#nobody got time for your bullshit and other shit

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

wanting to visit the archives without looking like a fanatic bc nobody likes posting government documents online apparently

[beeseverywhen]

I mean like. Not to bring the mood down but... you guys know that's because American media is everywhere right? Like the world is unable to avoid some version of American accent on a regular basis. Of course ppl find it easy to mimic. This is absolutely not restricted to ppl in the UK, its really common for ppl who learn English as a foreign language to have perfect 'American actor' accents (cause the reason everyone's so good at the American accent that's expected of them as actors is cause at large there's little distinction between regions in the 'Hollywood accent' that ends up on TV and films and stuff. You guys have massive regional differences in pronounceation, but what makes it on to TV (in 9/10 cases) is a very standardised version of American English.)

But yeah. It's not just actors lol. Most British ppl can speak in a passable american accent, as can loads and loads of people worldwide. I'm not saying this to be like 'you should feel guilty! 😡' but it does always stun me when Americans are unaware of the impact their country has worldwide on all versions of English (and even on use of native languages. Many countries are using English more and more over their native languages and dialects , and yeah, historical colonialism has had an impact there.)

But in the last few decades things have progressed way way faster and that, is thanks to the impact of anglo/american/ect lead capitalism. I'm in no way dismissing the impact the UK has on this, but in recent years, its the US that is largely pushing that train .While the UK and several English speaking commonwealth countries are very involved in this kind of capitalist imperialism, there's a reason that more and more people are speaking American English. Not one of the many UK dialects, not Australian English, or NZ English. Across the world more and more people are increasingly speaking in the same standardised american dialect that's in so much of the media you export. Hollywood based media, with that standardised accent/ dialect and the standardised 'normal american life', has a stranglehold on the world and I just find it crazy that a lot of you guys don't even know.

It's stupid stuff like. So many countries are importing american cars and are widening their roads/ changing town planning to account for it (this is less of a thing in the UK but I see it more and more when I travel). Its the food becoming avaliable everywhere. Its the influence that for profit healthcare has even on countries with socialised health systems. Its houses being built to account for American style appliances. Fashion trends. Worldwide, everything is slowly evolving to be closer and closer to this 'American standard' which honestly? I really don't think actually represents the lives of real American people either. You've been turned in to products, the system has taken an unrealistic snapshot of 'American life' and it's being sold to you all day in day out, but it's also being sold to the rest of us. It's being pushed on us all.

Kids in the UK go through phases of talking only in American accents. Anyone born later than the 90s is carrying round 2 sets of spelling and vocab, cause we're all so used to the American way, that you barely know which one you're using half of the time. In the UK we have always had really strong regional accents yeah, and dialects differ between areas that seem tiny to you guys, I know. But like. Those dialects are being lost cause all UK accents are evolving to become closer to this standardised american and yeah not great, but at least we share a language! US American society is largely rooted in the same foundations as UK society, largely we have the same flaws! But oh my god. What about the rest of the world.

It's global. This impact continues to be seen, steamrollering ahead, in places that had completely different starting points. UK culture isn't that dissimilar to that of the US, so we aren't losing nearly as much as cultures that had something completely different. So much is being lost.

Languages and dialects and everything else is just being wallpapered over so we all meet the same ideal of the 'American life' and it's not even real! It's just a product based on how ppl were actually living in the US, manipulated until it's the most marketable mould. You guys are victims of it as well but like. It's based on your culture so you don't lose as much if you conform to it. Just like how in the UK, if we conform, we lose more than US, but nowhere near as much as countries that had languages, dialects and cultures that were so so different to UK/US culture. The less like the US, your starting point, the more there is to lose.

And look. I said it to start with. I'm not having a go. That's not what this is. But you guys really need to be aware, you need to make an effort to understand the impact that this plastic Hollywood american culture is having on the rest of the world. You need to actively look for it, and make an effort to not pay in to it. Because when Americans see other cultures represented in media and say its not relatable, when you guys go on holiday and make no effort to learn local customs, and try and pay in dollars and spend your time abroad like you're still in America, when you see cultural differences and immediately argue that the American way is better and of course everyone should have giant cars and never dry laundry outdoors and live in American style homes, without any kind of critical thought. Just 'this is how we do it so why wouldn't everyone else do it this way. This is the only way. The American way is obviously best.' When you guys do that you are individually feeding in to this absolute bulldozing of cultures (including American ones!) to allow for better marketability.

It isn't any one individual American citizens fault that things are the way they are, and you guys are victims of the same system, but you need to have some self awareness when it comes to the fact that as individuals you are unknowingly, helping driving this forwards and as individuals, there are things you can do to limit your personal impact (and no arguing that you have no culture is not it!!! Being all self deprecating doesn't do shit. Take some responsibility and accept that individual Americans didn't create this system, but currently, individual Americans really are doing their bit to keep promoting it, to keep pushing it on the rest of the world.

And I've already rambled for an age so I'll stop here but I just want to make clear as an ending note here, that this really isn't about piling on Americans and being all 'boo it's all America's fault. They should apologise. Their culture isn't worth anything.' Not at all this is the opposite of that. The fact that millions of Americans have been convinced you have no culture, all while a mimicry of American culture is plastered on to the rest of the world, and while you as individuals are encouraged to help that happen, often without even realising what you're doing; is a crime. You've been wronged, as have we all.

And America is not the problem. The problem is imperialism and it didn't start with you guys. It started in Europe, and Europeans, particularly British ppl, have a responsibility to push back and be self aware, take some fucking responsibility and not inadvertently keep feeding in to that system, just as you guys do. The US didn't start the fire, imperialist capitalism is a fire that started burning long before the United States was even considered, but its on all of us, to do what we can to not feed that fire. And right now? You guys are the face of it.

This idea of what America is, is the face of imperialistic capitalism, and that means that even if you don't mean to, you guys are feeding that fire more so than the rest of us. You're responsible for spreading it, more so than the rest of us. And if you don't step up and take responsibility, accept that you're gonna get it wrong sometimes and you need to try to do better; if we don't all do that. There will be nothing left. They'll paper over it all, the lives of real Americans just as much as those in Scotland and India and the Netherlands, and 100 other cultures, that are at risk, thanks to this fire, that's currently, largely coming from America.

So yeah. It's absolutely not just on you guys and ppl who act like there's no racism or wealth divide in Europe or anywhere else for that matter are complete idiots, however, this Americanisation of the world (and I hesitate to call it that. Because its not a representation of real American lives. Its simply wearing an American face.) Its real. It's happening.

And we don't tell you about it to make you feel guilty (those of us who aren't dicks at least) ,we are telling you. We are kicking up a fuss. Because it isn't fair. It's not right and while individual Americans ignore that and refuse to take responsibility where they can (small apples. We aren't asking for you to call a violent revolution in our names. Just take some time to learn about the rest of the world. Stop assuming America is always right and examine your biases. When you find them. Stop personally pushing them.) , while that is happening, as individuals, you are contributing to this. It's not even altruism. This system is hurting Americans too. It's hurting us all. All we ask is that you do what you can to not personally contribute, and keep an open mind, be aware. That's all any of us can do.

when a british actor does an american accent everyone’s like “i didn’t even know they were british until they were on colbert.” but when americans do a british accent everyone’s like “they’re supposed to be from east cocksford but their glottal e’s are north dicksford. shameful.”

[mars-ipan]

y’know i do have a lot of similarities to my mother and i do celebrate that but if i keep getting reduced to a “mini-me” i may just lose my shit

[alex51324]

Now, more than ever, we need to be careful about spreading misinformation and rumors

I can guarantee that over the next few months, we'll be hearing about a lot of alarming things going on here in the US. Some of those things will be true, and some won't. (And some will have both true and false or exaggerated elements.)

It's going to be absolutely vital that important information is not drowned out by misinformation, rumors, and ragebait.

That means, when you see something that would be important if true, before sharing, you check whether it's actually true.

In library world, we use the acronym SIFT:

STOP: Don't spread the information, or get caught up in your emotional reaction to it, before you've checked it out. INVESTIGATE: Who is saying it? How do they know? If there are links or sources in the post, do they actually say what the person is saying they do? FIND other coverage: Do an internet search for key details: quotes, people's names, specific locations. If something major is happening, there will normally be a lot of coverage. TRACE claims, quotes, and media back to their original context.

Usually you don't need to do all four things: just STOP and then pick what makes sense from the other three. If you decide to share the information, you can also say what you did--"This is a firsthand account from XYZ protest; it lines up with what the local TV station is saying, but has a lot more details about what the cops did," or whatever.

The more urgent the information seems, the more important it is to make sure it's reliable.

If we're hearing every other day that this or that vulnerable group is in immediate, life-threatening danger--but 49 times out of 50 it turns out to mean Trump rambled somewhere about something which, if actually implemented, could end up having the described consequences at some point down the line--then people aren't going to know the difference the one time in 50 when the danger really is immediate.

Think, here, things like immigration crackdowns, CPS investigations into parents who affirm a trans child's gender, or demands that health care providers report miscarriages to law enforcement. We all know that these are things Trump World talks about a lot and would like to be able to do, in some form. For the sake of the people affected by these topics, we need different ways of talking about, "Here they are, back on their bullshit," versus, "This is a policy proposal for a real thing that could happen," versus, "Holy shit, grab the kids and run."

We cannot go to "Holy shit, grab the kids and run" every time Trump, or someone in his inner circle, decides to bloviate about something that could disastrously affect people lives. The people who are most in danger can't stay at DefCon 5 every day of their lives, and when they do really have to grab the kids and run, we need that alarm to be heard over the constant background hum of dread.

The same goes for action items--whether protests, ways to help, or little things people can do to stay safe/sane. There's going to be plenty going on, and nobody is going to be able to do everything, so do your part by passing along those things that you can vouch are true and important, and skipping the things you aren't sure about.

I'll leave you with an example. Remember how a few years ago, we were all-in about hand hygiene and disinfecting surfaces? And then it turned out that those were not actually very important in terms of preventing the transmission of COVID-19, and what we really need is better air filtration in public spaces--but, at my work at least, we still have canisters of surface-disinfecting wipes sitting around, and tattered old signs up about hand hygiene, and no air filters.

At the time, early in the pandemic, we were sharing the best information we knew about how to stay safe, but people got a little too fixated on that initial advice--remember how people would wipe down their groceries? And those little sticks for pressing elevator buttons?--and then when the advice changed, they didn't want to hear about it.

Distrust, fatigue, superstitious attachment to the old grocery-wiping ways--there were a lot of reasons, but the key thing to take away is that attention, energy, and goodwill are all finite resources. Try to avoid wasting it with grocery-wiping--or worse, shilling for the guy selling little sticks to press elevator buttons with.

[yazzwrites6962]

hi! I really loved your niragi and chishiya works! I can't wait to see more of redemption! I really enjoy seeing how people write characters like these two and how they interpret them, and so far, I've enjoyed how you wrote them!

Redemption ♡ Suguru Niragi ♡ Part Two

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Suguru Niragi x Fem!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Part One: Here

Author's Note: UNEDITED! Shoutout to those who asked for another part. I love you guyssss. Also, Y/N's profession/life before the Borderlands is mentioned. Feel free to change it! Sorry for the super long chapter. I know it's pretty messy. I'll work on editing and cleaning up soon. I had four midterms this week, because my professors hate me. Again, I don't own any characters/images!

Genre: BIG ANGST. Maybe a word or two of fluff

Summary: As it becomes obvious that Niragi has a soft spot for Y/N, he is forced to prove where his loyalties lie.

Word Count: 5397

Warnings: Sexual themes, language, OOC Niragi, derogatory language referencing the reader, mentions of substance use, fear, blood, injury, death, cliffhanger

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"You seem different." A gruff voice teased, nudging Niragi's arm. "You're all smitten over that one girl, aren't you? Is the pussy that good? Maybe I'll have to try her out myself." Niragi flinched, growling at the fellow militant. The room filled with laughter. "She's got a pretty pair of eyes I'd love to see rolling back."

"I'm not different," He huffed, loading his gun. "and I'm not smitten. Get outta here with that lovey dovey bullshit." It had been four days since your last game with Niragi, and the members of the Beach would have to be blind not to have noticed the change in his demeanor.

Every day since that game, Niragi would wake up bright and early to have a silent breakfast with you. You didn't speak much, as you were usually very groggy in the morning. Instead, he would enjoy your sleepy presence. He had grown fond of your messy hair and the way you covered your face when you yawned. He enjoyed seeing the way your eyes drooped even while you shoveled food into your mouth. He loved to look at you; The raw you.

"Nahhh man. You've obviously got a soft spot for the chick." Chimed another militant. "You used to go 'round killing people and shit. Yelling and fucking bitches, getting high all the time. You were fun. Now you're having breakfast with the boring one."

Why were you referred to the boring one? That's difficult to say. Maybe because you spent so much time with Kuina and Chishiya, who mostly seemed to be on the sidelines at parties. Maybe because of your calm nature. Maybe because you were a decent diamonds player. Either way, nobody had envisioned Niragi falling for a 'boring' girl. He was always spotted dragging rowdy women back to his room, notorious for his partner of the night being loud enough to shake the entire floor.

"I do not have a soft spot." Niragi seethed, slamming his gun against the wall and making a loud bang. Everyone jumped, but then continued to laugh at Niragi's frustration. He didn't know why it irritated him so much to be accused of having a soft spot for you. Normally, he couldn't care less about what others thought.

"Then prove it." Chuckled one of the guys. "Your visa is about to expire, ain't it? Hers too, right? Why don't you kill her?" In the normal world, death would be extreme. The mere suggestion of killing another person would send the room into a silent shock. However, in the Borderlands, killing people meant nothing. The militants, especially Niragi, would kill people all the time.

Death to traitors, death to enemies in games, death to anyone who got in the way. It's safe to say that Niragi was probably the most trigger happy of the whole group. Then why? Why did the idea make him feel so nauseous? Even in the last game, you'd injured your led. Watching the blood run down your body as you limped through the game felt like torture to him.

"I'm not gonna kill a the girl just because you tell me to, asshat." Niragi replies, trying to summon up everything he has in order to seem calm. Really, he's panicked inside. He may not be religious, but he prays to any deity that will listen; He prays that the other militants will drop the subject.

"No, think about it." The guy shining his gun in the corner inserts himself into the conversation. "We are the power; We are the order here at the Beach. Right? We gotta stick together. We can't have you getting distracted over a pretty bitch."

"Man, maybe that's a little extreme. She seems like a fine girl, so why not let the man have his fun with her?" Relief washes over Niragi as someone advocates for him. For you. You deserve an advocate in your defense. Why was he so hesitant to be that?

"If the people of the Beach see Niragi going all soft, they're gonna think the rest of us are soft too. This place runs on fear and respect. If people don't fear us anymore, it creates chaos. Do you want chaos? Huh?" The man shining his gun continues to explain, slowly winning over the agreement of the others.

"Bro you must be drunk or something." The advocate rolls his eyes, standing up to leave the room. Before he can get to the door, a loud shot fires and echoes through the little room. There is no more laughter, only absolute silence. The advocate, your advocate, was dead. Shot, clean through the back of the head.

"Dude what the fuck-" Someone pipes up, but the man who shot him only rolls his eyes, unphased by the death. Maybe nobody in the room is very phased by death itself, only at the man's extreme reaction to someone's disagreement.

