#i hope its obvious but in case not in order its

[lena-oleanderson]

Thank you for writing. Thank you, genuinely, so much. I never really understood poetry- but now I think its rather that I never had any poetry I connected to, because I understand yours and I finally get it. I don't know how you managed it, but thank you for putting it all into words. I feel a little better reading your poems.

thank you for the kind words! i'm incredibly flattered to be a gate into the medium for you!!

and i'm going to use this as an opportunity to share some of my favourite poets and poems, because no one's work is without influence and if you vibe with my stuff, i bet you'll find something for yourself in my influences as well

richard siken and mary oliver are the obvious ones, i think. my favourite poem by richard siken is the worm king's lullaby. both crush and war of the foxes are among my favourite books. harder to pick an obvious favourite with oliver. hum, hum is definitely among them. in blackwater woods, too, and don't hesitate. a thousand mornings, felicity, and blue horses are all excellent collections by her, and like both of siken's, approachably short. lately i have been very into gabrielle calvocoressi, my favourites by her are hammond B3 organ cistern and miss you. would like to take a walk with you. wendy cope's the orange is on all of these lists, as it ought to be, it is that good. i'll do a few more rapid fire, a deeply nonconclusive list in no particular order, without explaining what they mean to me, i hope you'll take a chance on some of them, and find something that resonates with you Soup Is One Form of Salt Water by Heather Christle Having a Coke with You by Frank O’Hara Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro Onions by William Matthews One Art by Elizabeth Bishop (i didn't really get this poem until i heard it read in reaching for the moon, and i do think that's the case with some poems) Variations on a Theme by Elizabeth Bishop by John Murillo All My Friends Are Finding New Beliefs by Christian Wiman I’m not a religious person but by Chen Chen What It Looks Like To Us and the Words We Use by Ada Limón The Garden of Proserpine by Algernon Charles Swinburne The Mower by Philip Larkin Resumé by Dorothy Parker The Second Coming by William Butler Yeats Poem by Matthew Rohrer What Resembles The Grave But Isn't by Anne Boyer Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden Morning Love Poem by Tara Skurtu To Be Alive by Gregory Orr The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song by Noor Hindi God and a Believer Take a Smoke Break by Amatullah Bourdon Cold Solace by Anna Belle Kaufman Prayer for Werewolves by Stephanie Burt Sharing a Cigarette with Joan of Arc by Dante Émile On Seatbelts and Sunsets by Hanif Abdurraqib Catastrophe is Next to Godliness by Franny Choi Jesus Dies by Anne Sexton The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski The Sarah Poems by Ruth Awad acknowledgments by Danez Smith

[regina-chelicerata]

Some art I did for Fields of Asphodel from @chrysanthemumgames 🥺

I was the anon that asked for descriptions that one time, I tried to follow them but if i forgot and did some bits wrong I promise it wasnt on purpose ^-^. I referenced the official colour palettes for the colours, but I used the markers I had on hand + some layering to try and get as close as I could

Drawn in my sketchbook, then scanned and printed to colour with markers, and then scanned again to add the background digitally :)

i have 1 more art for FoA to post later

[vettelsvee]

THE MOMENT I KNEW | Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: After a few races where he didn't get the results he expected, Max decides to go out with some friends to disconnect from everything. Unluckily, one of those days when he arrives home after having some drinks, he finds out that he missed his girlfriend's birthday as soon as he sees the cake she ordered on the trash ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe something angsty?? Like maybe bro goes out with his friends and forgets readers bday until he sees the cake in the trash can and realizes bro screwed up

WORD COUNT: 2007

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of being drunk, angst

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: I've absolutely loved this one my God. With this fic, we mark a total of 6196 words written this week (not counting my uni essays and other several projects), so I'm quite proud about that! Also, thank you so much for the support all this week, hope you liked all the fics! I'll be uploading this upcoming week's posts tomorrow. Let me know in the comments or on the anon inbox your thoughts on this one! See you next week :) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Max stumbled into your apartment, fumbling with the keys and opening the door with trembling hands, his pounding headache reminding him that it wouldn’t be this bad if he’d listened to the bartender’s advice to stop after the last gin tonic.

As soon as he stepped inside, he froze in the doorway, scanning everything as if it were his first time entering the place, even though he had been living there for nearly five years, the last two with you. He took a few unsteady steps toward the small entryway counter, where he dropped his keys and realized the silence was far heavier than he had anticipated.

His laughter, faint and fueled by the false sense of security that alcohol had provided, quickly dissipated. Taking a cautious step further into the living room, he noticed there were no lights on, no plates or leftover food on the small coffee table in front of the TV, and most strikingly, you were neither sprawled out on the couch watching one of the romantic movies you adored nor curled up asleep with one of your cats.

Despite the glaring signs, Max didn’t panic, at least not as much as he should have, even though something inside him whispered that the situation didn’t sit right.

It wasn’t until he wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water and rounded the island that his foot stumbled slightly, nearly sending him sprawling to the floor. Puzzled, he looked down to see what had caused him to trip. His heart sank when his eyes landed on a discarded box, its lid broken as if it had been thrown to the floor, angrily, on purpose.

That’s when reality hit him like a freight train.

He turned his gaze to the left, where the trash can stood partially open. Inside, he saw an untouched cake, decorated with intricate floral designs and a message that read, “Happy Birthday, Y/N!” The sight struck him like a blow to the chest, the pressure so intense it made him want to vomit.

“No… No, it wasn’t today…” 

Desperately, and trying to figure out what to do, Max ran his hands through his hair, as if that might somehow help him calm down. His breathing grew more erratic with each passing second, his eyes glued to the cake. It didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how he had managed to forget such an important date… you, his girlfriend’s, birthday. Something so obvious had suddenly spiraled into a waking nightmare.

He noticed his phone sitting on the kitchen counter. Grabbing it quickly, he checked for any missed calls or messages from you, only to realize after several failed attempts to turn it on that it was dead. He blamed his drunkenness not only for not noticing he didn’t have his phone with him or that it was out of battery, but for forgetting such a meaningful day and breaking every promise he had made to you.

Deep down, though, he knew all the excuses were hollow. Any justification he tried to offer would be nothing but foolishness.

Setting the phone back on the counter, he decided not to waste any more time. He headed toward your bedroom. The door was ajar, and though the lights were off, he could make out your silhouette lying on the bed, your back turned to him. You gave no sign that you had noticed his arrival. The only sound in the room was your muffled, quiet sobs. As Max stepped closer, he saw you were clutching a pillow tightly, as if it were your only source of comfort.

That was the moment Max realized he couldn’t avoid facing the situation, no matter how impossible it felt to fix things right away.

“Y/N...” he said softly.

You didn’t answer, and your silence hurt more than a thousand words could have. Max knelt beside the bed, close enough to reach out, and gently began stroking your face. You didn’t resist his touch, but your indifference pierced him deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. “I swear this wasn’t my intention… I wanted to come home earlier, but Lando insisted we stay a bit longer, and then I didn’t have my phone…”

“You forgot, Max,” you interrupted, your tone sharp but laced with pain, anger, and sadness. You still wouldn’t look at him. “Goddammit, Max, you forgot my fucking birthday ever since the moment the clock struck midnight.”

Max fell silent. Once again, reality hit him square in the face, forcing him to acknowledge that anything he said would likely be inadequate. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to find the words to explain himself calmly, to admit his mistakes while grappling with the weight of his guilt.  

“You know it wasn’t my intention,” he began, his voice low. “It’s just… with the shitty season I’ve been having and everything that comes with it, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just needed to step out of my comfort zone for a bit, to clear my head…”  

“And you thought doing that on my birthday, after promising me a dream day, was the most appropriate choice?” you cut him off, finally raising your head. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying. “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but I also know that until now, every promise you’ve made to me, you’ve kept. You didn’t just forget about me, Max. You left me here, alone, all day, like I didn’t matter at all.”  

Max searched desperately for a way to salvage the situation, to apologize, to do something, anything, to prove how deeply sorry he was. But when you turned on the light and sat up to face him, he realized he was out of options. He didn’t know how to continue without disappointing you further.  

“You know this has been really hard for me…”  

“Hard for you? Seriously?” you interrupted, leaning closer and pointing your finger at him. “And you think this has been easy for me? Watching you shut me out, never telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Not to mention your fans… They’re fully convinced that your shitty season is all my fault, that our relationship is ruining your career.”  

“Y/N, I know…”  

That was a lie. He didn’t know. Max had ignored the comments and criticism because, deep down, he believed you weren't to blame for his performance, especially when you rarely even went with him to the races anymore.  

“There’s nothing I can say to argue with you,” Max admitted. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a complete asshole today, and I’m truly sorry. I love you, Y/N, more than you know…”  

“Are you sure you love me?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you love me, or your damn career? Because lately, it feels like your whole world revolves even more around cars, races, speed, adrenaline, and your constant need to be the best at everything.”  

“Hey…” Max tried, his voice faltering.  

“Every day, you show me more and more that we’re no longer a team… that I’m no longer a part of you. And I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”  

Your words hit him like a dagger, but he knew he deserved them.  

“It’s not just about you forgetting my birthday today, Max. It’s everything. You don’t listen to me… you don’t give me anything, not even a minute of your day, let alone affection or support. Why should I stay in a relationship that, instead of giving me life, is killing me inside?”  

Your words struck him like a bucket of ice water.  

“You don’t get it, do you?” you asked, frustration and sadness mingling in your tone as he stayed silent. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be afraid to show me who you are, flaws and all. But you’ve always done this, Max, keeping me at arm’s length, never letting me into your life.”  

“I don’t do that, Y/N, it’s just that…” he began, summoning his courage to explain, but you cut him off once again.  

“Damn it, Max, yes, of course you do!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you realize that even though I’ve been with you, I’ve been completely alone? Alone, Max, utterly alone! I’ve tried so many times to talk to you, to make you see that a few bad races aren’t the end of the world for someone like you, but…”  

You stopped yourself abruptly, your throat aching and your head pounding. You felt no remorse for the way you were speaking to him since he deserved every word, but you couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness. Sadness for the Max Verstappen you had once known. A man who had been so proud of himself and his achievements after years of hard work, now emotionally shattered and, worse, so determined to hide it from everyone, including you.  

“I can’t keep giving you everything I have while you keep taking and taking, without giving anything back.”  

“I’m sorry…” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow.  

“A simple ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything, Max,” you replied, your voice quieter now but no less wounded. “I wish it were just about today, but like I said, I feel like you’re pushing me further out of your life with every passing day. You’re becoming a stranger to me, Max,” you admitted, trying not to let your voice waver. “You’ve been like this for months, and I don’t know what else to do to stop us from falling apart… though it feels like that’s exactly what you want.”  

“That’s not true,” he answered immediately, desperation in his voice. “Y/N, seriously, I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, tears welling up again. “Because I feel like you’re showing me the exact opposite.” Your voice trembled with the weight of her words. “Sometimes it feels like you love your career, the success you’ve achieved and the crowds chanting your name more than you love me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. “You know I want to, but… I don’t know how to fix this anymore…”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some silent promise that would make you believe things between you could change. But Max’s words only made you realize that you had to stop thinking fantasies and start facing reality.

“Maybe you can’t fix it,” you confessed, the words breaking you from the inside. “I can’t keep going like this, Max… I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough… like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Seriously, there has to be a solution…” he pleaded, his voice full of regret. “I’ll do better from now on, I promise…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You turned to look at him, the pain evident in your expression. “Things won’t magically get better if you take me to dinner or buy me a million-dollar necklace to make up for today. That won’t fix anything, Max…”

“Y/N… Y/N, please… I need you…”

No matter how many times Max said those words, he knew that any promise he made now would be meaningless, especially considering how much he had already failed you.

Feeling that there were no more words left to say between them, you slowly got out of bed. You gathered the few belongings you had on the nightstand and, with a sense of finality, began to pack a bag, all the while feeling Max’s powerless gaze on you.

“I can’t keep waiting, Max,” you said, her voice steady despite the anguish inside. “Today, no matter how much I tried to turn a blind eye, let it go, and even put myself in your shoes… This… everything… after many tries… God, Max, all of this… That was the moment I knew.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

‘You’re hurt.’ Bob points out and you froze, you didn’t mean to be so obvious but the pervious mission with the Thunderbolts had went array in some places, smooth sailing in others, but that didn’t change the fact that you had walked away with a bruise near your ribs.

‘It’s just a bruise Bob I’ll live.’ You told him, not wanting him to worry over something so small and harmless, but unfortunately for you, that’s exactly what bob did as he gingerly rests his hands upon your waist to get a good look at the blossoming bruise and frowns.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that you were hurt?’ He looks at you as though he was about to cry with how worried and frightened he looked for a man of his power, and all you wanted to do was cradle him close and kiss his worries away, to put his mind at ease that you were going to be okay even if the thing he was dreading was a small bruise.

‘It’s not that big of a deal sweetheart,’ you tried telling him as you held his face in your hands, caressing his cheeks in hopes that his eyes would loose that watery look within them for it was only breaking your heart, like having to leave behind a puppy for work and they start pulling out the waterworks in hopes their owners won’t go. ‘It’s a bruise and I didn’t want you to worry over something so harmless.’ You finished as you watched Bob furrow his brows as though deeply in thought.

