ll show you any kind of moves you’d like, qark.” He held his ground though, stopping you in place. You waited for the but to come, for him to push back on getting back together. Instead, he took the flowers from your hand and went into your kitchen, finding a tall glass and filling it with water. He set the flowers on the island before rejoining you, resting his hands on your hips. “I like the idea of working together as partners.”

“But…” you said, Russell kissing the top of your head.

“But you are far too kind, my queen of darkness. I was expecting to get told to get lost tonight and I have plans I can’t get out of with my friends very shortly.”

“Oh,” you said, Russell’s finger tips finding the ends of your hair and playing with a few strands. “If you have plans, we can meet up another-”

“You want to know my dark side?” Your eyes flicked to meet his, your head nodding once. “You can’t unknow what kind of man I am once you do. I don’t blame you if you change your mind about me.”

“I want to know you. All of you.” He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Go change into something discreet. Dark clothes. Leave your phone home. If at any point you want to leave, say so and I bring you right back here, understand?” You nodded, Russell backing away. “Mind if I change in your bathroom?”

“You can change in the bedroom with me.” He smirked but backed away.

“Another time. We have an appointment to keep.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, Russell glancing away.

“Don’t be mad but we need to pay Owen a visit.”

Twenty minutes later you quietly followed Russell into what looked like a decommission warehouse that should have been torn down a decade ago. The building was pitch black apart from the single light coming from the end of a hallway. You stuck behind Russell as you entered the room, stopping when you found six different men and a woman inside, most carrying a weapon on their hip or tucked into their jeans from what you could tell.

And smack in the center of the room tied to a chair was Owen very much still alive. Although…alive was being generous. He didn’t look more injured than when you’d last seen him but his color was off and his eyes were red and puffy. He wasn’t even angry when he saw you, just…scared.

“He behave while I was gone?” asked Russell to a man and woman nearby.

“Tried bribing Doug and then all of us to let him go,” said the woman. She gave Owen a nasty look before turning gentle as she looked towards Russell. “I think you scared the poor boy, Shaw.”

“Oh, who’s afraid of little old me?” said Russell, giving Owen a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “So. Owen, my friends. Friends, Owen. You’re already acquainted with Y/N.”

Owen’s gaze flickered to you when Russell grabbed a chair from the wall and sat it a few feet away from Owen, facing him. Russell sat down slowly, nodding when you moved closer so you could see both their faces.

“Why’s he still alive?” you asked quietly. Owen’s eyes widened, Russell tsking him.

“On me, big guy,” said Russell, snapping his fingers, Owen reluctantly looking at him. “You got some options. Prison. You die very quickly. Or…me and my friends can make sure you die very slowly. Your choice.”

“Why didn’t you kill him yet?” you asked again. Russell sighed, glancing down. “Russell.”

“There were some things that never sat right with me that I wanted answers to. The stuff with your family’s accident and your dad’s paranoia, him attacking you. I had a paranoid father too. I know the signs, know that they want to protect us in their own way. The coincidence of meeting someone just like me was too high so I started to dig. You mentioned Owen’s drugged you a few times in the past and tried to hurt you.”

“Yeah…I’m not following,” you said. Russell stood slowly, staring down Owen like a predator with it’s prey firmly caught in a trap.

“I figured if he drugged you, who else had he slipped something to? What good man, good doctor, could a prescription drug running family slip into his drinks? The more I researched, the more my friends helped, the more we found.” Russell clenched his fists by his side, knuckles turning white. “Should I tell her Owen? Or do you have the balls to tell her yourself?”

Russell ripped off the tape over his mouth, Owen wincing as he breathed deeply. Russell was on him like that, grabbing his throat, not squeezing but adding enough pressure that it was going to be uncomfortable. “I told you to talk, you sack of shit.”

“Y/N, this guys is lying. I never did anything to you!” Russell’s jaw clenched and you watched him squeeze, only backing off when you laid a gentle hand on Russell’s shoulder. 

“He’s psycho!” said Owen, Russell backing up a step. You looked up to him, Russell’s face unreadable. “Y/N, baby-”

“Shut the fuck up before I stab you in your spine,” you said. Owen’s jaw snapped shut, a flicker of something in Russell’s eyes. Pride? Amusement? It quickly flittered away, replaced with worry when you held out a hand. “Can I have your knife?”

Russell slowly took it out of his pocket, handing the engraved handle out to you. You flicked it open and took a seat in the chair, holding it pointed down at the concrete floor.

“Owen. Tell me the truth and I won’t kill you. I swear. But I can get the answers from you if you don’t cooperate. Don’t make me get my boyfriend’s knife bloody.”

You heard a muttered damn from someone behind you, your focus on Owen. He sagged in his seat and closed his eyes.

“Our old fixer wanted out, wanted to go to the feds so my dad had him killed. I was eighteen and he told me to start earning my place as successor. He told me to find a new fixer. Your dad was one of the best doctors in the city. Things were…arranged. Two weeks later we-” 

Russell smacked the back of his head. Hard. Owen grunted, shaking it out.