"This is what we're about guys. C'mon. Fuck! We're the militants. Even saying our names brings fear into people here. Lives are meaningless in this place. His life meant nothing to anyone. Can a single person in here tell me his name?" Crickets. Silence. Niragi debates shooting this lunatic, but every pair of eyes in the room suddenly land on him. "So, Niragi, is it gonna be us or your bitch of the week?"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"What were you, before you came here?" You ask, suddenly breaking the silence in your morning ritual. You were more alert today, knowing that at the end of the night, you could be dead. Your visa expires today. "Were you in the military?"

"No." Niragi replies coldly, poking at an egg on his plate. You continue to watch him as he toys with his food, still waiting for a longer answer. His eyes meet yours before he groans and sits back in his chair. "Game engineer. Why in the world would you think I was in the military?"

"Oh, it's just the way you swing that gun around. You always seem so confident." You giggle and flash him a smile. "Who would've thought there a brain somewhere in that hard head of yours?" His eyes flash with irritation for a moment at your joke.

"Watch yourself. I could still shoot you." He grumbles. You know he's joking. You are truly convinced that behind that hard exterior, Niragi is a sweetheart. You could see it in the little things he did. In the way he would look for you to waddle down the stairs every morning, in the way he glanced at you while you were with Kuina, in the way he always happened to be around your hallway at the end of the night to make sure you got back safe. His excuse was that he just seems to be patrolling the area around that time. "What did you do?"

"I was studying pediatrics." You take a sip of your drink, remembering your life before the Borderlands. You were always the perfect student. You were praised for your talents and intelligence, following the expectations that were always weighing in your life. You enjoyed your field, of course. You wanted to help children and make the word a safer place. However, the academic burnout had been really catching up to you. In a way, you were grateful to be taken to the Borderlands when you were. As horrific as all the death was, at least you had some peace during the visa days.

"That girl will be a doctor, or a lawyer someday. Maybe even an engineer." You recall the endless praise you received from teachers and loved ones. It was always the expectation that everything came naturally to you. "I'll be sure to push her in the right direction. She has too much potential to let it all go to waste."

"Cute." Niragi comments, taking a sip of his coffee. "Suits you." Your cheeks flush at the compliment, and you can't help but let a filly grin grow on your face. Niragi rolls his eyes, smirking and shaking his head. "Don't get used to it. You're still a dork."

"Y/N!" You hear your name being hollered, and quickly turn your head to see who it was, despite already recognizing the voice. It's so early, the sun has barely risen. Most people aren't up at such a time, leaving a sweet privacy between you and Niragi. However, this was interrupted by a very concerned looking Kuina. She had never seen you and Niragi actually talking before.

"Kuina! You're up unusually early. What's up?" You say joyfully, as if you weren't caught having a meal with the one person Kuina had been warning you about since you first arrived at the Beach. She eyes Niragi skeptically before he got the message, throwing his hands up and scoffing as he pushed his chair back and left the table. "Hey, why'd you give him such a dirty look?"

"What are you thinking?!" She whisper-yells, as a certain pierced male is still in earshot. "What are you doing down here with Niragi? You know nobody else is down here, right? He could do something to you!" You chuckle, thinking the idea absurd that Niragi would every do anything to hurt you.

"He's not really as bad as everyone says he is. We were just having breakfast. We do every morning." You explain, continuing to ramble on about your pleasant breakfasts. Kuina bites her lip. Of course, she cares about you and your wellbeing, but she also worries about what she will tell Chishiya.

Chishiya had a plan to steal the cards and use you as a decoy. Although Kuina wasn't entirely comfortable with this, she didn't have much of a choice. Now seeing how close with Niragi you were becoming; She debated if it would be much of a good idea to recruit you for the plan at all. Maybe, it would make you even better for the plan. Maybe upon being caught, Niragi would take it easier on you.

"Kuina? Are you okay?" You stand, taking her hands in yours, rubbing your thumbs over them gently. She blinks a few times, returning to the present moment before nodding. "I'm sorry I've worried you. I know you had concerns about him, but I'm a grown woman. I think I can judge him for myself, and I am super sure he would never do anything to me."

"How sure can you really be about anyone in a place like this?" Kuina sighs at your unrelenting trust in the good of humanity. If there was any good in this place, it's you. "Just be careful, okay? How sure is your super sure?"

"I am one-billion percent sure. I trust him." You nod, hugging her. You've been so grateful for what life in the Borderlands has brough you: A break from the pressure of your old life, Kuina, Chishiya, and Niragi. You trusted these people, your friends, with all your sweet, naive heart.

Little did you know, every single one of them had already been plotting against you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"Wow! Two games in a row we get paired together! How lucky is that?" You exclaim, holding up your little piece of paper right beside Niragi's. It wasn't luck. It was rigged to be that way. You were meant to die in a game tonight.

"Uh huh. Luck." Niragi grimaces. You're terrified of what may come, but being in the same game as Niragi brings you a little comfort. After he had so nobly helped you in the last game, you had every bit of confidence that this one would be no different. "Just don't be a nuisance."

"Hey! I never am." You whine, making your way towards the car you're meant to take. Niragi watches you walk, the way your arms sway beside you. No matter what it is you're doing, he finds it alluring, and he begins to hate it.

He had come to the revelation that his fellow militants were right. There was just something about you that made him feel weak. It brought him back to the days when he was ruthlessly bullied and tormented, doing nothing to stop it. Would you be his downfall, and is he doing nothing to stop it? He growls, shaking the thoughts from his mind and following you to the car.

As usual, it was you in the back with two other people. Except this time, they were not lip locked lovers. They were strangers, sitting on either side with you in the middle. The young man beside you couldn't have been any older than fifteen, twiddling his thumbs nervously and staring out the window. You remember how afraid you were during your first game and wondered if this was his first game too.

Finally, after a drive that felt like hours, you arrive at a large building. It's not a tower, like your last game was. It's a gym with two floors, filled with various types of exercise equipment. Some rooms have ropes and rock walls, there's a pool, and the technology in the gym was generally very impressive.

"Must've cost a fortune to get a membership into this place." Someone comments. You make your way to the table with several phones on the table. It looks like one has already been taken, but you don't see anyone else in the room other than the people you made the journey with.

You take your device, holding steady as it scans your face. Two minutes and one second until registration closes. You look around the room, searching for Niragi. He's already eyeing you, but this time he doesn't look away when you spot him as he usually does. He gives you a look of pity, something you'd never seen from him before.

"Are you scared?" You ask, approaching him and hugging yourself. "No matter what the game is, we can get through it. I trust you, and you can trust me." You were terrified of the idea that there could possibly only be one survivor in this game. If it came down to it, the only chance you had in beating Niragi was in a diamonds game.

You stop your train of thought. Why were you already thinking about how you could beat Niragi? The game hadn't even started, and you were already brainstorming how to betray him if you truly had to. You shove those thoughts out of your mind determined to stay loyal to your friend.

"Scared?" He raises an eyebrow, scoffing. He was scared shitless. Not because of the game, but because of what may happen to you. On the one hand, he hoped you would die in this game. You were proving to cause more internal turmoil than you were worth. The other part hoped you would make it out alive, so you could eat breakfast together tomorrow. "If there's anything to be scared of here, it's me."

You giggle, finding his confidence adorable. If this game ended up being a gym related physical challenge, you had no doubt that he would make it out. You were not so confident. You weren't weak by any means, but you definitely weren't the strongest. You recall how badly you wanted to start regularly going to the gym, but you were always so engrossed in your studies.

A chime echoes through the room as the game instructions begin to recite over the speakers. The missing phone and its owner poke out of a shadowy hallway. It's a woman about your age with beautiful long brown hair.

Game: Workout - Seven of Spades

Rules: There will be three stages in this game, testing endurance, balance, and strength. Once a stage is completed, you may not return to that room. In your final challenge, there will be a key waiting for you. Retrieve your key and use it to unlock your door out of the building. Should you attempt to take another player's key or exit through a door which is not yours, you will be eliminated.

Clear Condition: Retrieve the key in the final challenge and unlock your door.

"Players, please make your way to the first room." The voice over the speakers says before going silent once again. A big arrow sign lights up, pointing to a room near the back of the gym. Everyone hesitantly follows the instructions.

The young man you sat near in the car opens the door first. Inside, there are several large balance beams and signs with each person's face, indicating which one each player should go to. You find your face, noticing the weights laid neatly at your feet.

Below the balance beams, which are hoisted nearly six feet in the air, the floor is littered with broken shards of glass. You shiver, dreading what would happen if you were to fall off your beam. There are instructions near each beam, clarifying that each player must make their way across the room on their beams with their weights, which are assigned based on body mass.

Your clock is ticking, and you'd rather not waste time. While some are arguing about trading weights, you pick yours up. They're decently heavy, you won't lie. You feel the tug in your shoulders. With your weights in hand, you begin to make your way across the balance beam. The height is terrifying, and you make mental note to breathe in and out at a healthy pace.

"Look! She's already going!" Someone says, but you don't dare look back. The beam stretched several meters, but you simply try to take it one foot in front of the other. Somehow, you make it to the other side quickly, dropping the weights onto the ground once you reach your destination.

"It's really easy, guys! Just don't panic. We'll finish this game in no time!" You shout back to the other side of the room. "How is this a seven of spades? That was... simple." You say to yourself as you watch the woman with long brown hair step onto her beam.

She had taken her shoes and sweatshirt off in an attempt to make this easier on herself. You could see the panic on her face as she turned back to look at the rest of the group.

"I- I can't! I'm scared of heights!" She squeals. Though you had never met this woman before, you sympathized with her terror, and you called for her to not look back. She took a step forward on the beam, trembling.

You continued to try and reassure the brown-haired woman while others began to cross their beams too. You advised her to watch her breathing and not focus on looking down, but on what was ahead. She had actually managed to make it halfway across the beam, and pride filled your heart.

Unfortunately, good things never last in the Borderlands. The woman looks down, her knees wobbling as she grows panicked once again. She looks back, realizing she is too far on the beam to turn around. You try to console her, but she is too terrified. Her legs buckle underneath her, and she slips off her beam, the weights falling out of her hands as she crashed six feet down into the ground.

The crunch of glass fills the room and the woman begins screaming, blood pouring out from her body as she tried to escape the sharp shards. Wailing and crying, she attempts to crawl the rest of the way. Her palms and knees are reduced to wounded fleshy matter and her throat grows hoarse from her shrieks. This is when you notice the large bloody fragment protruding from her right eye.

You feel as though you're going to vomit, and you turn around, unable to watch. You hear other people shouting, starting to make it across the room and beckoning for the brown-haired woman to endure a little longer. You feel a hand on your shoulder, but you don't dare check who it is. You are too nauseated by the sounds of cracking glass and howling.

"I- I'm here!" The woman's pained voice shouts. "I made it to the end! I'm here-" Her sentence is cut off and you hear the sound of blood splatter. You feared she would be eliminated for not completed the challenge in the way it was intended. How cruel to make her crawl all the way across the room, only to die. You're about to turn and look at how close the dead woman came, but a voice tells you not to.

"Don't look." You had hoped the hand on your shoulder was Niragi's, but instead, it belonged to the young boy you say near in the car. "It's not pretty. Just move on to the next room." He speaks. You nod, your hand tracing the handle of the door to the next room before shoving it open.

Before you, there were pull-up bars positioned over stepping stools. Again, there were instructions to take your place at one of them. You let out a shaky breath and approached one of them. A timer on the wall was stopped at five minutes.

Nobody spoke. Maybe everyone was still processing the gruesome death which had taken place in the last room. There was no celebrating that we'd all make it out. Only mourning for a stranger. You watched the others climb up their stepping stools, and you did the same, gripping onto the bar above your head tightly. You didn't need to be told what to do. You only need to hold on for five minutes.

The challenge begins, and all the stepping stools get lowered into the ground. Trap doors open up beneath everyone. If someone were to let go, they would fall onto the concrete grown of the basement below. Nobody could survive that fall. The timer ticks down tantalizingly slow. You can already feel the burning in your arms. You need something to pass the time.

"Hey." You turn to the young boy, who had taken his spot next to you. "What's your name?" He smiles, seemingly unphased by the deadhang challenge. Underneath the layers of clothes, maybe he actually had some muscle to him. "How old are you?"

"I'm Shinji." He replies politely. On the bar behind Shinji is Niragi, his eyes shut in concentration. "I turned fifteen over the summer. What's your name, Miss?"

"Y/N, and unfortunately I'm not quite as youthful as you." You joke, earning a light chuckle from Shinji. You adjust your hands, glancing at the timer. Four minutes and twelve seconds remaining. "What's your favorite color?"

"Oh, shut up!" Someone growls. It's the man who had been driving the car on the way to this game. "Nobody wants to hear all your boring chatter. Nobody cares about your favorite color, or your name. Just focus on not dying."

Suddenly, there is a mechanical whirring as your bar begins to rotate, your hands nearly slip, but you continuously adjust your grip. The stranger who had been sitting on the other side of you in the car slips, banging her head on the ground before falling into the darkness below. You nearly let out a scream, but you have to focus on the task at hand.

Your pull up bar was now rotating, and you constantly had to adjust your grip while still enduring the burn of keeping yourself on. Three minutes and thirty-nine seconds left. You only hoped there wouldn't be any more surprises during this challenge. Despite the difficultly you were facing now, at least you weren't injured, like in your last game.

You hear another person slip, the crunch of their bones echoing as they crash into the ground. You bite your lip, drawing blood as you attempt to stay stable on your bar. Two minutes and fifty-six seconds.

You don't dare to try and make any conversation now. You are barely able to stay steady as is. One of your arms slips, earning a popping sound in your other shoulder. You scream as pain surges up your arm. You must have dislocated something. You reach back up, attaching both hands to your bar again. Tears prick your eyes, but you can't afford to let go right now. Your life depends on it.

Two minutes and two seconds. More than half the time is already passed. You feel your palms trembling as you try to hang on. Your left arm is now completely numb from the shoulder down. Suddenly, the bars stop rotating. It's a relief, a moment of rest and bliss. Unfortunately, this moment does not last long before they begin to rotate in the other direction. You hear Shinji groaning in pain, and you look towards his direction again.

"Almost there Shinji. Just hang in there a bit longer." You try to sound confident and comforting, but your voice is cracking. He gives you no reply, sweat dripping down his forehead as he desperately tries to keep up with the rotation.

Fifty-five seconds. Five minutes has never felt so long. You hear no struggle or complaints from Niragi or the driver. It makes you regret focusing so hard on your studies rather than being more well-rounded. Maybe if you had regularly gone to the gym a little more, you wouldn't be having such a hard time now.

Three.

Two.

One.

Finally, it's over, and the trap doors beneath you close. You sigh in relief, dropping down to the ground and tumbling on your knees. Shinji is the first to approach you, eyeing your shoulder with a grimace.

"Miss Y/N, your shoulder really doesn't look too good..." He says, crouching to help you up. "I think it's your shoulder blade. It's kind of... Sticking out?" You try to get a good look at your shoulder, but it feels nearly impossible. Your eyes land on Niragi, who has felt incredibly distant during the whole game.