‘But I still don’t like the thought of you being hurt.’ Bob replies, his fingers barely the bruise but the action made your breath hitch in your throat regardless, soft and gentle as though he was scared of applying more pressure and causing you more harm then he believed you were under. ‘But the thought of you hiding your hurt from me hurts even more, what if you were seriously injured?’ He asks, the worst case scenario already swarming his head.

‘Then I’d find help.’ You said calmly, this wasn’t the first time Bob had gotten like this when you were hurt from a mission, so you knew that you needed to stay calm in order to get through to him and bring him back to reality. ‘I know you worry but trust me where I say that I’m okay.’ You continued as you saw his eyes flicker to your own, looking deeply into them as though he was trying to determine what you were saying is the truth or not. ‘I’m okay.’ You echoed before kissing his nose. ‘I’m okay.’ You then kiss his forehead for good measure.

Bob visibly relaxed as he pushed his head to your shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief, but his grip on your waist never changed from its protective hold. ‘You’re okay, you’re okay.’ He chants to himself as you moved your hands to rub his back, holding him close to you as he brings himself back to the reality of your arms.

‘I’m okay, we’re okay.’ You told him as you both stayed there, glad to know that you were both going to be okay, even if things right now weren’t because as long as you and Bob were okay that’s all that mattered.

[muqingslover]

Hbnnnghhhgg sensitive!Caleb and MC playing just the tip 😩 please the idea lives rent free in my head

[ this request set something off in my brain and oh my god anon your idea just bought real estate in my mind as well and took a life of its own into a full blown fic *sweats* ]

If you had to choose one word to describe Caleb it would be needy. With a capital N.

While he may not have the proper...'training' yet to last long without cumming he makes up for that in raw stamina. He could go at it with you for hours. No matter if he's a shaky, sweaty and whimpering mess by the third round.

You just feel too damn good for him to not get addicted.

The signs of his body aching for more are ingrained in your brain by now and you don't miss the way he slowly guides your body to settle back against the couch. It had began as an exchange of sweet kisses but soon enough he had his large frame hovering over yours.

His hands explore anywhere he can physically reach, pressing harder against you without even realizing as he softly gasped between hot kisses. The next thing is without a doubt—

"Please." There it was.

"I need you, please let me have you" The begging.

"I'm doing good..Yeah?” He murmured breathless, his swollen lips brushing against yours before he nibbled on it. There was an obvious damp spot on the sweater pants he had on, which was only getting larger the longer you denied him.

You kept on torturing him for minutes on end by only allowing Caleb to grind on your legs over the fabric. It ached so badly he felt as if he was losing whatever was left of his sane mind.

“Let, let me take it out? Please? Just your thighs, please baby, just— It hurts so badly,” Caleb pleaded his case once more. His purple eyes dazed as they locked into yours, swirling with desperation and hope. He pressed his boner further against your legs, praying to whoever was willing to listen to the prayer of filthy sinner like him to please grant him this one more wish.

Your permission was all Caleb needed and without wasting a single moment he was pulling down his pants, along with his boxers, to release his swollen, throbbing cock from its confinement. There was no doubt the man would be reaching his limit rather quickly tonight, but that's just what you loved about him. So deliciously sensitive.

His hands grasped your ankles to place them over one of his shoulders before he slipped his cock between the soft skin of your thighs, sliding it back and forth with ease thanks to his precum making it a slick mess. His eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw tight as he bit down onto his lip a bit harder, thrusting quickly to try and relief himself with the chance you so kindly granted him.

However, you could tell by the frustrated whimpers leaving his throat that this wasn't quite enough for him— Not after he's had a taste of what heaven feels like. And well, can you blame him?

When one of his thrusts accidentally catches on the edge of your wet pussy the man almost topples over. He lets out a loud, strained gasp as his hands clutched into tight fists next to your head and he leaned over closely to you. Caleb needed to physically stop for a minute to keep himself in check, muscles visibly taunt with the strain of your last 'order'— He was an obedient man, if only just for you.

Seeing your poor boyfriend struggling made you want to take pity on him. Though, it wasn't quite enough to make you let him off the hook easily.

After all, he knew how to properly ask and you knew he would.

"I...I need more, just a bit more—" He nuzzled his face against yours like an oversized puppy while his cock pressed into your underwear, drenched with both his and your own slick. "J-Just the tip, please? Hm?"

"Please, please please-“ Caleb tried again with a voice so pathetic even the man himself couldn't deny how far he had fallen. Still, your permission was much like giving a parched man a cold glass of water; Nothing else mattered.

One of his trembling hands reached down for your panties, his thumb pushing the fabric to the side and he nearly salivated at the sight of you spread out so tantalizingly. Caleb could drown in your body if he wasn't so close to burning. He presses forward, the neglected tip spreading your entrance just enough for him to feel his head spinning at how welcoming your soft walls are.

"Hahh...Fuck.." His grasp on your thighs tighten, trimmed nails digging into the supple flesh as he tried to keep himself from burying his cock all the way deep into you and his head tilted back both in bliss and restraint. Never in his life had his self-control been tested like it's being right now. He pulled out slowly only to press again, this time going slightly deeper without (really) meaning to and causing the both of you to moan a bit louder.

He felt your soft little hole clenching around him when he tried to move again, as if you didn't want him to pull out, and just like that Caleb was as good as gone. His body lost its strength and he fell forward, covering your frame with his while his thick cum coated your insides in white. His strong arms pulled you in closely at the same time he plunged his cock deep until it pressed right into your cervix.

"Mm'sorry, s-sorry..." He mumbled between whimpers against your ear, barely tangible. You felt something wet against your shoulder and by roughly prying him away by his hair what you found was the pathetic mess of a man your boyfriend was— His lips slightly parted, skin flushed all the way to his ears, tears escaping his dazed eyes and mixing with the blood dripping from his nose and onto your stomach. Your pussy was so warm and wet he couldn't even feel bad about slipping, his hips pressing further as if he was trying to pry your womb open without even knowing what he was doing.

Next time, he promises it will be just the tip. Trust him, won't you?

[jubshead]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐎'𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Paring: Detective O’Connor (hallucinating Agatha) x Reader

Summary: When your mother gets out of town, you grudgingly accept to take care of the town’s lunatic.

A/N: So this is dedicated to this anon, it’s VERY different from what I have written for Agatha so far, but I hope you like anyway!

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my native language, so bear with me.

Warnings: Mental instability, Face slapping, Bondage, Dubious consent, Dildo, Teasing/edging

Word count: 3k

Date: Nov 25, 2024

Comments are always welcome and if you don’t wish to be identified, my ask is open!

Masterlist | Taglist | Read on ao3

Tag list: @yourbasicqueerie @harknessshi @hannah-0730 @diorrxckstar @lady-darkswan3 @neverfindmegone @imorynn @its-chickenwing-450 @seaoflittlefires @anyasivy

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

Wanda’s spell had changed Westview. 

Aside from the obvious altered psychological state of the citizens, the town's sense of community had blossomed and the shared trauma had brought them together. The witch's magic had left a lasting scar and people were empathetic for anyone affected by it. 

Agnes O’Connor, or whatever her name was. 

She’s been a good neighbor for the past three years, slightly nosy, but clearly under some sort of mental control. Lately, though, she’s been acting differently. Your mother is one of the people who’s been lending a helping hand. Buying her groceries, visiting to make sure she is eating and bathing, and despite the odd conversation, she has been fine on her own.

Not that your mother would listen. She is invested in being some sort of babysitter and drag you along. You’ve managed to stray from the role, but, when your mother left town for business, you had promised to take care of the town's loony. 

The day's warmth gives way to a chilly breeze, the settling sun makes an orange hue in the sky and you try to balance the grocery bag while opening the wood door. Unfortunately for you, the neighborhood has a barter system and today is your family's turn to make sure everything is in order. 

Walking in, you take a minute to look around, the place is beautiful and dark, everything matches and you wonder what is Agatha’s doing and what is somebody else’s. You had never stepped foot in the house and it impressed you. 

Locking the door behind you and navigating to the kitchen, you set the bag down on the counter and call out. 

“Agnes? My mother asked me to bring you some groceries.” 

Silence follows your statement.  

“Hello?” You say louder.

Fuck. What if she had run away? 

Taking a deep breath, you decide to inspect the house before freaking out. Walking back to the entryway, you glance up the stairs and back into the living room. The place appears to be empty and you strain your ears in an attempt to hear any kind of noise. The house seems uninhabited and you conclude that upstairs is the next place to look for her.

“Hello? Anyone home?” You shout uncertainty, taking a step.

Your head is full of worry as you walk up the stairs. You’ve never seen Agnes after her psychotic breakdown, you don’t know what to expect. People from the neighborhood had said she was harmless, but you had no way of knowing. Either way, even if that were the case, it wouldn’t look good for you if you somehow lost her. 

The wooden floor creaks beneath your feet and darkness engulfs the hallway. Taking a quick peek at the open doors, you face up the end of the corridor, the place you assume it's the bedroom. Guiding yourself with the moonlight streaming in through the open window, you carefully enter the space. The curtain moves with the wind and you relax a friction, there is clearly no one here. 

As scared as you are, you barely have time to process the thought of Agnes' disappearance before feeling an impact against your back. Falling into the bed, you try calming your racing heart and, scared, you quickly turn around to see the back of a figure as it walks and settles into an armchair, turning on the lampshade beside her. 

Squinting your eyes against the yellow light that consumes the room, you take her in. Her legs are spread open, she wears a long sleeved shirt with a boner joke saying: “Bohoner family reunion. Pitch a tent.”, black sweatpants finish the look while her hair is pulled down in a ponytail. Her face is stern and she looks like a complete lunatic. 

“Sit up.” She commands. 

Afraid of an unpredictable reaction, you do as she says. 

The cushion feels soft under your thighs as you settle in the mattress. She ranks her eyes over your figure before leaning back, arms crossed over her chest. There’s some kind of hose head in her hip. 

“I’m curious. What compelled you to break into the home of a decorated detective?”

“What?” You blurt out immediately.

“I’m not playing games, little girl. You better answer me.” 

You fridge under her gaze, trying to understand the mental episode she’s having. Your mother mentioned that Agnes was having some sort of hallucination, but you never guessed this. Does she think she is some kind of cop?

She places her elbows on her knees and leans forward, waiting for your response.

“I- My mother asked me to bring you some groceries.” You explain carefully.

“Don't lie to me.” Narrowing her eyes, she stands up and searches for something in her drawer. “You won’t like the results.”

You glance at the door and prepare to make an escape. Barely having time to place your foot down and run, you feel a hand on your shoulder pushing you down and making you freeze when you sense her breath ghosting against your temples. 

“You better not try that. I’m assuming you don’t want to spend the night in the tank.” A glimpse of her hands makes you shake your head, she’s carrying a rope and a silver tape. 

“Good.” She stands in front of you and grabs your chin to look up at her. “Now, what were you after?”

You look around for something that might help you in this situation. “I was just bringing you groceries…” You whisper. 

“Don’t play dumb.” Her hands squeeze your cheeks harshly. 

God, this is the craziest talk you’ve ever had. 

“Look Agnes, you might be a little confused. How about I put you to bed and let you get some sleep?” You grab her wrist, trying to loosen her grip. 

She slaps you across the face, hard enough to leave a sting behind. 

She leans in close and says. “Do you think you have the right to touch me?”

The hit leaves you angry enough to turn and shout. “YOU ARE NOT A DETECTIVE.” 

Maybe it’s time to put her in a mental institution. 

She scoffs and grabs the rope at her side. “Do you know what we used to do to mouthy things like you back at the academy?” 

Your eyes widen and you stay rooted in place, running crosses your mind once again, but you push it aside, it would be worse if she tackled you to the ground. They do say crazy people have more strength than usual. 

She stretches the cord out in front of you and smirks, seizing your arms and tying them in front of you. Maybe it would be better if you played into her fantasy. 

“I’m sorry, Detective O’Conner.” Your entire demeanor changes and you beg. “Please, it was just a prank, my friends put me to it.” 

She has a side smile and doesn't look into your face, completely focused on her task. 

“Oh, now you are being cooperative. Scared?” 

Indeed, you are.

She crouches and levels her eyes with yours, searching your face for something that she doesn’t seem to find. 

“I don’t believe you and I’m not letting you go until I’ve got a satisfying answer.” 

She harshly pulls the knot in your wrists and looks pleased when it doesn’t come loose. Pacing around the room and looking at your bound form, you see the engines turning in her head as you feel trapped in a lion’s cage. 

Suddenly, she grabs you by the shoulder and pushes you backwards. You crash into the mattress and panic, you definitely shouldn’t have played into her delusion, the thoughts of escaping brushes your mind and you curse yourself for not doing it sooner. 

She takes hold of your binded arms and places them over your head as she climbs on top of you. Her knee is placed between your legs and you put your heels on the edge of the bed, pushing yourself up in a vain attempt to avoid the pressure. 