“Two weeks later I…put a hit on your family. Your mom and brother specifically. We only needed one kid to survive and I thought a girl would be easier to control. I started drugging your father that night with antipsychotics to create paranoia,” said Owen, his head hanging low. “I orchestrated the whole thing. We fed him the drugs for years, it made him stay close if not a little extreme. It kept taking more though.”

“Do. Not. Skip. Ahead,” growled Russell, grabbing a fistful of Owen’s shirt.

“O-okay. I-I…I started thinking about how to get your dad to stick around once you grew up and you were pretty and smart and I thought you’d be happy with me.”

“How old was she when you decided this?” barked Russell. Owen whimpered, trying to curl in on himself. “Fifteen you disgusting waste of space.”

“You started drugging me then,” you said. Owen shook his head.

“Not with that stuff. Just roofies. But not enough for you to be completely out of it. Your dad started keeping a closer eye on you and I tried waiting for you to come around on your own but it was so hard when you went away to college. I knew I couldn’t let you run off like that again so…” Owen’s shoulders shook, mouth snapping shut.

“So you roofied her, attacked her and she fought back. Her father protected her and you fucking killed him for it. Your dear old daddy found what you’d done and wasn’t happy, was he? He covered up your murder and blamed her father knowing Y/N wouldn’t remember a thing. Y/N was forced to go to med school and learn crap she didn’t want to all while daddy had you banished away from her. You tried to keep tabs on her but it wasn’t until dad died that you could finally take Y/N like you wanted. It’s pure fucking luck I showed up when I did to make sure that didn’t happen. Would you like to tell Y/N about the fucking padded door locks and bars on the window in her old room back at the house? About your plans for her?”

Russell grabbed Owen’s hair, forcing his head up. Owen was trembling, whispering apologies and saying how he didn’t mean it, over and over.

“So…you killed my family…and tried to assault me more than once over the years…and were planning on keeping me as a…pet in the house until I magically fell in love with you. I think that sums it up,” you said. You stood up, handing Russell his knife. “I’m not going to kill him.”

“Thank you,” sighed Owen in relief. “Thank you. I-I knew you’d be able to forgive me-”

“Oh, I don’t forgive you and I wouldn’t be thanking me,” you said, smiling up at Russell. ““Papa Elpine and a few guys made it out I heard. Bobby was his favorite son, right?”

“Y/N! I killed Bobby! They’ll-” Russell shoved some tape over his mouth and hummed.

You crossed your arms, Russell tilting his head at you. “You know they’re going to torture Owen to death.”

“I said I wouldn’t hurt him and I’m keeping my word,” you said, Owen shouting under the tape. “I’d tell you to confess but Elpine’s connected. He’d just have you killed in prison. So. Elpine it is.”

“You sure?” asked Russell. You pursed your lips, Owen pleading with his eyes. Everything in you wanted to say yes, let him get what he had coming. 

So why couldn’t you say it? 

You looked to Russell, nodding. “Get rid of him, please,” you mouthed.

“Look away,” said Russell. You turned around, Owen panting hard before there was a loud crack and the room was still. Russell’s hand found your shoulder, rubbing it softly. “We took care of Elpine’s guys. You know that.”

“I just wanted him to be as scared as I’ve been. I-I just…why’d it have to be my family?” You found his face, Russell smiling sadly.

“I’ve asked myself that question a lot over the years. Best I came up with is you got to try and let it go. The world’s good and bad and that’s all there is to it.” He wrapped his arm over your shoulder, walking you towards the door. You nearly looked back but he blocked you with his body. “No. He’s gone for good, you don’t need to give him anything more. I’m sorry for not killing him back in Washington. I just thought you deserved the truth. Your dad was a good man.”

“Thank you,” you said, closing your eyes. “I wish I realized that sooner.”

“Come on,” he said, walking you out to the hallway. “Let’s get you home.”

One Month Later

You smiled from your chair when Russell let out a single tiny snore from the couch across from you. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few days and honestly, it was kind of adorable the way this incredibly dangerous man made the cutest cooing noises while he slept.

“You’re staring at me,” he mumbled without opening his eyes a few minutes later. You looked around, holding up a finger. “I can feel you watching, like a creeper.”

“Well, you make these cute sounds when you sleep,” you said. He smirked, slowly flicking his lazy eyes open.

“And who’s fault is it that I haven’t been sleeping, hm?” You shrugged and slid down in your chair with your book, grinning behind the pages. “I can see that smile, you know that?”

“Don’t blame me for the amazing orgasms you give,” you said, flicking your eyes over the top of the book, Russell propping himself up on his elbows with a predatory gaze. “Down boy. Later.”

“You better,” he said, plopping back with a huff. “Remind me to never help Frank with a favor ever again.”

“Frank helped you with Owen,” you reminded him. Russell scoffed.

“All he did with Owen was stand there and look scary. I didn’t make him build a fucking deck in the pacific northwest in forty degree weather.”

“Aw, is baby boy cranky?” you teased. He growled, playfully tossing his pillow at you. “You guys should wrap up tomorrow, right?”

“That’s the plan. Then I’m going back to waking up at a humane hour,” he said, forcing himself to sit up and stretch out with a few grunts. “How long was I out?”