"Niragi!" You shout to him. He pauses, taking a deep breath and begrudgingly walking up to you. "I think my shoulder blade is dislocated. I need your help." You say, looking up at him expectantly. He stands, observing you for a bit before groaning.

"Fine. Turn your ass around." He grumbles. You turn around, waiting for the searing pain that you're about to experience as Niragi pops your shoulder blade back into place. You shriek, but the pain only lasts a moment before relief washes over you. "You've gotta quit your screaming, you banshee." Niragi teases, turning away and trudging into the next room.

You and Shinji follow close behind, being met with a large stairwell going downwards. It makes you uneasy to be going down, especially considering there is only one more challenge before the end of the game. At the end of the stairs is an already open doorway. Niragi and the driver have already gone through.

The next room is a large rock-climbing facility, except it seems the rocks have already been removed from the ragged walls. Instead, there are several long ropes. At the top of the ropes, there are keys. Finally, this is where you're meant to be.

You approach the rope indicated to be yours. Upon a closer look, you realize that this is not a normal rope at all. It's barbed wire, braided up into a thick long cord. This is going to really hurt, but at least your shoulder is fixed for this portion of the game. So much for having no injuries.

There was yet another timer on the wall. Fifteen minutes. This filled you with dread. You would have to climb up this giant barbed wire rope in only fifteen minutes? You spy Shinji inspecting the rope before pressing his finger against it. It slices right into him, a drop of blood pooling on his pointer.

Before you can say anything, a loud beep sounds, and the timer has begun. You gulp, looking in Niragi's direction. He's already begun climbing, having torn some fabric from his shirt and wrapping it around his hands. You steal the idea, advising Shinji to do the same. You tear off part of your clothes, wrapping it around your hands and starting up the rope.

You can still feel your hands being pricked, but at least the spikes aren't digging into you. Shinji is making some good progress. So are you. Maybe everyone will make it to the end without any more death or injuries. Just then, you hear a yelp from your young friend. You look his way, seeing that the piece of fabric around his left hand had come undone. When he notices you looking, he waves the hand in the air.

"It's fine. I've still got the other one! Keep going!" He shouts. You nod, continuing to hoist yourself up the rope. Your hands tingle from the sensation of light pricks over and over again.

You turn back to check on Shinji. He's fallen farther behind, his left hand bloody from climbing. There are eleven minutes left. He can still catch up, right? You try to focus on your climbing, but Shinji's groans in pain keep tearing you away. You want to help him. You wish you could, but there would've been no way for you to reach him.

Your leg slips and a gash is created in your thigh. You hiss in pain as the warm blood begins to drip down your leg. It's always the same leg that happens to end up bleeding in these games. It takes you a moment to readjust, scratching up your limbs as you try to find your position once again. The fabric wrapped around your right hand gets torn, leaving your palm exposed to the barbed wire.

You continue onwards, trying to distance your mind from all the pain you're feeling. It burns like a million papercuts on your skin. Your movements grow sloppier and the wounds on your body grow until you are littered in lacerations.

You're lightheaded, and when you look down, you realize why. The barbed wire is covered in your blood. Not enough to be fatal, but enough to feel dizzy. You feel like you're underwater, and all sounds around you are muffled. There are somehow only four minutes left. Looking up, you see you only half a little more than a meter to go.

You gather all your strength, pulling yourself up further. You're almost there. You can see your key nearly in front of your face. You look back again, searching for any sign of where Shinji is.

He's still very far down, and your heart drops as you realize he likely won't make it in time. Then, you search for Niragi. He must've already made it up, because he was nowhere to be seen. You curse him for leaving you and Shinji behind. The rules clearly stated you could help one another.

"Keep going Shinji! You're nearly there!" You lie, hoping this will motivate him. You reach up to take more of your rope, inching closer and closer to the top. Suddenly, your other arm gives out and you slip down a few more feet. You screech as the wire cuts your face, thighs, arms, and chest. This is not so bad in comparison to falling to your death, but the agony still leaves your brain foggy.

You're getting to the point where you're losing too much blood. Tears fill your eyes as you force yourself to keep going. This is what it's all about, right? Surviving. Living. You need to live to get back home. To see your loved ones again. You need to finish your studies. You need to make it through this game.

You look up, spying Niragi standing on the ledge over you. You gasp, grateful to see that he stuck around. You reach your hand up, well within range for him to pull you to safety. Exhaustion was beginning to set in, and your body ached.

"Niragi!" You choke out his name, your arm outstretched to him while the other barely clung for dear life. "Pull me up!" Yet, you got no response. You didn't feel the warm touch of another hand grabbing yours. Only the cold air around your bloody palm. There was a pause, a hesitance, from the man you thought you could trust. Your sight blurred with tears of fatigue and heartache.

You watched his fuzzy form turn his back you to, walking away without another word.

[quizzicalwriter]

dally winston x virgin!reader who asks her boyfriend dally to be her first time

Sweet Thing

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Intimacy, intimacy, intimacy.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Kissing, touching, fingering. Inexperienced and slightly innocent reader. Loss of virginity.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.8k (I got carried away.)

You’d always been Dallas’s favorite preoccupation, distracting him from everything else in life. The sweet thing he carted around whenever he hung around with the boys or found himself in the drunken den that was Buck’s on a Saturday night. You’d be there, propped on his lap with his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

Not that you didn’t have anything to say besides sitting there, hell, the guys loved you. You could hold your own when it came to their wit and it made you a worthy companion for Dallas in their eyes, not to mention your inexplicable ability to put up with his shit when nobody else had before - or seemingly nobody else had been given the chance.

Normally Dallas would’ve gone for girls at the drive-in, greaser girls, or any woman he could get his hands on or who could handle his banter for longer than a minute without giving him the back of their hand. You weren’t one of them, and frankly, that terrified Dallas. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away, push you away in hopes that he’d save himself the pain of heartbreak later on he’d convinced himself he’d suffer. But he always stopped himself whenever you found yourself in his arms, gazing up at him with your doe-like eyes.

It was a difficult thing, Dallas being intimate. He was born and raised in a constant battle for survival, not showing love or producing it, but you made it easy. The longer you two had been together the longer he found himself wanting to keep you close, protect you from dangers he seemed to see everywhere. The worries you once had about him leaving eventually faded, the look in his eyes as he gazed at you whenever you laid in his arms far outweighed any ill thoughts you’d suffered with.

The only way you could describe it was ardent, laced with a deep desire that you’d never seen before in his brown eyes. A deep desire that would show itself in the bounds of the night after the two of you had disappeared together, culminating in you on his lap in his bed, hips rocking together as he kissed along your throat and down onto your chest. Or with your legs wrapped loosely around his hips, him grinding into you, you whispering sweet moans into his mouth spurring him on to do more, touch you more, please you more.

Dallas never pushed, he was always understanding whenever you pulled away. Of course, he’d have to adjust himself in his jeans, but he’d quickly pull you to his chest and press delicate kisses along your face, murmuring how much you mean to him, something he didn’t dare do in front of others. That side of Dallas was for you, nobody else, so you treasured it whenever he showed it.

On one particular Saturday night in the midst of autumn, you found yourself propped up against Dallas’s side on one of the couches in Buck’s bar, legs bent up at your chest as you fiddled with frayed denim at the end of your pant leg. Dallas was in a debate with a random man, someone he seemed to know well enough to bullshit with, talking about how the two had snagged something good off a rich man’s car not too long ago.

If it hadn’t been for the incessant country music Buck played when it rounded two in the morning you’d likely have fallen asleep against Dallas, but the occasional jump of a new song kept you jerking awake, a tired pout situating itself on your features as you rested your cheek against Dallas’s shoulder.

“Looks like your miss is real tired.” The man stated, taking a long puff from his cigar before gesturing toward you with the end of it, a snicker following his words as he propped himself up against the end of his pool cue. Dallas quirked a brow, looking down at you where you were tucked into his side with a hidden smile.

“Guess she is.” He murmured, not saying anything more beyond that before moving to prop himself up straighter, hand smoothing down your back as he looked down at you. “Tired?”

You weren’t tired, tired. More so bored, the constant scent of smoke and alcohol wasn’t helping the boredom or the budding headache in the back of your skull. But knowing if you said anything other than ‘yes’ at that moment would result in another hour downstairs, you nodded, feigning a yawn as you let your eyes flutter deceptively.

Dallas caught on, but he didn’t say anything. Instead choosing to click his tongue against his teeth as he played along, shrugging as he moved to stand. “I’ll see you later, man.” He stated, causing the older man to shrug himself before dispersing off into the crowd. Dallas turned to you, helping you to your feet before leading you up the stairs.

“Lyin’ is a sin, y’know that right?” He chuckled out, quiet enough for only you to hear as he nudged open his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, causing you to laugh yourself and avert your gaze from his as you moved into the familiar room.

“Didn’t lie.” You mumbled out, another pout crossing your lips as you kicked off your shoes, making your way to his bed. “Real tired, Dally.”

“Sure, doll.” He snickered from the corner of the room as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, the familiar metallic clang of his belt hitting the wooden floor echoing throughout the room soon after.

He moved beside you then, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest. The sound of country music and clattering pool balls still echoed from downstairs, but the only thing you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of Dallas’s knee between your legs.

It was an innocent move, both of you slept with your legs intertwined, it felt comfortable given how small his bed was. As he shifted to get more comfortable his knee pressed harder against your clothed cunt, causing your cheeks to flush red as you choked back a whine. Dallas stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he took a moment to gauge your reaction before moving his knee again.

“Dal-“ You whined, hand moving down in between your legs as you buried your face into the pillow you two shared, his scent lingering heavily on the fabric doing nothing to quell the growing ache between your legs.

“What, doll? Feel good?” He whispered, words ghosting across the nape of your neck, causing your back to arch involuntarily as you slowly nodded. His hand smoothed down your front, bumping over the fabric of your shirt and jeans as he slowly moved to cup your sex, ever so gently applying pressure as he rocked himself against you.

You felt yourself soaking your underwear with arousal the longer he rutted against you, his fingers pressing against your cunt through your jeans as he did. A familiar sensation bloomed in your lower stomach, one that left you clenching your thighs around his palm as you tried to quell the growing ache.

“Gotta tell me what you want.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, trailing a litany of open-mouthed kisses along the curvature of your throat, pressure from his fingers increasing against your cunt. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, Dallas, just fuck me.” You whined, embarrassment over the prospect of voicing your needs soon being overweighed by the sheer need you felt for him, your hand moved to grasp at his forearm as you begged. “Please, Dal.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he moved to sit up on his knees, pressing another kiss to your jaw before pulling his shirt up and over his head. You laid there, lips parted as you watched him undress, feeling your blush spread from your cheeks to the top of your chest. You wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him - so you did. You moved to sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his jaw, only pulling away when you felt that familiar pull to touch him elsewhere.

You’d seen him without a shirt, but you’d never truly been able to admire him until now. Your hands wavered over his body, fingertips dipping in between the rivets of his toned skin, along healed scars, a faint bruise that still lingered under the left side of his ribcage. Above it all you found yourself fascinated with the way his chest rose with each breath and the small freckles that lined his skin. They reminded you of the ones he’d gotten from his time in the sun that plastered themselves against his cheekbones and upper shoulders.

Dallas let you look, eyes fluttering whenever your hands would drift farther south than before. You could hear him taking in shuddering breaths, chest catching every few minutes as though he were teetering on the edge of self-control. He raised his hands then, looking to you for approval before he lifted your shirt up and over your head, bundling the soft fabric in his hands before letting it fall to the floor.

You reached your hands behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders until your bra collapsed into your lap, exposing your breasts to him. Dallas had seen women before, he’d seen plenty, but none of them had ever had the effect you currently had on him. He felt his throat dry, brown eyes flickering between your chest and your eyes before he moved to gently lay you back against his bed, situating himself over top of you.

“You want this?” His words were hushed as his hand drifted down over your bare stomach, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he kept his gaze locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort or worry. When you responded with a nod and a quiet, “I want this.” He smiled, a soft laugh leaving him as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’d envisioned losing your virginity hundreds of times, a perfect encapsulation of what sex had to be painted in your mind, vivid and blaring. But this was so different, the way Dallas was so gentle, not afraid to laugh if something awkward happened, both of you sharing the pure moment of intimacy with smiles on your face. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for it and that somehow made it all so much better.

As he slid your jeans off your legs he smiled up at you, a soft look on his face as he tossed the denim to the floor, moving back up to place another languid kiss to your lips. His hand moved between your thighs, fingers splaying against your cunt through your underwear, a groan passing his lips when he felt just how wet you’d become.

“Dallas, please-“ You begged, thighs trembling as he continued to tease you through your underwear. He relented, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before moving to sit back up, slowly sliding your underwear down and off your body before discarding them to the floor as well.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wandering over your form laid in front of him, hands smoothing up and down your sides as he took it all in. “So fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

You watched with bated breath as he slipped his jeans off, kicking his boxers off along with them. His length was bigger than you’d anticipated, only having felt the shape of it when you’d ground down against him during your frequent make-out sessions. As if sensing your apprehension he moved back over you, hand moving to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It won’t hurt, alright? We’ll take it slow, real slow.” He whispered, voice soothing as he helped you to wrap your legs around his hips, your heels subtly digging into the flesh of his lower back. He smiled down at you, eyes voicing a silent question if you were alright to which you quickly nodded back, a smile upon your face as well.

He braced himself on his arm, face close to yours as he slid a hand down between you, helping to guide himself inside before sliding his fingers up to slowly circle your clit. A moan left you at the feeling, leaving you clenching around his tip, the feeling causing him to bite back a grunt as he slowly began pushing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, brows screwing together as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of your welcoming cunt, pausing in his movements to give you a chance to grow used to the feeling. “Doin’ so good, baby, so good.”

You’d heard horror stories from your friends, tales of how their first time had been painful and rushed, but this felt the complete opposite. While it took you a moment to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you, it was an incredibly welcome feeling. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, his fingers circling your clit only adding to the feeling building in your stomach.

“Dal- Dal, move.” You whispered out, voice hoarse as you grasped at his shoulders, desperate for him to move. He snickered at your pleading tone, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in, slowly and deeply fucking you as he whispered words of praise into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses against your damp skin whenever he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

You could hear your wetness coating his cock with each thrust of his hips, his fingers slick against your clit. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, broken-off moans, and whispered words. Your thighs tightened against him as he adjusted himself, lifting himself a bit, unknowingly brushing against a spot within you that you’d never known existed - one that pulled a drawn-out moan from your chest.

“Yeah?” He asked through a smirk, hand moving down to cup your hip as he pushed back into you, hitting that very same spot. You could hardly think, let alone breathe as he fucked himself into you, fingers working at your clit as he angled himself to hit that spot over, and over. “Taking me so good, doll.” He grunted out, grip tightening on your hip as he picked up his pace.

Your hand shot down to his wrist as he continued toying with your clit, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm building to its peak in your lower stomach, the feeling causing you to rock your hips in tandem with his thrusts. The look on your face was enough to make him groan, his hand moving from your hip to your jaw as he tilted your face to look at him.

“Look at me when you cum on my cock, baby.” He murmured, voice soft yet authoritative as he slammed into you. As soon as you opened your eyes he moved his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach as he continued fucking himself into you. It felt as though he were pushing you down onto him, that spot that nearly blinded you with pleasure constantly being rutted against by his cock.