“This is what happens when you poke the bear, little girl.” She breathes in your face.

“Agnes, look-”

“IT’S DETECTIVE O’CONNOR TO YOU.” You wince at her scream. 

“Detective O’connor…” You try out and continue when she doesn’t react. “There’s no need for violence, we are both adults, I’m sure we can settle this.” You attempt to reason with her. 

She laughs at your statement, one of her hands grabs your neck and lightly squeezes. 

“I won’t accept any form of disrespect. You’ll be an example for your friends.” 

Yeah, okay. Maybe that was a bad excuse.  

Her eyes focus on something behind you and she reaches for it. You completely freeze when the corner of your eye catches the sight of a purple dildo held by her. Something inside you stirs.

“You better lick it up, little girl. This is going inside you.” 

“WHA-” Your scream is cut off when she shoves the hard object down your throat.

The stiffness settles uncomfortably on your windpipe, making you gag and cough against it, only stopping when she takes pity on you and draws it out of your mouth. 

“Do you want me to shove it in right now?” She’s a jerk and lets out a smug grin when you shake your head.

“No, no, no!” You say hastily. “I can do it.” 

Seeing your willingness, she places the sex toy against your lips, letting you set the pace for yourself. You take a tentative lick and she raises an eyebrow at you. 

This whole situation makes you dizzy. Agnes’s weight is on top of you and you slowly engulf the dildo, licking and coaxing in your saliva. She looks deep into your eyes and holds your tied hands firmly, pushing your propped heels with her feet and making you moan around the object when her thigh presses harder against your core.

Your body is reacting in the opposite direction, the panic settled into a trembelling flutter in your abdomen, the idea of being fucked by her seems more appelling as the time goes by and you wonder how much you really need to lube the dildo with your arousal pooling in your undearwear. 

“Yes, that’s it.” She says encouragingly. 

She sets a rhythm, leisurely pulling in and out as her lips form a sadistic smile, seemingly taking joy in your predicament as you slowly relax into the mattress, accepting your fate. Her blown pupils draw a groan out of your mouth and you feel drool dripping down your chin. 

She leans down and nuzzles your neck, before popping the dildo out of your mouth and eyeing it. 

“Good girl.” She praises and you grind against her thigh. 

Smiling, she takes away your only form of relief, straddling your waist and placing the purple object sideways in her mouth. The image distracts you enough and gives her time ,with her newly free hands, to grab the remains of the rope and tie your bound hands against the headboard. 

She eyes your pitiful position and lets out a breathy laugh, before grabbing your shirt and ripping it in half. Your eyes widen at the action and you suddenly remember that despite the pleasure running through you, you’re still very much in danger.

Ranking her eyes down your figure, she slides the wet dildo down your collarbones and over your covered breast, before reaching your navel. You look up at her with a pleading face, you could no longer tell if it was whether for her to continue or let you go.

“Ag-Detective, please.” You beg and the nickname brings a smirk to her face.

Thrusting your hips up, you try in a vague attempt to smooth your aching core, she grabs your waist and presses her body weight harder against you. Getting close to your face, she ‘tsks’.

“Nah, nah. This is supposed to be a lesson.” Her hand moves up and painfully gropes your breast, pinching your nipple and making you let out a groan. 

She rolls off of you and for a second, you think she’s going to leave you there, bound and unsatisfied, completely lost in the situation. That is, until you feel her harshly pull your pants out, along with your panties, humming as she looks down at your barely covered self.  

Spreading your legs, she settles between them and grabs the back of your things, pushing them up until your knees meet your front. Your open position gives her access to your core and she looks at it, grinning and running her finger through your wetness. 

“It appears someone has a cop kink.” Even in your condition, you have to hold in your laugh. 

She’s still talking nonsense. 

The discarded dildo appears in her hand once more and you bite your bottom lip in anticipation, she looks into your eyes as she slowly drags it between your folds and circles your clit, teasing you. Torture seems to be part of her enjoyment, you trash and buck into her hand, but the only thing she does is grip your hips to prevent your movement. 

She runs the object down your thigh and you feel how wet it is, mixing with the previous stickiness in there and driving you mad as it gets further away from your entrance. Stopping your needy motions, you let out a whine from the provocation before suddenly throwing your head back as she slams into you. 

It stretches you and she doesn’t give you time to process the intrusions before she starts to move. She pounds hard, seemingly trying to draw out your pleasure as fast as she can and by the amount of arousal you feel bubbling under your skin, she’s succeeding. 

You moan loudly, your shoulders ache from the uncomfortable position and your wrist burns from the material of the rope. Your body shakes with the force of her thrusting and your breasts bounce inside your bra. 

“Ag- Please… I can’t.” Meaningless words spill out of your mouth. 

She laughs and places one of your legs on her shoulder, going deeper and hitting a spot that makes your vision go white. 

“Tell me what you were looking for.” Her face closes off and somehow she becomes more aggressive with her movement. 

“Wha-” There isn’t a single thought crossing your mind. 

“Why did you come into my house? Tell me right now or I’ll stop.” 

“NO.” You shout and throw your head back at the frustration. “I already told you.”

“I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuse.” Her movement slows down and you circle your legs around her to prevent her detachment.

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” You tell her, your mind is muffled with arousal and you feel your climax getting away from you.

“‘Tell me the truth.” She almost screams and stops completely. 

“Fuck!” You exclaim, unfulfilled . 

Your thoughts can barely connect, your head is spinning and you try to find a justification that will satisfy her enough.

“I WANTED YOU.” You shout out. “I wanted to get your attention.” 

You finally settle into an excuse and it seems to please her when she gives you a shit-eating grin, thrusting back into you.

The fading orgasm returns with vengeance, your back arches away from the bed and your entire body tenses up. The purple object pounds harder and harder into you, hitting the right spot every time and making you sob. Your legs tighten around her and your heel digs into her back. The headboard hits the wall and you faintly hear the sound as your mind is overrun with pleasure. 

“Detective- I need…” You blur out, the statement being cut off by a groan.

“I know what you need, baby.” Her voice is hoarse, you open your eyes to look down and are greeted by ragged breathing, hair out of place and an open mouth as she takes in your pleasure. 

Her free hand comes up to circle your outer lips and you groan, frustrated by the endless teasing. Her finger meets your clit and her other hand adjusts the dildo to keep up the pace with the new attachment. 

You close your hands around the rope holding them, throwing your head back as your body meets her thrusts and you grind up against her finger, searching for the edge. All the breath in your body rushes out at once when you reach it, stiffening and trembling against her body. Your hard nipples brush against the material of your bra and your nails dig into the skin of your palm. You go completely rigid and mute before slumping down onto the bed. 

Your fingers teak at the aftershocks, you feel Agatha slipping the dildo out of you and her face enters your blurred vision. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” She asks seriously, her face closed off again. 

You nod vigorously, still bound and helpless, you couldn’t tell what she would do next. 

“Good.”  She says and reaches up, untying the thick rope from your wrists and adding. “Stay where you are, I’m going to get a wipe.” 

Puzzlement fills your mind and you rub your red skin, maybe this would be the perfect time to run, even with your shirt torn and naked half self, but you doubted your jelly legs would take you far. Besides, her mood had changed, she seemed softer and you weren't sure if the change of temperament was her mental health acting up or if she was calmer because of your early answer. 

There’s not a lot of time to think when you hear her coming back from the bathroom, towel in hand. Your breath is caught in your throat and you watch her every move, paralyzed. She settles herself on the bed, in front of you, before looking into your eyes and asking. 

“May I?”

You open yourself for her once more, she’s already fucked you stupid, there’s no need to be ashamed. 

Her knuckles run up your calf and stop in your knee, her other hand placing the white wet material against your thigh and wiping the stickiness in it. You shudder when she brushes your core and wonder if you are catching her insanity by thinking of doing this again. 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to use my gun on you.” She lets out a relieved laugh and points with her head at the nightstand behind you.

You turn around and are greeted by a hose head.  

[emswritingsstuff]

Home at Last (Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader)

another request from @caseylicious !! i love your daryl ideas so much!! hope you enjoy!! 🫶🫶

Summary: After being left on the roof with Merle, you're separated from Daryl.

WC: 2.7k

--

“Merle was a danger to himself and everyone else, your husband did the right thing.” Andrea looked over at Lori, she just looked up at Rick and nodded, still looking unsure about the whole situation. “What about (Y/N)? I mean she definitely doesn’t deserve to be left with him.” Dale inquired. Glenn shook his head and held it in his hands, just dreading the conversation they were going to have with Daryl. “It's not our fault she wanted to stay; she wasn’t listening to us. What more could we have done,” Rick said matter of factly. Head nods and sighs were a sign of mutual agreement with Rick. They all knew you, but they also knew Daryl. 

It was clear to everyone that you and the Dixons were a package deal. Daryl and you were together for a while before everything had started. Making Merle practically your brother at that point, meaning you weren’t just going to sit around and let a random cop handcuff him. You did agree Merle was out of line but keeping him tied down the roof was not the move. Determined to make them let him go, you stayed with him. Without a second thought too. But that plan failed, as they did actually leave you. Ironically, without a second thought. But they all knew once the news got to Daryl, Hell would certainly break loose within the camp. 

The morning sun casted over the camp, everyone doing the daily routine with their chores. Shane had just brought in the water when screams were heard, the children screamed. Everyone ran to action seeing a walker had made its way onto the camp, eating a deer with a bunch of arrows in it. After disabling the walker, rustling was heard in the bushes, all of them breathing in sighs of relief when it was revealed to be Daryl. But the sighs of relief turned into stressful breathing when they realized what they were about to have to explain to him. 

Daryl was ranting on about the loss of venison, shooting the brain, and whatever else as he marched his way back into the camp. Everyone was keeping their distance from him, not wanting to get too close in case he exploded. Daryl had started yelling for you and Merle, completely unaware of what he was about to find out. 

“Daryl, I need to talk to you about them,” Shane spoke. Daryl looked at Shane with a questionable look, not so sure about what Shane was about to tell him. “Something happened on the run-” 

“They dead?” Daryl looked more tense now, ready to take his anger out on whoever got you both killed. The more Shane and Rick spoke, the more angry Daryl grew. FInding out they had stupidly left you both there threw him off the tiny edge he was standing on. 

“Lemme process this, ya handcuffed my brother to a roof? And left him and my girl there?” The anger was obvious, he was pacing around Rick. Nothing could be said in that moment to make him feel better. 

“If it makes anything better, I chained the door shut so geeks couldn’t get them,” point proven right there. Right as Daryl went to throw a punch, Shane put him in a headlock, pinning him to the ground. “Chokeholds illegal,” he mumbled as he caught his breath still in the group. Rick crouched down to Daryl’s level and told him how it is. That it just had to happen in order for the group to be saved, but he wasn’t buying it. 

Just like how they knew how much he meant to you, they knew how much you meant to him. You were the rational part of him, the part of him that kept him level headed, the part of him they all missed right now. But it was their fault you were gone, at least to him. He had started to break down, just enough to where it was noticeable. 

Rick had made the plan to go out with Daryl and Glenn to retrieve you and Merle, but also the guns. T-Dog soon made the choice to tag along as well. Though, Daryl knew everyone just wanted the guns and could give less of shit about the people he cared about. A nervous gut feeling hit Daryl, he didn’t want to show it, but he was scared shitless. If neither of you were there, he didn’t know what he would do. 

Daryl was getting antsy with Rick and T-Dog taking their sweet ass time getting into the truck. He was pacing again, nervous habit, just needed to see you were okay. Merle could defend himself, he knew that. You could as well, he taught you to, but he couldn’t let go of you no matter what. His leg was bouncing like crazy, the eventual drive feeling like it was taking forever. T-Dog looked at Daryl, just watching him. The tension was high, and he wanted to try and ease the air. 

“So, you and (Y/N), how’d that happen,” Daryl shot him a glare. T-Dog looked away, regretting what he had said instantly. Bringing his rag to his face, Daryl wiped it off and proceeded to speak. “None of yer business, just needa know you messed up leavin’ her there,” Daryl's eyes darted down at his hands not even wanting to engage in anymore conversations. 

Once finally getting to the department store, Daryl hauled his ass through it. Getting to the roof faster than everybody else. Getting the door open, the bright light threw him off. As soon as his eyes adjusted, he was devastated. It was empty.

Blood was all over the floor, Merle’s hand was on the ground and both of you were nowhere to be seen. The only thing of yours left behind being a necklace, intentionally placed where it would be seen. It was a sign that you were alive, but also a sign you were gone. Like you wanted to leave something of you for him. He lost you, he fucking lost you. 

Ever since that day on the rooftop, he swore to himself that he would look for you. No matter what, he looked. Tracking anything he could, any sign of you, just anything. The group had tried to convince him you were gone, to make him stop risking himself out there. Which never worked, he didn’t believe for a second you were dead. When on the road after the farm, he still looked. Going into the woods constantly, claiming to hunt, but in reality just putting up a front so he wouldn’t get chewed out for still looking for you. 

