#It would be pretty unconventional but who would I be to judge?

[rmu-vincent]

what if victor was named freaky blake and instead of economics he studied freakonomics

Excuse my asking, but are you sure you intended to send this question to me? I am sure there are other people that have plenty of time on their hands, for instance, those whose majors do not require that much effort or those who are childish enough to spend their days talking about nonsense; please be assured, they would most certainly be happy to discuss such hypotheticals.

Your question is quite strange, as it does not make much sense. There is no such thing as "freakonomics," and it is not a thought experiment that is worth putting energy into. However, if "freakonomics" existed, I do not think I would care whether somebody studied it or not, as every field, no matter how pointless it is, needs its own qualified experts.

[pedgito]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | You end up in the backseat of Joel's car, for a few reasons.

author's note | a sequel to drive. sorry the insistent posting, a girl's head is full of words and ideas and they gotta go somewhere. unbeta'd but i went through this five times, i pray there's no typos.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, no outbreak au, girthy age gap (early 20s, late 50s), car troubles, silent yearning, internal conflict, still sad hot grieving dads gone wild, is this real love or a mid-life crisis, teasing, daddy kink, degradation, unprotected piv, eating from the back, the slightest hint of ass play, all of this is definitely bad for his knees, joel is a gentleman first always

word count — 5k

Joel hands you the keys to his car without a single hesitation.

Your eyes widen, still rousing from your sound sleep in an unfamiliar home, an unconventional way to spend your night as you’re standing in front of the man who made you come without a single touch on his behalf. 

The shame never surfaces, replaced with a strong surge of confidence. 

“Are you sure?”

“Can you drive stick?”

You nod, closing your fingers around the keys placed in your palm.

“I’m sure,” he responds with ease, hair wet from a fresh shower and combed back, dressed in a fresh set of clothes while you’re still stuck in your clothes from the night prior.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t give you a distinct feeling of exhilaration, shaking with a subtle excitement as he follows you closely to his car, slightly hesitant as you adjust yourself in the driver’s side until you’re comfortable, his hand curling around the open window to close the door.

With the early drive, it was clear open roads and the quiet hum of nature, and Joel’s wordless encouragement to enjoy yourself, only driving recklessly enough that it makes your heart race for a moment before you’re reminding yourself that it isn’t your car—as fun as the joy ride is.

“How often do you let strangers drive your car?” you ask as your drive has tripped over the halfway mark and transitioned into more busy streets.

“Strangers? Never,” he tells you, “Pretty girl like you? Also never…well, ‘til now.”

“Careful,” you warn him playfully, patting the steering wheel gently, “I might come back for her,”

“Just her?” There’s a hint of something unrecognizable in his tone, not able to put your finger on it, but you turn to him briefly, a kind smile on your face, utterly relaxed. 

“Just her,” you jest, hardly meaning the words, knowing the chances of ever seeing Joel again were slim to none and frankly, you were settled with that fact.

He’d given you a night, healed what had been ruined, and didn’t judge you once.

Joel would be a fond memory, though one you would revisit often.

–

You're engrossingly aware of the watchful eyes as the engine roars into the parking lot of your dorms, slowly and simmering to a low roar as you turn off the ignition and pass the keys into his waiting hand before you reach for the handle, a noise of disapproval coming from Joel’s throat.

You bite your lip to subdue the smile as he exits the car and swiftly jogs to your side, opening the door and lending a hand to help you out, Joel nods politely as you laugh despite your efforts.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks curiously, leaning gently against the open door.

“It’s just, so…gentlemanly,” And nothing you were used to, always settling for less—it wasn’t what you deserved, you knew that, but your pickings were slim and frankly, it sucked, “—I’m being rude, sorry—thank you.”

Joel goes silent for a moment, his gaze watchful as you shift from foot to foot and adjust your bag and wrinkled clothes, meeting his eyes briefly again with a smile that breathes nervousness. 

How the hell was he supposed to admit he wanted more of you?

Fuck it, he was going for it.

“I’m picking you up next weekend,” Joel asserts, your eyes widening with genuine curiosity.

“I’m–oh—okay?” you agree like it was instinct, “I guess I can shift around some plans?”

Not that you had any.

“Perfect,” His charm is unmatched and your initial reaction is to laugh, mostly out of disbelief but there’s a hint of joy in your face as you look at him, “I’m gonna kiss you now, alright?”

You clear your throat habitually and nod, a shaky jerk of your head as the entire world fades away, his palm curving around the side of your neck as he leans into you, a gentle press of your lips. 

It was respectful, quick, the moment leaving you before you can even recollect it was happening, eagerly chasing his lips as he parts from you.

“So, now you touch me?” 

Joel chuckles lowly, feeling his lips brush yours as he nods.

“S’not how I wanna, but I’ll settle.” The words make you want to melt away, “Next weekend, Saturday. Six in the evenin’, I’ll be waiting here.”

"Six in the evening," you repeat, the words tasting sweet on your lips where Joel’s had just been, laying your words on thick as your fingers drag down his chest. "Is that all, daddy?"

Joel makes a noise, unintelligible but his eyebrow twitches in amusement.

“Cut the shit,” he warns, his thumb and pointer finger rubbing over the tip of your chin as he taps it admonishingly, “Can you give me your number?”

Caught up in the moment, you had nearly forgotten.

“Fuck—yeah, I guess that is a good idea, isn’t it?”

A quick exchange and Joel is on his way, disappearing from view and leaving you with the nothing but wistful feelings inside and judgemental eyes at your back.

And the week crawls by, each day stretching into eternity as Saturday approaches.

You find yourself checking your phone more than usual, a small smile forming whenever Joel's name appears on your screen with some mundane question or comment that somehow feels significant.

As easy as asking how your day was or the wish of a hopeful good one, filling a void that you didn’t realize you were missing, waking up with the expectant text and falling asleep with the promise of hearing from him the next morning.

It’s not supposed to feel this way, especially not with a man like Joel.

He’s troubled, clearly clouded by life. Older, wiser, more experienced.

This was undoubtedly a mid-life crisis, but you couldn’t even feel offended.

It felt fucking amazing, the obvious need in his eyes as he watched your fingers play between your legs, how lustful he looked—it was bound to drive you insane if you let it.

-

Saturday finally arrives, and you spend an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to wear. 

You wanted something casual but alluring, something that says you didn't try too hard. It was the same giddiness that approached with any first date you had, hopeful despite the amount of times you’ve been disappointed. You settle on an outfit that feels right against your skin, something that gives you confidence. And truthfully, easily accessible.

If there was one thing for certain, you were determined to get his hands on you.

Joel arrives two minutes before the hour, hearing him halfway down the block and biting away the amused expression as he pulls to a stop at the stairs that led up to your dorm building, windows rolled down and watching as he reached over the console to open your door from inside, the force of his fingers pushing it open as you quickly take a seat, his arm leaning over your lap to yank the door closed, smelling of a subtle cologne, familiar to the first night you had met him.

"Hi," you say, a little breathless despite your attempt to seem casual.

His eyes catch yours, and there's that smile again—the one that makes your stomach flutter in a way that's both thrilling and terrifying. It's the kind of smile that makes you feel seen, genuinely, rather than the men who look straight through you.

"Hi yourself," Joel replies, his voice low and warm. He doesn't immediately pull away from the car door, his proximity making the small space between you pulsate with tension, "You look nice."

As he shifts the car into drive, his forearm flexes, and you catch yourself staring at the veins mapped beneath his skin, wondering how they'd feel under your fingertips.

The thought sends heat crawling up your neck, aware of his eyes as they trade between the road and you, exploring the exposed skin of your neck and thighs, hands tucked between your legs for warmth but the edges of your skirt rolling up your thigh, looking enticingly indecent.

Joel would get through this date before touching you if it killed him.

But, even you can feel his resolve weakening with each passing minute.

It was unfinished business.

“So, where are you taking me?” you ask curiously, talking gently over the low hum of the radio as he reaches for the dial to lower the volume at the sound of your voice, “Or was this just a ruse to get me alone again?”

Your tongue catches between your teeth in a delicious smirk that makes his insides stir, shaking his head as he neck strains with the turn of his head, your chest presses against the pressure of the seatbelt as you shift in your seat, spreading your legs apart to sit straight, hands curling over the edge of the leather.

The long, winding road you were going down felt like it was stretching on for an eternity, blanketed by trees and overgrown foliage, lit by the headlights of Joel’s car and the quickly setting sun, casting an ominous shadow of his features as he finally chuckles, relieving the tension. 

“Those boys never treat you right, do they?” He can see how they’ve tainted your perspective, settling for whatever satiated the moment, even if the sex was lousy and the food was cheap.

“All a girl wants is a nice meal and an orgasm, is that too much to ask for?”

The words flow so innocently Joel has to grip the steering wheel to resist the urge to slide his hand between your thighs and discover just how bad that want is.

As you come around the bend, there’s a strange rattle to the engine that catches both of your attention and a look of disdain and annoyance on Joel's face as he regrettably pulls off to the side of the road.

“She’s out to get me,” Joel swears, the car stalling as he safely pulls off into a shaded area.

“Does this happen a lot?” You ask, feeling a tinge of disappointment at the date going ary, knowing it would be just your luck.

“Only when it’s an inconvenience it feels like,” Joel admits, “S’probably an easy fix, though. Pop the hood for me, sweetheart?”

Joel exits the car and heads toward the trunk, grabbing a few supplies as you reach over the driver’s side and pull the lever, leaving him to catch the sight of your ass in the air as you peer over your shoulder, receiving a dangerous look of warning before he laughs.

“Can I help at all?” You ask innocently, suddenly appearing to pop your head out of the passenger window as he peers around at the sound of your voice.

“You like gettin’ dirty?” Joel asks, not inclined to order you to stay in the car if you were genuinely eager to lend a hand, responding with an enthusiastic nod that has plenty of unaddressed double meanings, not enough time to address them at the moment.

"I'm not afraid of a little grease," you say, stepping out of the car. 

The evening air is cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the car's stuffy interior.

Joel's already got the hood propped open, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. You find yourself studying the way his hands move with practiced confidence over the engine, the slight furrow of concentration in his brow. It was all so natural.

"Hand me that wrench?" he asks, pointing to the small toolbox he's placed on the ground.

You crouch beside it, fingers hovering over several tools, fidgeting until you find the correct tool and stand to hand it over, replacing it with the flashlight he offered silently.

“Oh, such a prestigious honor,” you say jokingly, clicking the flashlight with your thumb as you smirk, shining the light over the spot his hands were working at.

“Just hold it steady,” he orders casually, surveying the area until he finds the culprit, or at least what he thinks it could be.

“Yes, sir,” you agree playfully, body pressing against his own purposefully as you invade his space.

Unphased, he effortlessly removes the spark plugs and gives them a quick wipe down with a rag, only appeasing the car enough for the night—hopefully, at least.

He silently reaches for the flashlight and trades the appropriate tool and spark plug into your hand, waiting expectantly with watchful eyes. You hesitate, turning the spark plug over in your palm. It's heavier than it looks, coated in a film of oil that makes your fingers slick.

"You want me to...?" your voice trails off, uncertainty creeping in.

"Put it back where it belongs," Joel says, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. "Don't worry, can't mess it up too bad with me watchin' you."

His confidence is contagious. 

You lean in, the scent of motor oil and his subtle cologne mingling in a strangely intoxicating way. Your hands aren't as steady as his, but you manage to position the spark plug correctly, glancing up for approval. It shouldn’t surprise you that his eyes have trailed, the skirt showing a peek of your ass as your bare thighs pressed against the cool metal of his front bumper.

"Now twist it in, gentle but firm," he instructs, his voice dropping lower, eyes locked on the site of your soft thighs and the peek of your panties and your carelessness that you were exposing yourself to him currently, dutiful to your destined task at hand, working through the motion with ease as his voice comes through again, “yeah—just like that, sweetheart.”

"Like this?" you ask, voice deliberately innocent as you twist the spark plug into place, making sure your movements are slow and deliberate. The position is awkward, forcing you to bend further over the engine, your skirt riding up another dangerous inch, shirt following as he glances at the peek of your spine and curses under his breath, gripping a flashlight that was no longer pointed at the engine.

Joel clears his throat, stepping closer under the pretense of supervision.

Your fingers work the spark plug into place with growing confidence, twisting until you feel the satisfying resistance of a proper fit.

"There," you announce, unable to keep the pride from your voice. "How'd I do?"

Your smile is beaming as Joel shuts the hood, peering up at his pensive face as you hear the sound of metal against metal as the flashlight rests against the car, his hand smoothing over your backside to fix your skirt back into place, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek with the gesture.

He was touching you and he hadn’t fully realized it or that he’d broken his own rule. 

You don’t dare speak, afraid he might recoil.

"Perfect," he says, his hand lingering just a moment too long against the fabric of your skirt, like he’s trying to convince himself to let you go, "You're a natural."

The compliment heats your skin, though you know it's just a spark plug—nothing complicated.

Still, there's something about the approval in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

Aside from that, the feeling of the grease on your fingers is slightly unpleasant, something that Joel notices in your face as he nods toward the backseat, “I’ve got a clean rag in the back, go on and grab it while I start ‘er up,”

You nod and follow his order, hearing the tell-tale roar of the engine and noise of delight from Joel as you lean into the backseat and search the seat for the fabric before coming up blank, squinting to search the dark floorboard as you hand slips, tumbling down with a yelp as Joel is quick to turn the car off, pushing out of the driver’s side and suddenly his hands are at your hips, his knee fitting in beside your thigh as he pulls you back, unable to hold back the laugh at your own clumsiness.

Another touch, the feeling of him crowding behind you sends your mind reeling.

