#i don’t know if my mom will be with me the whole time or just drop me off or if she’ll stay for some of it and then leave

[robbysreaders]

pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!reader warnings: not beta read, barely proof read oops word count: 3k idk what happened i started with the bar scene and then felt like it needed some lead up and here we are notes: be kind to me, i am not a writer but these doctors have awoken a monster in me.

Robby got roped into a frontline workers’ talk at a local elementary school.

Shen’s mom’s friend is the principal if some public school and somehow that’s how Robby ends up walking into a fluorescent-lit elementary school foyer the same morning Shen’s leaving for his bachelor party weekend.

“You owe me big time, buddy.” he texts Shen.

“We’re naming our firstborn Robby,” Shen fires back.

“You know I’ll hold you to that,” he replys

He walks in with AirPods in, sunglasses still on, looking a bit lost. You glance up from your clipboard and do a double take.

He pops one AirPod out just as you mutter, “Oh… you’re not Dr. John Shen.”

“Nope, I’m not. He’s on a boat somewhere. Bahamas, I think. You’ve got me instead. Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Older. Not as good-looking.” taking his sunglasses off.

“I never said that,” you say, blush creeping up your neck. “I think he must’ve told our principal and it didn’t get passed along. No worries—I’ll just update my intro slide.”

“Sorry for the switch-up,” he says, finally meeting your eyes properly, and holding the look a moment too long.

“Really, it’s fine. Come on, I’ll show you to the gym. Kids will be filing in soon. Just a quick overview of what you do, your schooling, then a few questions. You’ve got backup—a fire chief, a nurse, an EMT. You’re not on the hook for the whole thing.”

As you walk, he points to a motivational poster taped to the wall: a kitten dangling from a tree branch.

“���Hang in there.’ Very ER-core.”

You nod, straight-faced. “It’s more for the teachers than the students.”

He chuckles.

He introduces himself to a room of squirming third to fifth graders with “So I work in a place where people try to die and I spend most of my time convincing them not to. It’s great.”

They’re hooked.

He talks about trauma bays, night shifts, a time he held someone’s heart in his hands. The kids go wild.

One kid asks if he’s famous.

Another asks if he’s seen poop.

A third says: “You look like Iron Man.”

Robby: “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

After the assembly wraps up, your work bestie sidles up to you.

“So we’re just gonna ignore that Dr. McHottie was eye fucking you the whole time?”

You don’t look up from the stack of worksheets you’re grading. “Literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

She tilts her head. “You should’ve gotten his number. Or I should have. What do you think they’d say if we just called the hospital?”

“I think it violates HIPAA.”

She shrugs. “I don’t think that you know what HIPAA is.”

You roll your eyes.

But the universe isn’t done.

Later, still riding the post-event adrenaline, you stop at the grocery store on your route home. This day earned you cake and a bottle of wine. You’re crouched down in the wine aisle, scanning for the cheapest red on the shelf, when someone clears their throat behind you.

“I think you’re better off with a white. With, uh, berry chantilly cake,” he says, peeking into your basket.

You look up. It’s him.

“An ER doctor and a sommelier? A modern renaissance man.”

“SAT words. The future’s in good hands,” he teases.

“So what’s your wine recommendation then?” you say standing up.

“Oh, I don’t know shit about wine.”

You laugh, and the silence lingers a beat too long.

“I—” “Not—” You speak at the same time.

“Ladies first,” he smiles.

“I was just going to thank you again for coming this morning. Not to show bias, but you were definitely the kids’ favorite.”

“Yeah, the heart story always kills. No pun intended.”

“Well, they had plenty of questions after you left. I told them they missed their chance.”

“I could give you my number. Y’know, in case more vital questions pop up. Or… you could use it to talk to me. Maybe even plan a time for me to take you out?”

You chuckle. “That line work on every elementary school teacher you try to pick up?”

“So far I’m one for one.”

“Not sure that’s statistically significant,” you reply, handing him your phone.

You text him your name—just your name and a smiley.

His phone starts ringing. He glances at it, then winces.

“I’m so sorry—I have to take this. Yeah… I’m just around the block. Okay. Be there in seven.” He turns to you, regret softening his expression. “Really sorry. I’ll text you later?”

“Of course, Dr. Robinavitch. Go save lives.”

”Everyone calls me Robby, or you can call me Michael” he says heading out. Just before the door closes, he glances back once more.

Later, you’re finally home. Glass of red in hand, cozy on the couch. You scroll, half-buzzed from the wine and the day, when a new text pops up:

Michael: My research says champagne’s actually the move next time—for the cake, I mean.

You grin.

You: Not a ton of room in the budget for a Thursday night champagne toast on a public school salary. Think I’ll stick to my $9 red.

You snap a selfie: you, the wine, a smirk.

Michael: Could be my treat? Next Thursday?

Followed by a link to a cozy bar you’ve been wanting to try.

Your fingers hover for only a second before typing:

You: It’s a date ❤️

You get there first.

The bar is small, dim, and full of mismatched chairs and candlelight. The kind of place where couples whisper over charcuterie. You’re nursing a glass of something bubbly, trying to look casual and not like you checked your makeup in your phone camera twelve times already.

Then the door creaks open, and there he is.

Button-down rolled at the sleeves, hair mussed just enough to look effortless—though he’d never admit it took longer than it should’ve. He spots you instantly and smiles like he doesn’t do that often. Like it caught him off guard too.

“You clean up nice,” you say as he slides into the chair across from you.

“You clean up… irresponsibly good,” he says, raising his eyebrows and making you laugh.

You clink glasses and dive straight into easy conversation. It flows, faster than either of you expected. He tells you about the time a raccoon got into the ambulance bay. You tell him about a class trip gone wrong and how a goat chased the entire third grade around a petting zoo.

There’s food—fancy grilled cheese, olives, tiny things with aioli—and more wine. You talk about work, but not too much. You learn he’s been at The Pitt longer than he planned. That he’s not from Pittsburgh, but ended up staying because… well, because.

You don’t push.

He watches you talk with his chin resting on one hand, doing that thing again—looking at you like you’re a puzzle he doesn’t mind not solving.

Midway through dessert, a berry cream tarte— the closest thing they had to the cake you bonded over a week ago— he leans in a little.

“Be honest,” he says. “What’d you actually think when I walked into the school?”

You smirk. “I thought you were a dad who got lost on his way to drop off a forgotten lunchbox.”

Robby laughs. “Brutal.”

“Okay, and also… I thought, oh no, he’s hot.”

He raises his glass. “That’s better.”

He offers you a hand to help you out of the booth and follows beside you, hand barely there at your lower back.

You’re standing outside, the city quiet in that just-past-bedtime way. There’s a light breeze and the smell of something warm from a nearby bakery.

“I had fun,” you say.

“Me too,” he replies. “Thanks for not fleeing halfway through.”

“Thanks for not turning out to be a wine snob.”

“I told you, I know nothing about wine. I was just trying to impress you. I was frantically Googling wine recommendations so i could have a reason to chat with you.”

You both laugh, and then there's a pause. A beat of quiet.

He tilts his head. “So, uh… what’s the move here?”

You step forward. “Well, you did save a lot of lives this week.”

“And you wrangled children into making a thank-you card with the word ‘trauma’ spelled wrong.”

“Tramua is the French spelling,” you deadpan.

That makes him laugh again—but softer this time.

Then he kisses you. Slow and warm, like he’s been thinking about it since the grocery store.

When you pull back, he looks at you like he wants to say something—but doesn’t.

Instead, he laces his fingers with yours.

“Did you park around here?”

“I walked. I’m only a few blocks away.”

“Can I walk you home? Make sure you get there safely.”

You smile. “Of course. It’s that way,” you say, pointing left.

He releases your hand just long enough to move to the curb side, then grabs it again without a word.

You walk in comfortable silence. That kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling.

“This is me,” you say as you reach your stoop. “I’d invite you up for a nightcap, but… it is a school night.”

Robby chuckles. “Can I kiss you again?”

You don’t answer—you just lean in. And suddenly you’re a teenager again, making out on your front porch under a flickering streetlamp.

This time, he’s the one to pull back first, forehead resting against yours. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Guess I have to be the responsible one.”

You steal a few more kisses anyway, laughing softly, before finally saying goodnight and slipping inside.

You’re curled up in bed, grading a stack of vocabulary quizzes, red pen in hand, when your phone buzzes:

Michael: Made it home. Thanks for a great night.

You: I had an amazing time. Up until I got home and got a paper cut on a stack of quizzes I need to finish before tomorrow.

Michael: Sounds serious. I can’t diagnose over text. Could I see it in person? Maybe Saturday?

You: I’d love that, but I won’t be in town—I can’t believe this didn’t come up. I leave tomorrow for an elementary STEM conference. Riveting, I know. I’ll be back Wednesday.

Michael: My schedule’s rough next week. Could you do Friday?

You: One date in and we’re already juggling calendars. I think that’s a good omen 😊

But yes—I’ll pencil you in for Friday.

Michael: Pencil? Ouch. That kind of hurts.

You: Okay, okay. Permanent marker. Color coded. Red for Robby.

Michael: That’s more like it ;)

The days go fast—seminars, lectures, hands-on demos. You barely stop moving.

But every spare second you get, you’re texting him.

Sometimes flirty. Sometimes funny. Sometimes just: Here’s what I’m eating. What about you?

It’s been a while since you’ve been in something like this. But it’s never felt this easy. And you’re really hoping he feels the same way.

Little do you know.

It’s almost time for handoff , and shockingly the ER is in a lull which gives the team time to strike an inquisition on Robby. Dana kicks it off, perched on a nurses station desk.

“Alright Robinovitch, spill”

He looks at her over his glasses, “I just finished handing off to Shen, theres nothing else to spill.”

“You’re smiling.”

“No I’m not.” he says with a frown.

“All week your face is trying so hard not to smile, it’s giving your wrinkles wrinkles.”

Shen turns from the drawer hes been rummaging in for snacks. “Wait, are we talking about how Robby’s been… weirdly chill?”

“I’m not chill.”

“You told a med student that it was alright, we all make mistakes sometimes.”

“I did not.”

“You did. I was there,” Dana grins. “Who are you?”

Robby leans back in his hair, sips his coffee. “Maybe I’m growing. Emotionally.”

Dana gasps. “Oh my God. He’s in love.”

Robby chokes slightly on his drink. “I’m sorry?”

“You’ve had your nose in your phone every free moment you’ve had.” Dana adds. “You’ve taken real breaks where you go talk on the phone in the ambulance bay.”

Robby sets his cup down, but he’s not denying it. Just smirking like someone caught red-handed.

“Alright who’s the lucky lady?”