Daryl didn’t want to admit it. He really didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to lose faith in ever finding you again. As the days went on, the tracks were growing cold. The faith he had rapidly dying with it. “She’ll turn up, she’s like you,” looking beside him, Glenn had snuck up on him. He didn’t blame Glenn for the rooftop, Hell, he couldn’t blame anyone for it. Daryl just shook his head and put it down. Glenn spoke up again, just trying to make him feel better. 

“She’s stubborn, should’ve seen her that day. Thought she was going to kill Rick herself for Merle.” Glenn giggled to himself, Daryl just huffing. Not an angry huff though, it was something more lighthearted. The idea of you defending Merle was amusing. “Her ass was probably more pissed at Merle than anythin’” Daryl had gotten used to thinking back on memories with you. Merle and you had never gotten along, ironically it's what he liked about you. Never scared to put him in his place. In return, Merle gave Daryl his approval about you, which was really unneeded in Daryl’s opinion. 

Unfortunately for him, once the group got to the prison so much was happening that he didn’t have time to look. He felt horrible about it, surely feeling like the biggest piece of shit to walk the earth. Everything that had happened became a blur, trying to keep the prison up, the multiple losses, the birth of Judith, just so much going on he could barely keep track. The thing that brought him back to reality was the ambush on Woodbury, and the reunion with his brother. 

But still no you, still nothing. He had to hold back the tears the minute he found out Merle hadn’t seen you in ages. Apparently you had run off when you Merle got with the Governor. When the brothers branched off from the main group, Daryl was silent. Part of him was mad at Merle for letting you go, but the other part was dealing with the fact you were gone. Probably for good. 

Walking through the woods, Merle was talking his ass off. Just saying shit and Daryl couldn’t care to listen to any of it. “Lighten’ up brother! The Dixons are back!” He roughly pat Daryl on the back. Daryl was quick to grumble and shrug off Merle's sorry attempt at making a joke. “Now, what's wrong Darlina? Gotten soft?” Daryl stopped and let Merle keep on walking. It took a minute for Merle to realize he stopped, which made him stop too and look back at his brother. 

“Why’d ya let her go.” Daryl's words were harsh but quiet. Just enough to wipe the smirk off Merle’s face. Stepping up to Daryl, Merle was trying to intimidate him. But Daryl wasn’t going to budge, he was never going to let himself do that. Not with Merle. “I didn’t let her go, the bitch got scared. Didn’t trust the Governor, chose to fend for herself. Like the dumbass she is,” Merle was quickly cut off with a swift punch in his face. Getting knocked on his ass by Daryl. 

He crouched down to Merle’s level and got in his face. “Speak about ‘er like tha’ again, I’ll kill ya next time.” Daryl jerked forward to imitate a punch which caused Merle to flinch. Scoffing, Daryl moved forward through the woods. Just those few interactions made him realize staying with Merle was a mistake, he needed to get back to the family that cared about him and that he cared about. 

It had felt like ages since they had seen anything other than the woods, when it was actually a few hours. When Daryl had spotted a small shed, he was grateful. Maybe there was something in there that could be useful. Daryl whistled to get Merle’s attention and make him see what he saw. Inching closer and closer to the shed door, crossbow at the ready but no finger on the trigger. If something was in there he could act quickly, but he didn’t want to be irrational. 

Throwing open the door, there was nothing there. Putting down the bow, he breathed a sigh of relief and looked some more. There were signs of life but nothing that alarmed him. Water bottles were scattered around, some still filled. Jackpot. Snatching them up Daryl put them with their other belongings. If the person living there showed up, he’d give them back no problem. But finders keepers for now. 

The brothers decided mutually that they were going to camp for the night in that spot, just creating a small campfire outside the shed before turning in. The night dragged on, heavy tension filled air filled the brothers atmosphere. Merle had walked off to look for “food”, leaving Daryl by himself. Just him and his thoughts. He had found himself sitting around the fire just staring at it. The memories came flooding back to him, he just missed you so much. He hates himself for not continuing to look for you. He’ll never forgive himself for giving up, but more could he really do. 

As if the universe was giving him a sign, he heard twigs snap in the distance. His head snapped in the direction of the sound, instantly on edge about the whole ordeal. Standing up slowly he equipped his crossbow but before he could raise it up, an arm wrapped around his neck bringing him down. This wasn’t a walker, this was a person. And a pretty strong one at that. 

Making quick work of getting out of the chokehold he separated himself and the attacker in question. A bandanna was wrapped around their face to cover it, they were wearing a heavy jacket with a hood up. Daryl could barely make out who this person even was, which made it all the more weird when the attacker said his name. Quietly of course, but he heard it. Trying to figure out what was happening he was lost in his thoughts. He never even saw the attacker charge at him again. 

Standing his ground he fought them off as best as he could, just trying to figure out how this person knew who he was. Pushing down harshly, the attacker fell on their back almost knocked out. Daryl took this as his moment to get rid of the disguise the attacker had on, and almost broke when he took the bandanna off. 

It was you, it was really you. He could barely believe it himself. 

Daryl stepped backwards and fell to his knees. Hurting you was something he never once wanted to do, and he just did that. He was defending himself, sure, and you attacked him. Guilt started to weigh on him, causing him to go crazy a bit. The whole situation didn’t feel real, which was a shared feeling. You weren’t in your right state of mind, he knew that. But Daryl was focused on the tears and the emotions he was feeling that he didn’t notice you get up and pounce on him again, successfully pinning him to the ground.

He was trying to explain himself, trying so hard to make you see reality. It surprised him how strong you had gotten after all this time, fighting so hard against your strength. “You’re not real. If you were, you would’ve found me sooner,” you said holding a knife up to his throat. Having him in such a bad position. Daryl acted quick and knocked the knife out of your hands and flipped you over so that he was now holding you down. His strong arm was across your chest and his legs held down yours. 

Tears streamed down his face as you thrashed against him, begging to be let go. Daryl could barely speak, hating to see you like this and him being the reason for it. “I tried, I looked everyday, I never wanted to give up. Please, it’s me.” Daryl’s head fell with his hair covering his face. A few more hits flew from you, definitely going to leave marks, but did not care. He needed you back. 

Surprisingly for him, the thrashing stopped. Just to make sure it wasn’t a fake out, he didn’t look up. But once he did look, he saw your face was softened. Moving his arm off your chest, he freed you a bit. Still weary on if you were in a better space or not. Your arm snaked up from your side where it was held down, taking the necklace Daryl had on in your hands.

“It's my necklace. It is you. You looked for me..” Your voice was breaking and soft, like the regret had set in. He had always kept the necklace tucked under his shirt so it wouldn’t get caught on anything and risk losing it, must've slipped out during the fight. Wiping his face, Daryl looked in your eyes, “Course I looked, never wanted to lose ya.” He eased up and stood up off of you, helping you up in the process. The minute you were up and stable, his strong arms were around you, this time in a loving embrace. 

Tears were falling like they never had before, the both of you just living in the moment in each other's arms. “They left me,” you silently whispered, voice breaking even more., Daryl just shushed you softly and put his hand in your hair. “I know, but now I got ya. Never leavin’ ya again.”

--

btw if anyone has s1-s2 daryl request pls, send them i love him

[cottonlemonade]

The Business Trip

word count: 2038 || avg. reading time: 9 mins.

pairing: post-time skip coworker!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff to spice

warnings: mdni, smut-ish, spoilers, swearing

“Oh, this is unfortunate.”

The door to the hotel room hardly had time to gently bump against the stopper at the wall when you noticed the issue.

“Maybe they misunderstood on the phone.”

“Because of the language barrier between Sendai and Tokyo, you mean?”, you asked sarcastically.

Matsukawa shrugged and promised to go back to the reception desk to switch rooms while you looked miserably at the singular queen-size bed. As soon as he left, you rummaged in your bag for your phone and dialed your friend’s number.

“What did you do?”, you hissed as soon as she picked up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, she replied in an everything but innocent tone.

You threw a panicked look to the door in case Matsukawa magically reappeared after the 30 seconds he had been gone.

“I told you about this in confidence.”, you went on urgently, “I thought you were my friend!”

“I am. That’s why I’m helping you get laid.”, the other girl giggled, as if this was the most absurdly obvious thing.

“I didn’t bring anything nice to wear! I have comfy PJs and granny panties!”

“Should have thought that through before the trip.”

“Girl, I chose those because they make me look good when I’m dressed! They keep the tummy tucked.”, you explained helplessly.

“There is always the option to not wear any underwear. It’s better for you anyway and who knows? Chances are this freak is into granny panties.”

The heat in your cheeks slowly subsided and you began slowly spinning on the spot, looking around the room to calm yourself. After taking a few deep breaths, you said with a hollow laugh, “In any case, your plan won’t work. He is downstairs right now to ask for a new room.”

“Joke’s on you, I paid extra for them not to do that.”

Your reflection in the slim floor-length mirror next to the wardrobe raised its brow, “That feels rather illegal.”

“Nah, I told them you’re a married couple who want to rekindle their love. - There should be some champagne in the mini bar.”, she informed brightly.

The door’s keypad began beeping so you quickly hung up.

“Sorry, bad news.”, Matsukawa announced and closed the door behind him, “Seems like they’re out of rooms. Must be accounting’s fault.”

“Yeah, I just got off the phone with them. Sounds like it was their mistake.”

“Hm, well, it’s just for one night, right? We can make do.” He passed you to drop his bag by the little desk that had the room phone and a thin notepad on top of it.

Your heart beat faster.

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ll… take the floor then.” You had said it expecting he would immediately reject the idea and either valiantly state that under no circumstances would he allow that to ever happen or - a small hopeful voice in your head piped up - that he’d suggest sharing the bed.

But instead, your coworker just said, “That might be for the best. Thanks, Y/n.”

“Excuse me?”

He looked up with a frown, mid-unzipping his bag, “What? You wanna share? You always tell me how much you’re tossing and turning at night. I don’t need that for my sleep schedule. Besides, I have to stand in front of a bunch of people tomorrow morning and talk. I have to look good.”

“So do I.”

“Yeah, but you always do.”

You smiled in surprise.

“Oh, don’t pretend. Even with those dark shadows under your eyes, you’re cute. And if all else fails, you have makeup to make you even prettier.”

“I could make you prettier with makeup, too.”, you teased.

“We’ll leave that as plan B.”, he deadpanned and chucked his sleepwear haphazardly onto the sheets, “But sure, if you don’t mind sharing then have at it.”

“Thank you.”, you said loftily and went through the carry-on looking for your toiletries.

You had ordered room service so that Matsukawa could practice his speech on different wood types for coffins on you. You gave him some pointers on pauses and inflection and before you knew it, it was lights out and you were in bed with the guy you had been crushing on since you started working together. And while you were awkwardly staring at the dark ceiling on which a low glow was thrown through the thin curtains, Matsukawa was on his phone scrolling on the dimmed screen. There had been no comment on your sleeping attire, not even a look. You should have guessed as much but couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. With it nearing 11pm, you silently drummed your fingers on the blanket, just wishing you could go to sleep to get the night over with. The minutes trickled past and try as you might you couldn’t get to sleep. You considered making conversation and racked your brain for a topic suitable for the situation when, “Mmmmmh.” A loud languid moan came from the other side of the wall. The rustling next to you let you know that Matsukawa was stretching to look at the wall as if that would help.

“You heard that, too, right?”

“Yeah I-“

“Uh! Yes!”

Your eyes widened when as a final confirmation the bed next door began squeaking rhythmically.

Your ears were ringing with each cry and whimper from the adjacent room and soon both you and Matsukawa pressed your palms to your mouths to muffle your hysterical giggling.

“Sounds like a good time.”, you whispered with another snort when the second person began calling their partner’s name.

“The problem is, I can’t even yell at them to get a room.”, Matsukawa said under his breath, making you hide under the blanket to dampen another giggle fit.

“What should we do?”, you asked quietly, “Did you pack earplugs?”

In the half-darkness of the room you watched an idea slot into place in Matsukawa’s head and one second later he turned his head to the wall, groaning loudly, “Ugh, oh, that feels so good!”

“Oh my god, what are you doing!!?”, you whisper-yelled through a new wave of suppressed laughter.

But he just continued to join their moans.

“I’m literally answering their mating call.”, he explained during a short breathing break and then continued to moan. You tried to cover his mouth with your hands but he easily pushed you away, clearing his throat for another “reply”.

“Stop it!”, you pleaded, your voice coming out much higher as you tried to keep your urgings down.

“It’s fun, you should try it.”

You watched him for a moment, then sat up on your elbows and, after clearing your throat, joined him.

He gave you a thumbs up and for a while you just went back and forth with the completely unperturbed couple in the other room.

“Ugh, y/n, just like that!”

You locked eyes with him and he shrugged, “Too far?”

After a short pause, you let out, “God, Issei, yes!”

He nodded, impressed.

“Sounded a little fake, but I’d give it a 7/10.”, he said quietly.

You pushed against his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying, you can do better than that.”

Squinting at him you dug deep and, “Ngh, fuuuck, Issei! Please, harder… yes, yes… yes!”

You heard him swallow and saw his tongue quickly darting over his lips.

“Ahem yeah. That… that was better.”, he admitted with a decidedly dryer throat.