“I can’t fucking find it,” you say with a dramatic sigh, pushing back against his groin from where you’re crouched, acting completely innocent as you blindly pat around for the rag, “Joel, do you see it?”

His hands tighten at your hips, a moment of tension settling between you as your body pressed against his. The innocent search for a rag suddenly feels like anything but—his fingertips are against your hips, squeezing into the flesh and you’re feeling particularly coy.

"It's, uh..." Joel clears his throat, his voice dropping to that gravelly tone that makes your skin prickle with awareness. His hands are warm, one reaching past you to feel on the floor for the fabric, "should be right there under the seat."

You feel him shift behind you, the hard press of denim against the back of your thighs as he stretches to retrieve the rag, fumbling until his fingers catch. The car suddenly feels impossibly small, the air thick with something unspoken.

"Got it," he murmurs, but he doesn't immediately move away.

Sure enough, the blue fabric contracts brightly in the dark, resting in his palm.

He doesn't immediately hand it to you, though.

Instead, he slowly pulls you both upright, your back still to his front, the two of you half-standing in the open doorway of the car, your eyes fixed on your hands as you wipe them clean of any grease or oil, ignorant to the internal battle happening in Joel’s mind as he hovers behind you.

You lean more of your weight to one side, hip cocking out slightly as you lean down momentarily to toss the dirtied rag away, fumbling hastily with your skirt to readjust your clothes.

Joel shifts behind you, and you can feel the tension in his body—restraint barely contained. 

His hand returns to your hip, this time with purpose, thumb tracing small circles against the exposed skin where your shirt has ridden up still.

"You're doing that on purpose," he says, voice low and rough against your ear.

It's not a question.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch his gaze from the corner of your eye. "Doing what on purpose?"

His jaw is tight, eyes darker than usual as they flick from your face to where his hands rest on your body.

“What is it, Joel?” you ask with innocent curiosity, though you know exactly where his words would land, his actions speaking for themselves, “What’s bothering you?”

“Don’t play clueless, sweetheart,” Joel retorts, “ain’t becoming of you,”

“Last I checked, you barely know me,” you respond with a similar bite, turning to face him now, chest to chest, “frankly, the whole saint act isn’t very attractive when all I have to do is get on my knees and beg for daddy—I mean, should I?”

He’s pensive, neck pulsing as he swallows and you shrug, “Whatever—you’re bandaging up my knees then—”

You start to sink slightly, but his hand catching around the expanse of your throat stills you, gasp slipping from your lips as it pushes the air out, eyes locked with his own, his tone taunting, “Yeah,” he nods slightly, eyes squinting as he deciphers your suddenly meek expression, “you gonna let me fuck you out here? S’fuckin’ pathetic, can’t let me treat you like a lady? Take you on a nice date first?”

“Tell me you don’t want to,” you reply softly, choked up with the pressure on your neck, slackening slightly as you land softly against the side of the car, both of your crowded by the open car door, “like you haven’t been touching me all night, what happened to your rules?”

“Different touches, kiddo,” he smoothly corrects and you nod mockingly, a smile slowly morphing on your face, hand move slowly to palm him over the front of his jeans, hard as fucking rock and warm, fingers curling over the thick waistband with a grin that continues to grow, a semblance of wonder on your face.

“Like this?” you ask, squeezing at his cock and his hand leaves your neck, arms bracketing your head as they curl around the frame of the roof behind your back, watching the careful ascent of your hand as it slides underneath his shirt, curling around his abdomen and your blunt nails digging into the skin, earning a soft grunt, “Or, like that?”

You let the moment linger, trailing touches.

“Fuck me out here,” you plead into his mouth, hand back on his jeans and working them open with deft fingers. You don’t give him time to protest before your palm is under the fabric of his briefs, skin to skin and touching him how you know he wants but won’t ask.

He shifts, breath short and hot. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” His voice is low, a rumble against your cheek as he leans in closer, like he might kiss you or devour you whole.

Both would be fine.

His mouth crashes into yours, and it’s all teeth and heat, hands mapping your body with a kind of frenzy. “Goddamn,” he mutters roughly, like it’s a revelation. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

You smile wickedly, arching into his touch, “How do you want me, daddy?”

“Get your ass in the backseat, hands in—,” you move accordingly, giggling at his forceful touch as you lean inside, stopped short of your knee touching the seat as he keeps you upright, fingers curling around the damp, sticky fabric of your panties, glistening as he shifts your skirt up, “and—fuck, there’s my goddamn meal.”

You giggle airly, moving your legs as he drags the fabric down and doesn’t give you any time to react before he’s spearing you open with his tongue, growling into your cunt as he presses you forward, raw hunger in every movement. His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, but you crave it, tangling your fingers in his hair as you reach for him from behind, dragging him closer still.

“Fuck,” he groans into you, voice vibrating through every nerve, “ain’t nobody out here to hear you—wanted this so bad and you’re quiet as a mouse,”

It isn’t purposeful, your moans are soft but genuine, eyes drifting shut as he licks through your pussy, feeling the gentle graze of his tongue over your clit as his fingers dig into your flesh tighter.

“Talk to me, baby,” he encourages, a gentle slap to your ass as he squeezes your cheeks and surprises you with a gentle bite to follow the sting before he’s diving back into your cunt, two fingers alongside his expert tongue, “how’s it feel?”

“So good, daddy—oh, fu—” Two fingers, fully engulfed, walls squeezing tight around him and you’re surprised by the sting of it, thick digits a precursor to his even thicker cock, desperate to have him inside of you, “s—so good, I want you to—tofuckme right h—here, please—please?”

The words spill out, moaning as his fingers curl against a particular spot deep inside of you, vision blurring as your teeth bite into your forearm. It’s overwhelming—too much and not enough. You push back against his face, finding leverage in the chaos of limbs and fabric until his name is spilling from your mouth, coming with a weak moan as he licks through your slick, the deft sound of his jeans shuffling down his hips as he’s pushing you further inside the backseat, ass still raised as one of his knees settle into the cushion.

He moves his mouth up your body, leaving a trail of kisses, hot and wet, sucking at the skin just above the waistline of your skirt before straightening up enough to pull it off you completely.

The car cocooned with heat and want, both of you desperate to touch now that Joel’s resolve has disappeared, encouraged by your unabashed need, he’s still finding himself hesitant.

“Don’t worry,” you quell, reaching for the hand tight at your thigh, turning your head back to catch sight of him, his eyes roaming the expanse of your body “I’m clean—safe, it’s not like you have to worry about—”

“M’not,” he chuckles slightly, “I’ve been outta commission for a while—just...wonderin’ if you’re sure about this, don’t want you think I’m just preyin’ on you—”

You shrug, indifferent but your laugh is breathless, high with anticipation and impatience. “I’m preying on you, Joel,” you say. “Now please—”

The words hang between you, a palpable plea that dissolves his resistance and has him settling into you from behind, the weight and press of his hips and hands a burning promise.

He pushes forward slowly at first, teasing your entrance with shallow nudges, driving you wild until there isn't any more space between your bodies and he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, every inch of him thick and pulsing as pleasure overtakes the sting from earlier, Joel makes a choked noise as if to return the sentiment.

“Christ,” he groans through gritted teeth, both hands finding leverage at your hips as he thrusts into you hard and fast, setting a dizzying pace.

It makes your brain melt, any rational thought disappearing as you moan lewdly into the cushion of his backseat, shifting with every sharp thrust, fingertips pressing into the interior of the other door to meet Joel’s eager, forceful thrusts as you push back.

“Fuck, you’re tight, honey,” he mutters, the words a low rasp in your ear as his rhythm grows more frantic, desperate. His grip tightens on you, pulling you closer with each stroke until it feels like your bodies might combine.

You writhe beneath him, desperate for more— the friction, the heat, the way he fills you completely, satisfyingly so. “Don’t stop, daddy,” you plead, and it’s not even a coherent thought anymore, just a raw need that spills out between gasps and broken, pathetic whimpers.

He makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a laugh as he obliges, hips snapping against yours as he pistons into you with an urgency that leaves you breathless. It’s brutal but perfect, the windows fogging up around you as the car rocks under the force of him.

His voice is distant as he speaks, but somehow entirely overwhelming, “Knew you wore this for a reason,” His grip on the fabric of your skirt is tight, pushed out of the way to get a clear view of your cunt as it sucks him in, “beggin’ daddy to look up your skirt, weren’t ya?”

You nod weakly, gasping as he thrusts into you pointedly, somehow more forceful, “You’re makin’ it real hard to be a gentleman ‘round you, baby—use your fuckin’ words.”

“Yes, f—yes, I was,” you whine softly, his thumb grazing over your puckered hole, a soft test of your limits.

“Was what?” he growls, voice thick with hunger. He grips your hips even harder, angling up to hit the sensitive spot that makes your vision blur with each stroke. 

The sensation is overwhelming, bordering on too much but just as it nears, Joel yanks you back from the edge and pulls out, swiftly guiding you onto your back, squeezing into the backseat with you enough that he can easily slot himself back between your legs and push inside, this time slow and deliberate.

“I wanted—to, oh—to t—tease you, daddy,” you admit, “I’m s—sorry.”

Joel chuckles at that, a satisfied nod as he guides your hand up around the back of his neck, his hand finding the small of your back and angling you up slightly, “You’re gonna look at me when I’m fuckin’ you senseless,” Joel demands against your mouth before sealing it with a feverish kiss.

You feel weightless as he pounds into you, gripping tight at the back of his neck as your lips part, moaning into his mouth as he swallows up your cries with his tongue, “This what you want?” Joel breathes, his warm breath mingling with yours. “You want daddy to fuck you until you cry?”

You nod frantically, clenching down around his cock in response.

“Let me fuckin’ hear it,” he orders, his own grunts becoming more frequent, restraint waning.

“Yes—yes, daddy, please,” you say softly, weak as the sensation of his fingers fit between your body, his fingers dragging over your clit and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with a practiced precision that you’ve never felt before.

“Then fuckin’ take it, baby” he growls, grinding against you with a relentless rhythm that has you seeing stars, eyes prickling with tears as your orgasm crests unexpectedly, your voice pitching high as you cry out Joel’s name. He groans as you tighten around him, his thrusts jerky, close to losing it completely.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and you watch his eyes roll back, jaw going slack as he comes hot and thick inside of you. He groans deep in his chest, slamming into you one last time before collapsing against you, bodies slick with sweat.

His breath is hot against your neck, and he gives a final shudder before pulling back slightly, still buried inside you. There’s a beat of silence as you both catch your breath before you’re giggling softly against his ear where he’s slumped against you and he huffs a weak chuckle of his own, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, voice teasing but edged with something real, something raw that makes your heart skip a little too fast under your ribs as he pulls out of you, a devastating loss. “I think you’re tryin’ to kill my old ass,”

You shrug once more, “A beautiful way to go, don’t you think?”

His hand is gentle now as he nods with a smile, skimming down the side of your body as his eyes meet yours, “I hope you’re still hungry,”

“Starving,” you respond in a sultry tone as Joel makes a face, amused but unimpressed by your antics, “Yes—I am,” You try again, clearing your throat, “hungry.”

“Like I said, a piece of work,” he laughs, shaking his head at you, and you feel that warmth blooming in your chest again, “c’mon—get in the front.”

You scramble slightly, watching as he readjusted his jeans and you search for your discarded underwear, luckily finding it with little issue as it was tucked between the crack of the seat.

“Can…I drive the rest of the way?” you ask sheepishly and Joel’s eyes crinkle at the edges with a subtle grin before he’s tossing you the keys.

“Careful with her, probably gonna have to give her a tune up over the weekend,” he tells you, fixing the button on his jeans.

“Need any help?” you ask eagerly, walking backwards toward the driver’s side.

“From you?” he asks in a teasing tone, “Of course, sweetheart."

[vamptarot]

Why God Loves You | PAC

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose whichever you feel drawn to or ask your guides to guide your eyes to the one that is meant for you! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ before we start I would like to say that this pick a card was made for those who were made to believe that God doesn’t love them, or that their existence is a sin. so if anyone wishes to complain about ‘oh but what if I have different beliefs’ then please simply consider that this pick a card is not for you. I am making it for those who were unjustly hurt. not proof read.

pile one : - coffee stain !

𐙚 : judgment reversed, ace of wands reversed, hermit reversed, two of swords, the devil

bottom of the deck: ace of cups

♡ ⢷why He loves you

You are genuinely not a judgemental person, at all. Even if someone is judged by the masses you are someone that does the ‘investigation’ of the situation yourself and then decide if the person actually deserves to be hated or not.

Even when it comes to unconventional things that other people would judge for, you simply do not. You always do your best to understand where the other person is coming from, and most importantly what are they going through. Especially emotionally, you try to see it from their perspective and not from someone that’s an outsider perspective in that situation, whatever it might be. That only comes second, third and so on. You are just someone very nurturing and smart, a person who walks their own way of clarity rather than blindly following the masses.

You are someone that is hard to influence, but rather than this making you unfriendly, it has the opposite effect on you. This quality of yours makes you very friendly and makes people have trust in you.

You are mature and can meet good people because you don’t let judgement fall in the way of you making good connections. Rather, you aim to understand everyone as much as possible.

You are also someone that is very responsible. When you make mistakes rather than running away from them and denying what had happened in the past you stand on your feet and strive to make it right. To create a better future.

This is something that is very honourable about you, something that is admirable.

♡ ⢷personal message

You don’t have to be religious in order to follow the words of God or what’s in your heart. Neither do you have to be religious in order to be considered a good person.

You are just you, and that’s enough.