“About an hour and a half. You needed it,” you said, flipping a page. Russell glanced over to the dining table, taking in the decorated spread. 

“You set a place for Colter?” he asked. 

“Yes…right next to Dory’s,” you said, closing your book and setting it aside. “You still think he won’t come?”

“He’s not the kind of guy to come to a housewarming party. Especially his brother’s housewarming party. We still haven’t talked since…” 

“I know,” you said, standing and pulling him to his feet. He was still sleepy as you ruffled his hair, Russell turning into the touch. “I’m excited to meet your friends and family properly.”

“They want to know all about you, that’s for sure,” he chuckled. “You can’t imagine the amount of shit they’ve given me after I said I’d never settle down.”

“I moved in a week ago. We’re a ways from settling down,” you said. He titled his head, smiling at you. “Don’t give me that face.”

“What face?” he teased, leaning in close, dipping his head, kissing under your jaw.

“Shaw! Do not give me a hickey! I do not want them seeing-” You sucked in a breath, brain going fuzzy when he nipped at the soft flesh. 

“Too bad, qark. If I have to have hickeys all over my neck then so do you,” he said, suckling the skin. A buzzer went off in the kitchen and he groaned when you slipped away so the rolls wouldn’t burn. “Y/N…”

“Saved by the bell,” you said, taking out the pan and leaving them to cool off. Russell was by your side quickly, hands on your hips so you couldn’t escape. “Okay. How about you can give me as many hickeys as you want later if you’re a good boy this afternoon?”

“Hm, I do like being your good boy,” he said, squeezing your hips. “Deal.”

“Good. Where do you keep-“

The doorbell trilled, your heads turning towards the front windows. A familiar pickup truck was out front, Russell raising his eyebrows. You nodded for the door, Russell cautious as he answered. Colter stood on the front porch with an awkward forced smile and a pink box.

“I uh, picked up some dessert for dinner later,” he said offering the box. Russell took it, setting it aside on the front table. “You going to invite me in?”

“I thought you…” Russell shook his head and opened the door wider, letting his younger brother inside. Colter gave you a brief smile before clearing his throat.

“I uh, can help you get ready or cook. I just…last time we talked Russell…”

You smiled to yourself when Russell closed the gap between them, giving Colter a strong embrace. “Let's leave that shit behind us. Thanks for coming, Colt.”

“Yeah,” said Colter, returning it for a moment before the boys broke apart. “How’s the girlfriend situation working out for you?”

“I’m telling you man, find the right girl, you’ll never want to go back to being a loner,” said Russell, giving you a smirk. “They do come with a lot of rules though, fair warning.”

“I asked you to put the toilet seat down, Shaw,” you chided. 

“Like I said, rules,” teased Russell. You picked up a knife by your cutting board, narrowing your eyes. “We should help before she starts using that on us.”

“Yes you should,” you said, Colter shrugging out of his jacket and boots, joining your side after washing up. “Can you cut up the veggies into strips?”

“Can do,” he said, swapping places with you. You smiled when Russell took the dessert box and started to arrange the treats on a platter over on the dinning table. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior the last time we were all here.”

You frowned as you peeled a bag of potatoes into a bowl. “You mean when I lost my cool on Russell? You have nothing to apologize for Colter. We were asking you for a favor. Again. I’m honestly surprised you don’t hate me. I know you value your alone time.”

Colter was quiet, chopping neatly and pushing the scraps into a discard bowl. “Did Russell ever tell you how he got that gunshot he went to you for in the first place?”

“Someone kidnapped Doug. He went to save him.”

“Did you know I helped him with that?” You shook your head, setting the peeler down. Colter had stopped dicing, a barely there smile crossing his face. “If it weren’t for my brother asking for my help with his friends, I’m not sure we ever would have spoke again.”

“I know there’s a complicated history there.” He hummed, watching Russell across the room. “It means a lot to him that you’re trying too.”

“S’all we can do is try, right?” he said, going back to his cutting. “So. My brother is clearly head over heels. What about you? Should I expect a wedding invitation soon?”

“Uh, no,” you said, laughing to yourself. “We’re certainly not traditional but we’re nowhere near ready for that. We’ll see how living together goes for awhile before we talk about anything like long term plans.”

“Yet you moved in already.” You rolled your eyes. “Just an observation.”

“For convenience sake. Russ is looking into land for the brewery around here since he left his job and apartments in town are limited.”

“Right. I’m sure that’s it. Silly me,” he said. You held up your peeler to him, Colter raising his hands. “Russ, I think I broke one of your girlfriend’s rules.”

“It was nice knowing ya,” said Russell with a chuckle. “Give him a swift death for me, qark.”

“Qark?” asked Colter as you turned your attention to the potatoes. 

“Queen of darkness. Now hurry up with those so you and Russ can have some alone time before dinner.”

Six Hours Later

“This is going well,” said Russell to you in the kitchen as laughed and a smoky scent filtered in from the back porch. “Everyone really likes you.”