“You don’t know her and you’ll never know her.”

Shen looks like he’s doing calculus in his head and leans in. “Wait this started when I was on my trip, oh my god, did you meet a hot mom at the elementary school?”

Robby pauses. Just long enough.

“Holy shit, I don’t owe you any more – you got your repayment a hot MILF.”

“Oh my God,” Dana says.

“Jesus Christ, she’s not a mom, she’s a teacher”.

There’s a beat of silence before Dana grins. “You know what? I love this for you.”

Robby rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.

“Wait,” Shen says. “Does she know you’re, like, emotionally stunted?”

“She’s a 3rd grade teacher. I think she’s prepared.”

Dana hops down. “I’m gonna need details.”

“You’re not getting details.”

Friday rolls around and you’re more excited than you’ve ever been for a second date. It’s cozy and dimly lit—more plants than light fixtures, menus scribbled on chalkboards, and the faint buzz of a bar that feels like a well-kept secret.

You spot him at the bar, already seated towards the back. He’s dressed down again, but there’s something intentional about it—like someone who spent an extra minute wondering what shirt to wear.

He catches your eyes and smiles like he forgot how to do that for a while until recently.

“You’re punctual,” he says, clearly pleased.

“You’re early,” you reply, shrugging off your coat. “I was promised a perpetually late, cynical doctor.”

“Tragic. He’s been replaced by a man who googled ‘cozy date spots that don’t feel like you’re trying too hard.’”

You laugh. “And did it recommend this place?”

“Nope. Shen’s girlfriend did. Which I now realize makes this deeply traceable.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait—do they know?”

Robby sighs. “Dana cornered me in central. I didn’t confirm or deny. Shen said I was glowing. It was… a dark time.”

You smirk.

The food is good—small plates, easy to share. The conversation is even better.

He opens up, just a little—enough to mention the long hours, how emergency medicine pulls you in like a rip current, how sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing he’s really good at.

You tell him about your student who tried to fake a cough for three weeks to get out of a math test, and the tiny triumphs that feel like wins no one else sees.

He watches you talk, head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth pulled into a lazy smile. His fingers rest near yours on the table. Not touching. Not quite.

Finally, he says, “I’ve gotta be honest—I haven’t really… done this in a while.”

“Tapas?”

He chuckles. “No, like—dating. Letting someone in. It’s easier to stay busy. Stay… guarded, I guess.”

You nod. “Well, I haven’t really dated someone who sees more blood before lunch than most people do in a year, so.”

“So we’re both out of practice.”

“Guess we’ll have to wing it.”

He leans in and kisses you. Slow. Deliberate. This one without surprise. This one because he wanted to all night.

You’ve fallen into a comfortable cadence. You see him a few times a week, more often than you thought you would, but you don't complain. You love his company.

Your schedules do still clash at times.

You planned to go home after parent-teacher conferences. Michael had already mentioned he had plans—finally joining his coworkers for a long-overdue drink after weeks of skipping out.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to meet your own colleagues for a post-conference drink. It’s been a day, and you deserve it.

But as you walk into the bar, you spot a familiar profile near the corner.

You don’t even hesitate. With a little liquid courage in hand, you stroll over and place a hand on his shoulder.

“So… they really just let anyone in here nowadays?”

Michael turns, eyes lighting up in that way that makes your stomach dip. “How’d you find me?”

“Coincidence. We needed to lick our wounds after the parent-teacher conference firing squad.”

One of the guys at the table leans toward the person next to him. “Ahhh. This is the teacher.”

Michael grins and slides his arm around your waist, his hand resting easily at your hip. “Right, where are my manners?” he says introducing you to the team.

You smile, trying not to let the arm-around-your-waist thing short-circuit your brain. “It’s so nice to meet you all. I’ll get back to my workplace complain-fest and let you return to yours.”

You squeeze his shoulder lightly, but before you step away, his hand shifts on your waist, catching your attention. He leans in and lowers his voice just for you.

“If you head out before we do… come say bye?”

You meet his eyes and nod. “Of course.”

The moment you slide into your seat, your coworkers pounce.

“What the hell was that about?”

“You don’t have friends outside of school.”

“Thanks for introducing us to your hot doctor friends???”

“Wait—HOLY SHIT, was that Dr. McHottie with his arm around your waist? Did I miss a chapter?!”

You laugh and give them the short version. You field a rapid-fire round of teasing, eye-rolls, and maybe a few not-so-subtle attempts to angle to get set up with his coworkers, but eventually the conversation drifts to who cried in the hallway today, who mispronounced “photosynthesis,” and whose turn it is to deal with the PTA bake sale disaster.

Your group starts calling it a night. Long day, longer week. You say your goodbyes and make your way back toward Michael’s table, which has thinned out significantly as well.

He stands when he sees you. “My friends couldn’t hang. I’m calling it a night too—just wanted to say bye.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay if you want another drink, honey,” Dana offers, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, I couldn’t impose—”

“You could never,” Michael says, standing and lightly touching your elbow. “What are you drinking?”

You smile. “Whatever you’re having.”

You settle in at the table. The conversation is easy, flowing from hospital horror stories to favorite dive bars to why Dana is banned from karaoke at two different establishments.

Michael returns with drinks, sliding yours to you and casually resting his hand on your thigh under the table, thumb tracing slow circles that make it a little hard to concentrate on anything Dana is saying.

You laugh, you listen, you really like his friends.

The convos come to a close and you all start heading out. You shrug on your coat, and Michael helps, fingers brushing lightly down your arm.

“Want to walk me home?”

He smile. “I’d love that.”

The conversation is light—teasing, wandering, nothing too deep. You talk about favorite childhood snacks and your worst Halloween costumes. He tells you how Jack once sliced his palm on a pineapple slicer and tried to pretend it wasn’t bleeding.

As you reach your apartment steps, you stop and turn to him.

“That was really fun,” you say, quietly. “I like your friends. I hope I didn’t make anything awkward.”

“Not at all,” he replies. “They loved you.”

“Good. Glad I passed the first big test.”

He chuckles. “Teachers and their testing.”

There’s a pause. Then: “So… want to come up?” you ask, voice soft but steady.

He hesitates, not pulling away. “I’d really like to. But I just came off a twelve-hour shift, and I’ve probably had two more drinks than I should’ve. If I sit down, I’m going to be half-asleep in seconds.”

You take his hand and start walking him toward your door.

“Then that’s settled,” you say. “Can’t have you falling asleep in the Uber.”

You open the door, letting the warm light spill into the hallway, and look back at him with a little smile.

He follows you in without another word.

You flick on the light and immediately cringe.

“Wow. Sorry. My place looks like my classroom exploded in here.”

Michael steps in behind you, taking in the scattered worksheets, the pile of books on your couch, and the half-folded laundry draped over a chair.

“You should see the trauma bay on a Tuesday,” he says, tossing his jacket over the back of a stool. “This is a spa by comparison.”

You kick aside a rogue glue stick. “I did mean to clean today, but then 30 small humans and their guardians demanded to know if their kid is ‘thriving academically’ while also asking what ‘phonics’ actually is.”

He snorts.

You pad to the kitchen and grab two glasses of water, handing one to him. “Doctor’s orders.”

He grins. “Responsible and charming.”

You sit on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you. He follows, moving slowly—like someone who’s used to being on his feet for twelve hours and finally has permission to stop.

He slouches into the other end of the couch, long legs stretched out, one arm thrown over the backrest. He takes a sip of water and closes his eyes for a second, just breathing.

“I’m gonna fall asleep right here,” he murmurs.

You smile. “Go for it. My couch has a strict no-judgment zone.”

There’s a long, easy silence after that. Not awkward—just soft.

Eventually, you get up and offer him a hand “you’re not sleeping on the couch, come on”

He reaches for your hand —warm fingers curling around yours for just a second longer than necessary.

He follows you to your room, hands still intertwined. It’s not the first time you’ve shared a bed, but it is the first time you’ve shared one without hooking up before. It all feels very intimate.

There’s a surgical precision to how he fits into your evening routine that leaves you a little breathless as you settle into bed.

“Night,” he murmurs wrapping an arm around you and nuzzling in.

You squeeze his hand once, gently. “Goodnight, Michael.”

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

What do you think of Bryan Q. Miller’s characterisation of Stephanie Brown?

Mixed feelings!! On one hand, I have a huge soft spot for Batgirl 2009 and Steph’s narrative of perseverance and dragging yourself up and to bigger and better things after what should have been total destruction is just so so important to me. It’s great for that, and for giving Steph’s character a proper spotlight and ‘redemption’ when she very well could have been relegated to the sidelines, forever haunted by her brutal fridging. And I understand why BQM might not have wanted to dredge up War Games- Batgirl 2009 is a chance for Steph’s character to move past the shitty sexist torture porn story she was killed off in. But on the other hand, the almost total absence of it to the story feels conspicuous and strange, and I really wish we could’ve gotten a characterization of Steph that felt a little more grounded in it. If that makes sense?

She’s sort of at an all time low before Batgirl 2009. Not only has she survived the brutality of War Games, the fake death retcon returns her in uncertain graces with the other characters. Her life is uprooted, the future of her character is unsteady, and to top it off she ends Robin 1993 portrayed as disgraced and foolish, as having proven Yet Again, that Steph is proven absolutely not good enough to be a vigilante.

But none of that emotion fully carries over into Batgirl 2009? Steph seems fine enough, and while I can (and do!) read that as a repression fake-it-till-you-make-it thing, a more explicit thing might’ve been nice?

I have a few small, line by line nitpicks, for example the whole ‘forgetting Steph sews’ thing rly bothers me because it’s just such a consistent trait and to me it’s so so essential that Steph makes her own OG costume - it really communicates her self-starter ‘I’ll do it myself’ personality and how it works with her vigilantism.

Also, for a comic where Crystal has so many appearances and so much potential power in the story, I feel like we missed out on a lot of Steph and hers relationship, I don’t know if I love how Steph is characterized in relation to Crystal and would have loved something a little more attached to her history with her mom.

Just generally, I find it unfortunate that much like a lot of Tim’s characterization in the early post-Flashpoint was heavily influenced by his portrayal in Red Robin, Steph’s more blatant bubbly-ness of Batgirl 2009 became sort of her baseline post new 52. Of course, Steph’s character has always been a little silly, and she’s always told her jokes, but a lot of her other (really important!!!) traits like her anger, and her grit, and her angst, and her pessimism have been much less prominent. But I rly don’t blame Batgirl 2009 for that so much. Just an unfortunate side effect of the reboot that has unfortunately really stuck around.

So I guess, overall my biggest thing is I wouldve prefer if BQMs characterization of Steph was just more grounded in her history.