All you could muster was a weak, “F-fuck,” as you came undone, back arching off the bed as you whined out his name. He didn’t stop, stifling a groan at the way you writhed beneath him as he felt his orgasm building. Once you started swatting at his fingers that still circled your clit he moved his hand, choosing to grab the other side of your hip, effectively propping you up against him as he fucked you.

The pace was near brutal, moans forced from your body as your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn’t focus, still reeling from your last orgasm as he continued fucking you into oversensitivity-fueled bliss. You could feel his thumbs pressing into your hipbones, short curses slipping past his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He grunted, pulling out of you a second later, spilling his cum across your lower stomach. His chest heaved, cheeks flushed red as he pumped himself through his orgasm. You could only watch in a haze of your own, still catching your breath as he looked up at you, that familiar crooked smile taking over his features as he moved on top of you once more.

“Did so good, doll. Real good.” He murmured against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin between each sentence. “You feel alright? Need me to get you something?” He asked after a moment, a hint of concern evident in his tone that made you smile as you shook your head.

“It felt perfect, Dal. I’m alright.” You whispered back, turning over onto your side to face him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning up after to press a kiss to his waiting lips. “Perfect.”

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it this far, or even if you just skimmed it over - either way I appreciate the interactions! As always you can find my work over on my ao3 under the user “Unscriptural.” Thank you anon for the request! (Sorry for the late posting, or early? Wherever you are? I finished editing it and didn’t want to queue it, so here is your daily scheduled reading material.)

[bloodibambiidoll]

Say It

(Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Summary: You and Rafe both want to make your relationship official, but neither of you want to say it out loud. WK: 1.2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, choking, possessiveness, jealously, face slapping, daddy kink, breeding kink, degradation, switch!Rafe & Switch!Reader 18+MNDI!!

“Fuckin’ say it.” One of Rafe’s large hands has your chin pinched between his thumb and pointer finger while the other is buried in your hair, tugging on it to force you to look into his eyes. His face is inches from yours, blue eyes almost black from how wide his pupils are blown out, the look in them feral. He’s got you on your back with your knees hiked over his shoulders while he plunges his dick deep into your wet cunt, over and over again. When you don’t respond he lets out a low growl, releasing his grip on your chin to slap you across the face. “I said tell me who owns this fuckin’ pussy, slut.”

“Not you.” You smirk at him as you let the words slip from your mouth matter of factly. You let out a scoff that turns into a moan when he slaps you again.

“Yeah? If I don’t own you then why is your fuckin’ pussy suckin’ me in like a vice grip every time I slap you across your pretty little face then, huh? Looks like she knows who she belongs to.” Rafe pulls out until only his tip is still inside you before slamming back into you with breathtaking force. “Say it.”

“Fuck.” Your eyes roll back and a loud moan rips through you, much to your chagrin. You hate that even when Rafe was pissing you off he still fucks you so good it make your head spin. “You didn’t seem so concerned about my pussy when you were balls deep in some other bitch two days ago.”

“You sure about that?” He pushes himself up on his knees, his thrusts falter for a mere moment before he’s fucking you rougher and deeper than before. “Cause I’m pretty sure I’ve told you multiple times nobody grips my dick like this tight, wet cunt. What if I said I fuckin’ think about you every time, huh?”

“Oh fuuuckkingshit - don’t bull - shit - don’t bullshit me, you probably say that to all of your hoes.” He pulls out to the tip before slamming his hips against yours again, repeating the action over and over again, the sound of your hips smacking together and the squelching of your pussy filling the room.

“God, shut the fuck up, aight? ‘My pussy belongs to you daddy’ are the only words I wanna hear come out of that pretty little mouth.” He grips onto your chin again, squeezing your cheeks together so hard it almost hurts as he shakes your head slowly side to side. He pushes his hips flush against yours, stopping his thrusts all together. “Say it and I’ll make you cum on my cock.”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up and just make me cum? It’s not that deep -“ you feel him start to pull out of you and you can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s going to stop fucking you if you don’t just tell him aloud what you both already know is true. “Ugh! Fine!”

“Fine what, huh?” Rafe leans down so his face is inches from yours that is still grasped tightly in his hand as he rolls his hips against you. It sends your eyes rolling in the back of your head but he’s not having any of that. He taps your cheek roughly with his free hand until your eyes meet his again. “Fuckin’ look at me. Whose fuckin’ pussy is this?”

“It’s yours, okay!? It’s yours, daddy! Now please just fuck me I’m -“ your words are cut short when Rafe pushes him self up, throwing your legs back over his shoulders before he continues to fuck you with in an inch of your life. “Oh fuuuuck.”

“Yeah, that’s right, this daddy’s fuckin’ pussy, you’re fuckin’ mine.” Rafe growls as he brings his hand up to your mouth, shoving it between your lips before hooking two fingers on the inside of your teeth. He tilts his head down to let a glob of spit drop from his tongue onto your already slippery bud. His free thumb snakes between you to rub quick circles on it and it has you clenching around him.

“Oh god, fuck! Daddy, I’m - fuck - I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.” Your words are slurred from pleasure and his large fingers still occupying your mouth, drool drips down your down and you’re so wet that your juices are coating both of your thighs. You feel white hot pleasure shoot through you as your orgasm washes over you, making you practically see stars.

“Good fuckin’ girl. Cum for me, fuckin’ give it to me. Cream all over my cock baby.” He fucks you through it and once you feel yourself start to come down you hook your legs around him and use what little strength you have left to flip him onto his back with you strandling him.

“Now, whose fucking dick is this then? Since you wanna be all cocky.” You smirk down at him grabbing onto his shaft that just barely slipped out of you, you run his head through your folds before slamming down on his cock. You don’t give him a second to think before you’re riding him hard and fast. Your tits bouncing deliciously above him.

“Goddamn baby, you’re so fuckin’ fine, shit.” Rafe’s hands grip onto your ass for purchase as he leans back and lets you take him for all he’s worth. Your pointed nails are digging into his chest so deeply that he feels like you might break the skin but god does it feel good. He feels himself start to get lost in pleasure before he’s snapped out of it by your hand landing a harsh smack on his cheek. “Fuck.”

“Say it, Rafe, tell me your cock is mine and I’ll let you fill my pussy deep with your cum. Say it or I’ll stop.” It’s your turn to grab onto his jaw as you bounce on his cock like a little fucking bunny rabbit, with a fire in your eyes he’s never seen before. He swears he could bust right fucking now. “I can tell you’re about to cum. Tell me who owns this cock, now.”

“Fuck, baby, you. You’ve always had me, aight?”

“That’s what I fucking thought.” You give him a Cheshire smile before leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs giving him a perfect view of your pussy swallowing his cock whole over and over again. “You wanna fill me up, daddy? Breed my little pussy? Go ahead. It’s yours after all.”

“Oh fuckinshit - fuck, you’re such a good fuckin’ girl, bouncing on my cock so good. I’m gonna fuck this god damn pussy full. Knock you up so everyone really knows who owns this fuckin’ cock.” He’s drunk on your pussy by the time you feel his cock start to twitch before you feel him start to spill inside of you. That combined with his filthy words has you cumming right along with him. Once you both come down from your highs your body falls limp against his as you both pant, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re a fuckin’ brat, you know that?” Rafe chuckles as he lets his fingertips mindlessly caress the skin of your back.

“Yeah? And you’re kind of a fuckin’ dick.” You snort, resting your chin on his chest so you can glance up at him.

“Yeah? I’m your dick though.” You both start busting up laughing at that before you’re tilting your head enough to latch your lips onto his in probably the most tender kiss the two of you have shared.

“And I guess, I’m you’re brat.”

Divider is by @strangergraphics

[alba1221141]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

2

Y/N

"Now this one's called Mouser," Powder says, shoving the mini smoke bomb into my palms.

"Mouser?" I peer at the scrawled whiskers and ears.

"Yeah, silly, 'cause it's a mouse," she giggles, prodding one of the ears. "Ya like it?" She looks so hopeful when she asks that, like a puppy just wanting to make its owner happy.

I nod, smiling. "I love it. It's so cute. What color does it boom to?"

"Guess!" Powder singsongs, and I groan.

"Don’t make me guess. I hate guessi—"

"Just guess! Pleeeaase."

"Fine... pink?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Blue?"

"Guess again!" But before I can... BOOM.

I jolt awake in bed, panting softly. This is an infestation, relentless and vile. First, she worms her way into my daily routine, always there… looming. It’s disgusting, absolutely revolting. And now, this ridiculous fixation is ruining my sleep schedule—worse, my study schedule.

I find myself at my vanity, applying a ridiculous amount of makeup to hide the bags under my eyes. It’s fine, just a slip-up—one tiny mistake. Nobody has to know everything fell apart. Not today, not ever.

My hairbrush clatters to the floor as I throw it, frustration rising. No. No. My entire day cannot be derailed by this one tiny lapse. It was just a dream. My subconscious was simply in the mood to revisit the past, nothing more.

I take a deep breath and focus, moving with deliberate precision. When my hair is halfway secured in a perfect pink bow, I grab my uniform. The school uniform is simple—appropriate, modest, as it should be. Certain people, however, don’t wear it that way, why did my mind jump to her so instantly? There are plenty of other people who flaunt the dress code, make a mockery of it. Why her? It’s infuriating. Completely nonsensical.

I grab my bag from its designated spot by the door, double-checking its contents—binder, planner, pens in their correct case, and books for every class, organized by schedule. Satisfied, I sling it over my shoulder and head downstairs, the rhythmic click of my Mary Janes echoing throughout the otherwise empty house.

I move through the familiar routine—toast, tea, and the faint hum of the dishwasher in the background. Every detail falls into place, a perfect puzzle...

Until I step outside. The cool morning air brushes my skin, crisp and biting, and my mind drifts again. Why her? I shake the thought away, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. This is school. My space. My domain of control and focus. She can’t ruin that too. She won’t.

By the time I reach the front gates, my mental walls are firmly in place. They hold strong as i rush over to Cait and Mel waiting by our grouping of lockers. But then I catch a flash of blue in the corner of my vision—braids swaying, a grin that’s far too self-assured. My barricades shudder, and I bite down on my lip. Hard. Hard enough for those tiny droplets of blood to form.

I force my eyes forward, swallowing the sharp sting. Today will be just like any other. I won’t let her mess it up.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

School’s supposed to be a regular thing for me—well, that’s a lie. I only show up when Silco’s got that whole “I’ll cut your allowance!” thing looming over my head.

He's always 100000% bluffing, the mans a softie at heart.

Anyway, I only actually give a shit about the damn place when I’ve got a deal lined up. And hey, two days in a row?

Fucking impressive.

Todays little deal is 3g of molly, ecstasy, MDMA whatever floats ya boat.

It's a person by person basis. The pompous little Pilties will always call it Molly, like saying ecstasy would give them a fucking meltdown.

Like somehow Molly makes it sound all sweet and innocent—total bullshit to be honest.

As I march through the school parking lot, boots thudding against the cracked tarmac, I spot her. Miss Saboteur. I shove the bag of pills out of sight, just in time.

Ha, not today, toots.

She's standing there with her little Piltie entourage.

Honestly, it's pathetic. Her naivety to the class divide. And she let me tell you Y/N must be insanely thick because its very, very obvious.

You can even see it in the lovely parking lot.

On one side, you’ve got these busted-up Chevys and beat-to-hell sedans. On the other? Shiny Cadillacs and those fancy little luxury cars, the ones that scream Daddy’s money with every brrrrr of the engine.

A very diverse range if i do say so myself.

But ladies and gents, deny it all she wants, roots stick—Zaunite dirt doesn’t just brush off.

I toss the little purple baggie into locker 505 as requested, and it lands with a soft plop at the bottom. Job done.

The bell rings, but who even cares? School’s just a place to mess with people, anyway. Everyone’s all in their little cliques, walking like robots to their boring classrooms, all stiff and predictable.

So fucking boring.

I shove my way through the crowd, elbowing a few people ‘cause why the hell not? My boots clunk on the floor, and I can practically hear them wincing behind me. Good. I love that sound.

The second-floor art stairwell is, by far, the best skipping spot.

none of those nosy hall monitors or teachers lurking. Plus, it’s got this weird, artsy vibe from all the random graffiti and doodles left behind.

Honestly? It’s mostly me. Who else has the guts? Or the creativity? Maybe Ekko, when I rope him in. He always starts with "Jinx, don’t," blah, blah, blah—but give him five minutes, and he’s tagging like it’s his idea. Classic

So, I’m waiting for him now. He’s my usual skipping buddy—rebelling against authority and all that jazz.

By the time Mr Boy Saviour appears I've got a shit eating grin on my face as a doodle a certain girl on the wall, a little too focused on getting the details right.

"Look," I chuckle, "she's got horns."

"That Y/N again?" He leans in front of my masterpiece, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I giggle, lying through my teeth. "Totally not."

Liar, liar, liar.

"Gosh Ekko, get off my back, heard of artistic expression?" My grin vanishes, like, boom, gone in an instant.

Poor guy’s used to my outbursts by now. He just plops down next to me when I curl my knees to my chest, all casual-like, like I didn’t just snap at him for no damn reason.

But there is a reason, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

"I don't even get why you still talk about her, Ekko," I mutter into the fabric of my ripped tights. "I fucking hate her."

"Right, don't lie," Ekko says, leaning back against the wall, his voice all too casual. "You’ve been drawing her nonstop for the past week."

I huff, glaring at the floor.

Typical. He always knows.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Calls me out like it’s nothing. I roll my eyes, sinking into my knees even further.

“Shut up, Ekko,” I mutter, my fingers twitching against the ripped fabric of my tights. “It’s not like that.”

It totally is, though.

"Don't lie, you've been drawing her for days," Ekko says, grinning like he knows something I don't.

I squint at him. "I’m not—" I cut myself off, glancing at the sketch again.

Shit.

He leans closer, all smug, "Oh really? Then what’s this?" He points at the doodle like it’s the evidence that’ll finally put me on trial.

"Fuck off," I mutter, tossing the pen in his direction like it's some kind of missile, damn wish it was before stomping off.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: hey this is my first fanfiction on Tumblr, hope you like it :) please like and reblog!

[dexteri0us]

i know i haven't been perfect, but give it some time; 'cause not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, injuries (burns and cuts), louis greene, and you know... dexter's dark passenger

summary: requested: "dexter being super protective of you and when he finds out someone hurt you he immediately starts hunting him to kill him"

w/c: 5.5k

a/n: spoiler alert? it made me sad that dexter didn't get to kill louis, so here we go.

Louis is taking me to the hospital. Don’t freak out. Lab mishap.

You pressed send and the text appeared in a blue bubble, under it, there was a Delivered sign that quickly turned into Read.

Which hospital?

Jackson Memorial.

I’m on my way.

You didn’t really like it when people fussed over you. It felt unnecessary and only brought you discomfort most of the time. But this time, you couldn’t deny the relief knowing Dexter would meet you at the hospital.

“Who are you texting?” Came the voice from the driver’s seat.

You cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “My boyfriend.”

“Dexter?” Louis asked with a feigned curiosity.

You couldn’t stand him anymore; he was such a fake asshole it was physically hurting you. And today was honestly the last straw.

You’d spent the better part of your morning setting up your experiment, testing your final samples. The data was supposed to solidify your findings and allow you to finish your thesis.