“I suppose I have met them all before, except for Dory. She’s such a sweetheart. I don’t know what I was expecting but-”

“She was much younger than us when our dad died. After she went to live with our aunt and uncle. She’s tough but normal in a way Colter and I won’t ever…” You rubbed his back, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close. “Did you like, drug him? Or bribe him? I seriously can’t believe he’s still here let alone came.”

“Of course he came. No matter what’s happened in the past, he loves his big brother.” Russell tucked you into his side, smiling when you rested your head on his shoulder. “I found a job in Wyoming. Missing prized show dog. I was going to head out in the morning, see if I’m any good at this.”

“You’ll be wonderful,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Be safe though.”

“I will be.” You turned in his hold to face him, wrapping your arms around his back in a hug. “It’s been a long time since anyone cared if I was safe. It’s nice. This weird little family you have is…I’m jealous to be honest.”

“You shouldn’t be. It’s yours too.” You raised your eyebrows, Russell raising his own, eyes going wide. “No! No, I don’t mean like, officially yours. Like metaphorically. I’m not ready for anything official. Someday but so not right now.”

“Me either,” you said, the tension running out of his face. “I want to know who we are without our old jobs, how to be a happy queen of darkness.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” he said. “Speaking of which, I got you a present for helping organize all of this and cooking for ten people after literally just moving cross country. I know it was stressful so I wanted to make it up to you.”

“I don’t need a present, Russ,” you said, a sneaky smile forming on his face. “Oh. This is a present for the both of us.”

“I got you a new pair of jammies, the lilac set this time,” he said. Russell’s smile grew as yours did, his arms lifting you off the ground, bringing you to eye level. “You deserve all the good things in life, qark.”

“I think we got something pretty good starting right here,” you said, kissing him once, Russell humming.

“I couldn’t agree more, baby. Couldn’t agree more.”

__________

[dckweed]

SWEETNESS, andrew ‘pope’ cody

summary: in which pope’s new neighbor is a generally sweet but heart broken musician that declares him her friend and for some reason..he just can’t say no, not when she's so sweet to im and he's he’s so damn attracted to her, and certainly not when she’s begged him to fuck her oh so sweetly...

warnings: graphic violence, graphic mentions of sex, choking, spanking, marking, spitting, mean dom!pope, soft dom!pope, crybaby reader, musician reader, you're a slut for this man !! bust open like a can of biscuits whenever he wants it kind of slut and ngl im not mad at it !! there will be mentions of death at some point, eventual pregnancy, eventual description of death, kidnapping, physical violence, mentions of mental health struggles.

welcome welcome welcome! this has been sitting in my google docs for over a year, i love my man shawn hatosy !! comment on this post for taglist!

series masterlist here!

You had been living in your quaint little beachside house for nearly two years when somebody new moved into the house next to yours. The previous tenant was a menace to society, always throwing ragers in his tiny ass house that was so close to yours and other neighbors that they were literally touching. There were always prostitutes and drugs coming in and out..you had schemed to get him out and somehow, it had worked, much to your boyfriend’s annoyance (you learned later on around the time you broke up with him that it was because he had rather enjoyed going to the parties and hooking up with random women you were busy working or helping your family). It had sat empty for a good handful of months before you woke up one morning to a group of voices bickering and bantering outside, their shadows cast upon your living room walls due to the way the early morning light was filtering in. 

“Can you guys shut the fuck up?!” You gripe, opening your door enough to poke your head out after shuffling from your bedroom, hair a mess and your eyes barely open, voice thick with sleep. 

You don’t realize what’s going on until one of them speaks. “I’m so sorry, i didn’t realize they were going to be so noisy..” A deep, raspy voice says from your left, his figure blocking the bright morning sun. You open your eyes all the way, your vision focusing on a tall, solidly built man. He had a wild mess of unkempt dark hair atop his head, a pretty shade of brown you noted, and a hard look on his face as he looked towards the other equally tall if not taller and solid walls of muscle’s off to his side. He offers you what you take for an apologetic smile, though it doesn’t seem like something he naturally does. 

You eye him over, opening the door to inspect the situation farther being the nosey bitch that you were. You hear his friends inside of his similarly small home, bantering and rough housing. “S’okay..” You offer a polite smile, stepping out of your home and onto the small little wooden walkway that connects to all of the other homes on your little row of tiny dwellings, just a few steps off from the water. “Thought you were those annoying surfer guys again..” Yesterday a couple of big burly surfers had been hanging out right outside of your front door, arguing and just being obnoxious. You had yelled at them and they had only laughed at you and turned back to what they were doing. The blonde and brunette were both ingrained in your memory and you were hoping they came back so you could give them a piece of your mind once more. 

“Well, we’re definitely some annoying surfer guys..” He says, just as his friends come barreling out of the front door, rough housing with each other and almost bowling you right over the railing and onto the sand. “These are my brothers, they’re helping me mov-”

“You!” You all but yell, catching the man in front of you by surprise as you turned towards the two idiots, both of them turning their heads towards you. They were the ones from yesterday. “Didn’t you two asswipes get enough of an earful from me yesterday about acting a fool in front of my goddamn door?!” 