Would love to hear others thoughts on this bc I fear I probably have my biases and preferences interfering here to a degree. Thank you for the ask!! 💜

[allmightstoehair]

Jujutsu Kaisen men reacting to your kid telling you to shut up! 😨 pt. 1

GENRE: scenarios | character reacts | child AU

·⠀˚ ◌　｡　⋆ ୧⠀˚﹒ ·⠀˚ ◌　｡　⋆ ୧⠀˚﹒ ·⠀˚ ◌　｡　⋆

blablabla proper name place name, backstory stuff — Satoru Gojo

—————————————————————————

You had barely even raised your voice. You gave your kid a reminder to get off of the countertop, as you had already explained to him once. The little boy scoffed snd rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, shut up, mommy..”

The room was still, and Satoru froze in his place. He was writing something down in a dingy old notebook and he blinked as you looked at him. He laughs gently. “Must’ve gotten that attitude from you,” he teases. His face drops when he sees you glare at him like you’re going to end his life.

Satoru clears his throat and gets serious. He gets up, grabs him and places him on the floor. He kneels down to meet eye to eye with his son. “Listen here, little gremlin. You never speak to your momma that way. No snacks for a whole week.”

The kid groans and whines, then they both waddle up to you and apologize.

Satoru coos with a smirk. “We’re sorry, mommy. Some of us have forgotten how to show some respect and be grateful to the queen of the house.”

I’M TALKING BOUT INNNIITTTT — Nanami Kento

—————————————————————————

You had only asked your son to turn off the TV and get ready for bed. He remained sitting down, and whined. “Noo! Shut up!”

The room stills.

Nanami was sitting on the recliner chair, reading a newspaper. He folds it carefully and looks at his son. “Excuse me?” Your child flinches. Nanami stands up, walking over to his son to take the remote from his hands. “I do not tolerate disrespect in this house. Especially towards your mother. You will not speak to her like that again.”

His voice is deep and stern.

“You owe her your respect. Now apologize.”

The child scrambles off of the couch and gives you a shaky apology while hugging your leg. He’s sent off to bed with a warning and you smile at Nanami as he walks out of the room.

it’s all over the screen — Geto Suguru

—————————————————————————

The second the words leave your child’s mouth, Geto’s smile drops.

There’s silence. Stillness.

Then he sighs, gently, and crouches in front of her. “I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “Your mother is the most important person in this family. She holds us together. She protects us. You do not disrespect her. Ever.”

The kid lowers their head. You blink and smirk a little at Suguru’s passionate display of defensiveness.

“If you’re upset, you say so. But you don’t lash out. You don’t hurt the people who love you.”

He waits, quiet and steady, until the apology comes. And it does. “I’m sorry…” your daughter murmurs. “I’m sorry, momma.” He didn’t need to be brash or loud and abrasive for his daughter to understand.

I LOVE TWINKS! — Yuuta Okkotsu

—————————————————————————

It’s been a long day. Yuuta and you are preparing dinner. You’re tired and you tell your kid for the billionth time to stop throwing his toys around the ceramics in the living room.

“Shut up I’m not doing anything!”

Your eyes widen and eyebrows furrow as you turn around. “What did you—“

Yuuta placed a hand on your waist and pats you. He knows you’re about to go off, but he wants you to save your breath. Yuuta kisses your temple and walks to his son. “You know better than that…” he utters. “Words have power, I’ve told you that. You don’t speak to her like that. Say you’re sorry,”

Your son lowers his head. “Sorry.” He says stubbornly

“Like you mean it.” You bark. Even Yuuta flinched.

“I’m sorry, mom.” He looks up at you with attitude. “Thank you. Go to your room,” you say. Yuuta walks back over to you and rubs your arm. “Relax, my love. This was expected, it just comes with age.” He knows you’re prone to have a temper, but he always manages to get you down from that high point so you don’t explode on the wrong people.

this made my hole weak I MEAN WHOLE WEEK! — Sukuna Ryomen

—————————————————————————

You’ve asked three times for your child to pick up their mess. Your voice sharpens—not yelling, but stern enough to earn a glare from them.

They puff up, eyes narrowing, mouth opening—

“Shu—”

They don’t get the rest out. Because Sukuna is suddenly there. One second, he’s nowhere in sight. The next, he’s standing over your child like a summoned curse, towering and cold, four eyes locked onto them with the intensity of a predator.

The kid freezes mid-breath, mouth still open.

“Try it,” he says lowly, voice like gravel and thunder. “Go on. Say it.” The child swallows the words.

Sukuna crouches to their level, still smiling—but it’s a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Your child begins to loudly apologize, crawling to your feet with a babbling fast “IMSORRYMOMMY.I’LLCLEANUPIPROMISE”

cutie boy — Yuuji Itadori

—————————————————————————

“Woah—what did you say?” He asked your daughter after she lashed out on you for pestering her about her school work. She yelled an overwhelmed ‘Shut up!’ and got Yuuji’s full attention.

“Is that how we talk to your mom now?” Yuuji spoke, stepping closer and crouching down to her level. He didn’t look angry—just disappointed.

“She keeps telling me what to—sniff—do.”

“Well then say that you’re overwhelmed, my love. She just wants you to do well, and you’re getting mad at her when she doesn’t even know you’re stressed out. Try to talk it out, you know?” He was just as sweet as you remember him in high school. Your daughters lip wobbled.

“Do you think that’s okay? To talk to her the way you just did?” She shook her head frantically. “No, it’s not right.”

“Then what do we say?”

A quiet mumble came the little girl and she huffed. “I’m sorry mommy. I will do better.” You pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of your forehead, instantly forgiving her.

—

(let me know if I should do more posts like this and feel free to request different scenarios !😓)

[akdw]

OK let's settle this whole "Katniss doesn't love Peeta!" "Katniss and Peeta shouldn't have ever gotten together!" nonsense

Before the 74th Games even begins, Katniss takes note of Peeta: What he does, how good he is at wrestling, who exactly he loses to during wrestling. How odd for a girl hyper-focused on her survival and food, to pay attention this closely to him. Katniss even said it herself: She'd been keeping tabs on the boy with the bread.

When Peeta compliments her during the chariot rides, she literally gets a feeling of warmth rushing through her body. Remember, at this point, Katniss knows she shouldn’t get too close to him, yet she can’t stop herself from feeling warm after Peeta’s compliment.

The dinner after Katniss’ fiasco at the Training Center, she’s super upset and scared. But a quick talk from Haymitch and Peeta gets her to calm down, and she even laughs and grins at Peeta’s jokes. This is the girl who said it was MONTHS before she returned Gale’s smiles in the woods, and that was in much better circumstances. She said that usually only Prim can pull a good laugh out of her, yet here Peeta pulls an easy smile and laugh from her, in arguably still pretty terrible circumstances.

After Seneca Crane announces that the rules have reverted to the original, that only one of them can win, Peeta begins to unbandage his wounds. And Katniss frantically tries to place them back, and you know exactly what she says here? “... If he[Peeta] dies, I’ll never go home, not really. I’ll spend the rest of my life in this arena, trying to think my way out.” And this is still the very first book, so isn’t it odd that a girl that cares so little about Peeta said this?

In the final page of the book, Katniss says: Already, the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go. Katniss is upset that Peeta is already distancing himself, but she’s just so unsure of her situation that she can’t sort out her feelings. But one thing she is sure of is that she does NOT want to lose the boy with the bread. He’s been on her mind for years now, and she cannot lose him.

I’ve seen people say that they didn’t believe Katniss grew to care for Peeta after “fake-caring” about him for a long time. Because she DIDN’T fake-care. She cared so much, but she was wrapped up in so many terrible circumstances. She always cared, from the start, from the very beginning, her love just grew stronger from there forward.

CATCHING FIRE:

To start with the obvious, she feels safe when sleeping next to Peeta. He’s her only escape from nightmares, and she feels comforted by him. She even insists that he should wake her up if he needs to because Katniss wants to comfort him, too. Peeta is her main, primary source of peace and comfort and she was sad to sleep alone again after the Victory Tour.

A little while after the Quarter Quell gets announced, Katniss instantly begins fighting for Peeta’s life, making a deal with Haymitch and that is her MAIN.FOCUS. All throughout the Training Center, she’s thinking about one thing: Keeping him alive. Pulling crazy stunts in front of the Gamemakers so they wouldn’t focus on Peeta’s rebellious acts. Accepting with remorse that other tributes had to die for Peeta to survive. Hoping her family would put Peeta’s pearl next to her dead body when he makes it out alive. I don’t understand how people say she doesn’t care about him when she’s literally fighting tooth and nail to keep him alive, to keep him safe.

Katniss is an unreliable narrator: She doesn’t always talk abt smaller details either because she doesn’t know them or doesn’t care to say it. But with Peeta, girl she will write a whole biography abt it. She yapped abt his EYELASHES for like an entire paragraph. She doesn’t provide any family history, heck not even her moms name, any district history, but she sure as hell will yap abt her crush’s appearance for pages. If that isn’t a sign of her attraction to him…

When Peeta gets hit by the force field and his heart temporarily stops, Katniss goes WILD. Sobbing, making choked noises, crying so hard that both Finnick and Peeta were shocked. Remember, Katniss is super good at hiding emotions, wiping them clean off her face. In the 74th Games, she sometimes forced herself to keep a straight face so whenever Prim was watching, she wouldn’t feel extra concerned. Yet the second she thinks Peeta might die, she completely freaks out.

It’d be impossible to talk abt Everlark’s development without mentionjng the beach scene. Because in that scene Katniss knows for. sure. She wants this boy so much. She realizes she’ll be completely gone if Peeta is gone as well. She wants him to kiss her and she just wants HIM. (also…she usually only kisses Gale out of pity <3) The very second she got the news that Peeta was kidnapped, oh she went insane. Apeshit crazy, like she was banging her head against the table and attacking Haymitch and even said that she barely had the will to live anymore-That’s just how deeply Peeta’s kidnapping wounded her

MOCKINGJAY:

To sum it all up, Katniss is heartbroken. Way over the edge in her grief over Peeta. Even before the hijacking, before she realized what Snow would really do to Peeta, she was a complete mess. Nightmares, refusing to stick to schedule, hiding in places, etc etc. and this gets worse as she realizes that he’s not going to die: His life will be so much worse than death, it’ll be hell. This crushes her as she completely breaks down sobbing in front of the camera team and Haymitch and literally had to be drugged after slipping into hysteria.

And then after the hijacking? She’s out throwing herself into dangerous situations, doing anything and everything to get him off her mind. He is much too painful to think about.