Everything was in place, your samples loaded into the centrifuge as you triple-checked everything. Everything. The protocol, the settings on the centrifuge, spinning the rotor with your hand, ensuring that it was balanced and the lid was closed tight.

Louis had been hovering all the fucking time. You had tried to ignore him, but you couldn’t exactly tell him to go fuck himself. The lab at your school was a shared space.

“You really think you’re going to finish today?” He’d mocked you. But that didn’t throw you off. You knew you were, because you were prepared.

But then you stepped away from the centrifuge for just five seconds to retrieve your laptop. When you returned, you put the laptop next to the machine and pressed the start button on the centrifuge, causing it to whir to life, the rotor spinning faster and faster. Then suddenly, a sharp, metallic clunk echoed in the room, followed by a horrific screech. The centrifuge rattled violently and the lid flew open. Glass shards and liquid shot out like shrapnel and you barely had time to shield your face with your arm.

The pain was instant. A jagged piece of glass sliced across your forearm, and a burning sensation spread where the liquid splashed onto your skin.

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed, rushing forward with exaggerated concern. “Are you okay?”

You just clutched your arm, blood seeping between your fingers. The burn on your forearm throbbed, angry red splotches already forming. Your vision suddenly became blurred with tears of pain and frustration combined, but you held them back. You were not going to cry in school.

The commotion drew others into the lab, including your supervisor. And of course, Louis was quick to throw you under the bus. And, okay, you weren't wearing your lab coat, but nobody really was if they did something as simple as loading samples into a centrifuge.

Your supervisor sent you to the nurse, telling Louis to escort you in case you got dizzy. The nurse bandaged your arm and sent you to a hospital for further treatment. Louis chimed in, playing the part of a kind and worried colleague, and driving you there himself.

“Yes; Dexter. He’s on his way, so you can just drop me off and head back to the lab.”

“Nonsense. I can't have anything else happen to you.”

Bullshit. He wouldn’t even blink if the shards had hit your carotid artery and you bled out right there. Who knows, maybe that had been his plan all along. Louis had it out for you and Dexter, his petty vendetta against you couldn't be more transparent.

“Louis, please.” You closed your eyes in exasperation, your eyes still burning from the tears that tried to push their way through. “I know that you messed with the centrifuge. I don’t have proof, so don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything. But at least have the decency to stop pretending that you’re innocent.”

You saw his jaw flex and his knuckles get white from how he clutched the steering wheel, but he didn’t say anything. Frankly, you were getting uncomfortable being alone with Louis in the car, but luckily, the hospital came into view.

You tried to convince Louis to go, but he wouldn’t budge. He knew you hated his presence, and he reveled in the feeling that he was making you uncomfortable. You also had a hunch he waited for Dexter so he could provoke him too. He was like a lurking predator, leaning against the far wall, as the nurse gave you a sympathetic smile, adjusting the bandage on your arm. The burn cream was cool against your skin, but the sting of the injury sent vibrations through your whole arm.

The door opened, and your muscles finally relaxed. Dexter stepped in, his focused gaze sweeping the room. His eyes landed on you first, taking in the bandage on your arm and the nurse’s careful work. Then, his gaze flicked towards Louis.

Louis straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Dexter, hey! Don’t worry, YN’s alright. I made sure she got here safe.”

Dexter ignored him. If he hadn’t, he might have done something… nobody here needed to see. There was going to be time for that to do it right. Instead, he made his way straight to you.

“Hey,” you said with a tired smile.

His hand reached out to cup your head, his thumb brushing your temple and over the edge of your eyebrow in a soothing manner as his other hand hovered over your injured arm, as if to make sure it was still attached. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders and chest stiff as if he was holding his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Getting burned by an oven hurts more.” You tried to lighten the mood, but humor wasn't exactly his way of coping.

“What’s he still doing here?”

“I think he wants to steal you away from me.”

“YN…”

“I don’t know, Dex. He’s a fucking vulture, you know that. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”

You weren't even joking anymore; it wouldn’t surprise you if Louis had done this to get Dexter’s attention. Or get back at you for having Dexter’s attention. Louis had probably been obsessed with him long before you started coming to the Miami Metro’s forensics lab to work on your thesis. Louis, as a graduate and now a lab tech at your university as well as a senior intern at Miami Metro, was supposed to be your guide, to help you acclimate.

You had known Louis from school, and ever since he’d started working at Miami Metro, his ego had been bursting through the roof, so you hadn’t been so psyched when you’d found out you’d have to share a working space, but hey, what could you do. At least, he was genuinely eager to assist, proudly showcasing his knowledge of the lab’s high-tech equipment and Miami Metro’s most famous cases. But his favorite thing to do was name-dropping Dexter. Louis had never said it in those words, but Dexter was like a god to him.

“He’s a genius. Everyone here knows it. Stick with me, and you might even learn enough to impress him.”

You’d fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m here to work on my thesis, Louis. Not to waste my time.”

Louis had always been too loud, too close and most importantly, too self-important for your liking, and you’d thought back then already, that his admiration for Dexter bordered with obsession.

And when you finally met the famous Dexter Morgan, you were surprised how underwhelming it was. You actually expected another loud and arrogant scientist, but he was the exact opposite.

One morning, while you were struggling with the calibration of a piece of equipment, a calm and monotone voice spoke behind you.

“You’re off by a millimeter.”

You jumped out of your skin, closing your eyes to regain composure before turning around and finding Dexter with his hands in his pockets, just standing there. You hadn’t met, but you knew what he looked like.

“Fuck, thanks. Were you trying to give me a heart attack to keep me from using it? Jesus Christ.” You were still shaking off the jumpscare you just received.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good. Dexter, right? The guy who specializes in puddles.”

“Blood spatter analyst,” he corrected with a nod, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the lack of reaction to your joke. You introduced yourself and shook his hand, before he left without another word.

To him, you were just another in a parade of visiting academics, someone he’d forget as soon as your project ended.

Well, apparently, you liked to talk, making it hard for him to ignore you. It's not like you were targeting him specifically, you were just a naturally friendly person.

Vince's attention wasn't exactly hard to earn, especially if you were a woman, but Dexter noticed how you laughed even with Angel. Not that Angel was a touch-me-not, but it was still surprising to see you navigate the station with such ease, like a newcomer staking a claim in unfamiliar territory. You didn't force yourself into conversations; you didn't even have to. You had your own gravity around you, and people were magnetized to it.

“If you need something, Louis is your liaison.” He tried to brush you off one time, gesturing vaguely towards the open lab door.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, undeterred. “But Louis is busy explaining to someone how he’s basically the second coming of Einstein, so I figured I’d ask the real expert.”

But you didn’t wait for him to respond, taking the hint and leaving him alone. For now anyway. It made the corner of Dexter’s mouth twitch, but he caught himself and got back to his work. He thought about it for a moment before deciding that it would be suspicious if he was the only one ignoring you.

Over the next few weeks, you made a habit of dropping by his desk. At first, he found your presence… perplexing. You asked too many questions – some of them genuinely insightful, others just… so absurd. You often hovered just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be intrusive. And your sense of humor seemed to exist solely to see how far you could push him before he reacted. And to create a bond with his sister.

You and Deb shared that bark, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The sarcasm often rang through the breakroom, and while he wasn’t one to eavesdrop, one time he heard a mention of his name.

“Does your brother ever smile?” you asked Deb, leaning against the counter.

“Well, you know, occasionally.”

“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Winning the lottery? Accidentally putting sugar in his coffee instead of salt?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. Why would I put salt in my coffee? But unlike him, Deb laughed.

“More like when someone's bleeding out somewhere. You don’t even wanna see that, it’s creepy as hell.”

“He’s fascinating actually,” you said when you stopped laughing, taking another sip of your coffee.

Fascinating. Most people called him odd, socially awkward, or at best, smart. His victims called him sick or a freak. But fascinating was new. And unsettling. He didn’t particularly like being noticed, but he found himself not minding your attention. Dexter realized that when he came in on Louis scolding you for talking him.

“He’s not your friend or your assistant, okay?” Louis snapped at you, his voice rising in frustration. “I am. So, stop bothering him and do some actual work.”

Before you could respond, Dexter stepped in, his voice firm. “Woah, Louis. Thanks, but I think I can handle myself.”

“I’m just saying, she’s supposed to focus on her thesis—”

“And she is. I also don’t mind helping her.” He turned to you then. “At least, when she ends up working here, she’ll already know the ropes.”

Dexter wasn’t serious, he didn’t even know if you ever wanted to work in forensics. But to Louis, the words felt like a slap. For months, he’d bent over backward to gain Dexter’s respect, but he’d never earned more than a dismissive glance. And you just waltzed in, cracked a couple of jokes, and suddenly, you were like Dexter's personal pet.

It was clear he didn’t like how Dexter responded to you. You noticed how his behavior changed, becoming petty even at your university lab. It was like he was waiting for you to make a mistake while his jokes grew meaner, more passive-aggressive

However, Louis was still essentially a random guy. He wasn't your superior, so you didn’t let him scare you off. If he wanted to report you to your school, you had Vince's backing, and now Dexter's too, you hoped. You believed you hadn't done anything wrong, you still got your work done, so there was no reason to feel guilty.

That meant that you never limited yout contact with Dexter, who also grew more responsive over the time. You figured out that most of his laughter stemmed in ridicule, with his brows furrowed and looking at you like you were an alien which made a smile grow on your face, so you decided to lean into it. Did it make you look dumb? Yes. Did it make Dexter laugh? Yes in capital letters.

Deb was the one who finally pointed out what you had been trying to make painfully obvious for weeks.

“Jesus Christ, Dexter,” she said incredulously, smiling at him as if asking are you serious? “Are you blind, or just stupid?”

He looked up from the folder, his expression blank. “What are you talking about?”

“YN. The girl from the lab. She’s been flirting with you nonstop, and you’ve been staring at her like she’s a new blood sample. Do you even know how to human?”

His whole face scrunched up, going over your past interactions in his head. “She hasn’t been flirting. She’s just… talkative.”

Deb rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t sprain something. “Oh my God. You’re hopeless. She’s into you, Dex. And honestly? I think she’s kind of awesome. She’s smart, funny, and she’s got this great thing where she acts like an airhead just to see your face do that confused frown thing. It’s hilarious.”

Dexter’s frown deepened. “She does that on purpose?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Seriously, ask her out before she gets bored and moves on to someone who actually knows how to crack a smile.”

Weeks passed, and to Deb’s disdain, Dexter completely ignored her amazing advice. But she wasn’t one to sit idly by and she had had enough.

One afternoon, as you were bent over a microscope in the lab, Deb stormed in with an unyielding grip on Dexter’s arm.

“Hey, YN!” she said, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

“Uh… hey, Deb. What’s going on?”

She didn’t waste any time, her hold on Dexter's arm tightening as she shoved him into the room.

“Dexter has something he wants to ask you,” she announced, crossing her arms and giving Dexter an expectant look.

Fiddling with the pen in your hand, your eyes darted warily to Dexter, not really sure what was going on. And from the looks of it, Dexter didn’t know either. He looked genuinely confused, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

“Uh…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Deb groaned. “He wants to take you out. On a date. There. It’s done. The cat’s out of the bag.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A warmth surged through you, a small flicker of happiness bubbling up, but then you saw the horrified look on Dexter’s face, and it fizzled just as quickly. You turned back to Deb.

“Wow, Debra. I didn’t know you moonlighted as a matchmaker.”

“I don’t. But someone has to get the ball rolling.”

“And the first step is holding someone hostage?”

“Hosta– are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to her brother, jabbing a finger into his ribs, making him flinch. “Dexter, tell her!”

But before he could say a word, you got up from your chair and headed for the door.

“I appreciate the effort, Deb, but can we discuss this later? I need to bring these to Louis before he has a meltdown.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Deb said as she watched you leave.

“I’d rather not,” you quipped with a smirk, closing the door behind you.

But maybe Deb had a point.

Maybe he should ask you out.

It had been a while since he’d had a girlfriend, and perhaps it was time to change that. Saying no to you outright might be suspicious, and blending in was a cornerstone of his life. Besides, you weren’t so bad. Being around you wasn’t unpleasant. It made sense.

That's actually what he said when he finally asked you out: it makes sense. No fumbling over words or overly rehearsed lines. And you actually liked his reasoning. It was honest in its own way and you appreciated the lack of pretense.

That was one thing you’d learned about Dexter during your time at Miami Metro: he liked a logical approach, unlike most people who responded to emotion, whose actions were driven by feelings. He felt things, sure, just not in the same way, and he rarely expressed them outwardly.

It wasn’t like you were absolutely positive that it could turn into something meaningful or that a relationship with Dexter would last, but his way of interacting with the world was so unconventional that you simply felt drawn to it.

Dexter never really offered grand romantic gestures or gush over your presence in his life. But he noticed things you liked and made small accommodations for them. He listened with the intent to understand. And while he wasn’t exactly overflowing with emotion, you saw the quiet ways he cared.

You’d once mentioned in passing how receiving gifts made you uncomfortable, the pressure to perform gratitude leaving you uneasy. So when you joked that a specific brand of coffee was your lifeblood, he didn’t hand it to you wrapped in a bow. Instead, the next week, it simply appeared in the breakroom.

He wasn’t selfish about it, like most people were when they insisted on seeing your reaction. No, he just wanted to make you happy. And with that, he scored a double.

However, ever since you started going on dates, for the lack of a better word, because neither of you ever labeled it that way, he started second-guessing himself. He became more careful, often overthinking and calculating his answers. You suspected that Deb might have been partly to blame. She was too blunt sometimes, too quick to get into his head. But you made sure to let him know that he was more likely to scare you off by saying nothing rather than saying the wrong thing.

“You’re more confident about that than I am.”

You'd told him that he was the living embodiment of having a wall up. And not any wall. It was as if someone else had built it for him, and he was struggling to climb over it.

“You’re not even bad at climbing. You’re just trying to figure out where to put your hands.”

It was a strange way for your to put it, but you managed to create a whole think tank in his head which often left him with a dull ache between his eyes. He found himself admiring your honesty, the way you refused to put on a mask just to please the people around you or conform to societal expectations.

It’s not like you outright spilled your deepest, darkest secrets, but you gave him glimpses. You hinted at your own traumas that had shaped you, so matter-of-fact and so human.

It stirred something within him. For days, he debated whether to share his own scars, until he finally did, one night during a quiet walk along the beach. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest when he told you about his mother, the blood, the screams everything. Well, almost everything. He expected recoil, but it never came. You didn’t judge, it didn’t scare you away; you just looked at him with the same attentiveness, maybe a joke on your tongue about how that explained his line of work, because that's how you coped. And somehow, knowing he knew that made it easier for him to breathe.

And that night was also the night he kissed you for the first time. He didn’t plan for it. He just simply looked at you and the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a different kind of urge. One he didn’t have to fight or wait to satisfy it. He let himself feel.

Later that evening, you also invited him to spend the night at your place.

He’d be lying if he said that he regretted a single second spent with you. Yeah, you never seemed to stop talking, never seemed to stop moving.

“It’s like you’re daring your neurons to keep up,” he’d said to you one day.

“Well, I need to keep my synaptic connections in shape, right?”