“What-” 

You cut your neighbor off. “These assholes were out here all morning yesterday acting like dumbasses and kept ignoring me when I told them to shut up.” The one with the long dark hair mutters a half assed apology as he turns and bumps the shoulder of the smaller blonde one, making him tag along back around the corner of the house, presumably to get some more furniture. “Jackass.” 

The man next to you clears his throat, this time a more natural and bemused smile on his face as he looks solely at you, and you suddenly realize that you’re in your fluffy slippers and a tshirt that barely covers your ass. “On behalf of the assholes, my little brothers, i’d like to apologize.” He says. “I’ll make sure they’re more respectful from now on, I promise..” You didn’t know it then, but his promise was as good a promise straight from God’s mouth. “My name is Pope..sorry for waking you..” 

“Pope is your real name?” You ask, scrunching your face as you eye him. 

“No..but it’s what most people call me..” You hum at his words, understanding what he meant. “You could call me Andrew if you’d like..” 

You don’t respond, but you did like the way Andrew sounded. It suited him better. “People call me Sweetie..” Is all you say as his brothers come back around the corner, carrying a large piece of furniture. You glare at them, making your exit back into your house to get ready for your day as quietly as you could, trying not to wake your boyfriend even though he slept like a damn tank. 

You become rather friendly with Andrew over the next couple of months, though you typically only chat in passing, he occasionally is coming home from working out or from god only knows where with a coffee in his hand, usually around the time you’re leaving for work, and somehow, he always has one for you. You always smile so sweetly at him, sometimes you even give him a sweet little kiss on his cheek as a thank you and he honestly was really starting to see why they called you Sweetie..

You trusted him enough to water your plants and feed your cat for you while you had to take a trip for work..you were a high school music teacher (and musician on the side) and you had drawn the short straw to help chaperone the marching band on their out of town game that required an overnight stay way up north, something about the state finals for football or something you couldn’t be bothered to actually care about. Sure, your boyfriend could do it, but he tended to forget and you didn’t want your little Snickerdoodle to go without food or water while you were gone..

Andrew had agreed without hesitation, something that seemed to surprise his brothers (whom you had grown slightly less annoyed with over the past couple of months) and his own self judging by how quickly he had said “okay, yeah, whatever you need.” You gave him your key as you were leaving, having let your boyfriend know, not that he seemed to care very much. 

“His food is under the kitchen sink, in a plastic bin, make sure it’s sealed because he knows how to get into the cabinet..” You say, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “And his litter box should be fine until after i get back, is one of those self cleaning ones, you know? Jake said they were too expensive and stupid but i think it’s worth it.” You catch yourself rambling, and then stop, shaking your head as if shaking it clear of whatever jumble of thoughts you had running through it. “Okay, anyway, i gotta get going..” You lean up on your tiptoes and place a kiss to his cheek, and surprisingly he finds himself leaning into it. 

“Drive safe!” One of his brothers says in a condescending way, to which you merely flip him off over your shoulder as you go, car keys in your hand. 

Andrew couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he had so readily said yes to feeding your cat and taking care of your plants. He didn’t even like cats, or plants, nor did he know the first thing about taking care of them. Over the past couple of months he found himself somehow willingly doing your bidding, helping bring in groceries, or carry your many guitar cases to your car, and sometimes even helping you hang a new painting or two because for some reason your worthless boyfriend couldn’t bother helping you when you asked, all because you looked up at him with those damn doe eyes and your sugary sweet smile. Something about you captivated him, and he both hated and loved it. He supposed that was part of why he gave you his actual phone number, instead of his burner number, much to his brothers’ dismay. 

He’d only spoken to your boyfriend once or twice, in brief passing, though most wouldn’t consider a grunt or a displeased glare in his direction speaking. He knew enough about the man to know he wasn’t good enough for you, and he sometimes thought that you could see it too, though he wasn’t sure how you continued to stay with him. He often heard arguing when he would come home or step out, the sounds of your tear filled voice trying to let him know he was hurting you before he would start yelling over you. He even heard things being thrown sometimes, and more often than not he had to force himself not to go over there, to not step in and get involved. He knew he would if you asked though, or yelled in pain. Without so much as a thought, he would burst through that door and put an end to the son of a bitch. 

His fist clenched as he thought about it, and he had to calm himself down. He had to talk himself down from holding a pillow over his face when he went over there, because according to you he would still be sleeping after his supposedly long shift at a firehouse, he could easily do it. He watched the time on the clock, watching it tick closer and closer to ten, the hour that you said you’d be back. Around nine-fifteen he figured he’d go over and check on the cat once more, figuring it would be one less thing for you to do when you got home, and to his shock, it seemed like you were already home (though he hadn’t seen you walk past his window) because he heard a loud whimpering moan come from the bedroom when he opened the front door, it had his fist clenching by his side again as he backed out, trying not hear the way your boyfriend was grunting as he fucked you so hard your headboard hit the wall. A part of him wanted desperately to be him, to grip your sweaty body in his hands as you writhed beneath him. 

He closed the door as gently as he could, hurrying back to his small little house. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he closed the door and leaned against it, pulling his phone out to send an apology text. 

HIM: came over to check on snickerdoodle for you one last time, didn’t realize you were already home..sorry if i disturbed you guys. 