You are good as you are, with your flaws, with your strengths and with your history. Don’t feel like you have to put on a show in order to be accepted. By this, I just mean that your existence is not a sin. What happened to you in the past is not a sin either, and don’t shame yourself for your normal human desires. Especially if you know it’s not your fault.

‘Picture perfect’ is picture perfect exactly because it’s not reality. Consider it an illusion if you wish.

— ✮⋆˙ someone in this pile is biologically a guy! , hey ya! - outkast , used to be a player , plush animals , bells , bunnies , wooden house , unfortunate childhood , growing up in poverty and actually managing to have a better life , nose bleeds , pink glittery food ? , hate for ants

my beautiful pile one please know that your intrusive thoughts are not you and I see all your efforts to be the best possible version of yourself, to treat yourself and humans with love and respect. you are pretty cool, please don’t beat yourself up. don’t blame yourself for the way other people have hurt you. I am also so sorry if your pile sounds a bit messy, I wrote it at 2AM. thank you for reading.

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile two : - a letter !

𐙚 : the lovers reversed, five of cups reversed, ten of swords reversed, ace of wands, the hermit, two of cups

bottom of the deck: the star & the empress reversed

♡ ⢷why He loves you

In the past you have made some pretty bad choices. I am not judging, because who didn’t? These could be things that you aren’t necessarily proud of and that you know hurt people. At that time, you didn’t have people’s best interest at heart. You didn’t even care much for it even.

The thing is, this changed. You changed it, without anyone having to tell you to.

You changed it because you didn’t enjoy the person you have become. All by yourself. God, and your guides for that matter, are very very proud of you for that. It could feel a bit unreal to hear that, but regardless, you are reading this pick a card for a reason.

Regardless, you made such a huge progress and became someone that you can be proud of. You are doing so well, there is nothing left but to praise you for how far you have become.

There was genuinely such a huge tower moment in your life which helped you become the person that you are today, one that helped you evolve and have people’s best interest in your heart. Not from a people pleasing stand point either, rather, you look at everyone as human and as crazy as it might sound this isn’t a quality many people have.

Rather than seeing people as strangers, obstacles or just an option to pass time with you have become much more empathetic and have way more emotional depth than what you used to have.

This has helped you and other people heal as well, it’s truly adorable. You have every right to be proud of yourself!

♡ ⢷personal message

The past is the past and the present is the present.

People change and this includes you. Don’t give yourself a hard time over things that no longer matter, or no longer can he helped.

Today, you are a just, wonderful and kind person. Someone that gives their all in everything they do, someone who does things with all their might. A person that is doing their best, every single day, even at times where they don’t want to. - It’s not the bare minimum, this is a very wholesome and just thing of you to do. Don’t under-appreciate your own efforts in life. You are doing so much, while getting so little and you are so strong for continuing to stand even though you feel like giving up at times.

You are doing so well, and I hope you will be able to see that.

— ✮⋆˙ zuko from atla , mha , break stuff - limp bizkits , smiley - yena ft bibi , ear ringing , silver jewellery , crying at night ? , porcelain dolls , grandma , beauty and the beast rose , swarovski princess dolls , blood , red lip tint , being distracted , recently finding out something important about yourself

bad people don’t worry about being bad. I know impostor syndrome can be hard, but you are doing so well! the past doesn’t define you but your efforts of self improvement do! thank you for reading. 🫶🏻

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile three : - the sea !

𐙚 : knight of wands reversed, the devil, three of swords reversed, nine of pentacles reversed, seven of swords reversed, ace of swords, ten of swords

bottom of the deck: queen of pentacles reversed

♡ ⢷why He loves you

Alright my beautiful pile three, I see your struggles. You have happened to be born into and grow up in an environment that doesn’t serve you any right. One that doesn’t align with your soul and keeps making you go through hardships.

Your family members are not necessarily people who always have your best interest at heart, and even if they do they don’t always succeed in showing you that.

They are much different from you, and even though you don’t necessarily deem yourself as perfect you know they are at times toxic even if they try to include you in things, try to make you feel good in your skin and so on. You, essentially are the black sheep of your family. Not because you try to stand out, not because you cause trouble on purpose but because you try to not make the mistakes that they do.

Being born into a family which you can love is a privilege, and I do think you got to understand that from a very young age even if not everyone in this pile hates their family you don’t always like them despite loving them. - Ironic, that could be something that people who chose this pile heard growing up. -

So, at many times you have felt lonely.

Despite this, you are doing your best. Some of you were at times severely mistreated, tricked into things or perhaps share wounds you genuinely never want to open up about.

Regardless of this, you don’t seek revenge. You don’t aim to hurt people. If you dislike someone you keep your distance, and focus on your own life.

On having good goals, good morals, being kind to strangers, being kind to family and being a good person overall.

Sure, sometimes you do get annoyed, quite a lot at times even, but you do your best to not react out of harsh and negative emotions, to not lash out on people. You know how it feels and don’t wish to inflict such negative kinds of emotions on people. So everyday, you do your best to don’t.

♡ ⢷personal message

Your surroundings don’t define you as a person, being the one to stand out doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you.

Sometimes you are just meant to stand out, to create differences, to be the foundation for a better future.

For yourself and those who are important to you.

If you can’t be, that’s fine. The world doesn’t rely on you, don’t overwhelm yourself if you believe that you deserve better. The world is give and take, you cannot just give and give and give without receiving anything back.

Being a giver is alright, and having a forgiving heart is beautiful, but you cannot sacrifice your well being just to please people.

— ✮⋆˙ ‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight one of your girls tonight’ , apple watch , an actual apple , lana del rey , ‘back to black’ , late night talks , ‘bye guys! hi ladies!’ , soobin from txt , dipper pines , weird food combos - peanut butter with pickles … ? whatever makes you feel happy my pile 3 - , back scratching , long nails , poverty , gangs (?)

I can definitely resonate with you my beautiful pile three, please just know that beautiful things await you. Like genuinely, you will have so many good things in life which you didn’t even previously think about or consider before. I hope you will be able to find so much happiness my little lamb. thank you for reading.

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

Northwest comix collective x reader 👀👉👈

Prestige���A CULT!

Summary: NWCC x Reader

TW/CW: None

A/N: I’m going to be honest and say this was the hardest request (especially Jaybird for some reason). I’m sorry for any mischaracterizations I’ve made in this x reader (first time writing them at all)

Reblogs are appreciated

- You probably met Aaron during art class. He stood out with his harsh criticisms and the rich vocabulary he used in said criticisms. Not to mention, you’ve seen some of his sketches and they were pretty unique

- This was someone who was passionate about the arts, even if the way they showed it was…pretty unconventional.

- Honestly, for someone like Aaron, you would have to say “fuck it” and approach him directly. He likes a person who’s “raw and passionate” about their feelings. Someone who isn’t afraid of actually showing their vision to the world

- If he did fell first, prepare for someone who uses his French erotica as a way to charm you. Would play up his fake accent and send you love letters to your house (to be fair, they’re kind of romantic once you get past the shock that he somehow knew where you lived)

- He would also start drawing you. From afar, of course. He feels his pen drifting through the textured sketchbook while he tries to capture your likeness. It always ends up not quite getting there. Maybe the composition’s off, or the perspective makes your left hand bigger than your right, but still. It’s you.

- Definitely used you as inspo for some of his comics (it’s trying his members up the wall with the how obsessed he is with you)

- Once you two finally date, “expect nothing but the best”

- Would take you to see the most underground indie film he could find. He’ll hold you close while explaining, in detail, the whole process of the film (including why he chose those seats in the first place)

- Going to a museum would be a nightmare. He scoffs at the notion of “mainstream art”, even if said art piece was the Mona Lisa itself.

- He prefers gallery walks about “underground artist”. You may never fully get it, but hey! You can feel yourself getting more “cultured” by the minute

- If he really trusts you…maybe he’d show you his mainstream comic collection. Maybe. It’s hard for him to accept the fact that him, “someone with impeccable taste”, actually would like X-Men or Captain America

- Still…it would be nice for someone to “get it”; for someone to not judge his other taste in media

- Would probably soften up once he shows you that side. Still an ass, but hey! Better than him over explaining a simple scene from a movie no one has heard of

- Probably met Jaybird at a punk show. He strikes me as someone who goes there in order to get “inspiration”

- Started to talk after it wrapped up, and you two kind of connected after that

- Knowing his creative work (a satirist), he scanned any media you may have liked through your profiles

- That’s where he picks up the pen and ink and starts doodling. It’s mainly crude parodies of your favorite media, but it’s the closest he’s going to get to you at this point

- Meanwhile, you found it intriguing that he was basically making parodies of…well, everything! Jaybird���s not really afraid of making fun both of the mainstream and indie, and that makes you appreciate him even more

- I feel like you two would bond over zine making. It’s the perfect medium for satire/political talking points. He mainly handles the art, while you handle the writing and binding. It’s weirdly therapeutic (if you can get past his ramblings and crude drawings)

- That’s another thing: he rambles. A lot. Especially since you’re the only person who tolerates it, he could go on and on for hours and hours about his drawing ideas, his favorite satirical media, why X is better than W, and so on and so forth

- Would absolutely DIE if you decide to wear any punk clothing, though would be petty if you “copied” his style (maybe you could trick him if you say you’re satirizing him, but probably best to stick with your own fashion choices)

- Now Rodney, you definitely met in a drawing class

- After the club pestering him about his skills, he reluctantly decided to take classes outside of college and try to find “like minded people”

- He’s struggling in that class. It always feels as though he can’t seem to get anything right. “Whatever. All that matters is how I truly feel”

- You spot him one and offer to help him; one on one

- He scoffs at the idea, but after feeling himself just getting more and more pissed at drawing, he reluctantly agrees

- That was where your first date was: at a park somewhere. Probably you both drawing the landscapes and just enjoying each other’s company

- It was weird to Rodney. Sure, he’s used to drawing with the collective, but never with a stranger; a friendly one no less

- Probably starts yapping about art and feelings in general. How he only took this class in order to get a higher grade, how he wishes his collective knew about his true visions, and how it’s weird that you wanted to spend one on one time with him

- If you do start to hang out more, expect him to mansplain about “real” art and “real” emotions. He wants you to understand about how he got here and why he believes “A true artist draws how they feel”

- Possibly the only one where you can take to a mainstream museum and not having him overly judge the art (though it’s mainly because he feels he’s above the galleries)

- Benefit is that you start to understand that good art isn’t everything. You start to actually draw more about how you feel than copying everything irl

- Meanwhile, Rodney probably learns not to be so stubborn about criticism and actually improves his skills because of it

- You two weirdly compliment each other

- Definitely met James at an art store. He’s all about experimentation, so he was randomly buying art supplies for his “masterpiece”

- It was odd. He looked like an artist, act like an artist…but the materials he was picking out was odd. Out of place almost.

- He’ll admit it, you were kind of annoying to talk to at first. Interrupting his genius plan, as he would state

- However, he never met anyone wanting to see his process, so he guess he’ll show you

- His studio’s a mess, and he makes you sit down next to him while he explains his upcoming project. I think he actually knows how to draw, so it would be nice actually seeing him teach you “a thing or two” about art

- By the end, you were left stunned (and his ego stroked)

- Would take you the most underground shows possible (wow! Just like Aaron)

- He also has a pretty impressive vinyl collection while we’re at it. Sometimes, when you’re at his place, he’ll play one of the tracks and maybe even watch a movie while you two are at it

- Constantly making new projects. The type to immediately write it down the moment it strikes him. Will sometimes show you it and asks for your critique (he rarely uses it)

- Would absolutely want to get matching piercings with you if you guys ever hit one year

- Maybe overtime, he actually starts listening to your critiques, but he’s as stubborn as a mule, so you do what you can

[onebizarrekai]

I'm pretty sure someone asked you this 4 years ago 💀 BUT ANYWAYS. can you describe fatal flaws/dreamswap un the worse way possible? 😈🙏

hear me out

once upon a time there were two Brothers, even though the lore said that they weren't Brothers they were definitely totally Brothers, even though the lore said that they had separate parents and that there was complicated spiderverse logic where characters had little affiliation with the source material they Totally were Brothers. you see, there were a bunch of ambiguous villagers who read the Dreamtale Bible and figured that the two Brothers had to be Brothers because the Dreamtale Bible said so. they were not interested in confirming this striking suspicion, so when they accidentally walked in on the two Brothers sharing a kiss in the chapel, they were shocked! they were appalled! they reported this act of blatant incestuous degeneracy to the authorities! arthur and miles ended up in court. pleading with the judge, miles cried, "we're not Brothers! who has declared this blasphemy?!" arthur was holding back tears; the boy was strong, he was tough, he was not a crier. but this, this accusation was the only thing in the world that could make him cry besides his first love, whom he had yet to meet, whom he would meet at the age of 20 instead of 100 or however old he was because it was pretty weird in the old version of the story. arthur, providing his and miles's birth certificates because he was their own lawyer, revealed that he and miles did not share birth parents. the court was shocked! how did arthur find those documents? the prosecutor called that it was a forgery. miles, gritting his teeth, fists and with his face overshadowed like a jojo character, said "it's because we're brown, isn't it?" the room fell silent. "that's not what it is at all," the prosecutor muttered. arthur slammed his hands on the table like phoenix, phoenix wright. "I'm going to erase this world from crime and suffering one day. I will remember this wrongdoing for the rest of my life." miles looked over the previous paragraph and realized that arthur's true love was someone else who wasn't him. he got really upset, but he kept it to himself. "if you aren't Brothers, then explain this!" the prosecutor demanded, slamming down a stack of papers titled "Unconventional". a gasp echoed throughout the room. "that evidence is obsolete! it was written in 2017 by a high schooler!" arthur declared without missing a beat. "if you read the author's note, you'll see that they agree that it contains poorly aged writing!" the prosecutor flinched. "dammit! I thought that if I removed that author's note, they would forget about it!" he grumbled. arthur brought up several tumblr posts on his ipad. "if you read the history of this blog, you will see that, despite inconsistencies, the only thing that remains consistent is the author's distaste for the Dreamtale Bible's decision to make dream and nightmare biological siblings. historically, they ignored all of canon on that behalf and implicitly created several new sets of characters with new personalities and negligible similarities to the originals. it was not particularly tasteful for them to appropriate someone else's work, but that's the truth." the prosecutor had taken a lot of HP damage, but he wasn't done yet. a huge stack of papers appeared in front of him. "my last resort…" he said. the words "TCU" in giant letters were written on the top. "the co-author of that story is the creator's dumped ex," arthur finished. the prosecutor collapsed. the judge ruled the case… postponed. the incident put such a strain on arthur and miles's relationship that they broke up. arthur promised it would only be until the townspeople came to their senses…

… but the day never came.