But still, you made the chaos seem… manageable. You were a walking paradox, bringing a strange sense of order to his life, a balance. He started to think that this was his final and definitive chance at happiness. And he wasn’t going to screw it up. Nobody was going to take you away from him. Nobody, and it was in his control.

Before you could discuss it further, the nurse came back with a new bandage.

“Your boyfriend, I presume?” she asked with a warm smile, glancing between the two of you. But Dexter barely looked at her, his focus was entirely on you.

“Was it him?” He tilted his head toward Louis, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but you saw the nurse make her way to you to apply the bandage.

“Not here,” you murmured, darting a glance toward Louis, who was still lingering near the door.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension, spoke up. “She’s going to be fine. The burn isn’t deep, and the cuts didn’t hit anything major. Could’ve been worse. You might’ve earned yourself a Nobel Prize for dedication to science, though.”

She smiled, and you saw Dexter’s lips twitch into a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile.

“What chemicals?” he asked.

“Phenol and chloroform mix,” you replied, and the nurse followed up.

“Not ideal for skin, but we got to it quickly. Keep the bandage clean and dry, and she’ll be good as new.”

“Thanks,” Dexter said shortly. Then, turning back to you, he added, “I’ll be right back.”

“Dex…” you began, knowing very well where his mind had taken him. And honestly, a part of you didn’t even want to stop him, because you wanted Louis to leave you alone.

“I said I'll be right back,” he repeated, his voice stern.

Dexter straightened to his full height and walked toward Louis, a predator closing in on its prey.

“So? How is she?” Louis asked as soon as Dexter approached him.

“How do you think, Louis? I suggest you stop fucking around or I’ll make your life really difficult.”

“What?” Louis laughed with faux confusion. “I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and I think you’ve done enough. You can leave now. And if I find out you had anything to do with this, anything at all, you’ll wish it was you sitting on that hospital bed. Do you understand?”

“Geez, Dexter, are you –”

Dexter took a step closer without raising suspicion from other people.

“I’m serious, Louis. Do you understand?”

Louis nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Louis turned on his heel, but before making his exit, he turned to Dexter one more time. “Well… Catch you at work.”

Dexter ground his teeth, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress his need to protect you from Louis right then and there. He’d started seeing crimson the moment you texted him about Louis taking you to the hospital. Now, it was spilling everywhere, the red taking over his body, causing it to shake and ring in his ears. He wanted to fucking kill him. Louis had been trying to provoke him for quite some time, but he just crossed a line. Nobody will ever hurt you without consequences.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice brought him back to the present, your hand lightly brushing over his back as you tried to comfort him, ground him.

“No. I think I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “Okay, drama queen,” you said, and hooked your arm around his, making your way out of the hospital.

Dexter hadn’t said a word during the drive, not a single one.

He’d even turned on his marching music, which he rarely did when you were with him. That was a signal in itself. He was thinking. Hard.

Once you reached his apartment, he tossed his keys onto the counter with an unusual force, and without a word, he headed straight for the first aid kit.

“Dex, I just got it bandaged. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I want to see for myself.”

You weren’t entirely sure if this had something to do with the whole I don’t trust nurses thing or just general paranoia, but you decided not to argue.

“I know this isn’t your fault, but you should’ve worn your coat,” he said, his voice almost shaking as he held back from lashing out.

“I know.”

Dexter gestured for you to sit on the couch, taking a seat himself on the low table in front of you. He gently reached for your hand and began unwrapping the bandage.

“Tell me what happened.”

You described the incident in detail, including your suspicions that Louis might have been involved. Dexter gave you that Kubrick stare as his jaw tightened at the mention of Louis’ name.

When he uncovered the burn ringed by shallow cuts, he muttered a quiet Jesus.

“Once it starts blistering, you can’t scratch it, okay? It could get infected.”

“Yes, doctor,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s what the nurse said.”

It made his head twitch as he gave you a look. But he didn’t comment, instead gently placing your hand in his lap as he prepared a fresh bandage.

“Do you have any other samples left?” he asked, and it warmed your heart knowing that he cared about your lab work, too.

“Yeah, I should have some stored at the station,” you said. “Unless Louis decided to get rid of them too.”

“I’ll head back and check on them for you.”

“Well, I’m coming too. I need to get back to the lab, it’s not like I’m incapable of running the experiment again.”

That was a hard no. He didn't even have to think about it.

He didn’t like the idea of you being back at the lab, not when Louis was going to be there. But he also knew he couldn’t keep you away from the lab for long, so he needed to do this fast. He convinced you to stay at his place until the next day, at least. After all, you did feel tired from the burning pain and the pills that started to kick in. As Dexter stood to leave, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before kissing you on the lips, anchoring himself to you before heading back to work. And to take care of Louis once and for all.

It was easy. Louis was obsessed with serial killers, but he still lacked the skillset Dexter’s usual victims challenged him with. Now, he was going to give him the full-time experience.

He broke into his apartment and waited until Louis got home. A sharp prick to the neck and strapping him to a chair. Not his usual routine, but this wasn’t really to satisfy his urges. This was to protect you.

Once he was all tied up, Dexter broke a capsule of smelling salt under his nose and Louis' eyes shot open. Dexter wasn’t going to waste much time here, but he brought something to make it more enjoyable for himself.

“Wakey-wakey,” Dexter’s voice broke through the fog of Louis’s confusion.

He blinked, before he started thrashing against the rope. “What the hell?!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice. “What is this?!”

Dexter stepped closer to him, a faint curl of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. In his right hand, he held a bunch of vials filled with liquid.

“Do you know what chemical burn feels like, Louis?”

“What?” he asked, confused at first, but then it dawned on him. “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t do anything! I was just looking out for her. A-Accidents happen! Labs are dangerous places if you’re not careful, you know that!” Louis rambled, making Dexter watch him with an amused smile.

“Accidents don’t usually involve sabotage,” Dexter said evenly.

“Sabotage? Jesus, Dexter, you're blowing this way out of proportion. You're doing all this for some chick? Does her pussy feel that good?"

Dexter lurched forward, his fist connecting with Louis's face before he could react, the chair creaking against the floor as it moved with Dexter's strength. He leaned down to Louis’ eye-level, pointing a finger at his face. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, his bloody face scrunching in fear.

“Don't push it, Louis,” he said through his teeth. Dexter was quick to recover, his calm mask slipping back into place. “Let's talk about the fact that accidents always seem to happen when you’re around.”

Louis coughed, spitting blood onto the plastic-covered floor.

“You’ve got a pretty vivid imagination.”

Dexter’s lips twitched. He rose to his full height and backed away just to put down one of the vials and take a piece of cloth instead. He poured the chemical on it as he talked.

“It’s called pattern recognition,” he said, coming around the chair to stand behind Louis. “You should be familiar with that by now.” And with that, he stuffed the wet rug into his mouth. Louis twitched and thrashed, but Dexter was stronger. He made sure the cloth didn’t fall out, that Louis got the exact taste of what you’d gone through.

“How is it, Louis? You have my full attention now! The only time I’m willing to listen to your bullshit!”

He tortured him some more, before pulling the cloth out. As soon as Louis’ mouth was free, he started coughing. Then, Dexter poured some of the prepared solution on his glove.

“Did I get the concentration right, or was it too strong?” Dexter asked, rubbing his covered fingers together, the rubber shining under the kitchen light. Louis’ breathing quickened.

“Please. I won’t go near her again. I swear!” Louis cried out.

Dexter leaned in close again, his face inches from Louis’.

“You’re right. You won’t.”

And without further explanation, he pressed the gloved hand against Louis’ arm, holding it there long enough for the sting to start. Before Louis’ scream got too loud, Dexter stuffed his mouth with the rug again as he writhed in pain, the burning sensation spreading.

“That’s just a fraction of what she felt. And you’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, I would pour it right into your fucking eyes, your mouth, I would cut your skin open and fill it up before stitching it back together.” Dexter put his still wet hand on a different part of Louis’ arm, watching him squirm. “I would make you fucking drown in it.”

Dexter stepped back, watching Louis’ chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, some tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing with his blood. Dexter closed his eyes, bathing in that satisfactory feeling as he breathed in, the smell of chemicals and sweat and fear tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the counter where his knives were splayed out, taking the sharpest one and making his way behind Louis again.

“Goodnight, Louis.”

And with that, he sliced his neck, blood spilling onto the plastic underneath the chair.

When he came home that night, he found you still on his couch. Safe and sound. Your bandaged arm rested on the book you were reading, and when you looked at him, you greeted him with that casual smile of yours.

It was so genuine, so automatic. Like it had been waiting just for him. He couldn’t let himself be the reason you’d ever lose it, couldn’t let his or anyone else's world dim yours.

Without saying a word, he approached you, pinched your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to kiss that smile, because he knew it would only make you grin wider, and that’s what he wanted. He was making a silent promise, to you and to himself, to keep it safe, because seeing you light up like that, illuminating his dark world was everything he needed. And he wanted it to last.

[simp-ly-writes]

The Comment's Section (pt.10)

─────── · ·

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: an epilogue (no spoilers here!).

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, slowburn, fluff, light angst, cheesiness, friends that act like lovers, friends to lovers, mutual pining, attempt at humour, social media au, officially lovers.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT

─ · · A/N: my last smosh fic! thank you all seriously for all the support. I wouldn't have written as much as I did for the fandom without the comments, reblogs and tags I have had the pleasure of receiving. I may come back once I get through the creative burnout i'm feeling for smosh but who knows! Anways-uh... enjoy!

─────── · ·

A few years later...

🔔 (name)s_username just posted for the first time in awhile, check it out!

─────── · ·

Liked by phatchance, spennser, glen_powell, and others

(name)s_username Never really been much of a secret just how much I love my best friend that I can now, officially, call my husband 🫶

Thank you, Spencer, for dealing with my bullshit, for calling me out, letting me cry on your shoulder, yell in your face, eat everything in your fridge and yet still find ways to love me, all of me, and never make me question it for a moment. Thank you, my love, for showing me what love can feel like, what it can look like, and how it can be practiced.

It does not feel like twenty years have gone by but then again, I see you everyday and now I get that with the promise of forever. I love you and that is something I will never take for granted.

*No pictures from the wedding, sorry everyone but I'm keeping those for myself, friends, and family :-) Have roadtrip pictures instead!

View all 11,301 comments

spennser gosh, I didn't know we were hard-launching already?!

↳ (name)s_username babe, we did that nearly five years ago... 😬

username01 I will NEVER get over these two! 😭 I want a love like this! Its been so incredibly beautiful and fulfilling watching you two interact on screen together, congratulations! You both deserve nothing but happiness! #(yourshipname)isforever

username31 why is nobody else commenting about that last picture 🤣

co_mill you have me inspired to re-new my vows! Gosh, I remember meeting you both for the first time and seeing that initial re-spark and to see it, to celebrate it now, gosh-bestie you have my crying. I'm so happy for you both 🫶 #(yourshipname)isforever

↳ (name)s_username you have me sobbing now too! and I told myself I wouldn't cry anymore today! 😭 thank you for always believing in us (even when we didn't lol) ↳ co_mill of course! some people are just meant to be, just at a different time. ❤️❤️ ↳ (name)s_username couldn't have said it better myself ❤️❤️ ↳ username24 okay but why is this thread the most wholesome thing on the interweb??? ↳ username00 who tf says "interweb?"

username69 still don't understand why anyone would care about such a terrible person like yourself. The biggest liar is here and everyone knows it- you lie to yourself too.

username31 congratulations!!! 🎉

username12 OMG THEY GOT MARRIED????? 🥳 YESSSS #(yourshipname)isforever

shayne_topp woah! you got married? OMG I did that too!

↳ (name)s_username oh shit really? I'm still trying to figure out if I like this whole marriage thing or not... /sarcasm ↳ shayne_topp ehhh, I mean, I don't know about you but I have a pretty killer marriage. You and Spencer can try... ↳ (name)s_username SPENCER!! 👺 ↳ spennser yes, love? ❤️ ↳ (name)s_username do we have a better marriage than shourtney? 🥹 ↳ spennser I-uh... 😬 ↳ anthony_padilla (psst, just say yes!) ↳ spennser yes! 😄 ↳ (name)s_username see shanye! take that! 😄 ↳ username88 "yes, love" AHHHHHHHHHHH 💞

username33 #(yourshipname)isforever #(yourshipname)isforever #(yourshipname)isforever #(yourshipname)isforever

username29 YESSS LET"S GOOOOO BOYSSSSS!!!!!!

filmingamanda does this mean I can't make anymore "spencer is attractive jokes, now?"

↳ (name)s_username I mean... you're not wrong so I won't stop you 😉

username90 this all feels surreal... but congrats!! 👏

ianhecox proud of you both, truly ❤️

chickenshopdate and here goes another ex of mine getting married. WHEN WILL IT BE MY TIME GOD??? PLEASEEE

phatchance you both looked so beautiful today 🫶

tomeybones wishing you both years of happiness to come!!

username12 I hate you, so much now.

─────── · ·

🔔 spennser just posted for the first time in awhile, check it out!

─────── · ·

Liked by (name)s_username, filmingamanda, and others

spennser today and everyday from now, I get the pleasure of waking up in my spouses arms. if you would have asked me in college that I would be dating a movie star, comedian, writer, and director as talented, smart, and gorgeous as (name); I would have, quite frankly, told you to shut up and fuck off.

Funny how things change, huh? I now cannot think of a singular day without you in it and cannot remember a day without you in my life. I am so incredibly thankful that you fell in love with me, trusted me with your heart up until now and for forever.

You will always have my love and support. My arms to welcome you back home and I will make sure you never question how much I love you, my love and show you everyday just how much you mean to me.

*No pictures from the wedding! Keeping that private, please do not go looking for pictures.

View all 4,220 comments

(name)s_username I love you, so much. 🫶

↳ spennser I love you. 🫶

username01 AHHHHH. 😭 No but like- AHHHHH you GUYsss are killing me here. After years of waiting im now dying here. My heart cannot take this level of sweetness 🫶 #(yourshipname)isforever

smosh #(yourshipname)isforever

smoshgames #(yourshipname)isforever

smoshpit #(yourshipname)isforever

↳ username99 not all the smosh channels coming together LMAO 😂

username24 "So this is love, mhmm, mhmm, so this is what makes like divine~" - (name) x Spencer

username68 babe, wake up! (name) and Spencer actually got married! #(yourshipname)isforever

damienhass you guys are so stinkin' cute 😊

username77 eh. I bet it'll last a year or two before Spencer gets sick of em.

anthonypadilla with everyone getting married im beginning to feel left out...

↳ ianhecox I mean... we could always get married?

username33 I love that this whole post is about Spence being both genuinely so happy the get to call (name) there's but also wondering how on earth he managed to get with (name) too XD

username90 wishing the couple nothing but happiness and respect 🫡

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: and holy shit! the comments section is finally over! thank you all again for reading this far, I hope you all have enjoyed reading this series as much as I did writing it. 🫶 - I will always think about this lol

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp @sarahskywalker-amidala @laurasdrey

[420days]

Chapter 2

masterlist

“Ahh, fuck!” Kaliyah moaned as Jey pounded in and out of her from the back.

“Damn Kay, you feel so good around my dick. You got that good pussy for real.” He groaned as he gripped her waist and went deeper.

