#only time will tell if that was ok to do rip but hundreds of people here did that so

[asgardian--angels]

So it was completely overcast here in central New York during the eclipse but it peeked through the clouds here and there, and we got to see at least a little bit of the totality. What an incredible experience.

[thischarmingmandalorian]

Learn To Share

Teacher!Joel Miller x Teacher!Reader

Summary: Your new coworker is a thorn in your side, until he isn't. This is my entry into @auteurdelabre Trope Off 2024! The tropes I chose were: Only One Bed, Stuck In An Elevator, Office Romance (kinda?), and Love At First Sight IF YOU SQUINT.

Pairing: Gym Teacher!Joel Miller x History Teacher!Reader

Warnings: No-no words, unprotected piv(but not to completion!), facial, cum eating, big on the pet names (doll, baby), reader is a grump, Sarah is mentioned because she is alive and I won't have it any other way. In true Vee fashion, I've read this so much that if I proofread it again I'll get too embarrassed to publish it, so sorry for any mistakes, they're my fault.

Word Count: 6.2k

Your week starts much like any other - arriving at work early on Monday morning to hog the copy machine closest to your classroom.

You were a creature of habit. Each Monday you'd set your alarm a half hour early and skimp on your morning routine in order to get to work at an ungodly hour. You were always one of the first people on your school's campus, and that's how you liked it. You had a system, a schedule: check mailbox, make copies, make and drink your first cup of coffee. This routine was what set you up for success for your week, and you wouldn't let anything get in the way of your rituals.

Until this Monday. This Monday, the new gym teacher gets in the way.

It's 6:15 when you saunter into the teacher's lounge, reams of paper tucked under your arm. Your headphones blare the newest episode of your favorite podcast; if you hadn't been listening, you'd have heard the copy machine's telltale whirring from down the hall, but mercifully, the story keeps you oblivious.

Until you turn the corner into the teacher's lounge and walk right into the broadest man you'd ever met. You shriek, tugging one ear bud out and craning your neck to stare up at the face of whoever is encroaching on your morning.

Fuck, he's handsome.

But fuck, he's using your copy machine.

The mystery man smiles down at you warmly, extending a warm hand for you to shake. "Mornin' miss. Joel Miller, teachin' gym and coachin' the wrestlin' team!" You shake his hand (it is Texas, and you were raised right) and give him your name. You're sympathetic to Joel's plight, you really are - showing up to a new school right after Christmas is hard, you knew that as well as anyone. But he was also throwing off your Monday ritual. It was all you could think about. So instead of a normal, polite response, the next words that left your mouth were less than welcoming:

"I use that copy machine on Monday mornings."

Joel's polite smile falters and he drops your hand. The energy of the entire room changes. "My apologies, miss. Didn't realize there was a schedule."

"Oh, no, there isn't a schedule. It's just… what I do. Part of my Monday routine, y'know. So, how many more copies do you have before I can cut in? This is really throwing off my morning."

"'Bout a hundred? You know, you're the first colleague I've met besides the principal who hired me?"

You're not sure why he's mentioning this, or why he didn't use the copy machine closer to his classroom. "Oh, ok? Hey, in case nobody's told you, there's a copier much closer to your office, it's right…"

"Listen, miss," Joel cuts in, gently grabbing the hand you were using to point down the hall and placing it, palm down, in between his two giant hands, "it's my first day at a new job. My daughter spent the holiday with her mother and I haven't seen her in 3 weeks. I'm nervous, I'm sad, and I showed up here early for some quiet time to get ready for the week, same as you. And honestly - and I'm sorry if I'm bein' too forward here - but honestly, you're being an asshole."

You rip your hand away from his grip, scowling. "Fuck you, dude." You turn on your heel, sarcastically telling your new colleague to "have a nice semester" as you stalk out of the copy room.

You go home that afternoon determined not to let Joel Miller ruin the rest of your school year. Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you melt into your couch in front of the TV, determined to reset your week in the morning.

Tuesday gets worse before it gets better.

Tuesday you tweak an old back injury getting out of bed and it takes ages just to get dressed. You gingerly slide your backpack over your shoulders and in the car, you resign yourself to the fact that you're going to have to use the elevator to get to your classroom.

Your school's elevator is rickety, unreliable, and you're claustrophobic; you avoid it at all costs. But there's no way your lower back will allow you to get up the stairs this morning.

Unfortunately when you cross the courtyard to the elevator door, Joel Miller has beat you there, already having pressed the button. When he sees you, he smiles on instinct (because it is Texas, and he was raised right), though you see it falter when he realizes it's you he's about to be stuck in the elevator with.

"Havin' a better mornin' today, miss? Or did someone ruin this one for you, too?"

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Not in the mood today, Miller. Hurt my back, and honestly, after yesterday, you're not really the person I want to share an elevator with."

It's Joel's turn to scoff. "Don't worry, doll, the feelin's mutual."

You cringe at the pet name, and mercifully the elevator door groans open, inviting you in. Joel puts his arm out to hold it open, ushering you in ahead of him. You retreat to the far corner, making yourself as small as possible, foolishly wishing you could manifest yourself out of this awkward situation.

The door closes and you push the button for the 3rd floor.