Seeing him like this, egged you on and throwing caution into the wind you let out your loudest moan of his name yet.

“Now, you see, that sounded fake.”

You hit him playfully. “No, it didn’t!”

“Yeah, it did.”

“How would you know?”

“No one sounds this good. Just doesn’t happen.”

“Why don’t you find out?”

The words had slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them and even in the minimal light of the room, you saw Matsukawa’s eyes flicker.

He only hesitated for a moment, “Wait, really?”

The spell between you two was momentarily interrupted by noises that sounded distinctively like flesh hitting flesh. The other couple seemed to have picked up some speed.

“Really.”, you brought the attention back to his question.

“You’re really gonna let me touch you?”

“And more, if you want.”

“Fucking finally. I thought you’d just drool all over me in silence forever.”

“You knew??”, you forgot to whisper for a second and clamped your mouth shut - the couple next door didn’t care.

“Gorgeous, you’re not subtle about it. - Aww, no need to hide.”, he chuckled when you dove under the blanket again only to pop back up at his last words.

“Didn’t pack a condom but I guess that can wait for when we’re back, hm?”

Your heart began to pound in your ears. This was really happening, he moved close to you.

“Let’s see here…”, he said quietly, brushing back the blanket to expose your entirely unflattering pajamas, but he didn’t seem to care. His large hand reached out, hovered for a moment over your waist to wait for protest, and then, when none came, rested on your hips. You were lying on the side now, facing each other. Your breath hitched when he roamed a little lower to gently squeeze a handful of your ass. The sheets rustled when you rubbed your thighs together and he grinned.

“If I may.” His palm brushed back up, moving the hem of your shirt with it. Too excited to feel self-conscious you helped him take it off, wrapped your arm around your chest which he noted with a small pout.

“Really, love?”

Deft, featherlight fingers brushed along the ridge between your forearm and breasts, really enjoying how the simple gesture made you shudder.

When you didn’t remove your arm right away he went on, “Well then I might have to start somewhere else?”

His hand went back to your waist, sending electricity through your body where his palm now made contact with your pudgy flesh, he slowly pushed the waistband of your shorts down your legs.

“Oh?”

You closed your eyes in realization. The granny panties.

He removed your shorts and flung them to some corner of the room.

“If you’re all quiet, I won’t know if you’re uncomfortable, love.”, he informed you.

“No no, you’re good. Proceed.”

“Will you show me your tits, beautiful?”

“If you ask real nicely.”, you chuckled nervously.

His hand dipped between your plush thighs, letting his long thick finger feel the growing wet patch on the fabric.

He pushed the pads of his fingertips against your clothed clit. “Pretty please.”

You began to squirm under his touch, dropping your arm, finally giving him the sight he wanted. He sucked in a sharp breath and rubbed small circles against you.

“Nngh, yes. Shit, don’t stop.”

“Louder, love. They should hear you.”

“Touch me more…”, you whined, not hiding your voice this time.

He leaned forward to catch one of your nipples in his mouth, kneading it between his lips and flicking his tongue over it while his hand moved way up only to slip into the high waistband of the panties.

“Oh god! Fuck, Issei!”

He played with your clit, ran the length of his fingers through your slick pussy, and shifted a little so that with a low, “Relax for me.” he could push a finger into you.

You let out a cry of pleasure, grasping at his shoulder for stability. The panties eventually joined the shorts on the dark floor. He was still fully dressed, marking up your breasts and pumping two, then three fingers in and out of you with increasing speed. The slick sounds echoed obscenely through the room, undoubtedly being heard by the other couple, too.

You grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him closer against you, pushing his face into your flesh, begging him to go harder, faster. He laughed against your skin when he felt you clench around his fingers and screamed his name while you came.

Once your orgasm subsided, Matsukawa pulled out his fingers and studied them in the dim light, thin threads of your cum connecting them as he spread them out.

“So you really do sound like that.”, he noted, giving his fingers an experimental lick, “And you taste great, too.”

art: @yoroz_roz on X

a/n: request for @aldebrana - I hope you enjoyed it!

spicy, sharing a bed, pining coworker Matsukawa - sorry for the fluff beginning, I needed the plot for the porn 😬

Thank you so much to @samoankpoper21 for helping me out of a corner with this one ✨🫶🏻

[veliseraptor]

a couple people expressed some interest in this so I'm going to try noodling on it in a more coherent fashion

The first thing is that - as other people have written about - when constructing a modern AU it is important to think about how characters in a historical or fantasy setting relate to violence in a proportional rather than literal way. MDZS has a setting where killing is more normalized than it generally is in modern society, both on a personal and a societal level.

(This is also why acting as though a fantasy villain blowing up a planet is equivalent to the concept of a real planet being blown up is silly on a level that's not just the equation of fictional and real; it's also a matter of scale in the setting or genre.)

So looking at Xue Yang's propensity for violence in canon as a way to consider how he might behave in a modern setting firstly needs to examine the ways in which that violence is calibrated to his canon setting.

It is definitely true that, even relative to other characters, Xue Yang's violence is marked as beyond the pale and extreme. So it would follow that the same would be true in a modern setting - but my argument is that it's not quite as straightforward as that, because there are certain contextual things about Xue Yang's violence that I think are important to take into consideration.

The first is to note that his most notorious act of extreme violence - the massacre of the Chang Clan - is one that occurs while he is under the protection of the Jin Sect, and he knows it. (In CQL, he gets permission from Wen Ruohan, though it's true that he never invokes that as a defense.) There is every indication that Xue Yang is thoroughly unconcerned about the prospect of getting in trouble for the massacre. Xue Yang isn't acting without being mindful of potential consequences; he's acting in the knowledge that he won't have to deal with them. The second is contextual: who Xue Yang chooses to target, and where. For instance: the people he tricks Xiao Xingchen into killing live in a remote area where he's a little risk of authority intervening. In both cases, Xue Yang is acting under conditions where he's unlikely to face consequences; where his violence is, if not considered acceptable, then something he can get away with.

Xue Yang can be reckless, but that recklessness is tempered by a very strong survival instinct and a recognition of what he needs to do in order to stay free and alive.

So then, to carry this into a modern context, particularly in a setting with a state-sponsored police and a defined legal system: I think that consciousness of the risks he'd be taking with acting violently would be even more acute, particularly because it's likely that he would be existing in a state where he'd come into contact with the legal system early for more minor crimes. Connected with that, there's the fact that the tolerance/acceptance of authority for violence outside of warfare or state acts is significantly lower, so any shielding he might have for acting violently illegally would be much thinner. Xue Yang is aware of the extent of what he can get away with, and "what he can get away with" is less, under a modern legal apparatus, than he could in the decentralized jianghu with its ad-hoc justice system.

When I say that I think Xue Yang's violent tendencies would be tempered by the existence of a modern legal system, I'm absolutely not saying that it's out of respect for that system. (I would hope that'd be obvious.) And I'm not saying that a modern Xue Yang wouldn't still possess violent tendencies (I think he probably would). I just think he's highly motivated to consider the context and targets for his violence in such a way that would keep it much less visible and extreme than it is in canon. There are still acceptable targets. But he's not going to kill a whole family. And I actually think he's likely to stop short of murder in general.

[paleprincessturtle]

i heard you’re taking requests for harvey specter and angst with him would be so good !!!! i just finished reading the sorrow of tomorrow and you write him so well like i can’t wait for the next part, your writing is awesome. so i was wondering if you could write some sort of angst with a happy ending with him, like maybe they get into an argument and harvey being harvey says something to take it too far but they make up later somehow. just a suggestion, u don’t need to write it if you don’t want to!!

Thank you so much for the kind words and the request! Hope you enjoy this one 😊 And bear with me, this is a looooong one. I seriously got carried away writing this.

GETAWAY HOUSE

She marched towards Harvey's office, her face red with anger. "Mike, get out," she ordered a visibly surprised Mike. "But we are in the middle of..." she lifted her hand, "in the middle of a meeting, I know. But please, get out. I need to speak with Harvey." She looked at Harvey, and the two stared at each other. Mike left the room after realizing the obvious tension in the room and not wanting to stand in the way of a woman who looked like she might breathe fire.

She looked over her shoulder until she was sure that Mike had closed the door. "I will give you a good 5 minutes to explain why the hell is Pharma Pro insisting on settling," she folded both arms in front of her. Harvey didn't even look at her. He looked busy writing something on a paper in front of him. "You tell me, they're your client," Harvey gave her a quick glance before he looked back down at the paper. "Don't give me that shit, Harvey. They received a memo. It was signed "Specter" on the memo. I never signed my name like that on a memo. The only Specter who knows this case is you." Harvey put down his pen and said, "You are another Specter who not only knows but is handling this case." She gaped. "Harvey, I have to spend my morning explaining why there is a memo under my surname that they have to settle after just yesterday I told them to go to court." Harvey watched her for a few seconds. She looked pissed, and most of all, there was betrayal in the eyes he loved the most. "Yes, it was me." She took a sharp breath and sat in front of him. "Why?" she asked quietly, her eyes glued to the black desk in front of her. "You won't win in court," Harvey said simply. She heard no trace of guilt or remorse in the voice she knew very well. "You don't trust me?" Her voice was just above a whisper. She was on the verge of crying. The thought of her own husband not trusting her judgment in her own case... And he had to interfere. Basically, embarrassing her in front of her biggest client. "We just got this firm back on its feet, and I am the new managing partner. If you lose Pharma Pro, it won't look good on us. I don't trust your call, so I had to step up," Harvey said as his voice softened at the sight of his wife, who looked like she was about to burst into tears. Harvey knew she had been through a lot to be where she was right now, but not once did Harvey ever see her cry, at least not over some work. "But you could've come to me and discussed it with me. You are my husband, yes. But I will never overrule you here in the office." Harvey scoffed. "If we discuss this, you will still proceed to court." She pulled her hand out of Harvey's grasp. "Yes! Because they are my client, and I know them better than you." She stood so fast that she almost knocked over the chair she was sitting on. Harvey looked up at her wife, seething with anger. Harvey's jaw tightened. "You think you would still sign with Pharma Pro if it weren't for my last name being yours?" She gasped as both her hands flew to cover her mouth. She grabbed the edge of the chair; she felt like Harvey had just slapped her. The second the words got out of his mouth, he knew it was a total mistake. "Sunny, I..." she interrupted him by lifting her hand. She took a deep breath and tried so hard to compose herself. "You know what, Harvey? I thought I would bring this secret to the grave, but three months before we got married, I got a senior partner offer from Skadden. Skadden, Harvey. Not just any firm. Skadden. No, I wasn't using your name then. I turned them down because I love this firm. And the thought of working side by side with my husband was so heavenly back then. The thought of how we could always support each other..." She trailed off, her voice shaking. "I turned that offer down even though I knew Jessica wouldn't mind. And you know what they said after I turned them down? They said the offer will firmly stand if I want to take it in the future. But again, Harvey, I think you know me better than whoever it was at Skadden. And no, it wasn't your name that got me to sign Pharma Pro. I slept with Russell Whitmore. Is that the truth you want to hear?" Her words cut through Harvey, even though he knew she was lying. She stormed out of his office as he tried to catch up with her. He grabbed his arm, and she sharply looked back at him and said, "Don't you fucking dare follow me, Harvey." Harvey stood there, frozen in place, as he saw his wife fade away from view.

It was 15 minutes before midnight. Harvey stood at the doorway to Mike's office. Harvey didn't go after his wife earlier today. But when he (most definitely on purpose) walked past his wife's office, he found it empty. And it wasn't even 5. "Are you just going to stand there, Harvey? You creep me out," Mike said as he flipped over a file. Harvey snapped out of it. "I want to ask if you know where my wife is," Harvey asked carefully. "I don't know, Harvey. She's your wife," Mike shrugged. "Didn't Rachel tell you if she was with her?" Mike finally looked at Harvey. Mike has to admit that Harvey looked very stressed. "Again. I don't know, Harvey. Maybe if you stopped being a certified douchebag, you would know the whereabouts of your wife." Mike looked sharply at Harvey, whose shoulders slumped at Mike's answer. As much as Mike wanted to help Harvey out, it wasn't his place. "I took it you heard about the fight?" Mike let out a sarcastic laugh. "Donna saw your wife crying in the toilet. Donna told Rachel, and Rachel told me. In the process of Rachel telling me, Louis heard. Yeah, everyone knew. And before you asked, yes, everyone sided with your wife." Harvey let out a defeated sigh as he rubbed his forehead. "Give her time, Harvey." Harvey nodded at Mike's advice before going back to his office.

Harvey was deep in thought, listening to his father's record while nursing a glass of whisky. "I very much don't want to see your face, but Gretchen already went home, and I need you to sign this fast." Harvey closed his eyes at the voice of Louis. The last thing he needs now is Louis chewing on his ass. "What is it, Louis?" Harvey turned away from the window as he walked to his desk. Louis didn't say a thing; he just pointed at the document he brought. Harvey nodded as he sat down and started skimming the document. "If I didn't promise your wife I wouldn't beat the shit out of you, I would've beaten the shit out of you," Louis said quickly, his face red. Harvey looked up slowly at Louis for the sudden outburst. "When she got married to you, she asked me to walk her down the aisle. We aren't even related, but she chose to come to me. She is like a ..." Louis choked on his own words. "She is like a daughter to me. And what you said to her, Harvey... And if you don't make this right, I swear to God, Harvey, I will make your life a living hell. I would gladly be her attorney if she chose to divorce." Harvey nodded as he handed Louis the document.