All she could do was moan as he pushed her head into the mattress and continued to drill into her. The two of the had been going at it for a minute and Kaliyah could feel her fourth orgasium building up in her stomach.

“Oh my god, right there baby!” She moaned

“Where? Right here? I’m hitting yo’ spot ?” He leaned down to whisper in here ear as he gripped her bun, using it as leverage to angle her body just the way he wanted it.

“Mmh, right there baby.” She nodded her head slowly as drool rolled down her face. He was hitting all the right spots and her body felt like she was on a cloud as he did so.

“So fucking pretty just taking all this dick. I should nut all up in your pretty pussy.” He rasped as she threw her ass back on him.

Running his hand over his face he braced himself and tried to keep it together. This girl was driving him crazy and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

“Look at how you take it. I love that shit.” He continued talking her through it as he slightly lifted her head so she could see herself in her vanity mirror. Her face was now bright red as tears of pleasure streamed down her face.

“I’m cumming.” She shut her eyes as the pressure built up in her stomach and cum dripped down her legs.

“Damn shorty.” He let out as he released every drop of his cum into her without thinking twice. It felt too good to pull out and he wasn’t going to.

“Fuck” he breathe out as he pulled out of her. Her soft moans filled his ear before he stood up and walked to the bathroom.

Kaliyah laid against the bed trying to catch her breath and ignore the throbbing between her legs. Just like every other time they had sex she felt herself dozing off until he came out the bathroom with his sweatpants on.

“You’re leaving?” She asked softly as she pulled herself up against the headboard.

“Yeah Kay.” He avoided looking at her as he collected his stuff from around the room.

“But why? You don’t want to stay?” She asked him as sat on the bed confused as to what he was doing.

“Kay, you already know what it is.” He mumbled as he searched for his phone.

“No I don’t.”

“Kaliyah why you being difficult? Every time I give you some dick you start with this nagging shit when you know what it is.”

“I thought you wanted more than this. More than what we have right now.”

“I never said that Kaliyah. I told exactly what it was from the beginning.”

“That’s bullshit! So taking me on dates, fucking me, and talking on the phone all fucking day was just because you wanted to fuck?”

“Aye, don’t say it like that because I let you know from the beginning what it was. You started catching feelings and that’s why I have to leave you alone.”

“Leave me alone? Is there someone else? I’m not understanding. I thought we were fine the whole time.” Kaliyah sat in the bed with tears streaming down her face.

“There’s nobody else. I told you I don’t want to be in a relationship. Your vibe is cool and everything but that’s not what I want right now. It’s really not.”

“So what? You’re going to find someone else to fuck? Someone who won’t catch feelings for you?” She yelled at him.

“Lower your voice talking to me. What I decide to do doesn’t have nothing to do with you.” He told her.

“Wow, that’s so fucked up. That you would do that to me. I’m glad you were able to get your last fuck before you broke my heart.” She sniffled before making her way into the bathroom and slamming the door.

[blushsturns]

bad boy! matt and librarian! reader 𝜗𝜚

part one ⭑ pushy

description: you meet matt while working at your job at the public library and he can’t help but try and make a move on you.

w/c: 2526

warnings: mentions of weed, cussing, nothing too crazy (yet)

introducing: mb- hcs

he probably shouldn’t be staring as long as he has been, but he just couldn’t help it. you were so fucking pretty he literally couldn’t take his eyes off you. the way your hair flows with one simple movement, the twinkle in your eye when you’re helping patrons, the smile on your face when you’re giving your best customer service. god, your personality seemed absolutely addicting. you were also really fucking pretty. maybe that’s why he was standing here like a fucking stalker, but he just couldn’t help it. he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

he tried to look busy, his fingers drumming along the spines of the books, but he hadn’t read a book since high school and that wasn’t by choice. it was because from where he was standing, he had a great view of you sitting at the service desk, a strand of your hair falling from your high ponytail.

why was he here anyway? oh yeah, that’s right. he’s been waiting 45 minutes for his weed guy to fucking show up, but so far the guy was late, really late. it wasn’t like him to be late, but matt got tired of waiting around and decided to try and occupy his time somehow. he was getting restless waiting in his car and sitting in the parking lot of the library was making him feel like an actual stalker. at least he’d feel like one looking at a pretty librarian like you in the cozy, quiet building.

it’s not that he’s nervous to talk to you. he had decent luck with woman. he’d either take them home, or hook up with one at the parties he’d throw at his house. none of those girls mattered though. he didn’t care for relationships at all. love and all that cheesy bullshit was not something matt cared for. it’s not that he didn’t have time for it; he sure did. he just didn’t really believe in falling in love and the romantic shit. maybe it’s because nobody had been worth his time.

once an elderly woman walked away from the desk and you were available again, he made his way over to the service desk. you were typing something onto your computer, not really paying attention to matt standing in front of you until he cleared his throat to get your attention.

your eyes immediately shot up at him and your face turned apologetic. “i’m so sorry, sir. i was caught up in something. how can i help you?”

god, you were even prettier up close. your cheeks were rosy pink with the lightest makeup applied to your face. your hair was in a tight ponytail with the strands falling onto the sides of your face. you wore a pretty floral dress with a jean jacket, your glasses perched onto your nose. matt had your full attention now and matt had completely forgot what excuse he was going to use to come up here and ask you about.

he was probably lost in a trance at your beauty and staring a little too hard at you and checking you out because she asked again. “sir? can i help you?”

matt wasn’t one to get embarrassed or shy. hell, he made others feel that way. luckily, you seemed oblivious to him checking you out. you had a busy day today, despite the weather being quite shitty outside. every time the weather is awful, you assume people will stay home and not come in, but you were wrong every single time. it was always the complete opposite. luckily, things seemed to die down now.

“oh, yeah. sorry. uh, hey, do you guys have wifi here?” fuck, what a stupid ass question. he ran his fingers through his tousled brunette locks, his eyes staying locked onto yours the whole time.

luckily, you didn’t seem bothered by the question. you were used to people asking you questions that were common sense like ‘what are your hours?’ and ‘do you have books here?’ so the question didn’t annoy you at all. “of course we do. if you pull up your phone, you’ll be able to find our wifi in the settings. no password needed.”

matt nodded his head, understanding your words fully. he licked over his lips before pulling out his phone, which had no notifications from his weed guy. he opened up his settings, noticing there were two network names. one was public, and the other needed a password. he furrowed his eyebrow in confusion and pointed his phone at you. “what’s this about? why do you staff workers get your own wifi? better wifi for the privileged or some shit?”

you laughed at his comment and immediately shook your head. you had to admit, the boy in front of you was very attractive. he wore all black, baggy jeans, a chain around his neck and earrings dangling from his ears. he had a mysterious aura about him that made you slightly intrigued. of course you’d keep it professional. you loved your job and were going to school for library science. everyone at the library were like family and you couldn’t be more proud of your job and the work you’ve done there. also, nobody really comes into the library but the elderly, and children with their parents for story times and fun events.

“no, sir. it’s just easier and more convenient for us staff workers to work on the staff only wifi instead. each individual wifi should work the same.” your cheeks were slightly flushed the more you looked at him. he was really fucking attractive and you couldn’t help but check him out. you’ve only had one boyfriend back in high school, but he cheated on you and you’ve learned to guard your heart since then. it’s been a couple years though and your friends always tried to set you up on dates, but you didn’t care enough for any of them. they weren’t worth your time.

he let out a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “that’s not really fair. this wifi is shit.” his phone was not loading properly as he tried to connect to it. maybe his phone was shit, but this was the only excuse he could think of to talk to the pretty girl. he leaned forward with both of his palms rested onto the service desk, his eyes solely focused on you. “ what’s a guy like me gotta do to get on the better working wifi, huh?”

you suddenly felt nervous as he leaned in closer, placing the loose strands of hair over your ear. you placed your glasses down next to you, since you only wear them to read anyway. you couldn’t help but stare at him more intently, feeling your cheeks heat up as his body was leaned in more towards you. you’ve never seen this guy before in the 5 years that you’ve worked there. where did he even come?

“well, i wouldn’t be able to do that.” your cheeks flushed even more. you hated telling him no, but the wifi network was staff only and you always made sure to imply by the rules. “sometimes the signal is a little spotty on the public wifi depending on how much its being used.”

truth is, you didn’t know much about wifi or technology in general besides what you were taught at your job. he didn’t seem to buy anything you were saying. he kept his palms firmly on the desk, titling his head slightly to get a better look at you. “i think you would be able to. you’re just afraid to. am i right?”

he flashed you a small smirk, not being able to take his eyes off you. he could sense you were slightly flustered the way your facial expressions changed. you bit onto your bottom lip, not being able to take your eyes away from him. his blue eyes gazed into yours and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. fuck, he was so pretty. you could tell he was the kind of person who didn’t take no for an answer.

“i’m not afraid. it’s just my job.” you spoke very professional, but he could tell you were getting slightly agitated and didn’t want to have to say no to him.

he wouldn’t stop, leaning in closer now, his palms still pressed against the desk and his eyes locked onto yours. “what if i give you something in return?”

you furrowed your eyebrow up at him in confusion, trying your best to keep your cool. sure, this boy was fucking attractive and intriguing, but this was your job. you tried to be professional, but he was making it hard. “what could you possibly give me?”

he let out a soft chuckle, a sly smirk appearing onto his lips. “how about i give you my number? and if that’s not enough, you can text me when you get off work and we can discuss it further.”

matt didn’t even care about the fucking wifi. he just wanted to show off his charm and possibly get to know the pretty librarian. he was pretty used to getting his way and damn he wanted his way with you.

you let out a soft sigh, but eventually give in. you really didn’t want to keep this up and he probably wouldn’t let you say no anyway. “fine.” you said with another sigh leaving your lips.”but only to get you off my back. not because i want your number.”

you look up at matt who’s grinning ear to ear, getting his way once again. “you say that now, just wait, pretty girl. you’ll be really fucking glad you had this conversation with me today to get my number in the end.” his palms still rested onto the desk, now flashing you a sly smirk. “i promise.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep.” you said dryly, pulling out a small piece of paper and pen off the desk and scribbling down the wifi password to him. before you hand it to him, you look around the area to make sure nobody has spotted your interaction with him. you didn’t wanna get in trouble. luckily, there was nobody around, thank goodness. you had to admit, this entire interaction excited you, but you had your walls up and made sure not to show that you were easy to get. you were strong and smart. you knew not to mess with bad boys and this boy? you could tell he was trouble.

you slid the piece of paper to him and he glances down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket. he didn’t seem that interested in the piece of paper with the wifi password on it. that’s not even what he cared about. he just wanted to get to know you.

you hand him another piece of paper and he takes it from you, your hands brushing against each other for a moment which causes a spark of electricity to run throughout your veins. you let out a soft gasp, looking up at him immediately to see if he noticed the same sensation. he did feel it, his smirk widening as he takes the piece of paper and pen. he leans down to scribble his name and phone number on the piece of paper before handing it back to you.

he was smirking the entire time, seeming very pleased at the fact that he gave you his phone number. your heart was beating out of your chest as you grab the piece of paper from him and this time, you made sure not to have any contact with his hand. last thing you want is to have this guy invade your brain and make you excited to talk to him or maybe see him again.

you look down at the piece of paper that he handed you, seeing that his name is “matt” and his phone number underneath it. “thanks, i guess? if i even decide to text you.” you flashed him an innocent smile, placing the piece of paper close next to you.

“oh you will. that’s a promise.” he pulled his hands away from the desk, now placing them in his hoodie pockets.

“don’t make any promises you can’t keep, matt.” you said his name out loud for the first time, now knowing it and being able to match a name to a face.

he could see your name on your lanyard that you wear to work. he stared at it for a moment which made your cheeks feel warm knowing in order to look at the lanyard, he would have to look at your chest. his eyes averted from your chest and back up into your eyes, a gleam of excitement passing through his expressions. “i look forward to getting to know you, pretty librarian.”

even though he knew your name, he still called you that nickname that made your cheeks flush even more. you silently wished in your head that you had wore makeup today so that it would cover some of the warmth on your cheeks, but it was no use. he could tell you were affected by him and he was loving every single second of it.

before you could reply back to him, your eye caught the attention of another patron behind him who was waiting to be helped. he noticed your eyes had averted behind him and he turned around to see that you two weren’t alone anymore. at that same moment, his phone buzzed, signaling his weed guy was finally there and asking where the hell he was.

“text me later, pretty.” he flashed you a playful wink before giving you one more glance and turning on his heel to walk away from the desk.

this entire interaction left you warm, confused, and a little intrigued. the piece of paper already felt like it was burning a hole in your pocket, but you couldn’t let it. you were strong. there was no way you’d be able to fall for a bad boy, or anyone for that matter.

you tried to pay attention the rest of your shift, but you couldn’t. all you could think about was matt and how he leaned against the desk with his pretty blue eyes on you, practically persuading you to give him your number. he consumed your brain, making you lose focus and stutter on your words to patrons that came through. should you text him? or was it even worth the risk? when you had a moment alone without helping anyone, your fingers ghosted over the piece of paper. would you even see him again?

matt walked outside to meet his weed guy, feeling like he was floating on air. success: he had given the pretty librarian his phone number. now all he needed was for her to text him.

he was intrigued by you, wanting to continue the conversation and get to know you. even if you were rough around the edges and a little sassy, he didn’t care.

you were special. he could tell and he would make damn sure he didn’t fuck it up.

taglist-

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @forgottxen @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer

a/n- thank you so much for reading! i had fun writing this and will be continuing it when i have the time and when the ideas come to me. if you have any ideas, wanna talk about bad boy! matt x librarian! reader, or just wanna talk in general, don’t hesitate to send me a message!

- nessa ღ

[syscest]

hi im assuming the us vs them post is about a specific term, which one would that be?

so the sysmed out-group term being referenced in the joke post was (as the reblogs guessed) "endogenic", and I'll lay our thoughts out straight just once to avoid being potentially taken the wrong way

I've got two angles here, existential theological linguistic bullshit, and harm-reduction. stay with me here because even if you're not on board with the first thing you'll want to see the second.

so "traumagenic vs endogenic" is a false dichotomy, and I don't just mean "there's a secret third thing", I mean both classifications are fundamentally not real.

personally? we haven't the foggiest idea why we're a system. but the thing is, I don't think anybody else does either - I think it's genuinely impossible to know why your own consciousness is behind your own eyes and controlling your own body, why you *experience* existing in first-person at all. Like shit, lots of singlets believe it's because a soul has been created or introduced to their flesh, and a bunch of others think that's a load of crap and the chemicals just *do this* on their own. Singlets get this unalienable right to believe whatever the hell they want about why they're experiencing being themselves all the damn time, and I refuse to believe that systems are uniquely special in a way that singlets are not such that anyone can fucking flawlessly divine the cause of our consciousness all of a sudden. These are existential-tier questions and to deny their impossible complexity and the right to self-belief over them is, in my eyes, to deny systems something many singlets feel is part of what makes them human.

You can believe all sorts of stuff about the nature of your own systemhood just like how you can believe all sorts of stuff about the nature of your own existence - that doesn't make you definitively right, it's just a meaningful mechanism through which you understand your own experiences that other people should respect - it's like any faith, go figure.