Nothing happens.

You push again. And again. And ten more times in rapid succession.

Still nothing.

Except the lights in the elevator turn off, leaving you and your new arch enemy stuck together.

This is worse than yesterday morning.

Joel, much more level headed than you, pulls out his phone to call someone for help. You hear the principals voice, tinny through the speakerphone. "Hey, Miller. What's up?"

"Mornin' sir. Look, myself and one of your History teachers are stuck in the elevator. We were trying to get to class and the whole thing shit the bed. We're in here, no lights, buttons ain't workin'. How deep is the shit we're in, boss?"

The principal asks which history teacher Joel's stuck with, and you let him know it's you through gritted teeth. "I'm, uh, not doing too well in here, sir," you admit, trying not to hyperventilate.

The principal sighs on the other end of the call, which is not a good sign, "sorry to hear that, but we've gotta call someone from downtown to come fix it, and that could take… an hour at least?"

You tense up, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "Well, that sucks, sir," you admit, voice shaking. The principal chuckles, agreeing. He promises to call downtown right when he hangs up, and tells you and Joel to hang tight in the meantime. He also lets you know that he'll send subs to both of your classes, which does little to alleviate your anxiety - your morning classes are feral.

Joel thanks the principal and hangs up, groaning as he wipes a hand across his face. "Might as well get comfortable, doll. Sounds like we'll be stuck here a while."

You gingerly peel your backpack off and maneuver your way onto the floor, sitting with your back against the wall. You wince as you try to stretch your tweaked muscles and breathe deeply, trying not to panic.

"You gonna be ok, miss?" Joel asks, a tone of genuine concern in his voice as he follows your lead, lowering himself into the corner opposite you.

"Just… don't talk to me, please. My back hurts, I'm claustrophobic, this is the second morning in a row that hasn't gone my way…" Joel rolls his eyes, but shushes you gently.

"It'll be fine, doll. Just breathe. Want me to distract you?"

"Stop calling me 'doll,' Miller. And absolutely not; don't get any ideas."

Joel barked out a laugh. "Come on, doll, we're stuck in an elevator on a high school campus. What ideas do you think I'd have? What's your problem, anyway? You've been nothing but shitty to me since we met."

"Look, if you haven't noticed, I'm really Type A. I have certain things I need to do in order for my days and weeks to go smoothly, and you threw off my groove yesterday. I use that copy machine every Monday morning, everyone knows that."

"And how exactly was I supposed to know that? It was my first day! Did you ever stop to think that you threw off my groove yesterday? My first day at a new school and the first person I see treats me like shit - that was fucked up, doll."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. You hated that he was right. " Look, Joel, I'm sorry. Really. I didn't mean to ruin your day. I should've been nicer to you. Can we start over?"

"Of course. Good morning, miss, name's Joel Miller. This is my second day of school. I teach phys ed, coach wrestling, and I'm a single dad to a freshman named Sarah who goes to school in the next town over," Joel rattles off. You can see his hand reach out for you to shake in the dark. You take it, shaking firmly with a smile. The first smile Joel's seen cross your face.

You tell Joel your name like it was the first time. "I teach United States history, sponsor the creative writing club, and I have two cats at home who will actually eat my toes if I'm stuck in here past dismissal and they don't get their dinner on time."

Joel guffaws as he releases your hand and your smile widens. It feels good to start over. "Well it's good to meet you, doll. And forgive me if this is too forward, but you said you hurt your back?"

You nod. "I tweaked an old injury this morning and it hurts like a bitch."

"So, I know how this is gonna sound, and I'm not tryin' to be weird, but my degree is in sports medicine. While we're stuck, d'ya wanna see if I can fix it?" Joel lifts his hands, palms facing you, in an attempt at innocence. "No weird shit, I promise. But I know back pain can be a real bitch."

You feel your face flush, happy for the darkness and hoping that Joel won't notice. "What… how would you…" your mouth goes dry and the elevator suddenly feels warmer.

Joel extends his hand out to you again, inviting you to make your way to his corner of the floor, situating you between his outstretched legs. His incredibly long outstretched legs, covered in a pair of gray sweatpants. You'd always silently judged gym teachers for their ability to dress comfortably while you were expected to look a little more put together, but you weren't mad at Joel today. You crossed your own legs and put your palms flat on your knees, hopefully sitting far enough away from Joel that he doesn't feel the heat radiating off you - this is the closest you'd been to a good looking man since… a long time ago.

"So, I'm gonna have to put my hands on you, doll, but I can do it over your shirt, no funny shit. Just tell me where it hurts."

"So it's like, lower? On the right side?" You struggle to explain, flustered at the close proximity. You move a hand from your knee to gesture in the general direction of your back pain, accidentally brushing Joel's knee with your fingers. You push your fingers into where your back aches, rubbing a slow circle before Joel swats your hand away.

"I gotchu, doll. Now, I'm gonna start tryin' to get this knot out of your muscle. If it hurts, let me know. If you want me to stop, say so." You nod and feel the prod of Joel's fingers at your back. The pain is awful and you hiss, trying to take a deep breath but finding it difficult. "'Salright, miss. 'M gonna fix it, just bear with me. In the mean time, what are your cat's names?"