Also important to note: She treasures the pearl Peeta gave her THE WHOLE BOOK. A reminder of the boy with the bread, a token of his love and care. A reminder of the boy she LOVES.

When Peeta joined the squad, Katniss was cold and mean at first, yes, but only as a defense mechanism. It only took a quick pep talk from Haymitch to get her back on track. Because Katniss and Peeta protect each other. And when Peeta asks questions abt their favorite colors, she just spills out so many mundane, odd little facts about Peeta. All the way down to how he ties his shoelaces. In the barely-one-year-ish they knew each other(Majority of that year being in terrible situations) she learned abt this boy all the way down to little facts like that. Katniss just KNOWS him so well. She just notices things about him and knows him.

When Peeta starts to slip during a mutt attack and fears he might lose control, Katniss kisses him. Hard, fiercely, kisses him and begs him to stay with her. Katniss needs Peeta, she needs him to stay with her, because he is her primary source of comfort and peace. She knew it was a long shot, yet she kissed him anyway because of this longing.

After Primrose dies and Katniss is back in District 12, she is not doing well at all. Her hair is tangled and matted, nails long and dirty and she’s just not motivated to take care of herself. But the very minute Peeta came? With the primroses in his hand? She found her strength, she changed clothes and washed up and tidied up. Peeta gives her strength, just him being around for a few minutes can motivate her to do more and do better.

Katniss talks abt how Peeta helps her with nightmares afterward, and again, it’s another sign of how Peeta just makes her feel SAFE. Good, warm, at peace. Not to mention the memory book she did with him! Another sign of them moving on peacefully after the war, of loving and living but never forgetting.

Katniss literally calls Peeta her dandelion, her sign of HOPE AND LOVE, a promise life can GO ON AND BE GOOD. She literally says “Only Peeta can give me that.” Peeta means the world to her!

Most importantly: In the end, Katniss has children and is able to recover from her biggest fear of the books: Being unable to protect little kids in a world like Panem, whether they’re her kids or siblings or friends. Peeta allowed her to move on and retain her faith in humanity and still love as brightly and vividly as ever.

(I wrote this whole thing in under 30 mins so I most definitely missed some other important points. Please lmk if you’ve got anything to add! :D)

[thetrialsandtribulationsofeb]

Genuinely question, how can you name your blog that if u like buddie? That scene totally put me off then completely, Eddie was so mean and not the guy I thought he was at all.

Saying that with that anger and venom in his voice made me sick to my stomach, like an abusive guy that's gaslighting his partner. And poor Buck was so defensive, trapped in a corner when Eddie pretty much shoved him back abd made him all meek

I really don't know how the buddies have all moved on from it and still think we're going canon I really don't.

It was so mean and reminded me of what my dad was like to my mom 😭

i’m sorry if that scene triggered you. i just didn’t see it the same way (and i say this as someone who grew up with an abusive father too)

eddie wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt buck, which is what an actually abusive person typically does. he was trying to reach buck emotionally, since buck had completely closed himself off after bobby’s funeral. the only reason he said those words about buck being selfish was because he wanted to push buck to open up - which, to be honest, buck kind of needed to do, even though eddie pushing him was wrong

if you look closely, you’ll see that they’re both in the wrong in this scene. buck responds with “i’m sorry bobby’s dead,” which is a hurtful thing to say back, as if eddie isn’t just as devastated as he is

buck was “defensive, trapped in a corner” not because he was afraid of eddie - i think he knows eddie well enough not to feel threatened by his words or consider him “abusive,” as some people like you have suggested, overlooking eddie’s character as a whole - but because eddie’s grief forced him to confront his own, which he was avoiding. buck took bobby’s words about being strong after his death too much to heart. i think bobby said it because he knew buck was passively suicidal and wanted to give him something to hold onto, but it ended up causing buck to ignore his own - and, in the process, everyone else’s - pain because it was too unbearable. all eddie wanted was for buck to finally face it so they could both process their grief together. he wanted buck to be there for him, and he wanted to be there for buck, but he couldn’t do that while buck was repressing everything. so it all came to a head in this kitchen fight

this scene didn’t remind me of how my abusive dad talked to my mother. it reminded me of how my friends and i fight when we’re not doing well mentally - saying dumb things we don’t mean because of heightened emotions. then, later, we realize what a mistake we made, talk it out, apologize, and forgive each other. it takes a very secure connection to be able to be “ugly” with each other. and grief is messy. no matter how much therapy buck and eddie have had, that kind of stress can still revert a person to the unhealed version of themselves. i don’t know a single person who stays cool and rational when they’re going through something traumatic. people are messy and stupid sometimes, and true love is about being able to see each other’s flaws and love each other despite - or maybe even because of - them. obviously, that doesn’t apply if someone is treating you badly on a regular basis, which brings me to my next point:

the words “eddie was so mean and not the guy i thought he was at all” are interesting to me because, well, that’s kind of the point - he’s not like that consistently. if he was acting like this toward buck 24/7, then yeah, he’d be a certified asshole. but it was a one-time thing, and it happened because he was grieving bobby and was mad at himself for not being there when bobby died, and mad at buck for not letting him in so they could deal with this mess together

literally all of their fights happen because they hate being apart and not “having each other’s backs.” the grocery store fight in season 3 happened because eddie had just lost shannon, and not having buck beside him - losing him because of the lawsuit - only added salt to the wound. buck was too caught up in his own pain and abandonment issues to notice how it was affecting the people around him - eddie, chris, and the 118. eddie needed buck, and buck wasn’t there, which led to eddie confronting him. and let’s not forget that “poor buck” physically injured eddie when his jealousy got the best of him in season 7. but eddie forgave him because he understood why buck acted that way. when eddie was moving to el paso, he was mad at buck for not talking to him about how he was actually feeling - though that was eddie’s fault too, because he wasn’t opening up about how much losing buck actually meant to him. they both had to avoid going there because if they did, they’d have to confront why they both didn’t want eddie and chris to stay in el paso. and they weren’t ready to do that yet

honestly, their fights are some of my favorite moments in their relationship because they always come from a place of love and devotion. i love when characters are messy and human. considering both of their childhood traumas, of course their communication won’t always be perfect - especially with those lingering, unspoken feelings between them that they can’t yet address because it’s very delicate and they’re both afraid of crossing that platonic line

but again, i think we need to look at this scene within the context of their entire relationship, where they both show up for each other and express their love 99% of the time. that’s not abusive in any way, in my opinion. people are allowed to be complex and make mistakes as long as they admit them, apologize, and learn from them - which is exactly what buck and eddie do when they hurt each other

buck himself explained it: “so, every day is the best day ever. is that really love? shouldn’t it be when you’re at your worst, they’re at their worst, you have every reason to give up, and you still decide you want to try again?”

i’m also pretty sure that buck would bring up the “trials and tribulations of evan buckley, a tragedy in 97 acts” line to eddie himself and laugh about how ridiculous it sounded - just like he brought up “you know, i thought for sure that day in the grocery store you were going to take a swing at me” and turned it into playful banter. because he knows eddie and trusts him enough to interpret it as “remember that stupid, mean stuff we said during that fight? we’re so dumb sometimes, lol” instead of an actual threat. he knows eddie would never intentionally hurt him

honestly, i don’t even know why i’m responding to this, because i really don’t understand how people interpret that scene as abusive. my mind just didn’t go there at all. but yeah, maybe that helped you see the scene in a different light. if not, then let’s just agree to disagree

[millerskitty]

Running If You Call My Name

❥ dbf!joel / f!reader x joel miller

❥ (18+) nsfw

❥ reader insert

❥ medium burn, no outbreak au. some timelines are changed to fit the story.

dividers by @/saradika !

warnings: pregnancy, soft joel, fluff, joel acting like a damn sugar daddy

word count: 1.4k

tag list: @foxin5billion, @persiar9, @ivoryandflame, @victoriaholland, @glitterspark & @zen3ca

masterlist

Chapter 13

The unforgiving summer sun was blazing down at you through the untinted windows of Joel’s old pickup truck. You sighed, pulling down the visor in a failed attempt to keep the heat from frying you.

“Sorry, baby, we should have come in your car.” Joel said, placing his hand over your overheated thigh.

“No, you know I can barely get out of that thing. It’s so low to the ground.” You chuckled, running a palm over your round stomach. You were unbelievably approaching the eight month mark.

Joel’s hand moved up and pressed down on top of yours. His touch never failed to give you butterflies. The tender moment must have affected the baby, because it started to kick wildly as soon as the weight of Joel’s large hand landed on top of yours.

“I’m telling you, we’ve got a kangaroo cookin in there.’” Joel chuckled, turning his eyes back to the road.

“That would explain all the damn pressure on my bladder. I swear I’ve never used so many public bathrooms in my life.” You cringed.

“Listen here, little miss or mister, leave Mommy’s organs be or you’ll have to deal with me.”

“You’re going to be the softest daddy there ever was.”

“You hush, it can hear you.”

“I’m sorry but calling them ‘it’ will never fail to make me laugh.” You chuckled.

“I’m sorry, they can hear you downplaying the wrath of Dad.” Joel said as he pulled into the fourth car dealership you’d visited that day.

“I guess you can be kind of scary when you misplace your tools.” You said, unbuckling your seatbelt. Joel jumped out of the truck and crossed around to help you out.

“Easy, girl.” He said with a look of pride on his face. He loved taking care of you like you were his delicate flower, pregnant and swollen with his baby.

“I may look like a cow, but I assure you there is no milk to be found here.”

“Be patient, I’m sure it’ll come in when it’s time.”

“I’m still nervous, what if it doesn’t?”

“Then we will figure something out, darlin, one thing at a time.”

“We should have called ahead to see if they have the model you’re looking for.”

“And miss out on this quality time with my baby? Never.” Joel said as he led you to the building to look for the safest, best quality vehicle to surprise Sarah with.

~

“It’s perfect.” You said.

“Black? Don’t you think she’d prefer the purple?”

“Be serious, Joel.” You said with a giggle. Sarah would love the sleek black Hyundai Elantra. It was perfect for her needs, very safe to drive and an excellent choice to get around at college.

“Alright, you girls share a brain cell so I’ll listen to ya’.”

“Good boy.”

“We’ll take it, but let’s take a look at those mini vans y’all got up front there first.” Joel said, winking at you.

“Joel-”

“Let’s just have a look, mama.” He said, leading you away.

The minivans were glorious; they accommodated every possible need that a first time mom could ever have. You had been nervous about taking the baby anywhere in the pickup or your small car, so it was a wonderful idea. Each different model just got better and better. Joel watched in amusement as you gushed at all of the amenities.