[tojisprettywife]

{note: hi hi, this was pretty intimidating to write. To open the blank document, was scary enough. after two years, attempting to write more than 1k words was not easy, so to speak. i'd recommend listening to smth that gets in your feels as you read this, if you can. this was based on this ask. hopefully, whoever wanted me to tag them in this, like it.}

warnings: none. husband! toji x wife! reader. maybe 0.1% of suggestiveness. fluff i guess? i'll let you be the judge of it.

w.c: 2.05k

tags: @jkumiplace @snowprincesa1 @idreamitski @shokosprincess hope you all like it :)

When you feel the world caving in, unknowingly, we push everyone around us away. Self isolation, a very tempting idea, to give into. Or you’re just in your luteal phase? Whatever the reason might be, you’re feeling what you would mostly probably write off as “I don’t know”. You slump down into the couch, staring at the moving pictures on the screen. Your husband works a rather unconventional job, a sorcerer killer. Right, unconventional is an understatement, putting himself in danger, but you too. You’re sitting there blankly, waiting for him to be home, it’s been 10 days since you last saw him. 

You jolt and sit up,at the sharp sound of the door bell. It is 11pm on a Tuesday night, who would show up at such a time?Your husband, Toji, of course. You run up to the front door, opening the door. And, there is  the man you love, you adore, who you married. “You’re still up?..” He walks past you, entering the apartment. You close the door behind him and turn, “I couldn’t sleep… '' you mumble. “Is there any dinner? I’m famished” he said, placing his duffel bag on the floor beside the couch. Your eyebrows twitch, where is the usual hug he gives you after coming home to you? where is the “i missed you so much?” ‘Why aren’t his eyes meeting mine? what’s with this sudden chang—‘ your thoughts are stopped in the tracks as his low timbre snaps you back into the present “I’m asking… is there dinner or not? Did you cook something for me?..” he sighs, walking into the bedroom that you both share. "What's with this ne— No, these days, he’s been taking more and more from me, it seems like I mean nothing—’  you shake your head, to stop yourself from jumping into conclusions. He comes back into the kitchen after washing up. You hate how, despite how you’re annoyed at his new change in behavior, you still find him attractive. The smell of after shave lotion, filling the air as he walks past you, drying his hair with a small towel. The way his wet raven black hair sticks to his forehead and neck. Maybe absence does make the heart fonder. Is it only for you or— you flinch as he taps on the counter. “Back to earth, hmm?” You sigh softly, placing a plate on the dining table, serving him dinner. He quickly eats, your mind drifting back to “Why isn’t he talking? Where is his usual grumble about work, Where—” you look at him, as the chair’s legs scratch the floor as he gets up after finishing dinner. 

Small, unsettling feeling pooling in the pit of your stomach. Almost, two years into this marriage, what’s this new sliver crack in a perfectly nice mirror? That is how it feels, right now. A small crack, a splinter, or is it just miscommunication?

‘Communication is the key to a healthy relationship’ they say, they only say. To actually follow and practice that? Humans are selfish beings at the end of the day. You know, asking and talking it out with him would be right. Yet here you are, grueling all by yourself. 

The human mind is a wretched, wretched thing, at times. In the name of protecting you, thousands of scenarios pop into your mind like bubbles, ranging to all extremities. That’s quite laughable, you know, you’re not these thoughts; but intrusive thoughts? on the other hand are quite convincing, aren’t they? Like a creeper vine which holds on to anything for support, thoughts creep in, stifling and clouding your judgment. Unbeknownst to you, or to your conscious mind, the history of Toji’s relationships flood in, adultery? cheating? lost feelings for you? What if he doesn’t love you anymore?. The sound of silence is too loud, you find yourself still in the kitchen mindlessly watching dishes while he peacefully sleeps, scrunching and fitting himself in a couch, which is tiny for him. Your eyes fall upon his face, now that you’re quite some feet away from him, if you weren’t there in his life, would he still fall asleep like this? 

Slowly the realization kicks in that, you still haven’t washed the dishes. You scamper around the kitchen, cleaning it up. Finally, walking towards the couch, you press a soft kiss on his forehead. Maybe you assumed too much? But you love him more than that, finally you decide to head to bed. 

Next morning, you thought it would be way better, since he’d be well rested. Is that really the case? Toji is up, watching the morning news, lazily skipping through some channels, he sees you come into the living room “Morning~ I’d like some coffee..” his eyes return back to screen, before you could reply to his greeting. This takes a huge toll on you, such indifference wasn’t something you were used to, especially from Toji. Morning becomes Afternoon becomes Evening, still Toji hasn’t given you any sort of attention. 

Things are slightly taking a turn, is it for the worse or better? You completely become dismissive to his behavior and start giving him the cold shoulder. Any requests that come your way, from him, are mostly answered by nodding or a mumble of “Okay” “No”. Toji notices this sudden, well not sudden, but gradual decline in your usual enthusiasm, and touchiness. He wanted to ask, but he gave you space since you might be just moody. He shrugs it off. Despite this little coldness and frozen atmosphere in your house, time still goes on, night falls, and bedtime is here. You sit on the edge of the bed. Toji is also in the room now. Four walls, two people, one bed, and a thousand misunderstandings. 

“Communication is the key” You know it at heart, but being petty is what you want to do now. Yes, it’s childish, immature, stupid, whatnot. Although, it is necessary now. You’ve given, given, and given, that your own cup is empty. As the saying goes “water is soft, but it cuts through rocks” has never been so true, until now. “Toji.” your tone is so sharp breaking this chilling, uncomfortable silence between you two. He immediately turns his head towards you, in surprise “Hm?..”. You gulp down, gathering up your courage to voice out what you've been feeling, what you’ve been wanting, and most of all, to know whether this relationship still has a chance? 

“I- I” your breaths are more deliberate, slow, and steady, to compose yourself. “I’ve been… feeling a little too weird these days..”. He nods, listening to you intently, as he’s never seen you this serious before. “Yes, You seem on the edge these days… especially ever since I came back.” 

You grit your teeth slightly at his calm tone, this calmness is what you like about him, but right now, this is what is setting you off, “Can you stop being so nonchalant all the goddamn time?” you lash out, but in times of anger, we don’t even acknowledge how we do things, what we extremely dislike, just as right now. “Toji, you— Do you take me for granted?! I can only give so much, but what am I getting from you? Past month, I’ve been completely, utterly, feeling used by you… Am I just one of the girls… like the ones from the past?..”. Toji’s string of patience breaks at the last line, not even at you calling him out, but comparing yourself to the one-night stands and hookups he had in his distant past. He clenches his jaw, and breathes out, calming down a little. Since you’re more sensitive, he tries to be as gentle as possible “Baby, That’s not true you know. Why would you compare yourself to women like that? You’re way more precious and you’re definitely not like them to me. You’re my wife…. listen—” 

 “Baby?” you mutter to yourself. “Toji, when.. you went on this mission, actually all missions before this one.. did you miss me? did you even think of me?… OR did you… turn back to your … old ways?…” That was enough, the last line. Toji is taken back, you could see the disbelief on his face. The silence is even more heavy. The words uttered in anger are so vicious, they kill people without actually killing them. “Wh-What did you just say?…” he croaks out, his nonchalance breaking away, being vulnerable as you hit such a wounded part of him. “You heard me clearly.” you knew you were being a bit too much, you knew that all too well, but this is what being petty means right? Once in a while, it is okay. Humans are rational beings? Never, just because we have one sense more than animals, doesn’t mean we aren’t rational than them. We are impulsive too. 

Toji stares dead into your eyes, you grit your teeth, not to lack composure. But, that’s not who you are. You love him way too much, get excited each time you see him, way too clingy, your love, your heart, everything says one name, every single day. In a crowd of men, you’d choose him over and over again. Tears slowly roll down your cheeks, in vain attempts to hold them back, they run down in streams. He, no matter how angry, can’t see you cry, see you weep like this. He walks over to you, and you take a step back. “I… I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to get mad.. or push you away.. These days this job is getting to me.. I don’t really feel like doing this anymore. I can’t stay away for weeks, without seeing you. Not only does it put me in danger, which I don't mind, but I’m putting you too. So that’s been on my mind a lot, sorry… I wasn’t being a good husband... I— I have no excuses..” 

Your heart sinks, it’s true he wasn't as close as used to be for a month. The way he takes the blame for himself, all that plus his vulnerability about the job, shakes you up a bit. “I know you need space, I’ll be in the living room. I’m so sorry, ba—by” 

The door swiftly closed behind him, you sat down on the bed. Taking in what has happened over the past one hour. After some time alone you slowly get up, making your way to the living room. You see Toji, lying down on the couch, legs hanging out, feet swinging slightly. You look down at him, then get on top of him, laying your head on his chest; snuggling into his chest. He wraps his big, warm arms around you, pulling you closer. The way his embrace still feels the same, the whiff of his cologne, mixed with his personal scent is so comforting. You nuzzle further into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry” you softly say. He presses a kiss on top of your head, his warm hand rubbing up and down your back. A few minutes into the hug, you look up into his eyes “Toji.. what’s that I feel on my thigh?..” He looks away from you “It’s been more than a month, you know. And being this close to you… it’s natural..” he mumbles, the tips of his ears turning red. You smile, burying your face back into his chest. “I love you” you whisper. “I know,” he says, smirking. You pinch his bicep “Ow, okay, okay… I love you the most, you know” he chuckles. “By the way… I got my period” you giggle. He pulls you in again, resting his chin on top of your head. He squeezes you gently, basking in this warm embrace, your hearts beating against each other’s chest, slowly syncing up with the other. You both drift off to peaceful slumber, after a long time. Your presence in Toji’s life was akin to the presence of the warmth of sunshine, on a cold winter’s day. You both found each other at the right time, after dating for some time, now married for almost two years. You’re all he could ever ask for. “To love and to be loved in return”, is what he wants, and he has it now. You.

[qwimchii]

𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘩 — 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯𝘯𝘺 "𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘱" 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

— 𝘴𝘧𝘸 & 𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸

ʚ⁺˖ everyone has that inner child in them that wants to be nurtured by their partner, and Johnny actively seeks that out in a person

ʚ⁺˖ he is not immature, clingy, or needy—he just wants to be with someone who makes him feel safe enough to just be him and be in that soft, little boy energy sometimes

ʚ⁺˖ i think that Johnny was a bit of a popular boy in high school. the nice kind who was a bit hyperactive and the class clown and probably got voted to be homecoming court king just because he was just funny and everyone liked him…

ʚ⁺˖ really fucking naughty too. was definitely having mini little science experiments with gunpowder, matches, and fireworks in the backyard with his brothers as a kid!!! he was blowing things up even before he got an education and license for it

ʚ⁺˖ but he was also one of those kids who everyone liked but he was kind of always distant… untouchable. it was always like he was focused on bigger brighter things—wanted to join the sas asap and wanted to grow up faster than everyone else. 

ʚ⁺˖ he was that kind of senior that you had a crush on in high school but knew you had no chance because his attention was just elsewhere—not like he was mean at all. he was always kind and didn’t judge others, but he wanted an unconventional path that was different than most. he was also that kind of senior who would be friends with anyone… even if they were “weird”. he didn't care because he was focused on other things, so lots of social norms/constraints didn’t really register half the time in his brain.

ʚ⁺˖ really fucking smart too. too smart. he was outsmarting his teachers since elementary school. not super book smart, doesn’t know all these specific facts, but he just understands. really high social iq as well!! everyone thinks that he lives too fast, that he’s funny, that he’s a bit brash and rough around the edges, but inside, he’s actually very in-tune with his surroundings—people’s energy, your energy

ʚ⁺˖ because of his hyperactivity in high energy situation with lots of people, lots of things going on, he needs that safe space to just unwind and be like :]

ʚ⁺˖ this :] literally embodies johnny when he’s content with you—his pretty little safe space. especially because he wanted to grow up so fast, join sas as soon as he possibly could, and probably grew up in a catholic family with quite a bit of kids, his inner child didn’t get much attention.

ʚ⁺˖ once this man notices you for who you are on the inside, how nurturing and calm you can be, how you can see his inner child, he is head over heels. head over heels. obsessed, obsessed, obsessed.

ʚ⁺˖ doesn’t really know what to do with himself and builds up all this nervous, slidey energy around you. like all his insides are sliding around too much and he just needs to anchor himself to something (you). 

ʚ⁺˖ didn’t date much when he was younger but enjoyed one-night stands every now and then, never anything serious. didn’t think he really wanted anything serious. he had seen his siblings and their families and was content with remaining a proud uncle of ten (or more). suddenly, after meeting you, and all your softness, something about it innocent and carefree, he didn’t know what to do.