You answer, Joel laughing at how ridiculous the names are. You ask if he has any pets and he says no. "Sarah's more than enough for me to handle. She just turned 15 and is… a handful. I love her, but my god. Teenage girls are somethin' else. Do you have any siblings?"

You tell Joel about your sister who lives in the Midwest, and you hear all about his brother Tommy and the antics Joel always has to help get him out of.

You and Joel spend the next hour and a half learning all there is to know about each other. He continues to knead at the knotted muscle in your back as you chat, learning all about each other's lives, childhoods, failed relationships. You learn that Joel isn't much older than you, but had his daughter young. You tell him about your ex-boyfriend and why his number is now blocked from your phone. All the while the principal is in constant contact with you both, keeping you updated on when the repairman will be on campus (as soon as they can), how your classes are going (poorly), and profusely apologizing for the two of you bring stuck. It's actually not so bad, though, which is not something you'd have anticipated when the morning started.

It's so not bad that when the elevator door opens and you're free, you're actually a bit disappointed. You both stand, thanking the repairman and gathering your backpack. You notice that your back doesn't hurt anymore. You turn to Joel and thank him for his help, and for his company. "Look, I know I said that you weren't someone I wanted to share an elevator with this morning, but all things considered, this wasn't the worst way to spend the morning. I'm glad we were able to start over."

Joel smiles as you both step out into the sunlight of the courtyard. "Feelin's mutual, doll. Hey, give me your phone?" You raise an eyebrow but hand it over anyway after tapping out your passcode. You watch as Joel puts his number into your contacts. "Don't go blockin' this number, now," he quips as he hands you the phone back. You can't help but roll your eyes, but you smile and promise him you won't, giving a short wave as you turned in the direction of your classroom.

During lunch you decide to text Joel while waiting for your leftovers to microwave.

11:05: Hey! It's your new BFF - not sure I thanked you for un-fucking my back. I really appreciate it. Didn't think I'd be able to sleep tonight with that pain. You really saved me :)

11:08: Hey, doll! No big deal - glad I could help you out. Hope you'll be able to get your beauty sleep tonight. Not that you need it.

11:08: Oh shit. Was that too much? Was that weird?

11:08: I made it weird, right?

You snort out a laugh that reverberates through your empty classroom, and decide to make Joel squirm a little. You wait far too long to respond.

11:15: Stop overthinking and eat your lunch, weirdo :p

The next few days go better than the beginning of your week. You're not usually one to make friends at work, but you start to eat lunch with Joel; you'd deny it if asked, but hearing him knock on your door makes your day better. You can't believe that just a few days ago, you thought Joel had ruined your day. He's the nicest coworker you've ever had, and he goes out of his way to prove that. He's also the hottest coworker you've ever had, but you're not ready to go there.

Joel gets a perfect opportunity to be that perfect colleague on Friday. He finds you standing at your car in the parking lot after school, crying and angrily hanging up your phone.

"Doll? What's wrong?"

You watch Joel's face fall as you swipe tears from your cheeks. "It's not a big deal Joel. There was something going on this weekend that I was really excited for, and I was about to head there now to beat the traffic and my car won't start," you sniffle, kicking your tire gently.

Joel places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you close to him. He wraps an arm around your middle and uses his other hand to nestle your face into the crook of his shoulder. "Where ya headed, baby? I'll take ya wherever you need to go," he promises in a whisper close to your ear. You know how this looks, two colleagues hugging in the parking lot of their job, and you know it'll start people talking. But you're not sure if you care.

"It's silly. But an author I really like is giving a talk about his new book at this store in the city tomorrow, so I was headed there to see him. I booked a hotel for the night and everything," you explain, another pitiful sob catching in your throat.

"Hey, it's OK, doll. We'll getcha there. Let me make a phone call real quick, but meantime, grab what you need from your car and get in my truck." You begin to protest but Joel peels you away from him, holding you by the shoulders at arms length. "Let me handle this for you," he says, voice even, no room for argument. You nod and sniffle once more, turning to grab your overnight bag from the back seat.

As you get comfortable in Joel's truck, you watch him on the phone. He has his free hand on his hip and one knee juts out to the side as he explains your dilemma to whoever is on the other end. After a few minutes he hangs up and joins you in the truck. "Alright, doll. My brother knows a guy with a tow truck, and a mechanic. Coincidentally, they both owe Tommy a favor. I got him to cash those favors in for you. Let's get you to the city, and by the time you're back, your car should be good as new."

Fresh tears threaten to fall. "Joel, that's too much, at least -" Joel puts a hand up in front of your face, silencing you.

"Nothing is too much for you, alright? Nothing. If you wanna thank Tommy later, he accepts payment in beer. But I don't want to hear anything right now except the address of the hotel I'm bringin' ya to."

That shuts you up quick, and you reach for Joel's phone to type the address into his gps.

Luckily the hotel isn't too far away, because being in Joel's truck, coupled with the kindness he's just shown you have stirred something in you that you haven't felt in a long time. The conversation flows effortlessly, and whatever sadness and disappointment you had felt before Joel had stepped in to save your weekend were long forgotten.