“That the one ya’ want, mama?” He asked when you had been foaming at the mouth over the sheer amount of space in the back. You could easily imagine yourselves taking camping trips and grocery shopping with no issue.

You looked up at Joel with a bit of concern and a whole lot of gratitude. “But-”

“Then it’s yours.” He said as he chewed on a toothpick.

~

You were flying high, dopamine was plentiful in your brain as you made dinner that evening. You were making bolognese at Pop’s house. The guys celebrated the new vehicle purchases with a case of beer in the backyard. It made your heart full to have it all after so many months of despair at the idea of never getting to have this life with Joel. You wondered just how everything managed to fall perfectly into place. Pop had been over the moon, falling out of his chair when you gave him a shirt that said “Best Grandpa in the Lone Star State” shortly after you’d broken the news to Joel.

After the initial shock had settled, he congratulated the two of you, vowing to live up to the title on his shirt. You would never forget the look on Joel’s face. His eyes watered, something you didn’t see very often. He embraced you and Pop at the same time. It was one of many memories together that you’d cherish for the rest of your life.

~

After dinner, Sarah begged to go shopping with her friend, Dex, who was going to college in New York with her. She said her goodbyes and promised not to be home too late, leaving you and Joel to walk back home alone together.

“Does this ever feel unreal to you?” You asked Joel, whose hand was in yours.

“Of course. Every time I get to wake up to that sweet face o’ yours.” He said with a glimmer of light in his eyes.

“You always know just what to say.”

“Well shucks,” He said in a joking voice, “I just know how lucky I am that you put up with my shit.”

“You were a dick for a little bit, but you had a point. You were just afraid, unsure.”

“Some risks are worth taking.” He said, unlocking the front door and placing his hand on your lower back to lead you inside.

He tossed the keys into the bowl on the entryway shelf and you went to the kitchen and started to put away the leftovers from dinner at Pop’s when you heard Joel running the bath. He appeared back in the kitchen moments later to lead you into your shared ensuite bedroom.

“Bath time for you two.” He rubbed your stomach and kissed your neck.

“Does daddy want to join us?”

“I get to join? ‘Course I will.” Joel said, pouring in some bath salts and lighting a candle as you began to undress. He intervened, stripping the remaining items of clothing off of you before helping you into the deep garden bathtub.

You moaned at the relief that came as the pressure was relieved from your aching back. Joel stripped and got into the tub, sitting across from you. The bubbles were growing higher and higher around you until Joel turned the faucet off, gently pulling your foot towards him and rubbing it.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” You moaned as he massaged your feet.

“I bet, I’m sorry you have to be in so much pain.”

“It will be so worth it.”

“Do you ever just want to just find out what it’s going to be?” Joel asked.

“Honestly… Yeah.” You giggled.

“I don’t care either way, but it’s just so exciting.”

“We’ve only got a few more weeks before we find out. We’ve made it this far.” You chuckled, pulling your foot back and scooting over to lay your head on Joel’s chest. His heart drummed steadily as you touched the wet curls of hair on his chest. “Do you like me all big and pregnant still?”

“Baby, what kind of question is that?” He rubbed his hands down the sides of your body, landing on your round stomach.

“I just don’t really recognize myself, I don’t always feel the best like this.”

“I find you so attractive like this, I'm reminded that you’re mine now every time I look at you.”

“I love you.” You said, holding onto him.

“I’m so in love with you.” He kissed the top of your forehead.

~

After rinsing off in the shower, Joel lathered you in lotion from head to toe. You felt soft and well cared for, but it only got better when Joel initiated your favorite bedtime routine. He spooned you and rubbed your back, until his body naturally urged him to focus on kneading your ass, which made you giggle. He was obsessed with touching you, holding you, pleasuring you.

“That’s not my back, Sir.” You playfully scolded.

“It’s a part of your backside and it requires just as much attention as your shoulders.” Joel chuckled.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I have every intention of finishing, darlin’” He said, burying his face into your neck from behind.

[coldkidcookieneck]

Title: Collateral Attraction

Summary: A stupid dare. A locked house. A very armed, very grumpy Frank Benson. She was supposed to run, not come back for coffee.

Author's note: Hi, my dear readers! This is my very first Frank Benson story, and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you enjoy the chaotic tension, awkward flirting, and soft banter as much as I did! Please let me know what you think 😉

Pairing: Frank Benson x Fem Reader

Warnings: Language and Mild Violence

Cross posted on AO3

===========================================

Your living room smelled like takeout, cheap rosé, and candle wax from the third failed attempt to light the "Happy Birthday" sparkler cake. Streamers clung to the ceiling fan like casualties of war, and glitter was everywhere — a sure sign that your best friends, Chloe, Liam, and Amanda, had taken over décor duty.

“You’re officially 22,” Chloe declared, handing you your third slice of pizza like it was your birthright. “Time to do something legendary before the night’s over.”

“Legendary how?” you asked, wiping sauce off your chin.

Chloe’s grin was pure chaos. “Truth or dare.”

You barely had time to protest before everyone was already sitting cross-legged on the floor, drinks in hand, the tension building like a bad horror score. The first few rounds were harmless: someone drank hot sauce, another admitted to kissing their cousin’s boyfriend. Then it was your turn again.

“Dare,” you said, full of birthday bravado.

Chloe’s eyes gleamed. “I dare you… to sneak into General Frank Benson’s house and get out again. Without him noticing.”

The room froze.

Even the playlist paused like Spotify itself whispered: “Girl, no.”

“You’re joking,” you blinked, halfway between laughing and throwing your pizza.

Amanda screeched, “That’s a literal suicide mission! Have you seen that man? He probably sleeps with a bayonet under his pillow!”

Liam leaned forward, solemn as a war general. “Then I’ll command the mission. You’re my agent. I’ll be in your ear. Like the hot ones in spy movies.”

Chloe held up her hand like she was swearing into Congress. “Five hundred dollars if you do it.”

And suddenly, it wasn’t a joke anymore.

You glanced toward the window — at the looming Victorian next door, shrouded in shadow and pulsing with generational trauma. That was his house. Everyone in the neighborhood knew it: the fortress of General Frank Benson — retired military legend, silver-haired menace, living scarecrow of your childhood.

You’d been afraid of him since you were six. Literally.

Your parents used to weaponize his existence like bedtime folklore.

“If you don’t get home by curfew, the General will snatch you and ship you off to boot camp!” “Don’t run off — Frank Benson might put you in a tank and roll you into a battlefield!”

One Halloween, you dared to ring his doorbell.

He didn’t answer.

But the porch light flickered on.

You screamed so loud you peed a little and ran home with your witch’s hat falling off.

Since then, even walking past his house made you clutch your mom’s hand and whisper apologies to the wind.

But now?

You were older. Bolder. And… just the tiniest bit intrigued.

Especially after the annual neighborhood committee meeting a few months back — the first he’d attended in years.

You remembered it too clearly. He’d walked in wearing a sharp black coat, silver hair slicked back, eyes cold and assessing like he was planning battle formations. He barely spoke — but when he did, his voice was low and gravelly and cut through the chatter like a bullet through glass.

And something inside you shifted.

You weren’t afraid anymore.

You were… fascinated.

And maybe, okay, kind of into the whole grumpy, emotionally disturbed war-daddy thing.

“Come on,” Chloe was saying now, waving her phone like a stopwatch. “He’s probably not even home. Just sneak in, sneak out. Easy. We’ll be waiting by the back gate with your victory pizza slice.”

Amanda looked like she was going to throw up from secondhand panic. “If she gets arrested, I’m not bailing her out. But I will organize a candlelight vigil.”

Liam saluted dramatically. “For honor. For glory. For the birthday girl.”

Your heart pounded. Your brain screamed are you serious, but your ego — freshly 22, slightly tipsy, and painfully susceptible to peer pressure — just whispered:

Let’s do it.

“…Fine,” you muttered, pushing off the couch and finishing your wine like it was armor. “But if I get court-martialed, I’m haunting all of you forever.”

Chloe whooped. “Operation: Birthday Break-In is a GO!”

“Okay, squad. Stick to the plan. Eyes sharp. Feet quiet. Asses low.”

Liam crouched behind the overgrown rhododendron bush like he was auditioning for Mission Impossible- Suburban Edition, holding a plastic cup of wine like it was a grenade. Amanda was huddled beside him, just out of sight from Frank Benson’s back fence.

Chloe, ever your partner in crime, adjusted her hoodie like she was going to war. “I swear if I die out here, I want ‘Dare Queen’ on my gravestone.”

“I’m already designing the shirt,” Amanda whispered, pulling out her phone to record. “You two are legends in the making. If this goes viral, I want credit.”

You glared at her, “If this goes to prison, I want a decent lawyer.”

Everyone else chuckled nervously. The stakes were stupidly low and yet wildly high. You peeked past the bush.

Frank Benson’s house loomed at the end of the yard — tall, dark, dignified. A once-white Victorian that had surrendered to time: ivy clung to its brick like secrets, and its turreted attic window glared down at the street like a silent sentry. The back of the house had a small porch with a flickering light and two steps leading down to a mossy stone path. Two gnarled oak trees flanked the yard like bodyguards.

You could see three windows on the ground floor: one half-open, one shut tight, and one obscured by heavy drapes.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Liam said, dragging a stick through the dirt like a military strategist. “You two — that’s you, birthday girl, and Chloe — take the side gate, sneak across the back yard, and go through the half-open window. It’s probably the kitchen. You go in, sneak to the other side of the house, and come out through the sunroom window on the east side. That’s the one facing the hedge. We’ll be posted there with flashlights and pizza, ready to pull you out and declare victory.”

“Simple enough,” Chloe muttered, tying her hair up. “Break in, sneak across, break out. No blood, no alarms.”

“Exactly,” Amanda said, filming you in selfie-mode now. “Tonight’s forecast: 30% chance of arrest, 70% chance of glory. Let’s go.”

You inhaled sharply. The house looked still. No lights in the upstairs windows. No movement.

“Alright,” you said, pulse quickening. “Let’s do this.”

The gate creaked as you and Chloe slipped through, then padded silently across the dew-covered grass. You both wore black hoodies and sneakers, looking like the worst-dressed spies imaginable. You paused at the half-open window.

Chloe gave it a gentle push. It opened with a soft screeetch.

You winced.

“…That sounded like a horror movie door,” she whispered.

“Keep going,” you hissed, heart hammering.

The kitchen was exactly what you imagined Frank Benson’s kitchen would look like: neat, cold, and full of sharp corners. The countertops were spotless. The lights were off. There was a kettle on the stove — black and steel — and a single mug next to it, like he was halfway into making tea for one.