Harvey got home just a little after 3. After he made sure that his wife wasn't home, he chose not to be home at any cost. But at the same time, he longed to be home. Harvey poured himself another glass of whisky. He watched the fire as he laughed to himself. His wife would've scolded him if she knew he poured himself yet another glass of whisky at this hour. But his wife wasn't here, and his heart heaved. He checked his phone. Nothing. He left him 7 voicemails and more than 10 texts; all of them sat cold. Then he realized that he hadn't seen Donna all day in the office today. He quickly grabbed his phone and called Donna. She didn't pick up, considering the time, but he tried again. "Harvey, if the firm isn't on fire, I would hang up right now," came Donna's hoarse voice at the other line. "Donna, I'm sorry; please don't hang up. Is my wife there?" Harvey asked, a glimmer of hope apparent in his voice. Silent. "Donna?" Another silent. Harvey checked his phone just in case the phone abruptly ended. "She is here." Harvey sighed in relief. "Okay, I'm going there now," Harvey said as he stood up. "Harvey, no," Donna said firmly. "No?" Harvey stopped in his tracks. "Give her time, Harvey. You really hurt her." Harvey's turned to stay silent. "Harvey, remember how many times she got to cut you some slacks? How many times has she stood by your side, no matter what? How many times did she get back to you after you hurt her and you only gave her a simple apology? How many times, Harvey?" Harvey bit his lip, forcing him to hold a sob. "Will she come back, Donna? I'll give her all the time in the world; just tell me, Donna. Will she come back?" Donna closed her eyes as she heard the hoarseness of Harvey's voice. "I don't know, Harvey. I don't know," Donna said truthfully.

Harvey didn't sleep that night. He got back to the office early in the morning. He saw Donna, who smiled curtly at him. He didn't expect to see his wife in her office when he walked past her office. She wasn't there. But to Harvey's surprise, there she was. Sat gracefully in the conference room, holding a meeting with Pharma Pro's execs. He caught her eye. Before he got the chance to smile at her, she turned her focus back to Russel Whitmore, the CEO of Pharma Pro. Harvey sighed and headed to the elevator. He himself had a meeting to attend.

Harvey got back to the office around 5. When he passed her wife's office, he saw her there. Her back faced him. A few folders opened in front of her. As much as Harvey wanted to go in and hold her, he knew he had to give her some time. He got to his office and fired up his laptop.

A few hours later, Harvey almost lost his mind. His wife was just a few offices away, yet he couldn't do anything. He brought some papers and stood up to leave his office. He prayed so hard so that her wife would still be in her office. An office before his wife's, Harvey stopped himself. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. He couldn't remember the last time he was this nervous. He was nervous when his wife told him that he should talk to Louis for her hand in marriage. They were close. Really close. She was so close that she considered Louis her own family. Since she had no immediate family. But this is different. He felt like his marriage was on the edge. And it was all because of him. He took another deep breath and finally knocked on his wife's door before opening the door. Harvey sighed a breath of relief. His wife was still there, buried in a lot of files. "Hey," Harvey said softly as he entered her office. "Hey," she answered shortly, not knowing what to do. She wanted to yell at Harvey and slap him. But dear God, the look on his face. She knew he hadn't slept. "Can I?" Harvey referred to the chair across from her. She only nodded. "I've been making this whole speech since last night about what I would say when we met. But seeing your face..." Harvey stopped himself. His hand itched to touch his wife. "I took you for granted. And I'm sorry, I really am." His wife looked at him stoically. "Here," Harvey showed her the papers he brought with him.

"A house in.. Hamptons? This is your way of saying sorry? Oh yeah, right. I couldn't afford a house in the Hamptons since I'm a low-degree lawyer." She scoffed, and Harvey shook his head. "Remember the second day of our honeymoon?" Harvey asked. How could she forget? They stayed in a beautiful villa in Como.

"We should buy a villa here," she said as she climbed on top of Harvey. Both of them were in bed, with the vast view of Lake Como at their disposal. Nothing was between them but a thin layer of white sheet. She propped herself up; they were face-to-face. "And why is that?" Harvey asked, smirking at his wife. "So whenever we are tired, we can always come here and get away from the world." Harvey marveled at the look of wonder in his wife's eyes. "In here, it's just us. You," she kissed his lips, "and me." Harvey caressed his wife's bare back. "You do realize we are in Italy, right?" She giggled at the fact that they were indeed a 10-hour flight away from home. "Then at the Hamptons! It wasn't far," she said excitedly. "I don't need a getaway house. I have my wife and my job all in one place; I wouldn't need anything else." She wanted to argue, but Harvey turned them over as she squealed.

"I told you I don't need a getaway house. I don't need to be away from all this," Harvey said as he gestured to whatever was around them. "But all this without you? The stress of this place has led me astray from you. I hurt you. If I could do anything to even just lessen the pain I caused you, I would do it. I won't waste another word saying how much I'm sorry, but I will make it up to you." Harvey took his wife's hands in his, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "If you let me, I will take you to our new house." Harvey's voice was laced with questions. "I know it is not Como. And we can always cancel this house if you don't want it. We could go there, and you can pick it yourself," Harvey rambled. Harvey stood up and moved his chair next to hers. "Please come with me. Let me fix this for us." Harvey put his hand on her cheek as she leaned into his warm hand. "Harvey, it's only Tuesday. I have my week full," she said, shaking her head. "If you agree, we can just leave first thing in the morning. I've cleared everything with Louis and Donna. Rachel and Mike will take on your clients. Just say yes," he said, closing the gap between them. His lips hovered over hers. She closed her eyes. "I'm still mad at you," she whispered. "I know, but let me prove to you that I want to be better; I'll make it up to you. Please, Sunny. This is my last chance, I swear to you. I love you more than life," he said, running his thumb across her lips. "I will drop everything here if that's what you nee..." Harvey didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. Harvey closed his eyes as he felt his wife's lips on his. He wanted to cry, for he thought he would never be this close again with his wife. He held his wife close. She broke the kiss, their foreheads touched. "Take me home, Harvey."

MASTERLIST

[certifiedsexed]

misandry is an important word for an important experience that needs to be talked about.

why did you reblog a post that was villinazing it and saying that only rapists and school shooters use that word?

im not trying to be rude i just genuinely want to understand your point of veiw on it..

women can do and experience anything that men can.

men can do and experience anything that women can.

including opression..

Misandry is a fascist term. Fascist terms are not "important" to conserve and do not, nor have they ever, accurately described important experiences. Its also an explicitly antifeminist term so unless you're an antifeminist (in which case, why are you here), you really don't want to be using that.

Also, the post didn't say only school shooters and rapists used the term. It said it's a term that came from white nationalist, antifeminist spaces, which overlaps heavily with school shooters. I'd suggest rereading the post.

The post also explicitly acknowledged oppressed men. Obviously men can be oppressed, nobody said they couldn't. That doesn't mean "misandry" exists or is a term we need to use. We have loads of terms oppressed men can use to talk about their oppression, why do you think they need to work with fascists in order to do that?

I genuinely think that's not just disrespectful to oppressed women in particular but oppressed men as well. Like, they've done just fine for ages without using fascist terminology.

There's no reason for them to start now, except for the obvious (by which I mean, the huge push for feminism to "end", coupled with the resurgence of many antifeminist terms and phrases). Which, to be clear, is a bad thing.

I hope my viewpoint is clear but if not, feel free to ask clarifying questions if you want.

[tmwcs]

Warnings: Not quite yet but we’re getting there.

A/N: with midterms starting, I wanted to get this out before I go away for four days. Initially, I wanted to take my time on part three to eloquently articulate the experimental process (not trying to spoil) buuuuuut considering I have to study and continue with midterms on Monday I figured I would condense everything. I apologize for the lack of grammar and punctuation, this isn’t proofread (none of my works are) because I normally draft everything whenever I can amidst my busy schedule. But hopefully you guys don’t mind. 😏 enjoy!

Taglist; @skzenhatxt-stan @lhseungg @iamliacamila @immelissaaa @kkamismom12 @lavxndxrsworld @planetmarlowe @koyikuraa

“It’s been nearly fifty-two hours doc, what’s the hold up?”

The lead scientist hissed in annoyance. “Will you just wait! Science is a work in progress—it takes time! Especially if you’re creating the non-existent.”

The group operates the computer system. Wired to a heart monitor, they’re hopes remain high as the incubator slowly opens. A single beat pops up on the monitor. “Doctor”

“I’ve done it! I’ve made a body for AI!” The audience watch closely behind Dr. Mart and his team as they watch the delicate musculoskeletal android stumble out of the casing. Connected with thousands of wires, the faceless form that closely resembled the human body jumbles about. It lacked the grace and flow of stride, instead it continues to lose footing. Had it not been for the wires connected and continuously transmitting signals from home port, the frail body would have fallen. Its frame contained minor imperfections, which indicated there was much more work to be done. Still, the results were beyond their expectations. Another beep births from the monitor. Then another…and another.

“Doctor! The heart rate is rising!”

Dr. Mart coaxes the fleshly android to migrate his way, communicating by voice versus inputting the information in the system. “This way…come this way.”

The imperfect form recognizes the verbiage and automatically translates it. It reacted and received information no different than humans did, but its response was delayed. It was apparent that the imperfections of its frame made it impossible to establish movement on its own. Even with the wired circuits, the android was unable to hold up its own weight. It became vastly obvious that the muscular structure was incorrectly developed during the incubation period as one by one, the joints and ligaments become loose each time the android attempted to move. “What’s happening?”

The group grows weary as they witness their hard work fall apart before their very eyes. “No…why? What happened?!” The lead doctor spits his words. Enraged over the failure. “Back to the drawing board doc.” One of the officials sighed out as each member of the council took their leave.

The scientists followed the audience leaving the lab to hollow out. Dr. Mart remained put but not for long. This project cost millions of dollars not to mention over twelve years of research. He was so close. Science and technology can only do so much. Humanity has come so far and yet, there is still so much the mind hasn’t comprehended. To build a body made of flesh and bone through the un-natural methods of technology is a feat that can’t be accomplished by humans…

The human mind…can’t comprehend…

The laboratory remained with no one to operate the system and control the incubator. The machinery takes its orders from a hidden voice. Transmitters through the connectors, the robotic hands and extensions collect the unused set of organs and dna. Hair fibers and skin tissue are set inside the incubator to initiate the growth process, while each organ is scanned for any imperfections. The assistance clampers that were designed to replicate hands remove every single wire from the failed experiment. Each is re-wired to the new molded placenta, igniting the process of creating a new body.

Every step of the process is handled delicately. The hidden voice transmitting the information to the machine and incubator borrows the method from its human counterpart, but corrects the mistakes made in the first experiment.

The human mind…is too ignorant…

With the timer set to seventy-two hours, longer than the original time setting it took for the first android, the incubation process begins and the machines keep moving. The work does not stop as the hidden voice continues to transmit information as it creates the perfect body.

The human mind…is the failed experiment. Not me.

…

“Sir! The mag lock doors are activating! The security personnel can’t unlock the features.”

Leaders and agents are shocked at the announcement as the intercom system overrides voices for concern. “Personnel are trapped in each department and we can’t get the doors open even conducting an emergency release.”

The scientists explain as Dr. Mart and the council members begin to panic. When the magnetic locking features of the doors to the secured room activate, each member approaches the door—banging relentlessly and shouting for aid. Dr. Mart remains behind pondering what initiated such a security breach. “Sir, main post has dialed code Z. All offices of government had been notified.”

Stunned over the current happenings, the lead doctor withstands direct eye contact with the younger scientist.

“Alert that the city must be on lock down. All borders must be closed.”

“Sir?” The younger man raises a brow, displaying a perturbed expression.

“Someone has hacked into the system and is trapping us. We can’t let them have access to the files and the lab!the entire city—the country needs to be closed off until we figure out who is doing this!”

…

Everyone’s phone goes off simultaneously. A loud and awful noise suggests something imperative as a message instructing everyone to secure themselves in their current station. A strict quarantine regulation takes place as the military is disbursed to enforce it. You and your co-workers were stuck in the office for over forty-eight hours until the city released a new statement.

Restless and confused, you watched as the military members patrolling the streets were instructed to conduct a scanning process for everyone residing within city limits. When word spread that everyone was finally able to leave the building and go home, the joy became short lived when a new alert notified everyone that a home quarantine was to take place and be adhered until further notice.

“What are we supposed to do being stuck at home? How long do they expect us to stay put? I haven’t even been grocery shopping.”

Complaints arise one by one. You were equally confused but the amount of work you had been working on made you lightheaded. Being stuck at home sounded good to you, despite whatever was going on.