"Alright, doll, this is your stop. Grab your things and get outta here. Text me when your talk is over tomorrow and I can come getcha. Sarah's still with her mom so I'm free all weekend," Joel explains. If he were being honest with himself, he didn't want to see you go. If he were being honest with himself, he's been in love with you since that Monday - as rude as you were to him, he couldn't help his feelings for you. But he resigned himself to the fact that you didn't feel the same as he pulled into a parking spot and pushed the gear shift all the way up.

"Joel?" Your voice is quieter than you wanted it to be, a little more whiny than you meant it, and you see a vein in Joel's neck start to bulge as he turns to you. "I know how this is gonna sound, and I don't mean to be… forward? But if you're just going to come get me tomorrow, why not just stay here for the night? With… with me?"

Joel starts to sputter an excuse, but you interrupt: "I booked a room with two queen beds! I like to have one to keep my bags and stuff on, but honestly, let me save you the gas," you put your hands up, palms facing him like he had done in the elevator, "no weird shit. I promise."

Joel sighs, hands gripping and kneading at the steering wheel. He seems… conflicted? But after a few seconds he pulls the keys out of the ignition. "Fuck it, yeah, that's not a bad idea, doll. Thank you."

"It's really not a big deal, Joel. We can head in, get dinner, and go to sleep facing different directions in our own beds. Totally normal."

"Alright, alright, but I'm payin' for dinner," Joel relents as you both walk through the hotel doors towards the check in desk. You give the woman behind the desk your information, sliding over your credit card and license, but she will not tear her eyes away from Joel, and it's making you… jealous? Which is a weird emotion to feel about someone staring lustily at your friend. You push the feeling down and try to focus on what the woman is telling you about check out, amenities, and then she tells you that you've been upgraded to a nicer room, free of charge. She winks at you knowingly, but you're confused. You're only here for a night, why would you need an upgrade? And why is this lady winking at you?

You find out the answer to these questions when you open the door. You and Joel stand in the doorway of the hotel room, neither of you sure what to say. Not only does it look like your view has been upgraded - your floor-to-ceiling window and balcony overlook the city skyline and adjacent water - but in place of your two queen beds stands… just one king sized bed.

Joel senses you tense up and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "'salright, doll. I'll head out and come back and get you tomorrow like I'd planned."

"No! I mean… that's silly, Joel. Don't go all the way home just to come all the way back. You can go, but let me get an Uber home," you put your palm against Joel's chest reassuringly.

"No way, that's way too far a ride.

'S gonna be so expensive. Tell ya what, doll: I'll stay, I'll buy you dinner, and I'll call the front desk askin' for more pillows. We'll make a wall between us to sleep. No weird shit."

You nod, agreeing, "no weird shit."

"Great," Joel sighs, that vein popping out of his neck again. "Put your stuff down and let's find some food."

When you and Joel return from dinner, there are five extra pillows sitting on the king bed. You chuckle at the sheer volume of them.

"Think they sent up enough for us to make an impenetrable weird shit forcefield?" you joke. This whole day has turned ridiculous, you might as well have a good sense of humor about it. Though, if you were honest with yourself, you wouldn't mind a little weird shit; it was hard to admit, especially since you'd been so mean to Joel when you first met, but you were maybe starting to fall for him. But his whole commitment to "no weird shit" let you know those feelings were one-sided.

"I think we'll be fine, doll," Joel chuckles as he walks to the bed, pulls the covers down, and lines the pillows up the middle of the bed. He fluffs each one before he pulls the covers back up, "see?"

You step around the bed to lay on your side, head propped against the headboard and remote in your hand, "this'll definitely work. Now, for everyone's favorite hotel pastime: trashy reality tv!"

Joel groans, but smiles gently as he lays on his own side of the bed. You watch as he gets comfortable, crossing his legs at the ankle and lacing his hands behind his head. "Tell me about this book you're hearin' about tomorrow, doll," Joel asks, pulling you away from whatever mindless show you've put on for background noise.

"Ooh! I'm so excited, let me tell you everything!"

As you drone on excitedly about your favorite author and his new book, you can't help but notice the way Joel looks at you. He's a really good active listener, but there's more to it; he's actually interested in what you're saying. He reacts to your words, asks questions, and his eyes seem to light up watching how excited you get.

"I'm glad you're so excited for tomorrow, doll. But it's late; maybe we should get some shut-eye," Joel suggests when he senses you've hyped yourself up to the point of exhaustion. His face softens and his stomach flips when you yawn, rubbing your eyes tiredly and covering yourself with the blankets. He can't help but swoon internally as he watches you huddle into your pillow, fidgeting until you're fully comfortable. Joel turns over to shut the bedside lamp off, freezing when he hears you call out to him softly.

"Joel?"

He turns his head in your direction, muttering a short "hmm?"

"Before you find out the hard way, I have a hard time falling asleep. I get real fidgety. I never know what to do with my hands."

Joel turns the light off and turns his body toward you, peering comically over the weird shit barrier. "What do you need from me, doll?"

"Can I… does holding hands fall under weird shit?" You punctuate your question with an outstretched palm resting over the pillow wall.

Joel makes himself comfortable before reaching for your hand in between two of the pillows, lacing his fingers with your own. His thumb rubs soothing circles into your palm, "how's this? Helpful?"