ʚ⁺˖ it was like everything he hadn’t really experienced in his early 20s—that first, serious relationship that most of his childhood friends went through in college—came rushing to him.

ʚ⁺˖ his first instinct is to get close to you—become friends first. he’s the type that wants to have a really natural connection so that the line between lover and friends is blurred. not in a bad, miscommunication way. just a natural, this feels so right way. 

ʚ⁺˖ he’s intuitive, remember? thinks with his own different kind of logic that most people would find confusing or a little strange if they really noticed it which isn’t so easy under his funny, easygoing exterior… not you though. he knew you thought of his unique mind as endearing, because no matter how many more vulnerable sore spots he revealed to you, you wouldn’t even flinch. you’d just give him that pretty smile and reassure him and he'd be obsessed all over again.

ʚ⁺˖ he also wants a fun lover! wants to have fun and crack jokes!! you guys probably have two and a half million inside jokes that are way too much to unpack for others to understand. even if you’re not a naturally talkative, outgoing, or joking kind of person, the conversations Johnny will take you down are always strange, strange rabbit holes that draw out the most fun discussions you’ve ever had. he has chemistry with almost anyone, but you especially because he’s just fascinated.

ʚ⁺˖ starts giving you pet names once you become closer friends. bonnie, bonnie lass, kitty, or kitty cat. if anyone in 141 calls you kitty cat/kitty, it’s definitely Johnny.  “hey little kitty cat.” “how’s my little kitty cat doin’ today? hm? yeah, bonnie? tell me about yer day. ” over the phone…

ʚ⁺˖ soon enough your hangouts becomes more intimate and personal. it’s a little confusing because you’re friends but you’re not?? but every time you’re with him, all that confusion just melts away, because it’s just him. Johnny. you’re very comfortable with one another—does it even really matter if you define your relationship with him?

ʚ⁺˖ watching movies cuddled on the couch, sharing shitty ramen recipes and having whole-ass mock cooking shows at 2am for shits and giggles, wriggling into each other’s beds during a sleepover, facetiming a lot, you’re practically attached at the hip virtually and not. all your friends are onto you immediately, sniffing out this newfound “friend” like hounds. it’s obvious to everyone else that you can’t possibly just be friends… but how obvious is that to you? not much.

ʚ⁺˖ a touchy boyfriend friend. can definitely imagine a lazy weekend when he stayed over at your place on the couch after a long night of binging movies or k-dramas, and in the morning, he’s at the entrance of your bedroom, yawning and stretching out like a cat and shamelessly shirtless, much to your enjoyment embarrassment. jokingly asks if he can join you, because you just look so cute and comfortable curled up in those sheets like a little kitty cat, and when you say yes, he’s over in a flash, burrowing in the warm blankets beside you, all content like :] while watching your sleepy face. 

ʚ⁺˖ brushes away the hairs from your face and you whisper back and forth in the soft morning hours, letting him gently peck at the soft places on your face when he wants. till one day, just like any other day, you’re laying in bed and he’s gently pecking at your face, forehead, nose, eyelids, cheeks, and then the corner of your mouth, and you gently turn your head and his soft lips are on yours, bristly beard grating against your chin. but you don’t mind it in the way he’s kissing you so deliciously, tongue sliding between your lips as he crawls over you and cages you beneath his weight.

nsfw

ʚ⁺˖ the thing that would spur you over that thin line from friends to lovers was the incessant want you had for each other

ʚ⁺˖ Johnny more than anything. can’t get enough of you—sometimes gets hard just at the thought of you, which is embarrassing because he feels like he can’t control himself when it happens

ʚ⁺˖ during long months away from his favorite kitty cat, touches himself to the thoughts of your pretty smile and soft skin in breathy gasps, eventually caving in when he got too desperate and called you and felt so so so bad for lying to his sweet little kitty over the phone.

ʚ⁺˖ “are you alright, Johnny?” you’d ask him, brow furrowed and lip caught between your teeth at the sound of his strange, husky gasps over the phone. and he just grunts back, “mhmm. m’perfect kitty, just keep talkin’ to me. jus’ like that.”

ʚ⁺˖ it wasn’t like it was just one-sided. while Johnny is a very, very eager lover with a crazy high sex drive just for you, you’d been suffering from the same side effects. lingering in the same close-knit spaces when he was on leave, his scent lingered on different things—your pillows, bedsheets, clothes, and just the smell of him was enough to make you squirm and get you all dripping wet. sometimes it gets so bad to the point where you humped a pillow that smelled like him, thinking about how much you ached for the burly, warm muscle of his bare body sliding against yours in bed when you cuddled.

ʚ⁺˖ sometimes, when he was over at your place, tangled with him after a particularly hot summer night, you’d wake up with your clothes half-stripped off and Johnny almost naked just behind you, the strong muscle of his chest digging into your bare shoulder blade. it was embarrassing, realizing that you had done that in the middle of the night without even realizing it. and when you tried to slide out of the sheets to discreetly pull up your shorts again and put on a shirt, he’d growl, pulling your back into the blankets and not even caring how bare you were, one burly arm beneath your head and the other around your waist, fingertips sliding up to rest in the place right between your tits, but not touching. 

ʚ⁺˖ his morning voice would be all gravely by your ear, teasing, “my little kitty get hot last night?” when you would start squirming in his arms in protest, half-mewling for him to let go, but not really wanting him to let go, he’s just chuckle, his hips flush to your ass and grinding lazy circles of his morning wood into your plush flesh. “s’alright, kitty, just relax.”

ʚ⁺˖ and when you finally do fuck, after long heady months of endless teasing, lingering touches and a blatant amount of skin on display for each other, Johnny suffering a record amount of blue-balls in your presence and the sweet smell of you making him downright dizzy, you’d be fucking like rabbits—Johnny going round after round after round and making you wonder if he had a refractory period at all. 

ʚ⁺˖ so so so desperate and fast and rough, hand snaking in your hair and pushing your head down into the mattress as his strong hips snap against your ass, other hand snaking down your stomach to rub too fast circles against your clit.

ʚ⁺˖ he can be soft—naturally is rough. spits on your cunt and in your mouth, pulls your hair, slaps your ass and watches with a greediness the way it creates addicting little ripples over your skin. loves turning your ass cheeks a pretty shade of pink. loves your ass in general—always groping it in private, doing discrete little grabs in public. fucks your mouth too, thick cock head against the back of your throat as he wipes away your tears and coos, praising you for being his good little kitty cat, with suck a fuckable throat and pretty little swollen, fuckable lips. s’yer fault yer such a fuckin’ tease. his head tips back when you swallow around his pulsing head.

ʚ⁺˖ does sweet little check-ins while making you see stars. soft pecks against your lips, kissing away any tears, brushing his fingers over your hair softly sometimes. just to make sure you’re alright while he’s fucking you so good and rough and overstimulating you till you can’t even talk and you’re just babbling for more while his thick, dripping cock is rutting into you and his hand is squeezing around your throat, letting out low, throaty grunts and groans—just the way he know you love it. loves degrading you too. you’re his sweet little slut, his sweet little whore, pretty little slag. for no one but him. absolutely no one.

ʚ⁺˖ and oooh this man is possessive. the most possessive in 141 (me thinks). can’t stand it when men are even in your vicinity—not because he isn’t confident. he very much is. it’s super sexy to you, too, the way he carries himself with a straight posture and big, broad shoulders. he’s just so so so protective over his sweet little kitty cat. can’t have these awful men corrupting you :( that’s exclusively for him!

ʚ⁺˖ but when he is feeling for a softer round… or maybe you are… it’s usually after you’ve been fucking rough for hours and he’s begging you for just one more, pretty, lifting your leg up and slipping his hard, pulsing cock into your puffy, swollen cunt while you whine and cry, tears spilling down your cheeks.

ʚ⁺˖ he’ll fuck you lazily on his side just like that, arm wrapped around your waist while the other massages soothing circles into your twitching clit, shushing you softly as you half-sob, whispering kind things in your ear. 

ʚ⁺˖ “so good for me, kitty. need ye te come one more time. can’t ye do that for me? hm, kitty cat? aye, i know ye can, i ken you will, bonnie. just for me. aye, you can do it, there ye go, just like that, such a good lass takin’ this thick cock—” babbling incessantly into your ear, coaxing you through your last bone-shaking orgasm, little mewls falling from your lips as he presses his cock right up to your swollen cervix, stuffing liquid warmth into your womb.

ʚ⁺˖ and once he’s spent, sperm effectively drained from his tight, throbbing balls, he’ll smile at you in victorious satisfaction, kissing all over you in sweet little apologies for how rough he’s been with you. sometimes he’ll pay special attention to the puffy lips of your pussy, kissing them and then suckling on your clit, enjoying the way you squirm with overstimulation, whimpering soft little no mores and he’ll pull away with a smirk, amused with the cute little pout on your face.

ʚ⁺˖ then, he’ll crawl back over you, wrapping you up in his strong arms, feeling absolutely content that he won’t be sharing you—his sweet, gorgeous little safe space—with any other person in the entire world :]

no i did not 100% have soap brain rot at 12am and write this....... i would never..... especially not on a school night........

taglist: @ivybeeloved

[unconventional-user]

Statuesque

I'm crawling out the sewers to re-introduce myself. Plus new blog yay!

König and Reader are relatively almost the same height SO I DONT WANNA HEAR NO CANON THAT READER IS 5 FOOT SOMETHING NO THEYRE LIKE 6'5 HELL PROBABLY EVEN TALLER-

Anyways, as you can tell I know nothing about the military nor COD, only what I've read and seen. Shoot me. Reader is intended to be gn overall but correct me in case.

pairing: könig x tall!reader 

warning(s): uhhhh idk, kinda sucks? (I tried)

word count: 2.7k

* This work was created by @unconventional-user, no re-post(s), you may, however, re-blog. Thank you. *

'How tall are you?'

'Are you a basketball player?'

'Do you wear heels?'

'How's the weather up there?'

These questions were a constant occurrence whenever leave took place. It was a reminder how annoying and entitled people were at times.

Luckily, deployment had come quickly most times, so you wouldn't have to deal with them often.

It's not like there was anything to head back to when 'off duty' anyway.

Parents were several countries overseas as well as other family, friends, and folk. So being called back often wasn't a rare occurrence nor was it annoying...

After joining the Air Force, it was expected of your squadron to work alongside certain groups. You happened to be the lucky few that helped aid the Special Air Services pretty often. It was mainly with transports as well as to help fly troops on missions.

It was nice. Some of the best times honestly.

Britain was a really cool place too.

But the constant travelling back and fourth, US to UK kind of left this uncertainty of which place was your 'true' home.

Almost like an identity crisis sort of.

So after some thinking and request of separation, you moved countries alongside joining the British Army.

Many more years later you're a part of the Special Air Services.

You could say the years in the Air Force might've helped a bit by leaving such positive feedback to them when SAS asked about their new soldier.

Judging from their background, they described as if the "golden child" for helicopter pilots was amongst them:

A once in a lifetime.

A relic of some sorts.

A phenomen.

According to them, you knew how to maneuver the damn chopper 'as if you built it yourself'.

Thus becoming a well recognized name amongst the special forces more specifically.

You'd like to thank the impeccable flying skills for landing you on such a radar.

Still, most of your work went unnoticed the first couple of years in SAS til' they eventually caught someone's eye later on:

"That's some amazing skills there—hello, we haven't met. My name is Kate."

The communication analyst would keep in touch with you after that. She claimed a specific task force officer asked for your wings.

"You know how to maneuver a helicopter better than anyone I've seen in a while. And I'm not the only one who's seen you in action."

Years pass after that, you're still on par with transporting soldiers and the Task Force 141, means you must be doing something right…right?

Shaking off the commotion of thoughts, you drove till the view of a familiar, bordered gateway appeared.

Upon entry, it was time to head over to your station.

-

Some inspections and loadings later, a shout was heard from afar. Turning towards the culprit, it was none other than Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish.

"Long time no see, aye bonnie?"

Leaning against the rails of the helicopter, he gave a smile. In return you gave one back as you finished clearing the aircraft as: PASS.

"Good afternoon, Sergeant," you chuckled, "I believe I saw you yesterday."

Ignoring the matter-of-fact, he continued on, "Call me Soap. Remember, yer one of us."

Smiling awkwardly, you pretend to re-inspect one of the throttles once again.

To be 'considered' a part of task 141 was…a weird feat or way to put it overall. You were in their squadron as their pilot, but you weren't necessarily with them. You weren't a part of their briefings or any of that.

You were separate from them.

The only one who really 'considered' you as part was Sergeant MacTavish.

Not to say the others were assholes or something. Lieutenant Ghost often would brief a 'good job' or 'nice maneuvering' to you once in a while.

Sergeant Garrick and Captain Price also acknowledged you from time to time, always greeting when deemed necessary.

To put it into simple words…they like your flying skills. You're like a designated pilot for them sort of.

'Way to make it sound like you're just a chauffeur-'

Shaking the thoughts aside once more, you focused on what Johnny said.

"Come again, Sergeant?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head but repeated himself once more. He always found you cute yet attractive. A true bonnie. These small actions never ceased to add to his attraction towards you.

Plus, he liked them tall. He could only imagine you in heels now…

"Wait…so you guys are gonna team up with a whole 'nother group for the mission?" You asked.

Great. Now he had to shake his thoughts aside. Clearing his throat, Johnny nodded.

"Price got told he needed backup for this one. Apparently it's too risky to go alone."

"Sounds rough."

"Aye, Ghost ain't too fond of the idea either."

Didn't look like he was too happy about the situation as well.

Nodding, you understood the lieutenant's 'worry' about being aided by a private contractor unit. Another responsibility and potential liability overall.