You stepped inside first, Chloe right behind you. Your feet made the faintest sound on the tile. You both paused, eyes wide.

Nothing.

Just the faint tick… tick… of an old grandfather clock somewhere deeper in the house.

“Alright,” Chloe breathed. “East side window. Let’s move.”

You crept through the kitchen and into a narrow hallway with wooden floors. On your right was a darkened sitting room, all leather armchairs and old bookshelves. On your left was what looked like a dining room, table polished, a lone set of dog tags resting on the center dish. You glanced at them — initials etched in metal. F.B.

Your stomach twisted. You felt like an intruder.

Because you were.

“Chloe,” you whispered. “I think we should—”

You didn’t finish the sentence.

Because you tripped on the edge of the hallway rug.

Your foot slipped.

You fell like a plank of wood.

Chloe toppled after you, landing hard on your back with a loud thump.

You both froze.

Tick… tick…

Creaaaak.

There was a sound from upstairs.

A door opened.

Floorboards groaned under heavy footsteps.

Then — light.

A hallway light flicked on.

And footsteps began descending the staircase fast.

“OH MY GOD!” Chloe hissed, jumping off you and scrambling toward the sunroom.

“I found the exit, hurry up!” she cried, pulling open a window.

You staggered up, adrenaline surging.

But it was too late.

A shadow lunged down the stairs, and before you could reach the exit, a strong hand grabbed your arm, spun you around, and slammed you down on the floor with a practiced, efficient force.

You yelped, wind knocked from your lungs.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” a voice barked.

It was gravel and thunder, and it made the air vibrate.

The figure above you slammed the sunroom window shut with one hand, blocking Chloe’s exit route as she screamed your name from outside.

He turned on the light.

And there he was.

General Frank Benson.

Silver-haired, towering, broad-shouldered in a black t-shirt and loose sweatpants — but somehow still looking like he could command a battalion. His jaw was clenched, eyes sharp and full of fury. There was a glint of something silver in his hand — a gun. Not pointed at you, but very, very present.

You blinked up at him, stunned into silence, face flushed from the fall, the fear, the fact that he was... ridiculously hot in this lighting.

“Who the hell are you?” he growled. “And what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing in my house?”

You gulped, lips trembling, and scrambled to explain.

“Sir—it was a dare! A stupid $500 birthday dare! I swear, I didn’t mean any harm—my friends dared me to sneak in and out—I didn’t even think you were home—I tripped—Chloe—Chloe was supposed to—”

He glared at you, nostrils flaring, eyes scanning your face like a threat assessment.

“...A dare?” he repeated, incredulous. “You break into my house... for five hundred bloody dollars?!”

Frank Benson was halfway through pouring himself a cup of Earl Grey when he heard it.

Thump.

His entire body froze.

He didn’t move — not at first. Years in combat zones taught him that reacting too soon was how you got killed. First came the listen. Then came the lock.

He strained his ears. There it was again. A scrape. A muffled whisper. Someone — two someones — moving in his home.

His jaw tightened. The mug was already back on the counter, untouched.

He moved.

Fast. Silent. Lethal.

A shadow ghosting up from the kitchen to the hallway. His left hand grabbed the pistol off the console drawer near the stairs — muscle memory. His right flicked on the light in a single fluid motion as he descended the staircase in three thunderous steps.

Footsteps.Too light for a grown man.Maybe teens. Maybe a weapon. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter — unknown is a threat until proven otherwise.

He saw movement in the hallway and bolted forward — years of force recon training kicking in. His body moved before his brain could catch up.

Target. Two. Female. Not armed. One tripped. Second, trying to run—

He grabbed the first — you — and brought you down with a sharp twist of the arm and shoulder, pinning you hard but careful, just enough pressure to restrain without crush.

You yelped.

The girl in the hoodie outside screamed and fumbled at the sunroom window.

He snapped it shut with one arm, blocking her escape route, then pointed the gun not at you, but toward the floor — visible. A warning. His voice followed, deep and sharp like thunder cracking open the sky:

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Your eyes were wide, terrified, blinking up at him like prey caught in headlights.

No weapon. No mask. Just panic. Not a threat. Not yet.

He exhaled slow, steadied the beast inside.

“Who the hell are you,” he growled, “and what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing in my house?”

You stammered, breath shaking. "Sir—it was a dare! A stupid $500 birthday dare! I swear, I didn’t mean any harm—my friends dared me to sneak in and out—I didn’t even think you were home—I tripped—Chloe—Chloe was supposed to—”

Frank stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

A fucking dare? Jesus Christ.

“You break into my house... for five hundred bloody dollars?!”

You nodded weakly.

He scoffed, the sound sharp as flint. “You’re lucky I didn’t break your neck. What kind of idiot thinks sneaking into a veteran’s home is a good idea?! You’re lucky I didn’t assume you were a threat and react accordingly.”

God, where do they grow kids like this? Is idiocy contagious?

You opened your mouth again, but he raised a finger — commanding silence.

“And you,” he barked toward the window. “Get your friend back here before I call every emergency service this side of the state line.”

Chloe let out a terrified squeak from outside.

“I—I—sorry!!” she stammered, stumbling back in through the front door, looking white as a sheet.

Frank looked between you and Chloe, eyes narrowing, jaw grinding. Then… something shifted.

His posture eased. Not soft, but no longer a threat.

“You’re the kid that used to hide behind your mum whenever I walked past,” he said slowly.

Your eyes widened. “You remember that?”

He chuckled — a low, rasping sound, like a car engine after too long in the cold. “Hard to forget a child who screamed like she saw a ghost every Halloween.”

Of course, I remember. You were the little,wide-eyed thing who used to cry if you saw me in uniform. Your mum once said they used me as a bedtime threat — ‘Come home before dark or General Benson will send you to boot camp.’ Bloody hell. I’ve become the neighbourhood bogeyman.

“I—um—I guess I did…”

He stood straighter, lowering the gun to his side — no longer threat-mode, but still on edge.

“So now you’re all grown up and sneaking around my yard,” he muttered, giving you a long, appraising look.

You’re not a kid anymore. That much is obvious. Hair’s longer. Lips trembling. That’s a woman’s jacket, not a school uniform. Goddamn. She’s trembling like I’m going to arrest her. I should. But hell, if this isn’t the most excitement I’ve had in months.

Then your next words caught him off guard.

“I… I saw you at the committee meeting.”

You blushed fiercely, gaze darting away. “I… I saw you at the committee meeting.”

He blinked once. Twice.

Ah. That’s it.

Not a dare. Not really. Curiosity. Maybe something more.

Shit. He shouldn’t let that twist of intrigue hit him. But there it was.

He gave a small smirk. Nothing warm — just sharp. Teasing. Testing.

“Well,” he muttered, holstering the gun, “if you wanted to know what’s inside my house so badly… next time just knock. Like a normal bloody person.”

You stared. Then let out a weak, nervous laugh.

Chloe looked like she wanted to disappear into the nearest plant.

Frank folded his arms. “Tell your friends you managed to ‘escape’ through the back window. Go get your prize money. And get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

You hesitated, still rattled. Your gaze flicked to the door. But Frank was watching you closely now.

Your flushed cheeks. Your parted lips. The way your chest rose and fell in the silence.

She’s not a kid anymore. That realisation sank in like cold water down the back of his neck. Christ, I shouldn’t even be thinking that.

He paused.

Then, quieter: “...Happy birthday, by the way.”

Your head whipped up. “How did you—?”

He lifted a brow. “You think I don’t know what the neighborhood kids are up to? Liam and Amanda aren’t exactly CIA material.”

He turned and walked back into the shadows of the hallway, the light fading behind him.

And you were left standing there in his kitchen, adrenaline still high, heart pounding, and the terrifying realisation that the man you once feared… now occupied a very different corner of your imagination.

You ran like hell.

You and Chloe locked eyes—both pale, panting, done.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered.

You didn’t answer. You were already running.

Straight out the side gate, heart hammering, hair sticking to your forehead, lungs burning like a bonfire lit under your ribs. You didn’t even realize your knees were scraped until your friends came sprinting from the alleyway, cheering like lunatics.

Chloe came jogging a moment later, wheezing. “He looked at me and I panicked! Like—retired general death glare level ten!”

“YOU SURVIVED!”

“Oh my god, she did it!”

“You better have filmed it, Chloe—wait, where’s Chloe?”

You wheezed out a breathless laugh-slash-sob and stumbled into Amanda’s arms, who immediately started shaking you like a maraca.

“YOU LEGEND!! YOU JUST EARNED FIVE. HUNDRED. DOLLARS. Do you know how many bubble teas that is?!”

Liam tossed a hoodie over your shoulders like it was a medal of honor.

“General Frank Freaking Benson. The man who made our dads stand up straighter at neighborhood barbecues. You just walked into his den and LIVED. What was it like? What did he say? Did you get a peek at his kitchen? Was it cold and terrifying? Did he say anything like, ‘You have 10 seconds to explain before I neutralize you’?”

You stared at them, still breathless, trying to piece together the shock and the adrenaline and the very real fact that you had just been pinned down by Frank Benson’s arms, and that he had remembered you, and that he had said—

“…Happy birthday, by the way.”

Inside the house, Frank stood at the second-floor window.

Lights off.

Curtains parted.

Just him, silently watching the gaggle of chaotic teens erupt into hugs and fist bumps and high-fives.

Idiots, he thought. No sense of danger. No sense of consequences.Except her.

His eyes found you — standing just slightly apart from the group, hand still hovering near your arm where he’d grabbed you, eyes a little far-off. Processing.

He felt it in his chest. A sharp, quiet pull.

She looked at me like I was a monster. But now... not quite.That’s the look someone gives when the monster turns out to be a man.

He frowned.

Backed away from the window.

She’ll stay away now. They always do.Good. Better that way.

He turned, heading for the stairs.

So why the hell am I still standing here thinking about her?

You’re still catching your breath when Chloe grabs your arm like a human grappling hook.

“Say nothing about the gun. Just look cool. Say you Mission: Impossible’d your way in and out. Got it?”

You nod. Kind of.

Back at the house, your friends are waiting with pizza crumbs, half-filled cups, and $500 in a cereal box because apparently Liam thought that was “stealthy.”

You glance at Chloe.

“SO?”

“Did you do it?”

“Did you survive General Doom himself?!”

“Yeah. Slipped in through the side window, skirted the dining room, ducked when I heard footsteps. Almost got caught. But didn’t.”

She does the tiniest nod.

And you go full Bond Girl.

The group goes feral.

Liam throws the $500 at you like confetti. Amanda screams into a pillow. Someone cranks up music again and shoves a slice of pizza into your mouth mid-laugh.