You nod, closing your eyes and sighing deeply, thanking Joel with a reassuring squeeze of his hand.

You're not sure when you fall asleep, but for once, it doesn't take forever. You wake in the middle of the night, though, startled by the TV you'd left on switching from reality trash to a loud infomercial. You look around frantically for the remote, clicking the power button forcefully. Your heart still racing from waking up so fast, you make your way to the bathroom for a drink of water.

When you walk back to the bed, you can't help but stand on Joel's side and stare down at his sleeping form. His face is angelic, so calm, and his body is curled in on itself, hands pulled under his chin. At some point while you slept he had taken his shirt off, and you made a note to memorize the smattering of freckles on his shoulder. His pants, those fucking gray sweats, hang dangerously low on his hips. You resist the urge to touch him, to run your thumb across his plush lower lip, and try your best to tear yourself away.

You almost succeed.

"Like whatcha see, doll?" Joel's groggy voice breaks the silence, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Joel. Would you believe it if I told you I was sleepwalking?"

Joel's eyes finally open as he chuckles, "I wouldn't believe that, no. But you didn't answer my question."

You roll your eyes, "if I didn't like what I see, would I be standing here gawking at you?"

Joel holds his hand out to you, and when you take it he pulls you closer to the bed, "whatcha gawkin' at, baby?" His gentle smile had turned teasing, almost feral, and his brown eyes grow somehow darker. "These?" Joel brings your hand to his lips, kissing the pad of your thumb gently. "This?" His hand drags yours down the column of his impossibly thick neck, fingertips brushing over his bobbing Adam's apple. He's stretched out to his full height now, laying on his back, watching your eyes intently as he continues to pull your hand lower and lower. "Gawkin' at these, doll?" Your fingers are trailing down Joel's abs, dipping into the valleys between each muscle.

You're mesmerized. You can't break the spell of Joel's gaze on you, of his gravelly voice, of his touch. "Joel…"

"'S ok, baby. Want you to look. Been waiting for you to see me," Joel drags your hand to the waistband of his sweats, stopping to gauge your reaction.

Your fingers twitch, wanting so badly to dip below that waistband, but confused by Joel's words. "I do see you, Joel."

"Not like I see you. You see me as a colleague, a friend. Someone you eat lunch with. You don't see how I feel about you. If you did, this wouldn't be a surprise to you."

"Joel, do you think I'd have asked you to stay if I didn't feel the same way? Think I'd be standing here if I didn't? Do you think I'd…" you trail off, letting your actions speak. You take the lead, slipping your hand, still entwined with Joel's, past the waistband of his sweats to palm at him through his boxers. Joel groans quietly, bucking up into your hands. You feel him grow harder beneath you as you let him guide your hand around him through the thin fabric of his boxers. He unlaces your fingers and places his hand on top of yours, curling it gently against his length. His hips buck again and your hands twist together on the upstroke, your thumb catching right beneath the head of Joel's cock. He hisses, removing his hand from his pants and grabbing both your hips, maneuvering you on top of him, grinding you down against him. Your hands grip his shoulders as you lean down to kiss him, frenzied, messy. You move to trace your tongue across the freckles that had so mesmerized you a minute ago as Joel brings a hand from your hip up to the back of your neck.

"Shit, doll. Need to see you," Joel breathes into your ear as he toys with the neckline of your shirt before he pulls it off over your head; the world seems to stop spinning as he watches your tits spring free. Joel dips his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, palming at the other, pinching gently. You moan softly, and the sound goes straight to Joel's cock, growing impossibly harder.

"Joel," you whisper, his response coming as a quick bite to the nipple in his mouth. "More, need more… need you."

Joel unlatches from your tits and grabs at your shoulders, rolling you both over and right into the wall of pillows. As you both maneuver yourselves around them, you giggle "these didn't really work, did they?"

Joel chuckles before he grabs two of the pillows, giving you one to place under your head. He wraps one arm under your waist, pulling your entire bottom half off the bed as he places the other pillow under your lower back. "Guess not, doll, but we'll put 'em to good use. Tell me whatcha need."

You shimmy out of your bottoms, tossing them somewhere to find later. You hear Joel's breath hitch as he drags his eyes down your whole body. He places his hands gently on your bent knees, giving a slight push and encouraging you to open yourself to his gaze. You don't resist, your legs falling open. You take one of Joel's hands, dragging it from your knee and up your inner thigh. You feel his fingers flex as they slide up your thigh, feel them try and stall when you drag them through your glistening arousal. "Need you here, Joel," you whimper, pushing his fingers against your clit and encouraging him to circle it agonizing slowly.

Joel is entranced. His eyes can't look away from your dripping core, mouth going dry as he sees how you flutter at even his most gentle touch. He uses his free hand to swat yours away, and he continues his slow strumming against your clit. "Lemme hear you, baby," he grunts, "who makes you feel good?"