Trying to look on the bright side of things, at least they'll be more careful.

"Well…better safe than sorry, right? Plus you guys won't be so bored on the ride there!" You internally cringed at your feeble attempt to cheer the man up.

Hey, at least it made him laugh though.

"Ye ready to deal wit' another crew of dafties 'en, bonnie?"

Laughing, you closed the door to the aircraft.

"I'll see you in a bit, las."

-

The briefing ends; said Austrian begins heading towards the designated lockers.

Kortac had been called back by the SAS, unsurprisingly. They’d worked alongside the particular military service before (more than a few times).

The report claimed a certain special ops unit would need some assistance on an important mission. The team was ordered to help aid as a “battering ram” of sorts, both pre and post mission.

Of course they knew just who to send alongside for additional aid to the team.

König rolled his eyes, slamming the locker in frustration. He really didn’t want to be here at all. In his eyes, he was assisting a potential enemy. The SAS wasn’t necessarily a foe to KorTac, but it’s not like they were allies either.

So case in point (to König), he was being forced to help the potential enemy.

There were other soldiers sent alongside König. One of them looked over at him, an eyebrow raised, “Alles gut?”

König looked over at the soldier and said nothing, hood completely concealing his annoyed face. He’d rather be anywhere else than here if he’s being honest.

Heading towards the helipad, where he’d meet the rest of his ‘team’ mates, König tripled checked his tactical gear on him before stepping onto the designated helicopter.

His eyes narrowed onto a familiar face—or rather a mask—he had met before. Ghost simply responded back to König’s hostile stare vice versa. Neither said anything, but sat on opposite sides of one another.

No mind was paid to the rest that got onto the helicopter, except for Sergeant MacTavish, who made his entrance known with a hearty laugh followed by an annoyed looking Sergeant Garrick.

After the rest got settled in, Captain Price stood center and went over some key details again, mainly about KorTac’s assistance on the mission. König felt someone’s eyes on him as a chill ran along his neck. He turned his head and saw the same soldier from earlier at the lockers move to sit next to him. Said soldier looked away nervously to avoid the blue eyes.

Komisch. König narrowed his eyes in confusion, but remained silent overall. He felt the soldier lean in, “Is this your first time working with them?” They then gestured their head towards Task force 141. König didn’t acknowledge them and remained quiet. Looking away, he ignored the huff of the—now annoyed— soldier.

“Ist mir doch...”

König ignored the subliminal guilt he felt by acting like he didn’t hear the soldier’s mutterings. Trying to distract himself, he re-checked his tactical gear.

Knife is attached to his side. His tourniquet was in place, perfectly positioned if needed. He had 2 extra stocks on his left thigh—

Thoughts were interrupted as 2 pairs of feet stepped onto the helicopter and the doors were closed. König looked up and he swore he heard himself swallow back a gulp. Thank whatever is up there that he had his hood concealing his face. König could feel his face becoming warm.

Completely ignoring the other pilot officer greeting the team, his eyes focused on you.

Who were you?

You seemed to be standing at almost—if not the same—height as König,

He absolutely loved that.

Eyes fell onto your hands, noticing the lack of a band surrounding it, which he also seemed to love.

He was unsure if he had a visceral reaction to your presence but it felt like when people saw color for the first time. He felt the need to hide his flustered face (even though the hood already does that for him).

Du siehst bezaubernd aus.

He thought, eyes not leaving your form.

As you and the other pilot head towards the cockpit, he couldn't help but ponder.

Was that what many consider ‘love at first sight'? Him? In love?

The idea seemed almost laughable, mainly because he didn't think he could ever imagine him even having the courage to even attempt to pursue someone. Let alone have someone finding him worth being with.

König (sadly) broke his stare by looking at the soldier who jabbed his shoulder. Bothered, he turned towards them with narrowed eyes.

Grinning, the soldier commented, "As they say in America; statuesque."

-

Stepping towards the helicopter, you could feel your mind calm down. You knew exactly what to do. Tis the moment. You're in the zone.

Ew. That’s literally so cheesy.

You thought as you covered your hand to hide the growing smile.

Your co-pilot turned over at you, “Everything ok?” he asked, confused.

Putting a hand down, you nodded, “Yep. Just…thinking of something.”

He gave you an odd look but didn't perpetuate any further, simply muttering under his breath, “...How’d I get stuck with the tall weirdo?”

You pretend not to hear that, letting out a sigh and stepping onto the helicopter.

The co-pilot flashed everyone a tight-lipped smile as eyes fell onto him first, “Proud to be working with everyone here.” But eyes quickly fell onto the person looming over him.

That person being you.

With a flashed smile and wave, you greeted them, “I’m going to be your eyes in the skies today.”

The assisting team nodded a ‘Yes Officer’ your way. Nodding to the group, you observed them until one of them caught your eye.

The moment your eyes landed on the gentleman in the hood suddenly time had stopped, not noticing when he looked back either. His eyes widened whilst looking like he had choked on the air or something.

He looked a little bit taller than you—only a little—which almost never happens.

He was also oddly cute (considering he had a full on sack over his head).

Suddenly self conscious about appearance, you straighten up and try to hide the blush apparent on your face. If it's obvious, nobody dares say anything.

It probably didn't help that he was staring back at you as well. Interlocked, neither breaking eye-contact till the soldier next to him nudged his shoulder.

Luckily, you were able to gather yourself and head into the cockpit. It seemed like the others had disappeared, leaving only you and him. But you surged on, unaware of eyes following your direction.

Finally out of sight, you were able to find your footing and headed towards the left.

Your co-pilot sat to your right.

Alright, it’s go time.

Snorting, you muttered, “...still so cheesy.”

“Huh?” the co-pilot turned.

“Nothing!”

-

It was finally over. The mission was done. You could feel the relief washing over as you were able to land on the helipad again.

No casualties (thankfully), except for 2 soldiers who were grazed by bullets. One of them being Ghost, who had apparently saved one of the other soldiers who were shot.

You still remembered upon landing to reach them on the field, Ghost was angrily dragging the other wounded soldier by the vest, holding his shoulder in the process.

One soldier yanked out a med kit as another snatched them away from the lieutenant.

The shouting could be heard from the cockpit as you flew away. You and your co-pilot ignored it and continued to flee the warzone.

As you were able to land, you slowly started feeling at ease.

Even though you’ve been flying for years, the adrenaline and anxiety was still the same every time.

The difficulty was always trying to shake the feeling of nerves off. A good cigarette always seems to ease them away. Speaking of which…

You reached into your lower back pocket; you cursed when you didn’t feel any familiar shaped boxed. Must’ve left the pack in your locker. Luckily, it wasn’t too far.

Headed towards said lockers, someone had walked next to you. Upon looking, no words were exchanged as you were side-to-side with the extremely tall soldier.

You expected him to say something. He didn’t. Simply continue to walk.

You decided to do so instead.

“Hello.”

The hooded man faced you this time with flat eyes. You stopped walking, so did he. Gulping down the nervousness, you took a good look at him.

He was taller than you, even if it was by a couple inches only. He was still taller than you.

“Sorry for bothering but…” chewing on your lip (which he definitely looked at), you confessed, “...I've never seen someone as tall—hell—taller than me. So I just wanted to introduce myself.”

You tell him your name, trying not to seem so upfront about it. He continues to look on for a while, in which you think maybe he didn’t want to talk to you at all.

“König.” is all he (manages to) says and continues to walk (although appearing dull looking towards you, he was internally sweating bullets as well).

“...Well König…I was wondering…if you would like to…maybe hangout, tonight. I'm actually going out to head for some drinks tonight and I thought…” you chuckled nervously while trying not to mumble, he however, cut you off.

“What?” König asked in what seemed an annoyed tone.

Not to him though, he just seemed weary about strangers, plus he didn't really know how to act around someone he seemed to have a crush on. He didn't even think he sounded rude about it.

Which was the problem.

You quickly explained to him, “Well…we don't have to. I swear I just wanted to offer maybe I thought you'd be interested-”

He cut you off again, “Why would I want to spend my time with you?” 

Oh god König. If only he knew just how bad he was fucking this up.

Swallowing, you looked away from said man, “Um…nevermind I didn't mean to disturb you, please, forget I ever bothered you haha…” you slowly drifted off, trying to hide the wobble in your lip.

Forcing a smile you began to walk away from him.

König’s eyes widened as you began to walk away.

No. No. No. Nein. Nein-

Was tust du?! He thought as he saw your lips wobble.

Do something before they leave!

“Wait!” He blurted out. This time he didn't seem to care that the surrounding soldiers looked at him.

But when you turned around however, he felt his stomach flutter.

Oh shit now what-

He didn’t know what to say now. So he simply just walked up, grabbed both of your shoulders and explained how he’d love to go out for drinks.

Motivated, you just looked up at him, the genuine smile creeping back onto your face, “Really?”

König felt himself freeze, but nodded regardless:

“Ja.”

“Okay, great…Amazing!” Giving him the details, you headed towards the lockers, the–now–lovestruck smile on your face. König waved until he realized what he just did.

He agreed to go out for drinks. With you.

With you. 

What was his issue then? Nothing was wrong with you.

But you wanna go out with him. Him.…now that's a different story.

He was freaking out–not that anyone could tell–König stood still in one spot, till the hand on his shoulder broke him out of it. It was the previous soldier from before:

“Gut?” they tried asking König again, who narrowed his eyes back at them. 

“Ja.”

Can you tell this was rushed and kinda a little self indulgent? Yeah, now I feel kinda cringe. Also didn't mean to cut it off so suddenly, maybe to be continued? Maybe.

[willow-wolfman-blog]

If One Piece were an omegaverse, what would the crew be ?

This is a question I asked my sister and myself a while ago and we had fun thinking abut it so I decided to share it with the class 🙌

LUFFY : alpha

imo Luffy could be any of the 3

He coud be an omega or a beta because he's constantly underestimated and smaller than mooooost of the cast. The underdog aspect of his character would work very well for that and the fact that the captain is not an alpha would enhance the fact that the Straw Hats are an unconventional crew.

But I think alpha would be just a little more fitting, he would be the underestimated runty alpha that thrives in chaos and always defies expectations. He would be the kind of alpha who doesn't give a shit about gender roles, which would be very good and very important for multiple members of his crew. And of course let's not forget his Conqueror Haki.

ZORO : alpha

That was never a question honestly, he's an alpha through and through, a stereotypical alpha but in a good way.

Ha has the strengh, the size, the muscles, the leadership, the violence.

He's a natural protector when it comes to his crew and he's respectful and chill enough that he wouldn't mind obeying another alpha if he deems them worthy (Luffy).

USOPP : beta

He's the "normal guy" of the crew.

Not aggressive, good follower, pretty chill + it would work well with his lack of confidence and his self-esteem issues.

SANJI : omega

That was an obvious choice imo.

He was the weakest of his simblings (Reiju would be a beta and the 3 others would be alphas), the one who cared the most, with a lot of empathy and a desire to care for others + the one who looks like his mother the most.

That's still the case as an adult, he deeply cares about people, especially HIS people. He's a caregiver at heart.

It would work really well with all his gender issues and with his relationship with Zoro and Luffy, because they wouldn't give a shit about him being an omega and that would do him a lot of good.

There is a softness about him that's not present in the 2 others, yet he would be a prime example of "don't judge a book by it's cover " because he would still kick ass.

Plus I think it would fit very well with the WCI arc (it's about a wedding, it shows a lot of his empathy, how much he cares about the crew ...).

NAMI : omega

She has been coveted multiple times, the seduction, her beauty, her past where she was exploited by a group of very aggressive and controlling people, lots of roundness about her ... and many many other things.

CHOPPER : omega

He is the baby of the crew, cared for and protected, he was the runt of his herd, different and ostracised, he cares deeply about other and want to help, an excellent care giver since he is the crew's doctor. Lots of roundness about him to.

(Notice how the 3 omegas of the crew has the 3 most important jobs on the ship)

ROBIN : beta

She is a follower, she needed to be unnoticed for most of her life and she always served stronger than her. She is scarily competent so I understand why some people would say she's an alpha but I still think the unassuming aspect of being a beta would suit her best.

FRANKY : beta

Before aaaaall his body changes he was pretty normal physically, he is a good follower, competent and pretty chill.

I like to think that even the beta of the crew are weird and amazing, everything is unexpected about them.

BROOK : beta

Same as Franky honestly, it does not matter that he is a beta since everything else is so... peculiar.

JIMBEI : alpha

Same as Zoro.

Strong, powerful, good leadership but chill and respectful enough to be the good kind of alpha.

___________________________________

Anyway that's my take on the crew ! What do you think ?

[598-inspiration]

Kaisei's Dark Feminine Energy and the Rejection of Traditionalism

Kaisei is a rather difficult character to understand within the story of Akane Banashi, his actions often go against his words, and its hard to tell what his real intentions are sometimes, even to characters that have known him for a long time.

As I mentioned in my previous post, Issho's transgenerational trauma may unintentionally be leaving a dark influence on Kaisei, however Kaisei won't end up going the same route as Issho who is obsessed with the legacy of his previous master.

The plan is laid out from here, Issho wants to bring in more young talent to kick out of the way the system by seniority that has plagued the world of Rakugo for years. It is a complete lack of traditionalistic values that have carried the career for years. And Kaisei is a rather unconventional Rakugoka.

Kaisei's dark feminine energy is the backbone of his Rakugo

Dark feminine energy is the opposite of the divine, they put themselves first, are selfish, unapologetic, angry and use underhanded methods like seduction to get what they want. It falls under the same category as a femme fatale.

Kaisei's is known for his seductive female roles, which is rather similar to Urara's rakugo.