Only Chloe sees how you keep glancing out the window.

The Next Morning

You knocked on his door at 8:13 a.m.

The door opened a sliver, and there he was.

Why?

Because you couldn’t sleep.

Because your guilt was loud.

Because something about him—his voice, his eyes, the way he hadn’t yelled just to yell—was still stuck to your skin like aftershave.

Sleep-ruffled hair. T-shirt and sweats. No weapon in sight, just an eyebrow raised like a challenge.

“You again,” he said flatly.

“I—um—just wanted to say thank you. For not calling the police. Or yelling louder. Or shooting.”

Frank stared at you.

Then let out a breath that sounded like half a laugh, half a groan.

“You’re here to say thank you for trespassing?”

You winced. “Also to tell you that I got the $500.”

His eyes narrowed. “And that’s supposed to impress me?”

You grinned. “No. I was thinking I could treat you to something. As an apology-slash-celebration. Coffee? Bagels? Explosives?”

A beat.

Then Frank opened the door a little wider and leaned against the frame.

“You really think I’d let a little idiot like you buy me breakfast?”

You shrugged. “I mean, you tackled me. So I figure we’re close now.”

He smirked. A very dangerous, very warm smirk.

“…Next time,” he said, “let me be the gentleman.”

Your heart may have actually skipped.

You nodded. “Okay.”

You walked home lighter.

“Good,” he said, and shut the door again.

But not before giving you one last glance—measured, curious, not entirely annoyed.

Still scraped, still bruised, still $500 richer.

But also—

Something had started.

You just didn’t know what yet.

He leaned against the door after it closed, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

That damn kid. That crooked grin. That stupid, reckless heart.

He should’ve been furious. Still could be. But instead...

He sighed.

“…Coffee,” he muttered to himself. “God help me.”

Then he went to put on real pants.

The coffee shop smelled like cinnamon, burnt espresso, and bad decisions.

EPILOGUE

Local Café | Two Days Later

You sat across from him, two mugs between you. Yours was adorned with whimsical doodles and the phrase “Espresso Yourself.” It was a plain, no-nonsense black ceramic mug. Classic.

You stirred your latte three times before sipping. “So...General, do you come here often, or only when you’re guilt-tripped by teenage gremlins who trespass on your property?”

Frank raised an eyebrow over his coffee. “I’m still deciding if this is penance or a government experiment.”

You smirked.

He came. He actually showed up. On time, no less. He still looks like a man who has backup plans for backup plans. But his jacket’s unzipped. His hair’s still a little windblown. He looks… less like a warning label. More like a question mark. And I’m not sure if I want the answer or the chase.

He didn’t smile. Not exactly. But his eyes? They didn’t look away.

She’s nervous. She’s trying not to show it, but she is. And yet she’s here. After everything. After the fence hop, the bruises, the chaos. She sat down across from me like it wasn’t a death wish. Like maybe… she wanted to. Idiot kid. Brave kid. Dammit.

A beat passed. Then you slid your phone across the table. The lock screen was a screenshot of your bank app. $500.00. Still untouched.

“Proof I haven’t spent the blood money yet,” you said.

Frank leaned back, arms crossed. “Didn’t say you had to keep it.”

You tilted your head. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

He huffed—something between a scoff and a laugh. “Troublemaker.”

You grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

And for the briefest moment, in the lazy warmth of a café too small to hold this much tension, something softened. Not broken. Just… bent. In a good way.

But maybe… worth it.

Two mugs.

One look.

No promises.

Just the beginning of something slightly stupid.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[bbycake2]

ok… so we MIGHT need more nerd!Armin chz wthhhh😩⁉️⁉️

Hi!! Thank u sm <3 Here you go I really like the idea of him being disgusting and perverted idkk.. maybe thats my own thing (sorry if its too weird) . Hope you gonna like it tho ‎⋆˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˚𝜗𝜚˚₊˚⊹♡

Stalker, pervert, disgusting, kidnapper, again rape (sorry) violence, blood NerdyArmin!Reader

A boy your age recently moved in next door to you. You can’t really say anything about him since he never leaves his fucking apartment, and when he does he always looks the same, does he ever wash these clothes? - You laughed to yourself

Your mom says hes probably the purest ever, innocent looks, manners and doing nothing wrong, zero parties, alcohol or loud friends… zero friends in general. He always wears his backpack full of books, chemistry, math, science… manga, wait manga? not only a nerd but also a weeb? Couldn’t be worse

For some time now you have noticed that panties are disappearing from the clothes dryer on the balcony. Weirdly, his balcony is next to yours, you can practically reach from his balcony to yours and vice versa. Odd coincidence, isnt it? I dont even know him, I just cant accuse him of such a thing just because hes “weird”, im too paranoid

Beautiful morning, sun is up and the sky is clear. You decided to went outside for a quick walk. Youre wearing those tight shorts made for working out and a simple top, it’s hot after all. One two three, one two three, you’re doing some stretching, bending down to touch the sidewalk with your hands, such a relief, your back feels lighter than ever…. You almost screamed and flinched when you saw the blonde guy with glasses standing behind you, was he there the whole time? “Sorry I didn't want to scare you, im just making my way to the library” - His voice is way too innocent, he passed you by leaving you behind, alone and confused. some time has passed, you are in the forest continuing your walk, listening to music and just enjoying the moment. Wait what was that? Im too fucking paranoid right? You swore you just saw the blonde fucking haircut behind the tree. It was so scary that you decided to start walkingk in the opposite direction, being too scared to confront the stranger person or a thing you just saw. Fuck you can feel him following you, hes just behind. No fucking way

You felt a heavy weight on your shoulder grabbing you and holding you down, when something covered your mouth. It was him you knew it, you opened your eyes but you immediately felt sleepy, something just hit me? tightness and pain in your hands and ankles woke you up, the setting sun was shining on your face, your whole body ached and the dripping blood and hard ground weren’t helping neither. You fully opened your eyes, your heart was beating like never before, you could feel this is your end. “Im glad you woke up♡” - his hand was touching your cheek softly, he was smiling like a kid who just got a candy. Its so cold, wait I don’t have my clothes on? And im tied up to a.. tree?? “Youre a psycho, let me go please..” you almost whispered “Please i dont want to die here” You started crying, youve never been so scared, please let it be over

“Please dont cry, please” - He said it so softly, almost like hes not the reason youre here, sobbing as your blood drips down from your cut he made. He took your face in his hands, lifted your jaw and pressed his lips against yours, you bite him, you wanted to hurt him, just to leave you alone. He looked at you with sad eyes, you cut his lower lip. He took her blood from it on his finger and.. put it into your mouth “suck, little one come onnn, you made this.” He smiled, it was so fucking scary how can be smiling? Youre sucking on his finger tasting his blood, hes looking directly into your eyes. He took the finger out and stayed silent for a while, Slap! He hit you Slap! again and again again again. So hard, so many times that your cheeks look like a big red-purple mess. You cant stop crying, and he cant stop smiling. Can he stop fucking smiling? Clearly he got bored of just hitting your cheeks, so he unzipped his pants revealing his hard cock, did he came a couple of times? You clearly can see the sperm on his pants. Disgusting, disgusting, I want it to stop.

he spread your legs and spat on your mud-dirty cunt, yeah right your whole body was dirty because you’re laying on the ground in the middle of the forest tidied up to a big tree looking like some actres from fucked up bdsm porn Slap! He went inside, which made you moan, it really hurts, can he stop please? he grabbed your hair, forcing you to look at him, “my name is Armin Slap I moved in next to you, you know Slap I noticed something… you wear very slutty panties” He said and took out one of your missing ones from his pocket he put it to his nose and sniffed still moving his hips. he smiled and put them in your mouth so deep that made you gagged on your own cumdirty panties

[crushedsweets]

can u tell me abt ur au's liu a little bit

- 🥸 definitely not machine in a trench coat

hiiiiii stranger whos not machine ^_^ <33

ok so. liu is a huge WIP imma be real. him and jeff keep changing a LOT cuz 1. my irl friends and i made a crp AU and their faves ended up being jeff and liu so i keep getting swayed by their HCs even tho they conflict my own 2. the woods brothers have always been kinda unfinished/half assed in my AU and im tryna catch up.

SO IM GONNA USE THIS POST TO HELP ME MESSILY ORGANIZE MY THOUGHTS

SO.............unfortunately, liu's character is VERY reliant on jeff's. So I’ll keep bringing up Jeff. Soz

they're half brothers, same mom. Born and raised New Jersey

i'm imagining a whole messy thing with their parents. i'm still indecisive if i want their mom to cheat on liu's dad, resulting in jeffs birth, and they tried to sweep it under the rug for the family's image. regardless, liu's biological dad still raised both boys, and he's the one jeff kills when jeff goes on his rampage

this is mostly cuz i want jeff's dad to be a deadbeat who ends up in jail, while liu's dad maintains a better image. hence the whole golden child, black sheep thing going on with the brothers.

SO. Yeah, again, liu is the golden child. while jeff's getting caught bullying kids as young as 7, liu's getting decent grades, has a nice set of friends, is excitedly planning for college, etc. he's not extraordinary by any means, but he's doing good

he's also just like...genuinely a good person, he really really really cares for jeff and sees the good in him. he knows jeff is struggling, he knows jeff lives with heavy guilt and resentment regarding his family, there's always that unspoken tension of his father. and liu is jeff's #1 defender, even when jeff genuinely doesn't deserve it

HOWEVER. i dont think 'glass child' is the right term for their situation specifically, but something along those lines. liu IS incredibly overlooked because of how much jeff acts out. and even when he IS acknowledged for his good, it seems to always be an intentional attack on jeff. "liu's so smart, why can't you be like that?" "you're so reckless, have you ever seen liu do something that stupid before?" "go ask your brother for help, he knows better" . . . which impacts jeff more, obviously, but it still leaves liu with a lot of guilt, shame, anxiety, self esteem issues, cuz why is he only good in comparison? why isn't he good on his own? then he feels guilty for feeling guilty cuz at least he's not in jeffs shoes. he just feels like hes got a lotta mundane issues. at least they're not jeffs, right ?

Anyway. He was prepping for college but when he took the fall for Jeff attacking Randy, it fucked up his university acceptance and he just went to a local community college to try and build some credits and a GPA and resume. I’m. It’s 12am I’m. Anything after this is just me rambling don’t take it seriously ever at all

Trying so hard to finish this draft I’m so tired um. I’m not sure if he goes to college before or after Jeff’s first rampage n I’m too lazy to check.