"You, Joel. Fuck, feels so good," you writhe on the mattress, hips rolling, aching for more of Joel. "Inside, please, need you inside," you whine, grabbing for the waistband of Joel's sweats to pull them down, his heavy cock springing free. You can't help but stare, needing to touch him without the confines of any fabric. You try to fit your hand around him, but can't get your fingers all the way around; you give an experimental stroke, reveling in the way Joel's fingers slow to a stop on your clit, in the way he finally pulls his eyes away from your cunt to gaze at your hand struggling to fit around him. He watches as you swirl your thumb across his leaking tip, muttering a soft, "goddamn." He watches as you line him up with your entrance and he notches the tip in, holding a hand firm on your lower stomach to hold you still.

"Gotta see you come first, doll. Gotta hear you," Joel whispers, dropping his head so his ear rests close to your mouth. His fingers resume their firm circles on your clit, resisting the urge to thrust his length into you. He listens to you moan softly, revels in the steady stream of warm breath that fans against his face. He whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, when you deliver a gentle nibble to his earlobe.

The whimper is what does it. That fucking whimper sends you over the edge. Your vision whites out, your upper body lifts off the mattress, and you sob into Joel's ear, "I, fuck, Joel, I'm…"

"I know, baby, I know you are," Joel coos as he rocks his hips harshly into yours, sheathing his full length inside you in one quick thrust. You grab a discarded pillow, putting it over your face to muffle the loud moan that escapes you. "That's it, baby, shit, you're takin' me so well."

The praise makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Joel sets an unforgiving pace, heavy balls slamming into your ass, his hands under your thighs, pressing your knees up to your chest.

You're so full of Joel, so fucked out already, you start to babble. "So - so sorry I was mean to you, Joel. Don't deserve - shit, so fucking good - don't deserve this."

"Know how you can make it up to me, doll?" Joel asks through gritted teeth. You stare up at him, searching his face for an answer. "Gimme another one, baby. Come all over my cock again and I'll forgive ya. You can do it, come on," Joel continues his encouraging monologue as he pounds impossibly harder and faster into you. He pushes two of his fingers into your mouth and you diligently suck. Joel removes his fingers with a wet pop and pushes them right back onto your clit. He doesn't move them until you beg. "Where ya gonna want me, baby?"

You blush. "My face, Joel."

That fucking whimper again.

You see stars. The pillow is back against your face as you shriek in ecstasy, going rigid before going completely limp against the pillows under you. Before your orgasm had a chance to subside, you feel empty, pussy fluttering around nothing as Joel shimmies up your body, cock in hand. He grabs the pillow from over your mouth and throws it away from you.

"Open up, baby, gonna come on that pretty face."

You moan, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, keeping your eyes on Joel until you feel the first warm splash hit your tongue. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel Joel poke your cheek with the head of his cock, stroking as it spurts wave after wave of hot spend against your skin. His voice is gruff, whispering "oh my God, doll," and "so fucking pretty covered in my cum."

After what feels like an eternity, Joel moves from on top of you. You feel him drag two fingers through the mess on your cheek, then place the fingers onto your tongue, groaning quietly as you lick and suck his fingers clean. He chases the taste of himself, leaning down to kiss you, his tongue invading your mouth, battling yours for dominance. When he pulls away, you whimper; Joel chuckles. "You're a mess, baby. I'll be right back."

You hear the sink running in the bathroom, then feel Joel swipe the remaining mess off your face with a damp washcloth. When he's finished, you open your eyes, committing his post-fuck face to memory. He's flushed, tired, but wears a goofy, lopsided smile. His eyes are back to their everyday deep brown, big and warm, but crinkled at the edges from his grin.

You're too tired to look for your clothes, pulling the blankets over you, reaching for Joel as you feel him lay down beside you. He lays on his back, pulling you against his side.

"I meant what I said, Joel. I am sorry for how I acted when we first met."

"Doll," Joel chuckles, "'m gonna need you to keep being that mean to me, if this is how you apologize."

[jade-len]

so today i tricked my very straight male friend into reading svsss.

okay look, i wasn't planning to at first and it's not like it was completely my fault. he wanted to read it!

i was showing him how badly they fucked up mu qingfang in the donghua by comparing it to the english novel design (he said that mu qingfang went from looking like a soft dilf to a predator registered on the epstein island list). and then, i showed him how different some of the other character designs were like gongyi xiao's ("he looks like he'd be a genshin character" -friend, to eng novel design) and luo binghe's ("lowkey, he kinda gives airbender vibes" -friend, to bunhe eng novel design)

so that was all i was gonna show him, nothing else. but after seeing them, he goes, "these designs actually look hella cool. what's the book called?"

now, do i:

A. tell him the name, eventually revealing that it's a danmei when he looks it up?

B. just straight up tell him that it's a danmei?

C: don't tell him the name just yet, spill the summary, get him interested, and tell him to not search anything up about it because there's heavy spoilers and it will reveal them the moment he types it up on the search bar

i go with C, obviously.

me: so, basically, some guy named shen yuan transmigrates into an incel harem male power fantasy novel where the protagonist, luo binghe, has hundreds of wives. thing is though, the guy pretty much took over the body of binghe's teacher he had when he was a teenager, who turns out to be a really scummy dude. and now he has to be nice to him so that the protagonist doesn't rip off his limbs and put him into a pickle pot in the future to suffer for eternity.

friend: that sounds hilarious and horrifying at the same time.