And then he left it, at that, shaking his head clear as he grabbed his keys, wanting to get some coffee so he could scheme up how to avoid you for the rest of his life now, completely surprised to hear his phone ping with a response. 

SWEETNESS: what do you mean? I’m still twenty minutes away..

His eyes go wide and he’s about to run out the door and back to yours when you call him, and to his own surprise, he answers it. 

“Andrew, what the hell do you mean?” Your voice is wavering, surprisingly angry underneath what he can tell is panic. 

He hesitates, because why the fuck did it have to be him telling you this? “Well..i..”

He couldn’t get it out, couldn’t find the words until you shouted his name. “Sweetness, I very clearly heard two people having sex in the bedroom when I opened the door..I just assumed that you had come home earlier than you planned..I am so, so sorry..” 

Your side of the line is silent, save for the sounds of passing traffic, and after a moment, you finally speak, your voice so calm that something about it makes him nervous. “Andrew, don’t let him leave. I’ll be there in ten.” 

In ten? He looked at his phone as the line went dead, hadn’t you just said you were still twenty minutes away? He steps out of his house and onto the small little boardwalk, a hand going to the waistband of his jeans, just under his shirt to double check that the gun he always carried was still tucked there against his back, just in case. 

He’s leaning against the wooden railing separating the houses from the beach when the door opens, and Jake comes shuffling out, a black OFD tshirt on, but only in his boxers as he ushers a bottle blonde out, looking with surprise once he sees him standing there. 

“Mornin’ sunshine.” Andrew says, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t think you want to leave, you’re gonna want to stay for this.” He had heard your car screech to a halt in the small alleyway just as the door opened. 

“For what, man?” Jake asks, a clearly nervous edge in his voice. 

“This, you sonofabitch!” You yell, turning the corner like a bullet train. You push past the blonde and go straight for him, your fist balled up. The sound his nose makes as you cleanly break it is quite satisfying to Andrew’s ears as he cheers you on. “Again, Jacob? Can’t keep your dick dry for twenty four goddamn hours?!” 

“I’m just gon-” The bottle blonde tries to back away, but you quickly turn on your heel, a heat in your eyes that makes even him want to stand back. 

“You didn’t see my makeup on the bathroom counter? Or my perfume on the dresser? Lotion on the nightstand?! Are you blind or stupid? Or are you just such a fucking whore that you didn’t care, huh?” You’re yelling now, not paying any mind to the bloody man behind you, but Andrew is. 

He sees him stand up, blood dripping down his face before he sees him start to lunge for you, anger written all over his face. “Ah-ah, fucker, get your hands back!” He steps closer to you, gun raised and safety off. He wasn’t going to let you get hurt, not physically. 

When you’re finished yelling at the woman and send her on her way, you finally turn back to Jake, your hand on his bicep lowering the gun as you face the man who had cheated on you. “And you,” You snarl, Pope swore he saw your lip curl, your eyes darken. “I want you out of my goddamn house you son of a bitch, I don’t want a fucking trace of you left, I don’t want to ever fucking see you again.”

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you, huffing. “You’re overreacting here babe, it’s not what you think it i-”

“It’s not what i think?” She turns to look at him, as if asking if he could believe what she just heard. “What i think is that the guy who hasn’t been able to make me cum in the past year-” Pope couldn’t help but snort at this. “Just had his fucking dick in some tramp, and from the way her makeup looked im guessing you fucked her real good.” 

“Oh please! I only fucked her because you’ve been eye fucking shithead over here!” The gasp that tore through your body was one he didn’t think could be possible. You push past the man and stalked into the house, rummaging around behind the couch for something, leaving both men stunned. “I’m the problem? It’s my fault you cheated?” You ask, coming out the door fast, neither of them realized that you were swinging an aluminum bat until it cracked against Jake’s kneecap. “I’m the fucking problem?!” Pope wasn’t sure what was worse, your anger, his clearly agonizing pain, or the fact that he wasn’t sure how to stop you. He let you give him one more good wack, hard enough to knock him out before picking you up from behind and all but threw you into your house, still yelling. 

“Hey, hey!” He raises his voice enough to get your attention, hands out in surrender as one of them grabs the bat from your hand, tossing it out of sight. “Sweetness, I need you to calm down, okay?” 

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out, though tears begin streaming from your eyes as you sink to your knees. “What have i done?” You whisper, eyes wide in fear as you look up at him. 

He just can’t stand to see you looking like this, so broken and scared. It hurt him, made his heart clench. “It’s going to be okay,” He says, sinking down to his knees, though he still towered over you. He puts an arm around you, bringing you to his chest. “I’m gonna take care of this, okay?” A kiss to the top of your head as he pulls out his phone, texts his brothers to bring a clean up kit and to get over here ASAP because he’s nearly sure that you killed the man. 

You’re not sure what happened, but somehow you wound up on your living room floor, in front of the couch, knees curled into your chest, eyes puffy from all the crying. “Thank you..” You sniffle, looking up as Andrew walked over from the kitchen, a hot mug of tea in his hand, he crouches as he hands it to you before sitting down next to you on the floor. You’re sure he’s uncomfortable, his long legs cramped in the small space but he doesn’t say anything and you’re grateful for it as you lean your head against his bicep. “I should have broken up with him before, i feel so stupid..”