Regardless, he ends up transferring, getting some sort of vague business degree, and getting a very mundane office job. Probably ran errands for a long time, getting coffee and whatnot. Felt very…. Lost? All things considered

Anyhow. Somewhere in this he starts dating some guy and they fall in love and whatnot and lius healing and he assumes Jeff’s dead cuz how te hell is he still alive . None of Jeff’s ‘famous murders’ are around (aka the smiles and go to sleep written on walls) so he thinks he’s done.

And then the Arkensaw case happens.

Liu spirals. Ruins everything. He gets so anxious and paranoid and depressed he ends up losing his job. Hes planning ways to go to Alabama, where the Arkensaw case happened

Fiance is like heeeeellll nooooo im not going to Alabama wtf r u on. Liu is like well I’m going regardless. Fisnce is like if you go I’m calling off the wedding. Liu is so hurt it just pushes him further

By time he ends up in Alabama he realizes he’s right back at the bottom of the corporate ladder, lost tons of savings, and doesn’t even wanna find Jeff anymore. Just wants to move on . Can’t afford to move again

[lacevenom]

୨୧ you have a shy cat who instantly loves the pack headcanon.☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆. ꙳

PAIRING : wolf pack x reader!

SUMMARY : request here

୨୧ JACOB

he’s already cocky, but when your shy little cat who usually runs and hides under the bed jumps into his lap like they’ve known each other for years? his ego inflates tenfold.

“oh, she knows an alpha when she sees one.”

jacob starts calling himself the “cat whisperer” and insists the two of them are soulmates. he starts bringing her little gifts like toys, and she sleeps on his chest during naps. she even rides on his shoulders sometimes like a parrot.

୨୧ EMBRY

embry absolutely melts. he was so careful walking in, like, “don’t scare her, don’t scare her” but she just walks up, rubs against his legs, and meows for attention!

his heart explodes.

“she chose me. did you see that? she chose me!”

he becomes her second favorite person and constantly talks to her like she’s a baby. he’ll even facetime you just to show her doing something random like napping:

“she’s loafing again, look at her little paws!”

୨୧ PAUL

paul is kind of stunned.

he’s used to animals being nervous around him because of his energy, so he expects your cat to bolt but she just sits in front of him, stares, and lets him pet her like it’s no big deal.

he becomes weirdly obsessed.

“she’s my girl now, sorry babe.”

you’ll find him laid out on the couch with the cat sleeping on his stomach, both of them dead asleep. and when he’s mad or tense from a shift, she’ll crawl into his lap and instantly calm him down. she’s like his little emotional support cat.

୨୧ QUIL

quil goes full silly uncle mode.

he’s baby-talking her immediately “who’s a good tiny panther?? you are!”

and the cat loves it. she chirps at him and follows him around the house. quil starts calling the two of you his “girls.”

he lets her perch on his head or sit in the sink while he shaves. they watch cartoons together. one time, he built her a pillow fort. she loves him so much she even tolerates claire when she visits and Claire is loud.

୨୧ SETH

this boy is over the moon.

he didn’t want to get his hopes up because he knows cats can be picky, but the moment she rubbed her face on his leg, he gasped like he’d just been proposed to.

“she LOVES me!!”

he becomes so protective over her. brings her treats, grooms her fur with a little brush he keeps in his pocket, and even talks to her about his day.

“you’ll never believe what leah said to me today, it was so unfair—what do you think, y/c/n?”

୨୧ JARED

jared immediately assumes they’re best friends.

the cat confirms it by climbing into his lap and licking his hand once.

“that’s basically a kiss. i’m her dad now.”

he starts narrating her inner thoughts in a dramatic voice, like she’s a tiny evil mastermind.

“she’s planning something. look at her eyes. pure chaos.”

whenever you’re out and he offers you to babysit your cat he sends you videos of her sleeping captioned. “her majesty rests. long live the queen.”

୨୧ LEAH

she plays it cool, but she’s shocked.

usually animals are skittish around her energy, but your cat walks right up and climbs into her lap like she’s found her long lost mom.

leah’s whole face softens.

“she’s got good taste.”

at first, she pretends she doesn’t care but you catch her buying fancy treats, hand sewing a little blanket, and reading on the couch while your cat snuggles up next to her.

they have this quiet, understanding bond. no baby talk. no weird games. just curled up in mutual peace, side by side like kindred spirits.

୨୧ SAM

he’s the most surprised, honestly.

his alpha energy usually makes animals avoid him but your cat? she walks right over, flops on her side, and shows her belly.

he just sits there stunned like, “did i pass the vibe check?”

from then on, he takes his “step cat dad” duties very seriously. makes sure her food bowl is always full, double-checks the litter box, and calls her princess like it’s her official title.

he even tries to teach the pack “proper cat etiquette” which they completely ignore though

[ashyjingles]

GUESS FUCKING WHAT BITCHES

i just posted chapter 8 of violent and volatile, otherwise known as my hunger games au!! :)

chapter 8/12, 15k for this chapter and 90k for the whole fic so far. THIAM LIVES!!! they just go through hell first. the MCD tag is for other major characters

and then some snipppetts <33333 (they may contain minor spoilers so im hiding them under the cut!!!!)

snippet 1/4:

Violet’s face fades from the sky and the section of the hellish world they’ve claimed as theirs goes dark again. Theo sighs softly and starts pushing the sleeping bag around like he’s a bird getting its nest just right, and Liam is so entranced by the sight he can’t do anything but sit and stare like a statue watching signs of a life foreign to its stoic facade. Theo notices, turns his head and meets his gaze with that owl eye stare. For a moment they’re two stars staring at each other from across a dark and empty abyss and the next they’re two animals circling each other, sniffing at the other in curiosity but never getting quite close enough to know the other. Liam thinks that if they had to be any animals in the world, he’d be a wolf and Theo would be a coyote. He can’t explain the reasoning behind it, just that it fits so painfully well that Liam feels the sudden urge, the sudden need to either bare his teeth or bare his throat to this strange creature in front of him that’s both the closest thing to himself he’s seen in a lifetime and yet the farthest. So strange, yet so familiar.

snippet 2/4:

“Now hug,” Tara demands. Liam tenses up and takes a half conscious step back. He feels nauseous just at the thought of it. The fire abated, but it still thrums under his skin, wild and dangerous. Theo sits across from him, wild and dangerous but cold. Tara stands between them, a cotton figure standing too close to the flame. “Fuck no,” Theo spits, venom landing at Liam’s feet and burning through the grass. It smells acrid and tastes of bile, and Liam jerks to the side. Theo lunges for the machete, and that’s all Liam sees before he’s emptying the contents of his stomach in a violent mess. Kill me now, Liam begs in his head, Kill me now so I don’t have to watch you do it. Theo doesn’t. He only watches as Liam’s stomach wrings itself out until he’s dry heaving for the fourth time that week.  Liam feels pathetic, reduced like a pot full of water boiled so far down the only thing left for the remnants to do is burn. Theo only stands off to the side, holding the machete with a white knuckle grip and white hot stare. But Tara, sweet Tara who hates people getting hurt even in an arena of death, who’s still afraid of the dark, who likes picking flowers because they’re pretty, pads over with a water bottle and crouches down next to him. “Are you okay?” She asks quietly.

snippet 3/4:

“No. I was scared, not angry.” “Well that's a first.” Liam scoffs. “I’m more than just my anger–” “You are, until your anger gets to be more than you. When you get sad or scared or confused you turn that discomfort into anger. Maybe it’s easier for you that way, I don’t know. But you're a very one-line person, like an algorithm. Your unpredictability is rather predictable.” Liam’s eyes bore into the ground. “No one’s ever… No one’s ever put it like that,” he whispers. “Most people don’t get it.” “Most people aren’t paying the right kind of attention to you. Let me guess, the assholes back home only focus on the bad parts of you, and your friends and family only focus on the good parts of you?” Liam nods. “But you’re not one or the other. You’re both. One side of you can’t coexist without the other and when you’re forced to choose just one, you blow up. You can’t expect someone to be half of themselves and still be okay.”

snippet 4/4:

The forest has been his entire life as long as he can remember. When his father had pretended he still loved him, he’d bring a young Liam out on his shoulders when he went to work. When his mom decided they would do some good by taking the long route, it had always been under the towering redwoods, or the slender birches, or the gnarled oaks, or the tall mahoganies, or the flowering magnolias.  But always, no matter what type of trees they walked under, it felt like home. The buzz of bugs, or the chirp of birds, or the whistle of the wind, or the skittering of squirrels, or hum of the swaying trees themselves; the forest was always home to Liam and every other wild creature that didn’t always abide by society’s rules. The trees didn’t judge him, didn’t quiet when he walked into a room to point and stare and whisper behind their hands. They only sang for themselves, and to Liam when he chose to sit and listen to their sweet lullabies.The sound of the forest called to Liam in a way the silence of his father’s apathy did not. It was a melody Liam craved, because the crowing of the sheer life in the forest gave something his father’s howls never did.

thanks for hanging out! :D here's the first chapter if you would rather have that!

[lygma-nygma]

Being a batfam fan is funny because people will make a post like “here’s my headcanon-“ and it’s just something that’s directly canon to the story then post about major canon events and get everything wrong.

[raddest-laddest]

ok. someone’s gonna have to come get my dad or i’m gonna tweak.

[toddtakefive]

despite the fact that spider-neil is heavily based off of the amazing spider-man (2012) peter parker, neil is infinitely more similar to miles morales from the spider-verse movies

[vaguehotels]

THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME THERE IS STILL TIME

[whoblewboobear]

Staring down that weird feeling of feeling like too much or out of place or annoying if I say too much or say things too loud or too off-putting to be like- WANTED in any given social situation. To try so hard to socialize just to- idk. I’d very much like to stop defaulting to that scared kid that was pushed away or talked over until I got old enough and desperate enough to say any and every rapid fire thought that comes to mind. Like filling space when there’s dead air then wondering if maybe I did the Too Much™️ thing again and A. Scared everyone away or B. Pushed everyone away so it would hurt less when they leave BC of A.

Of feeling like I need to be useful or smart or talented or pretty or SOMETHING worthwhile so people want me around. I can just be but then it’s like just being has never been enough for anyone to like- stay. Or care. Running is always a mistake bc it’s like riiiight.. no one noticed you ran, babe. You’re not even at the top of their list people to want around. And just feel so low about it that I talk myself into feeling miserable again.

I’m happy, ive been so much happier lately and i dont take it for granted bc it’s so rare that things go okay or that there’s a sense of peace for a moment. I’m creating again and im less hard on myself about it. I have hobbies again, I’m making friends. And still I’m like seeing the other foot start to drop in real time bc it’s like. You’re in, but are you? That constant nagging voice that sounds so much like my own going “lonely again? Good you deserve it”