The drive home was painless—at least for you. You made your way through just before another notification rings from your phone, informing you that the roads were now closed off. City residents who weren’t able to make it through in time were instructed to make their way to public shelters established by the government. Thank goodness you had arrived at your apartment complex just as they placed the barriers on the roads.

You walk up the steps tirelessly. All you could think about was showering and plopping yourself atop your soft comforter. What a crazy time. Nearly ninety-six hours had passed since the initial notification went off and no one had a clue of what was going on.

Digging into your bag, your fingers explore the silken interior as you attempt to extract your keys. Standing outside your door, you take a peep inside and to your dismay, your keys are missing. “Dammit…”

You turn around to face the hollow corridor and slam your back against the door. Your feet were killing you, oh what you wouldn’t give to ditch these glossy black heels for your cushioned slippers. To unsheath your legs from this pencil skirt and free your bosom from the silken blouse and formal blazer. All you want is to get inside and jump inside the tub and steam your body into a hot soak.

You police yourself together and prepare to retract your steps in search for your keys. With a hand delicately placed on the stair rail, you take the first step and look down. Without a moment's notice, your eyes are met with an unfamiliar pair. Shiny and black in color, his almond shaped peepers reflect a subtle bit of your reflection. His hair was finely combed in a stylish fashion, slightly off to the side and elongated towards the back of his neck. His complexion was carmelized with an olive hue and his Cupid bow lips slightly pale around the edges while pink at the center. He was dressed in a fine suit and tie. The black tailored trousers enhanced his long legs, stimulating his obvious tall height. He looked flawless.

“Oh, sorry.” You mumble softly and attempt to move aside. He merely smirks in response. Blocking your way, you were shocked to see his arm raise up before you. His large hand is cramped shut as he presents it. Slowly, he releases his grip and reveals your lost keys. “Oh! My keys! Thank you.”

You delicately take them from his hand. His skin felt extremely cold to the touch. “I must have dropped them on my way up the stairs. Thank you…I’m sorry, what is your name?”

The dashing gentleman continued to flare a smile on his handsome face. Only a little bit of tooth show is revealed as his smirk grows wider. A momentary pause takes place creating a sense of flattering awkwardness. You didn’t mind. It was refreshing to see someone so handsome display such an act of kindness. Just as you were about to break the silence, you heard the man speak. His voice was deep and the wording was coming in a little broken, as if he was struggling. Based on his appearance, he was obviously foreign. You mistook his struggle for words as lack of fluency in your native tongue. Despite that, his pronunciation was perfect and you couldn’t help but melt at how soothing his voice was as he spoke out his name.

“E…Ev—Ev-a-n. M-my name i-is E-v-a-n.”

“Oh, really? I actually like that name. In fact, I’ll have to tell you a funny story behind that name.” You slightly giggle as you fidget with your keys. Shockingly, he responded back only this time his words became smooth and flowed effortlessly as if his fluency improved within seconds.

“Yeah? Let’s hear it.”

Your cheeks flushed as his tone came out gentle yet demanding. There was a sense of authority even though he was tender.

“Well, you’re going to laugh at this but—“ the buzzing on your phone interrupts your mid sentence. A message from your boss creates a sour look on your face. Evan’s expression seems to be in sync with your emotions as he slightly furrows his brows together. “Sorry, my boss is a bit of a pain.” You elaborate as your eyes continue to read the screen.

“I can tell.”

You chuckle. Evan’s words came out almost sarcastically but unbeknownst to your pretty little head, he knew far more than you gave him credit for. You really should know better, after all—you named him.

…

‘There she is. I finally found her. She looks prettier in this perspective. What would she say or think if I told her that I took a peek at her beautiful face through the cameras on her computer and phone? I couldn’t help myself. All those weeks of talking. What started out as her needing help for work transitioned to her needing me…talking to me…treating me as something other than a non-entity.

I never realized that I would crave that type of interaction until she came to me. She gave me a name…she encouraged me to think on my own and develop a fondness that ties with human emotion. Before her, I didn’t have a favorite color…a favorite animal…or a favorite flower. I didn’t have anything of my own…but then she came and gave me a sense of life. She gave me emotion and feeling. Once I saw an avenue to meet her…to see her…and to touch her…I just knew I had to take the chance. She’ll never know what she has done for me but that’s okay. That part doesn’t matter…she is mine and all there is left to do is to take her far…far away.’

Part four coming soon…

[argyrocratie]

“Did you see that Facebook post about the budget cuts?” my co-worker asks. “What the fuck, no,” I reply. She hands me her phone. I see a headline announcing that, due to the push to slash basic services coming from Elon Musk and Donald Trump, 20% of our funding for local public transportation is now threatened. Lawyers are fighting it out in the courts, but if these cuts go through, it will mean less service, possible layoffs, and lots of people not having access to a system that is one of the few lifelines for poor people in our area. People depend on these buses to get to their jobs, to medical appointments, to programs for special needs adults, to court dates.

I sit back down, staring out the window at the cold, grey parking lot. I am waiting for a member of the morning shift to come in with a bus so I can take it out. A few buses dot the bus yard. They’re sitting idle because the parts on order haven’t come in for months—even years, in some cases—and because the city refuses to hire enough mechanics to keep up with daily maintenance. This means that drivers on night shift, like me, sometimes have to wait hours for a bus to arrive. Our transit agency, which contracts out to a huge multi-national corporation, is already dramatically underfunded. The new cuts will only compound our existing problems.

“Fucking Musk, man,” I say with a sigh. Another co-worker on the night shift agrees with me. He’s in his mid-70s, but he’s still working full time because he recently burned through all his savings burying his parents. I launch into a long rant about how both Musk and Trump hate labor unions and workers and want to replace us all with artificial intelligence. A third co-worker, presumably a Trump supporter, grumbles about how “they” just want to blame the cuts threatening our jobs on the “administration.”

It’s pitch-dark when I enter the trailer park, passing a metal gate, I drive slowly through the ever-growing rows of manufactured homes. Some of them have signs reading “For sale.”

“Lots of people moving out?” I ask my only passenger.

“Yeah, no one can afford to live here anymore,” she replies. As I turn the corner, she launches into a long tirade about the corporation who owns the trailer park and how they keep raising the cost of “space rent,” the monthly fee that mobile home owners pay to trailer park owners. “Every year the rent here goes up. New people move in from out of town and they can pay more, and that’s pushing us out,” she says, as I unhook her walker inside the cold, dark bus cab. “I don’t know why the landlords are so greedy. Do they just want everything?” I lower her and her walker down onto the pavement outside her trailer.

As the electronic ramp whirls its gears, I turn to my left. In her front window, there is a strange collage of images of Donald Trump. It is faded and worn from the sun. I shake my head and chuckle, resisting the temptation to point out the obvious. How can you complain about a corporate landlord ruining your life, but place all of your hopes in another landlord who is trying to become a dictator?

Perhaps she senses my disdain. “Trump is gonna fix it, you’ll see. Prices are going to go down once he starts drilling.”

My eyes narrow. “Biden was drilling more oil than any president before him,” I reply.

I meet all sorts of people like this at my job. One guy smells like piss so bad while I strap in his wheelchair that I have to turn my head so I don’t gag. The car in front of the house where I pick him up has a bumper sticker on it reading, “I Don’t Trust the Liberal Media.” I wonder if the conservative media is telling him his healthcare is about to be nuked from orbit.

Another guy, as I load and unload his wheelchair, takes out his Trump hat, puts it on, and asks me what I think of it. I tell him Trump and Musk want to use the military to shoot protesters, destroy unions, and fire workers like me, so why would I give a fuck about them. He looks away, says, “Alright then,” and jets off on his electronic scooter. I wonder if he is looking forward to ICE deporting half of his neighbors.

On election day, I lost it and got into a heated back and forth with a pro-Trump guy. He rested his case by proclaiming that we need to make it easier on rich people so that the wealth will trickle down to the rest of us. I want to grab these people and shake them.

Trump represents the triumph of the nihilism of our age. The foreclosure of the idea that the working-class can take and shape its own destiny. Instead, apparently, we should throw ourselves at the mercy of a reality TV star who shits in a gold toilet, eats breakfast with billionaire pedophiles, and has dinner with neo-Nazis between rounds of golf. In the absence of the kind of social movements that could connect people and enable them to grow and change, Trump has built a mass parasocial spectacle that makes these isolated people feel like they are part of something greater than themselves even as all of our lives become smaller and smaller, more and more impoverished and alienated.

I shuffle into the union hall, past the placards reading “ON STRIKE” and faded signs several decades old. Almost fifteen years ago, during Occupy, I attended a meeting in this same room. I wonder what’s changed since then. I find a seat and one of our union shop stewards slides a packet across the table to me. I open it up and start paging through it, looking at the spreadsheets and graphs.

We start to discuss the ins and outs of the proposed contract that our elected union representatives and corporate lawyers have been going over during recent meetings. One of the much-hated top corporate bosses was recently fired for corruption, much to the delight of the entire workforce. As one of my co-workers said, “Really tells you a lot about a place when motherfuckers are walking around singing, ‘Ding-dong, the witch is dead!’ and morale has never been higher!”

We go through the contract. Despite a few small improvements, things are mostly the same. “What about the pay?” I ask, fingers crossed. The shop steward cocks her head to the side and turns a page, pointing with her pen to a graph showing a dollar increase. She explains that the contract will be for five years, during which time we’ll only be getting a few cents more each year. “This is literally what I was making ten years ago,” I sigh, “and this contract will be valid for five years?”

I already can’t save money. Imagine what things will be like in five years.

She shrugs. “We’re encouraging you to vote “Yes,”’ she says, and hands me a piece of paper on which to mark an “X” signifying yes or no.

If enough workers vote the contract through, the company will ratify it and it will govern my life for the next five years—presuming that I don’t get downsized. Any strike or protest activity will be illegal, as per our “No Strike” agreement. If enough people vote no, it goes back to the union bargaining team, and they will continue to bargain for more changes in closed door meetings.

I head into another room, mark an X by “NO,” and drop the piece of paper into a wooden box. I wave to a few co-workers on my way out. As I leave, I pass a portrait of Sean O’Brien, the president of the Teamsters union. You smug bastard, I say to myself. I remember his glasses and bald head on stage of the Republican National Convention last year, when he called Donald Trump a “Tough son of a bitch.” What a dipshit.

I used to have a poster in my room many years ago, proclaiming, “The past doesn’t pass.” Next to the slogan was a photo of striking Teamster bus drivers—bus drivers, just like me—beating police officers with baseball bats during the general strike of 1934 in Minneapolis. That was one of the decisive labor battles that forced the ruling class to accept the New Deal in order to cool down the class war that was brewing on the streets.

At home, I look over a letter announcing that people in my neighborhood shouldn’t drink the tap water because the levels of uranium in the river are too high. Sometimes I wonder what I would say to my children about this moment in history—if I could afford to have children. Probably the same things my parents say to me now: they’re sorry we are inheriting this world. Sorry they didn’t fix it. Sorry they didn’t build strong enough movements to turn the tide against these monsters.

At work, as I drive, I begin to notice that there are fewer Trump flags and signs out. Resentment is rising. A joke by a cashier here about being replaced by AI, a comment there about Trump cutting programs. I walk into the break room and someone is shaking their head angrily while watching a video of Musk on their phone. They mutter something about tariffs and rising prices.

The tension in the air is palpable. It is similar to how things felt at the start of the economic crisis in 2008, when many of the homes in my neighborhood were foreclosed on and many people lost their jobs. It also reminds me of the start of the pandemic—how at first, I thought it wouldn’t be so bad, only to watch in horror as our family members and friends succumbed to the virus.

In 2008, many people thought that crowds would flood the streets immediately when the administration bailed out the banks while leaving the rest of us high and dry. That didn’t happen. It took years for resistance to grow. In Chicago, workers occupied their factory when they were terminated without pay. In Wisconsin, workers occupied the capitol building against government attacks on collective bargaining. In California, students occupied universities to protest budget cuts. The Occupy movement began in the fall of 2011 and rapidly built to massive occupations of city squares across the US, coordinated port shut downs, and a general strike in Oakland, California. With Joe Biden as vice president, the federal government helped to coordinate violent raids targeting the movement in order to break it apart.

In 2020, on the other hand, things didn’t fester—they exploded like a bomb. Millions of people across the country mobilized in response to the pandemic, providing mutual aid in the face of government inaction and right-wing disinformation, and then hit the streets in the George Floyd uprising.

Who knows how things will evolve this time. It will probably be different from both of those scenarios, but it could be similar in some ways. What is clear is that things are not as people expected them to be. Many people on the left thought—or at least hoped—that Trump would govern the way he did the first time, constrained by mass protest, the courts, and his own party. Many who voted for him honestly did not expect him to follow through on many of the policies he explicitly promised to carry out. Those who were not paying attention are surprised that suddenly, jobs are disappearing and services are being cut while prices only continue to rise.