Toyoshiga the shamisen player, is Kaisei's proxy character in his Rakugo stories.

Both stories that he has performed in front of Akane so far, has Toyoshiga as a central character. Despite being talented in music, she is characterized by jealousy and is delusional and hateful.

Kaisei's mom was kind. However, she was kind to a fault. Between his dead beat biological dad who abandoned him, and his frustration with his mother who was just willing to forgive and forget the mistreatment from other men in her life until she was pushed into a corner, it's pretty obvious why he would be drawn to playing this kind of character.

Scorned, entitled, angry at any perceived disrespect from someone else. Toyoshiga is the embodiment of Kaisei's anger and resentment towards the world.

Aside from his friendlier attitude towards Akane, Kaisei is rather hostile towards his fellow Rakugoka. Ignoring them at best, and being standoffish and straight up disrespectful at worst.

He has no Rakugoka friends, and doesn't care for adhering to the system of respecting his seniors. This is reflected on his Rakugo as he goes out of his way to crush whoever else has the misfortune of performing in the same show as him. Which is stark contrast to Akane.

His relationship with Issho seems to be rather complicated. Its hard to tell how he feels about his master beyond seeking his stand of approval, and even that may not be due to having any respect or loyalty for him.

Its a means to an end.

What's interesting is that in Kaisei's eyes Issho appears in the same borderline demonic aura in which Akane sees him.

And while he tried to recruit Akane at first to be Issho's student and help fulfill his goals, this was prior to her becoming Shiguma's pupil.

Knowing Issho's contempt for the current Shiguma and his students, keeping Akane a secret was nothing short of Kaisei protecting her from what he perceived would be a threat to her.

Not to mention respecting her decision on the path and master she chose herself.

Akane is really people-smart, and while Kaisei's second performance may have seen like a act of intimidation to those aware of his open hostility towards other Rakugokas, it was actually him helping by showing her that she still needed to improve more to catch up to him, and give her an opportunity to perform in the same show as him.

And I think this is supported by him showing up to see how she was doing even after her lost (his "Ikken called for him" excuse, doesn't really hold up considering we saw Ikken talking to the other judges later on instead). This was his best attempt at consoling someone.

Kaisei does have a dark side to him, however I don't think it has ever extended towards Akane, and he actually cares a lot for her.

There's a number of interpretations to his exchange with Rokuro, but I fully believe that he wants Akane to inherit Shiguma's art and he doesn't want Rokuro to take this chance from her.

But like I mentioned with Issho, Kaisei is also not a fully black or white character and shouldn't be judged as such, and there's a lot of aspects to him that remain a mystery.

[doumadono]

Requested by: @leven-and-ashley on my discord

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Dabi first notices you in a crowded market. The contrast of your unique appearance against the mundane surroundings catches his attention. He observes you from a distance, intrigued by the way you navigate the world with confidence despite your distinctive albinism.

Intrigued, he discreetly follows you, observing from the shadows, his interest growing with each passing day. Dabi is drawn to the way you carry yourself despite standing out, a feeling he intimately understands.

He overhears snippets of your conversations, noting your insecurities about your appearance. Dabi finds himself silently empathizing with your struggles, seeing a reflection of his own societal challenges.

One day, as you navigate through a dark alley while getting back home from work, you notice a faint scent of smoke and an eerie, blueish glow nearby. Before you can react, a voice cuts through the shadows, "You look lost, sweetheart." It's Dabi, leaning against a wall, his blue flames flickering at the tips of his fingers.

Startled, you eye him cautiously, but Dabi's smirk and casual demeanor somehow put you at ease. "Couldn't help but notice you've got that unique look. I appreciate uniqueness."

The guy suggests walking you home, considering it's not safe to be alone in your neighborhood at this late hour. You agree, and during your casual chat, he brings up the challenges of looking unconventional. You're surprised a stranger would delve into such personal topics.

Dabi starts engaging in casual conversations, appearing randomly wherever you go. He subtly drops compliments, making you blush with his unexpected flattery. "You seem to be everywhere I am. Are you following me?" you ask openly. "Nah, it's just a coincidence. But who wouldn't want to be around someone as interesting as you?"

You're still blissfully unaware that you're dealing with a dangerous villain.

Discovering common interests, you find yourselves having longer conversations every time you fall on him while minding your businesses in the city.

Dabi opens up about his own struggles with societal expectations, creating a connection between your unique experiences. He expresses admiration for your resilience. "People judge us based on appearances, yeah? But I see you, and I appreciate what I see."

After encountering him once more, you release a sigh. "Hey, Dabi, chatting with you is cool and all, but… Maybe I'm crazy, but do you fancy grabbing coffee at my place? It'd a bit more relaxed for a chat," you propose.

He agrees, and shortly afterward, he takes a seat at the small table in your minimalistic kitchen while you prepare coffee.

As you sit and chat with him, he's captivated by your incredibly pale face, white hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes. Delicate freckles adorn the base of your nose and cheeks, and your pinkish irises draw him in. You're stunning, and he can't help but be entranced, unable to take his eyes off you.

"Are you okay, Dabi?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

He nods, "Yeah, you're just really pretty," he compliments, "and I gotta be honest with you. I respect you, and you deserve the whole truth."

You frown and nod, awaiting his confession.

"Did you hear about the big fire in the convoy taking a villain to Tartarus?"

You nod.

"That was me, I caused the fire and helped him flee. I'm a villain too, and I work for the League of Villains."

You blink, your blood running cold. After a moment, you simply nod. "I had a feeling you might be something else. You never liked crowds in the city, always trying to keep a low profile. Just so you know, I'm not wealthy, and I don't have much, but you can have…"

He frowns. "I ain't here to steal from you or cause harm, Y/N. Just thought you should know who you're dealing with."

You nod slowly, "Even as a villain, you were one of the few who didn't bully me because of my looks," you tell him. "Thanks for not being scared or disgusted by me."

His scarred hand gently reaches out, caressing your cheek, causing another blush to tint your cheeks. "I've mentioned it before, haven't I? I find you beautiful," Dabi says, smirking shortly after. "And I appreciate you not being disgusted by my scars as well."

Since that day, you started seeing Dabi regularly. You even let him crash at your place whenever he needed to lay low or had enough of the League of Villains' shit. And you didn't regret it. With him, you felt like the most beautiful princess. He constantly reminded you that, despite your unique appearance, you were beautiful just the way you were.

[kaldurahms-lover]

Hello, can I request Sal fisher x gn!reader, maybe a one shot about Sal showing y/n his face for the first time

AGH THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS I NEEDED AN EXCUSE TO WRITE IT WJSHSJHS

Pairing: Sal Fisher x Reader

Warnings: use of y/n, fluff, sal's face oops, i kinda fucked up the different tenses but i cannot be bothered to fix it, very minor swearing, not proofread.

Word Count: 773

A/N: takes place when Sal and the reader would be around 17 and have known each other for like two years

Sal knew he had to let y/n see his face at some point. They were the closest friend he had. (Larry doesn't count, Larry's family.) He knew in the back of his mind that it made no sense for the person he's closest to to be the last one in their friend group to see him without the prosthetic, hell, even Neil had seen him (i know in canon only his dad, larry, ash, and dr. enon have seen him. ssssshhh). He had no clue why he hadn't shown them besides his romantic feelings for them, they would never judge him. So when he heard them telling Todd how they felt like he didn't trust them...

"I just don't understand. It's his decision and I don't want him to show me if he isn't comfortable with it. But thats what hurts, is that he isn't comfortable with it. I love Sal, he's my best friend and I would do anything for him, I just can't help but feel like he doesn't trust me. And I know I sound terrible, being upset that someone I care about isn't ready to unpack their trauma with me, but I can't help it."

He knew something had to change.

Y/n was over within minutes, making the quick trip up from apartment 304. Sal ushered them into his room quickly, wanting to do this before his dad got home. They were obviously very confused, sitting down on his bed and asking if everything was okay.

"Do you think I'm uncomfortable around you?"

Y/n was taken aback by his blunt question. "Sal, what?"

"I heard you talking to Todd, y/n."

"Oh. Sal, I'm not upset with you, I didn't mean anything by it–"

He cut them off. "I know. I'm gonna ask again, do you think I'm uncomfortable around you?"

y/n gulped. "Sometimes I feel like maybe you don't. But who you take your prosthetic off around his completely your choice, I don't want you to do it just because you heard me say something to Todd, I want you to do it because you trust me and want me to see you."

"Thats the thing! I don't know why I don't want you to see me. You're my best friend, and I fucking love you, and you should've seen me years ago."

Y/n sighed. "It's okay. I promise it's okay."

Sal doesn't say anything, he just unclips his mask. Before Y/n can even realize what's happening, Sal's hand is the only thing holding his prosthetic against his face. He lowers it slowly, freely presenting his face, every scar, every bit of missing skin, the way it's now much more obvious that one of his eyes is also a prosthetic. His eyes are down, not wanting to see their reaction despite willingly removing his armor.

"Sal..."

"I know. It's not pretty."

y/n put their hands up and moved their head back as if offended. "Not at all what i was going to say. You're so pretty. In a very unconventional way... but theres nothing wrong with how you look. Can i..." Their hands reach out to cup his face, but they keep their distance until they have permission.

He nods and suddenly they're holding him so gently, as if they're afraid he might break under their touch. And as they softly caress his scarred skin, Sal melts. In fact, he gets so lost in the moment that it takes him a moment to realize they're talking to him.

"Sal? You still with me here?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Yeah I'm just... processing. No one's ever really had anything nice to say about me taking this off. I mean they've never had a huge problem but they haven't... they haven't reacted like this."

"Can I kiss you?" The question is sudden, purely formed from y/n thinking out loud. It takes everything in them react at how shocked Sal looks.

"What?"

"i'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or mess up us being friends–"

"No no no, y/n. Yes. Please. For the love of all things good, please."

"Really?"

"Really."

That was all the confirmation y/n needed before their lips were connected. It was awkward, considering the scar tissue and the fact that it was very obviously Sal's first kiss, but it was sweet. When they pulled back, y/n rested their forehead against Sal's.

They smiled. "Hi."

"Hi."

"This what you expected when you asked me to come over?"

"Hoped? Maybe. Expected? Never."

"Learn to expect this every time I come over now."

[titaniumions]

i think it's probably somewhat clear that i see isolde and kakania as lesbians (seems to be a common hc anyway) but i think i want to explore how that'd fit into their respective characterizations, not necessarily only from a shipping standpoint. note that this does get into headcanon territory, still i try to keep it as in-character as i can

i think kakania would actually be pretty open about it. in the 1910s?? i mean sure, she's already a controversy as she is ... an arcanist, an uncertified psychiatrist with unconventional methods, an outspoken member of society who stirs up public opinion. might as well give herself one more reason to be a subject of controversy. those who are set on hating her probably have no intention of changing that, so hey, might as well authentically be herself in every possible way including this. among those who have a more positive opinion about her, i do think this would make her somewhat of an icon. she draws other members of the community toward her. she lets them know that she is there for them and will fight for them. that they can turn to her and she will not scrutinize them for it. she'd tell them, no, there is nothing wrong with being this way. it isn't something you need to be "cured" from

in line with this, i think it would make sense for the "circle" to be a queer safe space. in fact, i like to think theophil himself could've been bi and thus would've accepted his sister's sexuality. but due to her own inhibitions (which i will touch upon later) i don't think isolde would ever have told him.

meanwhile for isolde ... i think it's more complicated. having a sexuality outside of the norm would be a deviation from the socially acceptable definition of the "perfect noble" she tries to be. so even if she were to ever consider it, she would simply end up pushing those thoughts away. no, not a chance. this shouldn't bother her at all. she's supposed to be perfect, yet she already has enough problems in her life as a member of the dittarsdorf family. considering the possibility of herself being anything but straight would lead to more problems, wouldn't it? and that's the last thing she needs. nonetheless she's ... never been attracted to a man either. but she tries not to think too much of it. maybe she just needs to wait it out. or so she tells herself

now to piece it all together ... i do really like the idea of kakania being her ... awakening. in fact i think it would make a lot of sense for her story, what with kakania being the metaphorical key to the doors that have always surrounded and confined isolde ... so hear me out. when isolde started associating with her and the circle she realized that it felt far less suffocating than ... pretty much any other aspect of her life. it's like a breath of fresh air. kakania in particular would fascinate isolde, in a way that makes isolde question things about herself. perhaps she even comes close to having a realization. but again, isolde remembers who she needs to be, and stops herself short.

eventually though, she would learn what kind of person kakania is, and what she believes in and fights for. this only deepens isolde's admiration further and she finally comes to a point of acceptance about her feelings. alright. i can accept this realization now. she no longer pushes it to the back of her mind. there's still a bit of repression and shame left in there but meeting someone who has not only awakened her, but also wouldn't judge her for it, has changed something within her entirely. the feelings overflow and she can deny it no longer. but again, at the end of the day she still needs to be perfect and socially acceptable. she can't just ... exist as freely as kakania does. but it's alright, isolde has feigned compliance for so long regardless of however difficult it might be. putting up with expectations has been a regular part of her life. so there it is, something authentic about this actor that she can't show to anyone else because it doesn't fit the part that she's supposed to play. kakania is allowed to know though, of course she is. it can just be their little secret. and one way or another, she'll figure out how isolde feels toward her. surely kakania would be quite honored to be on the receiving end of the affection of such a wonderful lady. as long as this affection doesn't eventually turn into a catalyst for destruction, right ...