me: yes it is, and you should read it. it's like. my favorite novel at the moment. but don't search up anything about it because people spoil that shit. i'll let you borrow my novel

friend: nah don't worry, i'll just pirate it

friend: wait. does it have pictures?

me, my plan coming together: yeah, it has pictures. buuut, when you pirate it, it doesn't. trust me dude, i tried and was severely disappointed. plus, the physical copy is so much better

friend: fuck yeah ok thanks

me: hold on though. i'll text you later to see if my friend who's borrowing it rn is done reading it

he's hyped. he's excited. he craves a good book and a good transmigration interpretation. he's especially happy about the fact that it takes place in a chinese setting with cool powers and an actual good main character. "this sounds so good, god i wanna read it so bad."

i tell him that binghe is actually adorable, too. that it's pretty much found family! my friend then asks if shen yuan adopts him and becomes a father figure or something.

and i said "yes". you know, like a liar. (the father figure part probably isn't a lie though)

now i'm gonna give him the novel tomorrow! of course, i'm gonna cover the chapter 2 bunhe sexual awakening scene with washi tape and say that my baby cousin (sorry baby cousin, you would never <\3) scribbled all over that paragraph with her markers, and since i'm a neat book freak, i put washi tape and just wrote the scene! i don't know if that's really all too believable, but he didn't seem to care that much. just a simple "if my baby cousin did that to my book i would punt them into the sun"

i think what'll be more hilarious is the fact that you can't really tell that svsss is a BL. especially not volume 1. there's like, only a few lines indicating, but if you remove the baby binghe sexual awakening scene then you probably won't be able to know (...if you don't really read romance or anything. idk he's kinda dense anyways). so let's hope he gets attached and has a slow descent into the homo before i drop svsss vol 2 on him!

ok anyways i'll update you guys later with a reblog. maybe in about two or three days lol

(also don't worry, we already fuck around with each other on a daily basis like this. he's already tricked me into reading some manga i was unprepared for, and i thought that it'd be funny to mess around with him using svsss this time lol)

[jessilynallendilla]

The Most Popular Girls in School Quotes Without Context Season 1

“I want to poop here. Whenever I want, for as long as I want.” 

“I’ll be watching you.” “I’m going to poop now.” 

“Have fun smelling my poops, bitches!” 

“Was it slutty of me to give you a hand job last night?"

“Hey, if I watch an episode of Glee and an episode of Gossip Girl, can I get a blow job instead?” 

“God, I want to fucking murder you.” 

“What the fuck is a growler?”  

“Well then, I’ll gladly tell all the student bodies of Wichita State, Kansas and San Diego State, that you eat dick burritos.” 

“Suck my dick!” “Ok.” “What!?-” “Drop trou, I’ll suck your dick right now!” “Dude, that was an expression! Right? Am I right? That’s an expression, right guys?” 

“I’ll suck all your dicks right now!” 

“I’m a real man! I’m not afraid!” 

“Yeah, he’s definitely gay.” “He’s gay.” “We had an assembly about it.” 

“One last question...how come Matthew Daringer doesn’t have a penis or testicles?” 

“Jesus Christ, is that a fucking Gremlin?” “No, I’m a third grader.” 

“Rea-really? We talked, you pooped, I thought we had a connection.” 

“Wait, wait a minute, you lost control of the girl’s bathrooms?! Where the fuck am I supposed to shit now?” “Oh, you can go to the Jack in the Box across the street.” 

“We’ll I’m twenty-seven and still living with my parents in Overland Park. I have an art history degree from night school. My cat just died. I’ve lost 25% control of my sphincter muscles. I get a clicking sound in my jaw when I eat. I drive a ‘91 Dodge Neon. I have ovarian cysts. Sometimes I pee the bed still. I have alopecia. The only man who wants to fuck me is my 48-year-old manager at Pizza Street. PS, he only has one ball. So, I guess, better than you.”  

“No! Girls! On HBO! Kind of like Gossip Girl, but more tits.” 

“She said this is easier, you know, she said she just gets really emotional when she’s pregnant. And drunk.” 

“My mom said it’s about time people start feeling sorry for me.” 

“I won your card fair and square, so hand it ower before I bitch swap the bwack out of you.” 

*hit with a Hackey-Sack* “Aaah! Son of a bitch! Bastard! Aaah! God! Why me? Why me? Why? Does God hate me? Oh Jesus Christ!” 

“Oh my God I feel like I’m having an abortion!” 

“Mikayla, I’m six feet tall and weigh 105 pounds. I think I know how to mix x-lax into a fucking drink, ok?” 

“Mommy, what did you used to drink when you were a cheerleader?” “Squeez-its and Zima, why?” 

“Fuck it right it in the ass.” “No lube!” “Fisting!” “With a big black dildo!” The biggest!” 

“And don’t get me started on Pakistan. Ahmedinijad, am I right?” 

*principle making announcements* “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, I know I’m excited, my nipples are hard.” 

“’Oh yes! Oh, fuck yes! Who else is wet in here?” 

“I’m sorry, was I not just in the middle of a story?” “Yeah, but I wasn’t really that interested in it.”  

“Do you like making me look like a dickhole? Do you?” “You want me to say no, right?” 