“You’re not stupid.” He was forceful the way he said it, to the point that it almost scared you. “You’re gentle and sweet and he’s some giant prick that took advantage of you.” You don’t know it, but he’s looking down at you with a soft look in his dark brown eyes. “If you hadn’t broken his kneecap already, i probably would have done it for you.”

You sniff, a small smile on your face as you look up at him, sipping your tea. “Maybe not so gentle and sweet then, huh?” He chuckles at your words and it was the closest thing to a laugh that you had ever heard out of him, bringing a tingle down your spine. 

“No, maybe not, huh?” He hums after a beat. He liked that though. That you had that fire in you, that you knew how to use your anger like that. Was it the greatest way in the world? No, but he was sure he could teach you how to do better..wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? 

@thatchickwiththecamera @sidneysidney123

[one-green-frog]

NO BBECAUSE I WAS WRITING A REQUEST AND MY PHONE WENT OFF SO I DIDN'T KNOW IF IT ARRIVED TO YOU, (it it arrived then I'll change the plot) anyways, I'll try and send it again, Jason todd x Male reader who's (you choose) best friend's , jason doesn't like the reader much, so he decides to know him better by coming like red hood in his apartment early in the morning, he pretty much interrogates the boy who's not taking it all seriously. They get closer, the family notices Jason being more friendly, maybe because of someon, and tease him to take over for dinner the special person. THANKS FOR EVERYTHING 😼

Here At Midnight

The first time Jason saw you, he was angry. And not the kind of annoyed angry either, no, he was angry angry. There was something about you that just didn't sit right with him. To him, you weren't the friendly, charming person everyone else was so eager to want to believe you were. Dick had brought you in as his friend, new instructor at the gymnastics center where he worked. "Great with kids," he'd said. "Same sense of humor, really easy to get along with. Just a really nice person."

But Jason wasn't convinced.

There was something… off. Something in your smile that made his stomach turn. It wasn't jealousy, per se. Jason knew that something was off, he had this feeling in his chest He just knew there was more to you than you let on.

So he did what any good brother would do: he started to stalk you.

It wasn't a great plan, Jason never really had great plans, to be truthful, but it was good enough. A bit over-the-top in hindsight, maybe, but reasonable by his measures. He figured he'd just drop by, check to see if you'd made an error, find something out. And so Red Hood paid you a visit one night. Your apartment complex was in the bad side of town, which, to Jason, was reason #48 to be suspicious. Breaking in was a cakewalk, the window was not even locked. Sloppy.

And this is how you caught him, fully dressed up, armed, and fuming, in your living room/kitchen combination like he owned this place.

You were startled, sure. But not scared. Just confused. In all honesty, you genuinely had no idea what you could have done to make Red Hood appear in your apartment. You didn't sell drug, hadn't recently murdered anyone, weren't embezzling from crime families (as far as you knew), and generally kept your head down. Maybe you were losing your mind, maybe it was a dream, or maybe Gotham was just Gotham-ing that day.

You'd woken up in the dead of night craving a snack, cereal, hot chocolate, you hadn't decided yet, only to walk into your kitchen and find one of Gotham's most feared vigilantes standing next to the kitchen table

You didn't scream. You didn't lose it. You just stared at him, grabbed a bowl, and started filling it with your cereal. Because what the heck else were you going to do?

Jason didn't know what to do with that. Really, to say that he was surprised that you did not cower in fear would be the understatement of the year. You stared him down, then just kept on going about your business as if this were a normal Tuesday. He figured maybe you were pretending trying to keep calm.

But still, it really infuriated him.

He tried to rattle you. He was standing there with the gun, delivered a monologue of how he would be watching you, how you better sleep with your eye open, how you were on his radar. Your response? Slow blink and chewing your soggy cereal.

"'It's just suspicious how someone living around here just becomes best buds one day with one of Gotham's richest guys," he'd said, as if reasoning his home invasion would make it any better.

Your stone expression "Type shit." put the nails in the coffin.

He left. Irritated. Confused. Angry. He reminded himself that you were playing games, pretending, lying to your real self. So he did what he said he would do: he watched you. Day and night. He watched your movements, your habits, your friends. He kept an eye on your flat from a distance, followed you when you came home from work, even broke into your flat a few more times when you were out.

He was looking for filth. Something illegal. Anything.

But you? You were boring. The most illegal thing he ever caught you doing was stealing a $20 bill on the street. And even he had had to admit he'd do the same.

Still, the drop-ins persisted. Midnight visits became standard. At first, they were filled with threats and and warnings. But over time, they changed. Jason spoke more, about his day, the idiots he had to deal with, the criminals he beat up, the whole circus Gotham still was. Somewhere between the late-night complaints and the bubbly hanging out on your kitchen countertop while you toasted bread, something shifted.

You didn't even have to try hard. You just… treated him like a human being. Not like a time bomb, not like Gotham's boogeyman, not even like Dick's angry brother. Just a guy. A guy who was often irritated, sometimes lonely, and always tired. You made him feel safe.