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Compromising Positions: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: An unsub is targeting and killing married couples, and you and Spencer go undercover in hopes of drawing out the unsub. Not only does it not work, but it opens a can of worms you don't think Spencer is ready to open.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

You walk back into the apartment and take a seat across from Maryann. You don't want to confront her right out so you decide to ease her into the conversation and target your inner Spencer.

"So, I read this pretty fascinating theory recently. It said that humans weren't designed to be monogamous and that in our hunter-gatherer phase, women took several mates. The idea was that if the men in the tribe didn't know who the father was, they'd all be more invested in the child. Interesting, right?"

"I guess," she shrugs.

"While I would never judge you or the way you live your life, I do think the only reason you got into it was to make James happy. Just like how you only got pregnant after his surgery to make him happy, only, I don't think that it's working."

"That's not true. James is overjoyed to be a father."

"Look, I'm only going to say this because I know it's true. You can deny it all you want but I know you know the truth. I know James is hurting you. Maybe not physically but he is hurting you. I also know you love him and you want to make him happy because how can the man you love be such a monster, right?"

"No, you're wrong," she says, her voice cracking at the end.

"You got pregnant after his surgery because you thought that would make him happy. For a while, it worked. Then, I'm assuming when you started showing, he got angry because he knew this child was not his. It's someone else's which only reminds him that he can't provide for his family. For an alpha male, that must be soul-crushing. I think that your pregnancy drove your husband to try to recreate those parties so he could feel in control again. Only, instead of swinging, he's killing people."

"Why won't you people listen to me? He's not capable of doing that!"

"How about killing the man who got you pregnant? Do you think he's capable of that?"

"No, because you'd be lying. This is his baby."

You take out the files of the unsolved murders that the detective brought over and lay them out in front of her.

"These files are recent unsolved murders, men who have been killed since you conceived. Now, if I'm right about your husband, I think that the father of your child is somewhere in here." You open the first one and lay it open in front of her so she can see the victim's picture and crime scene. "Bob Atkins? Is it him?"

"I can't believe this," she scoffs.

You open another one and show her. "James Boyd?"

"You don't give up, do you? You just can't accept the fact that my husband and I love each other." You open another folder and present it to her. She keeps talking. "Yes, we have an unconventional marriage, but that's not a crime. We have a strong relationship." you open another one and lay it in front of her. "James respects me. He would never do anything--"

She stops talking when she sees the one you just laid down. She lets out a strangled cry and you know you have your man. She finally believes you which means you can move on to the real questioning. You take the files away from her so she doesn't have to look at them and give her five minutes to compose herself. She picks up the landline phone and calls her husband but it goes straight to voicemail.

"It went straight to voice mail. He must have turned it off."

"Maryann, we need you to tell us what you and your husband used to do before you got married. What were your habits?"

"Do you mean like where we went on dates?"

"No, your sexual habits. Think about it. You don't just jump into swinging. Most people have games building up to it. What were they?"

"He'd sometimes pretend to pick me up. We'd meet at a bar. I'd arrive and he wouldn't be there. He was in the back watching me."

"What were the names of the bars you went to?" you ask and take out your notepad.

"Just one. Dunley's. It's at the town mall."

You nod and write the name down. "How did the game end?"

"He'd make me dress provocatively. He wanted guys to hit on me, and then when I'd show some interest, James would step in and seduce me back to him."

She's been through enough trauma for one night so you leave local police with her while your team heads to Dunley's. You don't want to go storming in because then he might shoot a bunch of people so you have to play this safe. Derek walks in without his FBI vest to see if he's in there and returns moments later.

"He's in the middle of the bar. There's no way to take him down without risking collateral damage. If we go in there, he'll start shooting up the place."

"He'll do that anyway. This guy's looking for a spark," Emily says.

"Hotch, let me go in there. I'll be your distraction. He's gone back to his old patterns. He wants to play the game he played with his wife."

"Debra Wilson played that game and it got her killed, Y/N," Derek says.

"Hotch, do you trust me?"

"Yes." You begin stripping yourself of anything that would suggest you're in the FBI including your weapons. "Keep his focus off the crowd long enough for us to take him down."

"I can do you one better. I can bring him out here. Just wait for us to leave."

"You're confident enough to separate himself from the crowd?"

"Yes but knowing you, you'd stand by and enter the bar anyway. Just wait for my signal. If I touch my nose, then you know to come in."

"Okay."

Once you look presentable, you head inside the club. You fluff your hair up, pull your shirt down to expose more of your breasts, and pinch your cheeks to give yourself a rosy look without using makeup. You pass by a couple who are making out at a booth, and the woman's purse is lying on the seat next to her. You hate doing this but it's for the greater good. You swipe the purse without her knowing and walk over to the bar where James is. He has his hand inside his jacket pocket ready to pull out his gun when you step right next to him.

"James!" You grin and put the purse on the bar. "I thought that was you." He looks surprised someone knows him here. "How's Maryann?" He still doesn't say anything. "Oh, you don't remember me? We met at a party."

"We did?"

"Yeah. I walked in with Brian one night. He'd been part of the scene more than me, and I got a little curious if I'm honest. You were with Maryann and I immediately took a liking to you. You sent Maryann over to Brian just to get the ball rolling when I walked up to you. They got into it, we got into it, and we all did. Brian didn't stop talking about that for weeks," you laugh.

"Look, I'm sorry. I really don't remember you," he stutters.

"It's okay. I'm Y/N. Maybe that will refresh your memory." It doesn't. "So, do you still hit the scene?"

"No, I don't."

"Yeah, me either. I came here tonight hoping to find a real man. Lucky for me, I found you," you smile sexily.

You pull your hair to the side and expose your neck, and his eyes drift down your neck and over your breasts before returning to your eyes.

"You sure we've met?"

"It's hard to forget a face like yours."

"So, where's Brian?"

"He's not around anymore."

"Yeah. Well, that happens... Lose your boyfriend. The scene will definitely do that."

He's testing you. He said the word boyfriend. Alpha males look to other alpha males, and they are always married. He's waiting for you to sip up, but you don't.

"No, not boyfriend. Husband. Come on, boyfriend?" you scoff. "You know this. We look for someone stable and secure. You know, someone who poses a real threat. It's how the fantasy works."

James smirks, having fallen for your act. He removes his hand from his jacket and presents his elbow for you to take.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"Of course."

You hook your hand in the crook of his elbow and walk to the exit where you know your team is waiting. It doesn't take James more than five seconds to realize what is going on, and he turns to you angrily. He whips out his gun to shoot you but is shot by Derek instead. No one had any time to remove the weapon from him.

"Are you okay?" Hotch asks.

"Yeah, he didn't touch me."

The worst thing Maryann will have to go through is the loss of her husband but at least he's not out hurting people anymore. You're safe and sound back in your bed to which you decided to go to bed early. Spencer and Derek are going to hang out for a few hours so he's waiting for his friend to come over.

"Hey, I called the restaurant and they have an opening they can fit us in. They're pretty busy."

Spencer opens the bedroom door to make sure you're sleeping, which you are. He can hear your soft snores coming from the bed. He closes the door as quietly as he can before walking over to Derek.

"I need your help."

"With what?"

"Picking out a ring because I want to ask Y/N to marry me."

Derek is ecstatic that he's taking this step to further your relationship with you, but Frank isn't. In fact, Frank is pissed. His first thought is to go over there and slit Spencer's throat for having the idea. Then, a lightbulb goes off in Frank's mind, and he leans back in his chair with a wicked grin on his face.

How amazing would it be for you to bask in the happiness that is Spencer Reid only for it to be taken from you at a moment's notice? It's going to take a lot of work on Frank's part but there is only one person you belong with and that's him, and he's going to make sure you never get the chance to marry Spencer.

"We all wear masks and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing our own skin." - André Berthiaume

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[lucid9158]

IM BACK

Random AU drop time

Dandy’s World Mimic AU (not permanent name just not creative enough to think of one rn)

AU where everything is pretty similar to the original, but twisteds are replaced with something called 'mimics'. Mimics are completely seperate things from the Toons (so toons wouldn't have to get 'infected' to become twisteds) and can range in intelligence/ sentience and aggression.

Low sentience mimics are pretty much like twisteds in the original, except they dont look like they've been through hell (basically, imagine normal looking toons crawling at you and trying to tear you apart LOL), while high sentience mimics tend to take on some elements from the personalities of their original, whether aggressive or not

Special case mimics are mimics who differ from others in some way, which can throw off toons. Most special case mimics are high sentience. Two examples are Glisten and Cosmo. Glisten tricks people through pity, showing themself as a broken version of his original, while other mimics tend to show themself as the perfect version of their original. Cosmo is a special case simply because he isnt aggressive.

Mimics cant copy small or thin details (since they're basically made of liquid and it cant hold together), so mimics would have to take accessories from the originals (totally not a reason to make super detailed designs that I dont have to actually draw)

Mimics gain intelligence when their originals die, picking up their memories (since they were supposed to be those toons replacements if they die)

Toons (or mimics, in some occasions) can wield weapons called 'neutralizers', which can melt mimics (and toons) and kill them permanently.

Characters allowed to use these (specifically to eliminate mimics) are called 'Judges' (ifykyk), but mimics who got the weapons through unconventional means dont go by the same title.

All characters go down the elevator in teams (which will probably be shown sooner or later) to keep an eye on each other and make sure nobody gets replaced by a mimic.

Uhh the lore goes as follows:

The CEO and Dandy's toon handler wanted to make extra copies of every toon just in case something happened to them. But something went wrong, and the copies became aggressive, attacking the CEO and the other handlers.

Similar to the original, they escaped, leaving behind the toons.

The ichor copies attacked the inexperienced toons simply by instinct, which the toons eventually figured out how to counter (and eliminate) easily. But the mimics quickly became smarter, tricking more and more toons and creating special case mimics.

And then blah blah blah more story stuff I don’t care enough to write about but anyways have some doodles for this au

(Old doodle page…)

(Newer pages ^^)

Plus one doodle from a page I haven’t finished but don’t have the motivation to continue so//

[starstriix]

Jo's dynamics with other characters are all usually fun and engaging due to her being such an entertaining and adaptable character herself; but they can honestly be so much more interesting if people explored them a bit more?

For example, take Jo and Lightning. They have a hilarious dynamic with Jo having to deal with Lightning's stupidity and learning to manipulate his self-centeredness to her advantage. Except one thing I don't see explored enough is their similarities??

They're both overconfident athletes who are willing to do bad shit in order to win. It makes me think that Jo might’ve had a similar upbringing to him where she had to deal with the pressure of winning? Like, a cut-throat attitude doesn't just develop out of nowhere. Except whilst I think Lightning's ego developed from being constantly praised (and eventually pressured with having to live up to others' expectations), Jo might’ve been constantly belittled and underestimated (for yknow, being a girl) and she would've had to work hard to achieve recognition from others. Episode 6 pretty much confirms that she uses a false bravado and anger to cover up feelings of insecurity. I just think their possibly similar yet different upbringings and perspectives would be cool to explore.

Jo and Zoey is one of my favourite duos! They definitely should've become friends; I think they would've been a fun dynamic, and gen 2 could've used a proper female friendship. I think them both having the "Not like other girls" aspect is quite interesting?? As well as them both initially lacking actual friendships (with Zoey's lonely childhood, and Jo's... Just Jo) which is. Pretty common amongst the gen 2 girls. Huh

Zoey could've been a MUCH more interesting character (I always just use the cool epic version of her I have inside my head). Let her be weirdddd or let her be super basic and intentionally pose as "indie" to seem cool and different. Maybe she looks down on other "basic" girls to cover up how she feels insecure around them for being weird and having unconventional interests herself idk. I think the dynamic of both Zoey and Jo hating on pretty, popular girls and overcoming that is super neat. Especially since they're both something that the other hates; Zoey is a typically feminine girl and Jo is a jockette. Let them become friends and be like "okay well you aren't so bad" and then eventually stop judging other girls for being "feminine" or "basic" pleaseeeee it'd be so good. Even better: let ALL the revenge girls be friends. I just want them to be happy OKAY? Okay.

Finally, Jo and Cameron! Another duo I'm fond of. Awesome brains/brawns combination, and the whole arc of Cam standing up to her and Jo respecting him for it is absolutely peak. Jo's elimination in roti was pretty much perfect, but I also think she could've worked well in the finale. Her being a combination of brains and brawns would have encouraged Cameron to use both, which would be a neat callback to Jo's earlier line of needing to get physical in TD. (Still think she should've rooted for Cameron over the guy who insisted that she was a dude for most of the season but whatever)

I haven't really seen this take on their dynamic, but the whole thing of Cameron's development being stunted from the over-protective environment of his upbringing and Jo being toughened by the harsh environment of hers adds a fascinating layer to their relationship. Whereas Cameron was prevented from being able to properly grow up and experience things like normal teens, Jo grew up way too soon and put more focus into winning than making positive relationships and allowing herself to just be a teenage girl (I personally believe Jo got the """tough love""" treatment). Idk I just think this would be cool to delve into and see how their opposite childhoods impacted them and their core values when interacting with each other

Cameron clearly saw her as both a role model and an opponent, which is a really fun dynamic! She was a bully, yeah, but she also presented herself as someone who was always in control and knew what she was doing, so it's understandable that Cam looked up to her. She was pretty much the opposite of overprotective too, which is probably what drew Cam to her since she didn't coddle him (and instead made fun of him LMAO). And of course, Jo learned to not underestimate the tiny nerds and gave her respect in the end. Super fun and intriguing duo, and probably the only td pair I would actually compare to siblings.

So yeah basically I think we should start looking into TD relationship dynamics more because they're awesome and filled with potential. Especially Jo's because she is the best ever and if you think otherwise then you're wrong

Also have a gold star if you just read through all of that ⭐️ great work soldier