Frustratingly, these words - traumagenic, endogenic - they're not talking about belief, they're objective buckets actively being used for exclusion. So every time we use the term "traumagenic systems", in saying "systems that objectively exist because of trauma" we are saying, loudly, "it is possible to know why a system exists". and frankly? no the fuck it isn't.

Anyway that's airy bullshit and reflects very idealised interactions so - practical, realist opinions, and harm reduction:

Saying "I'm pro-endo" is a net good, though I think "I support all systems" is probably marginally better because it doesn't perpetuate categories pushed by sysmeds for exclusionary reasons as being essential to defining systemhood - as we joked about.

Contrastingly, self-declaring "traumagenic" or "endogenic" in a bio is a net bad. Saying "I'm a traumagenic system" also says "Hello sysmeds, I believe in your dichotomy and I'm one of the good ones" (great way to get sysmed followers), and that factor doesn't go away if you go on to say that you support all systems - you've already thrown away your opportunity to shield more vulnerable systems from harassment through making who sysmeds need to target more obscure.

In fact, regardless of whether your bio says to sysmeds "I am a target" or "I'm not a target", by saying it explicitly, you're pressuring other, more vulnerable systems to similarly self-declare. It's like cis people putting pronouns in their bio to shield trans people from harassment through obscurity and embarrassment, but in reverse - if you shut up about it, and *just* call yourself a plural system, even if you do believe in their categorisations, you stop the propogation of the self-labelling and exclusionists are forced to make themselves look like idiots because most of their harassment would have to be done at random. It's basically herd immunity - nobody talks, everybody walks.

anyway yeah there's context for future, though honestly the section in plural respect is a lot more succinct lmao

[cottondo]

vox x reader ; please?

Nobody really understood how it happened— it just did one day.

You ended up really hitting it off with the man of Voxtech himself; and wow lookathat, you’re dating him now.

It wasn’t unusual to be waking up in his bed, either. But what something Vox wasn’t used to, was a sunshine personality like yours. Of course you have your devilish charms still, as thats what drew him into you to begin with. But, the small appreciations you had for just about everything? It was weird, right? For a sinner in hell, it was marked as a rare occurrence to see someone like you.

( Other than the Princess of Hell, though she was much more over the top than you were. )

As your eyes opened, surroundings gaining a much clearer focus, you let out a tired little sigh.

There’s a soft buzzing beside you, where Vox was passed out in a deep sleep. It was such a nice state to see him in. Calm, not stressed out and dealing with everyone’s chaotic bullshit.

Honestly, it was nice being awake before everyone else. You could just take in the small beauties of silence before everything got obnoxious.

Your eyes flicker over to the windows, and see a bright neon sign with arrows pointing downward towards its front door.

A brand new building had just opened up, and it was a place you’ve been waiting to check out for a while now. Honestly, you couldn’t contain the excitement. It seemed like it took forever to finish, as most demons tried to overrun it while it was still in a vulnerable state.

With a little gasp, your hand falls to vox’s shoulder, and shake it lightly. “Oh my god, Vox, wake up!”

A static noise enters the air, as a small groan of annoyance leaves the tv screen. “What—”

You smirk, leaning over his shoulder to view his annoyance. “It’s finally open~ we gotta go!”

He heaves out a heavy sigh, turning to lay on his back with a dull, tired expression. “Y/N,”

“Please?” The little pout you made usually got him to do what you wanted, but this time it didn’t. He looked tired and visibly annoyed. Honestly, fair. You did kinda just wake him up in one of the worst ways possible.

“Can you at least let me wake up a little, first?” His lopsided smile made your heart flutter. Fuck, he was just so cute no matter what.

“Okay, fine. Just don’t fall back to sleep.” You fully sit up, crawling over his figure, and hoping to avoid stepping on any part of him in the process of getting off the bed. Standing to your feet on the floor, he **almost** chuckles. “What the hell even is the place you wanna go to, anyway?” His one eye widens out of curiosity over at you.

You roll your eyes, annoyed that he never usually remembered the little things. “The first like, ever, plant shop in hell. Somebody actually got things to grow down here,” you inform, taking a step in front of the mirror. “I think they used, like, human world magic or something.”

Vox sat up, stretching his neck and letting out a little groan. “Since when can anybody just get access to earth?”

You deadpan him briefly, “Does it even matter? I need one.”

He shakes his head, sitting up.

“I don’t know how you can be this happy so early in the morning.” He smiled at you. Holy shit, he actually smiled at how stupid your little obsession with this place was.

“Did— did you just smile~?” You decide to point it out, a smirk curling up to your features.

His eyes widened, body slightly startled at your reaction to him. “What?”

You inch closer to him, a brighter look of excitement as he stares at you in curiosity. “Oh my god you did! I saw you, so there’s no denying it.”

Vox takes on the tv effect to his tone as he looks up at you. “Alright, alright.” He then stands, and you notice how he slightly towers over your idling frame. “Only you can convince me to do shit I normally wouldn’t do.” His screen looks away with an almost embarrassment to it.

Your arms gently slip around his waist, causing him to tense up, arms raising.

“Thank you.” You smirk up at him. It didn’t take much to get him wrapped around your finger.

Vox sighs, lowering his arms, and slinking a hand around your waist. He gently guides you forward into his figure. His little smile comes back, and for a moment, you can actually feel him soften his outer shell with you. “Anything for you, my dear.”

______________________________________

I’m so sorry my writing hasn’t been up to par lately lmao 🥲 Not loving this one rn

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey! I’ve no to ed you’ve written a lot of platonic hades siblings with Nico and reader, can I request something with the same reader finding about Hazel?

Absolutely!

…I got carried alway…oops.

‘I have a sister?’ You asked to nobody in specific as though the words were foreign to you.

Nico could only watch as you looked upon Hazel with the same look you gave him upon finding out that you were no longer alone as a child of hades, it made him feel nostalgic for the better times you shared before war loomed over all of you. So when he met Hazel, his mind wandered to you almost immediately and knew that you’d love her as much as you loved him.

Hazel on the other hand was watching you and remembering all the stories that Nico has told her about you, his -well her’s as well- older sibling who had many battle scars scattered across your skin that told a long and painful story, the older sibling who he boldly claimed once delved straight into Tartarus on more then one and came out with a smile upon your face. You, the one person Nico admired- even if he won’t admit it- as Hazel could see the smile upon his face and the gleam in his onyx eyes when he talked about your accomplishments to her; all the while reminiscing the times where you would smooth him to sleep on hard nights and protect him with your whole body.

Hazel knew Nico wanted to be like you and she could see why because it was almost impossible to comprehend that the older sibling Nico talks so highly of was standing before her, looking anything unlike a child of hades, but upon closer examination she could see the resemblance between you and the Italian next to her as one question remained in her mind; how much were you alike to her and vice versa.

‘I have a sister!’ You cried as you tugged Nico into your arms as you gave him a bone breaking hug. ‘Nico you little shit, why didn’t you tell me sooner!’ You added as you felt joy in having another sibling to protect and fight alongside with.

‘We were kinda in the middle of not dying in Tartarus and you were kinda going manic during that time,’ Nico shrugs in your arms, having gotten use to your powerful hugs as he found immense comfort in them then he did the first time he found himself in your embrace, ‘so I didn’t think it was appropriate to talk upon family matters at that point.’

You released your brother, though not before ruffling his hair much to his dismay, before looking over at Hazel with a softer expression. ‘I’ll let you off this time because we were in a life or death situation,’ Nico shoves your arm playfully at your words, ‘but I’m hopeful that you haven’t been telling our sister bullshit stories about me.’

‘And why would I do that?’ Nico asked, hands on his hips.

You mimicked his stance and raised a brow. ‘To look like the better sibling by comparison, why else.’

Hazel couldn’t help but laugh at yours and Nico’s interactions, finding herself believing Nico’s stories more and more upon seeing just how much of a welcoming presence you had despite smelling like how any other kid of hades did; the dead, misery and oddly enough McDonald’s. ‘I can say that he speaks only good things about you.’ She tells you as Nico looks at her with a look that pleaded with her not to tell you about the more sappier stories he told her about you, but seeing the mischievous look in your eyes told Hazel that you would easily draw those stories out of her the moment Nico leaves.

‘Good, he should.’ You replied as you gave your little brother a playful shove while moving closer to Hazel. ‘Now I want to get to know my sister better seeing as our brother has had the unfair advantage over me this time, so why don’t you and me have a child of hades day together?’ You asked softly as though you didn’t want to sound as though you weren’t giving her an option but Hazel had made her decision the moment you locked eyes.

‘Is Nico going to join us?’ She asks playfully.

‘No it’s just going to be the two of us, he’s hogged you enough in my opinion.’ You replied as Nico glared at you halfheartedly.

‘Love you too death breath.’ He spat.

‘Love you more zombie boy.’ You cheeked.

Hazel could tell she was going to love being your sibling.

Some hdc because I feel like it

So Hazel is your sister. Yay! Celebrate!

You both would spend a day in the hades cabin just getting to know one another and talk about shared experiences of being a child of hades.

You even find out about her boyfriend Frank and Nico had warned Hazel in advance that you were extremely overprotective as upon finding out that Nico had a boyfriend, you had demanded to meet and interrogate the poor boy, who thankfully only smiled and answered all your questions without wavering.

So Hazel was more then prepared to have you interrogate her boyfriend to high heavens, she swore frank was going to collapse to his knees upon seeing the intense look you had upon your face, meanwhile Hazel could only smile warmly knowing that you took her safety seriously but also going easy on frank when you toned done your glare and intense interrogation of him and his intentions with her.

Hazel sometimes wondered if you ever were in love and even asked you at one point, but the solemn look upon your face told her that this love story of yours didn’t have a happy ending.

You take her to the lake at chb and tell her about a boy named Luke Castellan, a son of Hermes who stole your heart the moment you entered camp. And Hazel couldn’t help but reach a hand out to comfort you.

‘He had eyes that held mischief in them and a smile that only told you that he was up to something constantly…I loved him more than anything as he was the only person who never made me feel like a burden for being a child of hades. He never left me alone and would sometimes sleep over at my cabin and hold me when my night terrors got the better of me.’ You tell her as your eyes shone with unshed tears.

‘He sounds amazing.’ Hazel replies. She wanted to know more about Luke and what happened to him, but it seemed as though she didn’t need to as you continued your story.

‘He was…until he betrayed camp, betrayed me and threw us into war against Kronos. He gave me this scar.’ You point towards the scar that ran down your cheek. ‘To match his scar he said because for as long as he lived, we were fated to see each other again in the afterlife or so he would say.’ You tell her as you raised a hand to your scarred cheek, remembering the day in the labyrinth like it was yesterday.

Hazel couldn’t imagine the pain that you went through knowing that the person you loved would also be the person that hurt you the most, it angered her to think that you gave your heart to someone but only to receive a scar instead; a grim reminder of him in the worst possible way. She now understood why you wanted to grill frank and will, for you didn’t want them to be betrayed like you were with Luke for Hazel was certain you’d trade your life for her and Nico within a heartbeat.

Something that she hopes never comes to pass as she didn’t want to lose you so soon into knowing you, as she saw you as a comforting presence in her life in such a short about of time, for Hazel couldn’t fathom not having you in the future to whisper words of comfort to her as you ease her back to sleep late in the night. She soon realised that Nico wasn’t joking when he told her that she’d too would grow attached to you like he had, you were just that amazing.

‘Someone who loves you wouldn’t do that.’ Hazel tells you, wanting nothing more than to smack Luke for hurting you, her older sibling and using your emotions against you. In her eyes Luke didn’t deserve you but the damage he had inflicted on you was done and it was obvious to her that it ran deeper than she could ever imagine.

‘Nico said the same exact thing when I told him about Luke, though he only knows Luke as the betrayer…I only saw him as the boy who’d shove his hoodies over my head and kiss my forehead while eating strawberries under the shade of a tree.’ You said with an air of whimsy and nostalgia as you reached for your necklace that he had stolen for you, kissing it and shoving it back into the hoodie, or Luke’s hoodie as Hazel was quick to assume.

‘You still love him.’ Hazel said. ‘Even after everything he’s done?’

You smile weakly as you looked over at her. ‘He died in my arms…I knew he was dying, I could hear it in my ears and his last wish was to die in my arms…so I granted him that as he apologised for the scar he’s given me and I told him that this would be the last time I could call him mine. Then he died and I feared that I died that day too.’ You finished grimly as you were soon pulled into Hazel arms as you gripped her back, both sitting in silence as the sound of water lapping and the sounds of the forest greeted your ears.

You and Nico had your own nicknames for each other.

You decided to call Hazel ‘jewel’ or ‘gemstone’

Meanwhile She calls you ‘death flower’ or ‘ghost lily’

You both have deep conversations late at night when neither of you could sleep, which would end up with her being cuddled up against your chest as you sang to her in hopes of easing her back to sleep peacefully, much like you did with Nico when he first exorcised night terrors.

You would even talk about your lives before finding out that you were demigods.

You would tease her for her relationship with frank but Hazel knew that he had your blessing, knowing that you wanted to best for her and recognising rather quickly that frank was exactly that.

Soon Hazel feels it appropriate to tell you about Sammy Valdez and how Leo reminds her of him in more ways than one. (You keep an eye on him after this)

Hazel deeply believes that you and Reyna would make a cute couple and or friends and would be dying to introduce the two of you to one another one day. Nico is also in agreement that you and Reyna would make a good duo, whether romantic or platonic.

They both want you to be happy and move on from Luke and the pain he’s caused as they didn’t want to see their sibling mourning a man they didn’t felt keen towards, especially Nico who had met him once and felt immensely over protective of you with how close Luke tried to get to you.

[exhelluvafan]

As someone who’s dad cheated on their mom multiple tomes and even was out making out with other women while my mom was birthing me all alone in the hospital, I fucking hate how the fandom is villainizing Octavia rn. I’ve seen people say she deserves to be physically abused by Stella just for telling her dad off and it makes me sick. This is how people are treating teens who are tired of their parents’ lies and tired of being hurt by them? Honestly, disgusting. I hope nobody in similar situations gets treated like this, its so dehumanizing. Just like in real life, I get told its somehow my fault my dad went off and cheated, or that I should still keep in contact with him despite the fact he was never there for me. Disgusting. Disappointed.

First of all, I'm so sorry to hear all that, Anon, I hope you're doing just fine as of today and managed to get away from that piece of shit.

Now, I'm sadly going to admit that I, along with almost all the critical community, surely was seeing this hate coming, ever since the Octavia song and Sinsmas's section featuring Octavia and Stolas got leaked, we KNEW that the standom would explode, but despite that and no matter how mentally ready I got for it, it was still a blow because I wasn't expecting people to actually fall that low, but it seems that having any expectations of decency over this fandom is a waste of time and energy in the end.

Still, if you need any advice, Anon... Run, run away from that fandom, these shows and Viv, block any stans and fans who are unapologetically victimblaming Octavia, don't tolerate their bullshit and cut the problem straight from the root, because this shit can genuinely get triggering if you are exposed to it for too long and these people clearly won't change or apologize for saying that shit, so please, feel free to curate your feed and block all those sheltered idiots with horrible takes, because this won't get any better since Viv will keep feeding her toxic fandom to stay in their worst behaviors, so please do not look back and do not feel bad for blocking any of those dumbasses.