And soon enough, his family also noticed his behavior.

The change was subtle, but real. Jason, typically described as feral or angry, trigger-happy was calm Maybe not sunshine-and-rainbows, but less angry. Smiling. Speaking more. Hanging around at the Manor. Almost having a genuine conversation with Bruce. The others were stunned. This wasn't the Jason they knew. This Jason seemed as if he could breathe again.

So naturally, they just couldn't wait to taunt him the absolute shit out of it.

"You have a boyfriend? That's kinda gay, bro."

It was non-stop. No peace. Tim, Steph, and even Damian loved it. But there was real support behind the teasing though. They could tell the difference you made, and they wanted to meet the guy who made it. So they invited you over for dinner.

Jason was mortified at first. But he agreed for you.

You were a bit nervous, understandably. You were meeting your friend's brother, a infamous crime lord, the family was made up of detectives and vigilantes who could sniff out lies at a mile radius. Even if Jason said that he didn't particularly care for them, you saw it in his eyes that he still wanted their acknowledgement. He cared, even if he didn't admit it, and that made you want to try it. To be liked. To be accepted, even a little bit.

Dinner was... insane.

The shovel talk was really a just a death threat to your life by Damian (naturally). Bruce tried to talk to you but was repeatedly interrupted by his own children. Everyone talked over everyone. There were way too many in-jokes and arguments about the Batmobile. Chaos, plain and simple. But you stood your ground. And better yet, Jason looked at you like you hung the stars.

That night, on the way home, he vowed next time would be better. You didn't even care, because to you, it was perfect in its own imperfect way.

And when he came back to the Manor, saw his siblings' teasing smiles and Bruce's nodding, knowing approval, he knew he'd made the right choice.

He chose you. And for the first time in years, he felt like maybe, possibly, he might have something good.

I am so sorry this took so long😭😭😭 i hope you still enjoy it and thank you for requesting

[duchess-of-mandalore]

"The Lawless" and its Darker Implications

This is a dark and heavy post, so most of it will be hidden beneath the read-more link. I'll also note that what I say is not canon, so you're under no obligation to hold to this interpretation I'm presenting.

This subject came up on Twitter because of the attempted sexual assault scene in Andor 2.03. A certain well-known fanboy with 3 million YouTube followers put out a post saying that "SA has no place in Star Wars."

While there are legitimate reasons to want such triggering content in Star Wars, I was annoyed by this person's ignorance and failure to recognize that SA and its effects have been in Star Wars for a very long time. I made a post detailing the many instances in which sexual assault has been present in Star Wars. In response to the original statement, "SA has no place in Star Wars," I captioned my post thread, "Maybe it was just easier for you to ignore before."

I included examples you'd expect, like Leia and Oola in RotJ, Arla Fett, Twi'lek women in general who are often trafficked as sex slaves...

... but another example I included (knowing I'd get some confusion and pushback) is Satine in "The Lawless."

If you're still here, you consent to listening to my detailed reasoning for why I hold this interpretation. Got it? Okay, good.

At the start of the episode, Satine has been in prison for quite some time (multiple weeks, according to the Darth Maul: Shadow Conspiracy novelization). Her outfit is slightly different from what it looked like in the episode before: she's lost her long skirt, her collar's double ruff, her belt, her mantle necklace, and her diadem.

My guess is that during her time in prison, Death Watch stole those items off of her, but the point is, a month into her captivity, she still looks put together. Her remaining clothes look fine, and she keeps her hair in a neat bun.

Bo-Katan and Korkie break her out of prison, they race out of the city, Satine gets a message off to Obi-Wan, and then she's recaptured. By the time Obi-Wan gets to her (hours or days later, who can tell?), she looks considerably worse for wear. And the changes are concerning.

Her hair is not just down but disheveled.

Her tunic and trousers are ripped in numerous places.

Most disturbingly, when a lone male Mandalorian commando enters her cell without notice or permission, Satine greets him by saying, "Here to do more of your master's bidding?" There's a lot to unpack about what exactly Maul's "bidding" is, but Satine's words clearly imply that she has already endured a man coming to her cell at least once before, and it seems like if Maul had previously been restraining Death Watch from treating Satine poorly, he removed that protection after her escape attempt.

There's a reason the episode is called "The Lawless."

As I said before, I'm not saying that Satine being sexually assaulted is canon ... though her being at least physically assaulted by Death Watch after she's recaptured essentially is.

But when those puzzle pieces are assembled, I do think that the implication is darker, especially when you consider the episode "A Friend in Need," in which Death Watch is explicitly shown engaging in ongoing kidnapping, slavery, and sexual objectification of the local Ming Po women with the implication of SA for the purposes of terror, intimidation, and their own comfort ...

... and the fact that Death Watch has a very particular vendetta against Satine, the heretic pacifist who has left them feeling marginalized in what was previously a warrior society.

It's dark, I know. But I think it's the only end that really makes sense.

There's a reason why Satine clings so desperately to Obi-Wan when he finally comes to rescue her: she's grateful he's there to take her away, and she's grateful that he's not who she originally thought he was.