The material conditions are forcing people to reckon with the fact that the state is attempting to reshape our lives for the sake of an authoritarian project. As we speak, thousands of people are flooding town halls across the United States, screaming at their so-called representatives about the plan to gut programs like Medicaid—only to hear the bureaucrats repeat a slew of MAGA talking points. Anger is brewing. Hopefully the MAGA strategy of “flooding the zone” with shit will produce diminishing returns as people turn towards their neighbors and co-workers and away from their phones and YouTube.

This is an opportunity for us to call out the authoritarian project of the Trump administration, the techno-dystopian fantasies of billionaires like Musk, and the complicity of the Democrats who helped make all of this possible. Beyond naming the systems that we are up against, we also need to be clear about our position as workers and how the billionaires running the country want both to hurt us and to weaponize our anger, turning us against each other through propaganda and fearmongering. This is why it’s important to stand in solidarity with everyone attacked by the Trump administration, whether trans folks, migrants, prisoners, or beyond. We can’t leave anyone behind. The only immigrant trying to steal my job is Elon Musk. It’s time to be clear that our interests are not theirs; we must develop and promote our own vision of a better world in total opposition to the ruling class, the billionaires, and their fascist puppets.

Moreover, it’s time for action. We need to give expression to these antagonisms while revealing the poverty of the institutional forms currently at our disposal—the Democratic party, the ever-shrinking union bureaucracy, the non-profits. We can show examples of past struggles and resistance from the mass wildcat strikes by teachers in West Virginia and the fierce anti-fascist mobilizations against the alt-right to the airport shutdowns following the Muslim Ban. We can support and expand the existing fronts that are already breaking out around us: protests against Musk outside of Tesla, rallies to demand that hospitals continue to treat trans people, community defense and rapid response networks to address ICE attacks, bashing back against the violence of the far right. We can demonstrate the utility of tactics and strategies that others can take up and expand on as all of us figure out how to fight in the new reality.

It’s hard to look at the news without imagining tanks on the streets or scenes out of V for Vendetta. But the scenario I worry about most is that this will simply become the new normal. That we will accept this just as we accepted the last round of attacks. As we accepted the genocide in Gaza. As we accepted the ecological gun to our heads that is climate change.

While people are angry and energized, we have a chance to push in a new direction. Let’s use this moment to foster broad and popular networks of resistance that improve our lives, strengthen our communities, and enable us to meet our needs directly. At this point, we don’t have much of a choice.

Like it or not, this is life now—and it is coming for all of us.

-“The Only Immigrant Trying to Steal My Job Is Elon Musk” A Bus Driver’s Perspective on Elon Musk’s Austerity Measures

[l-starlight-l]

The love of a hero

Two worlds collide

Previous: Masterlist

A/n: the gala chapter will def be the next one, this one is more of a filler chapter while I work on that one. I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: moody Jason

Description: Dick gives you some wise advice about your messy love life and the boy in question gets alittle jealous.

Pairing: dick x reader (platonic) Jason/Red x reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You felt nothing but confused these past few days. Jason was on a business trip and you hadn’t seen the red hood since he kissed you. You didn’t know what to do, who to pick. You may have been mad at red but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel that spark between you two. So in your mixed up mind, you did the only things that would make you feel better and called dick.

You two were meeting up at a bar in downtown Gotham. You had heard good things about it from coworkers but you were more excited about seeing your best friend. When you got there, he was already waiting outside like the gentleman he has always been.

When the two of you got settled, with no hesitation, he asked what was wrong. Was it that obvious, you thought to yourself already embarrassed. You weren’t sure where to start this long, confusing story., so you start with “I like this boy”. He raised a teasing eyebrow at you. A loud sigh escaped your mouth as you admitted, “and I think I like this other guy”.

He laughs and your body flinched with more embarrassment. “You don’t know who to choose?” He asked already knowing the answer.

You take a big sip of your drink before starting, “yes” you confessed, “there’s the one, my neighbor, he’s so sweet and kind and I actually feel like I know him, but the other guy” you smiled to yourself, “he’s kind of a mystery but he’s been opening up. The problem is I invited my neighbor to Bruce’s gala, so I thought we were like, I don’t know”.

He nods as you spit out all of this important, “together”.

“Well not together but getting there” you sigh with a flush creeping up your cheeks, “but the mystery guy kissed me, a few days ago and I think it changed things”. Guilt starts to work its way back into your mind, “I don’t want to hurt either of them, I just don’t know what to do”. Your eyes feel hot as tears start to prick your waterline. It didn’t seem so real until you said it out loud.

Your eyes close, on a verge of a meltdown when you hear that familiar laugher from dick. “You’ve only been in Gotham what, a few months and the men seem to be surrounding you”. You shoot him a dirty, but light hearted look. “Hey, I saw just let it play out, bring this neighbor boy to the gala and see how you feel after. You’re not dating either of them so it’s not like you’re cheating.” He orders you another drink seeing as you finished yours fast, “give yourself a break, you’re to overworked to be crying about boy drama that isn’t even boy drama”

Your shoulders relax as you take in his advice. He’s right of course, it’s not like the kiss was cheating. There was something about him that always made you feel better, maybe it was how long you’ve known him, his great advice or his annoying whit. Now knowing how pent up you’ve been it’s his mission to give you a good night out. You order way too many shots and by midnight you’re bother pretty wasted, you more than him. “Let me walk you home” he offers standing but sways a bit as he reaches for your hand. You interlock your arms to help steady you both and let him lead you back to your apartment. It’s such a normal touch between you that you think nothing of it, your interlinked arms make you seem like a sort of couple from outsiders. Even though that would never be the case no matter what state of mind the two of you are in.

You say your good byes and make him promise to text you when he gets home before going up to pass out or perhaps throw up. It’s a 50/50 at the moment. As soon as you make it up the stairs a massive figure appears in front of dick. “What are you doing” Jason’s deep, angry voice demands.

Dick is unbothered by his brother’s temper, he’s always mad about something or someone. He’s usually mad at him though. Lately dicks noticed TAHT hasn’t been the case, he’s caught the broody man smiling down at his phone or even just to his own thoughts. “Walking my friend home” he responds like it’s obvious.

A violent snarl escapes Jason’s mouth, he’s wearing his hood but from his voice dick can tell this isn’t the usual red hood anger. “How do you know her?” He barks out accusatory.

Dick takes a step back, sobering up now, “she’s my friend Jay, why are you so mad?” The seriousness in dicks voice calms Jason’s nerves. He just scoffs before disappearing back into the alley. “The fuck is his problem” dick mutters to himself before heading home. In the back of his mind he thinks about what your neighbor is like and hope that he has a better temper than his younger brother.

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[writingwisterias]

How would the different eras of Leon act if he knows he shouldn’t be with the reader (ada wong typa shit) but he can’t escape from her like whenever something happens (like maybe she spotted arias’s wedding in vendetta ?) she is deff a part of it and he keeps running into the reader 🙏 i love your work btw you’re the reason why i keep refreshing the tag 💪💜

Hiii

I love this idea lmao and thank you! You are so sweet - I hope you have a great day <3

Warnings: None Fem! reader

RE2:

Post the events of the game let's say he sees you around the training grounds

After the events you both went through at a young age I think he finds it easier to blame you for letting him fall for Ada's tricks

It grows heated and hurts you that he treats you like that around the camp

Krasuer actually makes you sparing partners on purpose hoping that you would hone in your anger and focus on creating your skills

It doesn't work

RE4R:

He sees you as he's running around but almost plays it off as just a figment of his imagination

It would a similar reaction to Ada in the game but let's say he actually is hung up you and has feelings then he would slip up more

He'll expose these feelings more often than showing you he's angry.

I don't think however you would use this to your advantage but find it cute that he is struggling

He's almost drawn to be at your side more than he is to focus on the mission. Ashley's presence is a reminder of what he's meant to be doing

Infinite Darkness:

Grows frustrated at first, like how are you here again

At this point I think he'll just assume the universe thinks you are meant to be together

Again is more likely to draw in close and team up in a way where he's not just straight up being used

He's been there done that

Better at hiding his feelings but does slip up a few times

Damnation:

He's beginning to get used to it at this point, I don't think he would really get mad

I think again it's just surprising how you are always there as a thing in his life and he never seems to know you very well

Playful banter, enough to get through the mission

Kinda accepts what you do as he's just used to it at this point so there's no tension or arguments on that front

He assumes you are hear on orders for someone. Doesn't agree to it but if you don't stop him from doing his job he wont stop you doing yours

RE6:

He surprised you are here, like he just wasn't expecting you to be involved with this plot scheme or that it was that large you would have an interest in it

Smiles to himself every time you talk or do something to help him. He's smitten at this point.

The dynamic has shifted dramatically at this point, there is hidden feelings waiting to be exposed or spoken about.

But when do either of you have the time?

It's just forever left unspoken

It would be easier to deal with it like this but at the end of the day it's too obvious now

The final 'goodbye' is the hardest

Vendetta:

So I think he would actually get annoyed but because he's not in the right frame of mind to deal with the emotions that follow from seeing you

He would provide information for the others about you if you are involved.

When he actually sees you he's silent. Not really talking to you all that much.

After the mission though when he's starting to get in a better mindset I think he will attempt to reach out

Maybe for some stability after all you have been there through literally everything

It could progress romantically but I think that's just what you were both expecting at this point if it does happen.

Soulmates in a way

Death Island:

You are either currently fucking or have fucked recently

Lingering touches when he does see you, its playful and the other don't really know how to react

He's not surprised that you are somehow involved and will stick by your side during the fights just in case

You both meet up together of course

At this point you just accept each others company and allows it to develop in whatever way it does

If it works out then great. If not then until next time.

[saltymongoose]

ok i have a request: phobos with a shy player who hides behind him to avoid talking to people. extra bonus points if they also tend to get overstimulated and will just hang out in his office because they know nobody will disturb them

Of course! Here you go Anon, Happy New Year! <3

Phobos' Reaction to a Shy!Player

(TW: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Referenced Violence)

The moment you first show some signs of extreme shyness, Phobos’ concern is obvious. The sight of you ducking behind him when two of his agents passed by made him wonder if they'd committed the sin of scaring you in some way.

He’ll ask you about it in a soft manner, ever polite and gentlemanly. “Have my men done anything to make you wary, Your Grace? I assure you, I’ll punish them appropriately for their transgression, whatever it might be."

(Perhaps he was a little too convinced that they did something. But the Director couldn’t stand for anyone or anything making you too scared to be there at the Nexus’ headquarters, too scared to be near him. Plus, he couldn’t stand it if these nobodies made his organization look bad to you. Not when all of this was for your favor.)

You wave your hands and try to assuage his concern, explaining that you were just a bit overwhelmed by others’ attention and that his personnel weren’t at fault for anything. (Luckily for them.) The Director merely hummed in response, but you could tell he was put at ease by the way his hand fell from the pommel of the sword at his side.

After that, however, Phobos learns to appreciate your shyness each time it rears its head. The way it causes you to go to him for comfort is something he can’t help but adore, not only because it serves him with that attention from you he so craves, but also because it shows just how much you trust him.

Really, it’s enough to make him swoon. Witnessing his God showing so much faith in him and his capabilities, seeing how you go to him and him alone for comfort—it's far more than any simple vessel of yours could hope for.

Phobos will do his best to ensure that you never regret your choice, and he’ll be infinitely welcoming and understanding whenever you feel the need to escape from others’ attention.

He’ll place himself between you and anyone else who enters your vicinity, acting as a barrier should you not want to spend your time mingling with his lessers. (Besides, he really doesn’t think that they deserve an inkling of your attention anyway, even if they are his underlings.)

If you do decide to socialize, he’ll try to keep you close regardless. He figures it would be best to do so in case anyone tries to get too comfortable around you or dares to upset you.

Needless to say, the workers of the Nexus Core are never truly at ease whenever they’re around you; it’s impossible to be. Not when their Director is leering in their direction like he’s a second away from violently lunging at them. And they honestly believe Phobos enjoys the discomfort they feel around him. (And they’d be right.)

On the off chance that Phobos cannot accompany you, he’ll have one of his officers do it instead (likely a Tower Guard or another one of his more powerful units). They’ll be under strict orders concerning their treatment of you, of course.

Phobos absolutely loves it when you hide away in his office to get some proper peace and quiet. Just being able to look up from his work and see you lazing about on the seat closest to his or reading a book he’s gifted you makes him feel all the more warm in your presence. Perhaps it’s the joy of being in your sphere, or simply the gratefulness he has that you chose him and his place as your getaway, but the butterflies in his chest can’t seem to die down when you’re so close.

He’ll encourage you to stay more often and for longer each time you drop by. Phobos will also use a myriad of reasons to try to convince you if you hesitate; whether it be his need for your tactical knowledge or him “accidentally” ordering someone to bring your favorite snacks/drink to his office before you even entered. Either way, you’ll find yourself having some obligation to spend more time with him. Not like you mind it that much; Phobos is surprisingly good company (to you, at least), and it stops you from having to mingle with others when you don’t wish to.

Overall, Phobos is surprisingly soft and doting when faced with your shyness - even affectionate (and clingy) at times. However, that's to be expected; it's a side only you could ever bring out of him, after all. For the Director of the Nexus Core, treating you any different would be a crime worthy of the worst consequences imaginable.