“She may be a dirty fucking slut but at least she’s ours.” 

“Deandra, you’re a member of this family, you poop with us!” “Uh no. Deandra, you’re a cheerleader. You shit with us!”  

*waving amputated arms* “These are a little girl’s arms!” 

“How could you do this to us? You literally bombed us. Like the Japanese you are.” 

“Oh my, somebody’s going to be walking very funny tomorrow morning.” 

“The babies you make tonight are going to be so stupid.” 

“I swear, if I was into ladies, I’d be elbow deep in you right now.” “Hello.” 

“I’m being paid fifty dollars to stand here. Not talk to Rick Taylor’s bottom. Go away now.” 

“You look like a tampon that was dipped in skittles and vomit.” “Thank you.” 

“I get to run a hundred meters in the Special Olympics, I lost like twenty-seven pounds-” “Oh my god! What is your secret?” “...I had my arms ripped off.” 

“Well, I gave every boy in the school a blowjay!” 

"Um, Tanner, aren’t you gay?” "That’s a woman!?” 

[bears-ao3-blog]

(TF2 x TLOU) Dead Mann Walking - Prologue: When All Hell Broke Loose

(Edit: Small Clarification - You do NOT need to know anything about The Last of Us to read this fic!! I made sure to write this in a way that did not make that a requirement. Ok love you bye)

Chapter 1

CW: Implied Violence, Explicit Violence, Injury, Implied/Referenced Character Death

Mick didn't remember anything about Australia. No surprise, he wasn't even a year old when they moved to Massachusetts. The only pieces of his country of origin that he really carried with him were his shoddy accent - compromised by its mix with a Southern drawl - and borderline stereotypical phrases, both of which he picked up from his parents, of course. 

He was young – barely pushing on two years old – when  it  happened; when monsters emerged from the confines of their own homes, ripping the ones they love to shreds with snarls and howls and sobs. He didn't even remember the day of the outbreak, but he knew plenty. His parents were gentle souls, but they were also honest ones. So, when he asked, they told; even when the answers were far from pretty. They would often combat the grim knowledge they’d have to bestow on their only son with times before the infection. Tales of potlucks and kids playing in the street. Tales of stores filled to the brim with anything you could ever need one hundred times over. Tales of birthdays. Of his own birth. His short childhood before everything happened. 

He often wondered what his room looked like at the time. What color the walls were. What sort of childish paraphernalia littered it. He wondered what his favorite toy was. He wondered what it was like to live without that constant fear of death and destruction of not only yourself but the people you care about. Sometimes it provided solace but, more often than not, it simply made him sad.  

He wondered what life was like for Dell; before his grandpa was infected and he had to blast the old man's brain to bits with his own shotgun. Before he joined their family. He wondered if he was happy before the outbreak. For Mick, it's all he's ever known. His parents used to joke about how there's no reason to feel homesick anymore because things then weren't too different from the deep Outback. The isolation. The danger. The need to fend for yourself because there's no help around for miles. They used to say it was almost nice; "Like we're right back at home!"   

Mick knew it was all bullshit. They never would have immigrated to America in the first place if they wanted to live in a place like that. His parents’ experience proved fruitful, however, and it was their teachings that served as the only reason Mick and Dell had been able to survive so long on their own. Mick felt guilty that Dell wound up being stuck taking care of him. The man had barely been on the cusp of being a legal adult when everything happened. When his parents… 

He doesn't like to think about it, despite the watch on his wrist being a constant reminder. Just another piece of them to carry. It had been his dad's since before the outbreak. Cheap but effective. It even had a small hinge that revealed a compass underneath the timepiece. The images of those trembling, weathered hands pressing the cool metal into his own; that hoarse voice of his father’s telling him "Keep it. Reckon I'm not gonna be around ta use it meself."; his mother wrapping him up in a hug with trailing tears and quiet sobs; Dell adding another two to his list of “guardians I’ve had to shoot dead”: it's something he won't ever be able rid his mind of. Watching your parents die right in front of you is something no seven-year-old should ever have to go through, but that’s just life. The timepiece didn’t even work anymore, but Mick still got plenty of use out of the compass with the hours him and Dell spent scanning maps, looking for their next town and praying it hadn’t been stripped to nothing; praying they got to survive another week. 

And then, a whopping 8 years later, they finally ran out of luck. It had been a tough winter. The snow had been insistent, blanketing and pillowing every square inch of land their tired eyes could see. The chill was extra bitter, nipping at their skin, their flesh, their blood ; their resolve. The two very quickly began to feel the effects of improper sleep and nutrition once the shivers began to wrack their frames, desperate to find any sort of reprieve. They had miraculously stumbled across a town so small it may as well have been a village, and further on, an abandoned taxidermy shop. Mick remembered the beady little eyes of every creature in that old building, strewn about. Some half-hanging off the wall, some littering the floor; the pungent scent of chemicals that still lingered in the air despite none of them being put to use for over a decade, if not longer. He had asked Dell if they could find somewhere else to sleep for the night, but it was so, so cold, and the shop was the most insulated, even if that didn’t say much. So, they pulled out their thick blankets and plopped right onto the ground, and in mere minutes the two were out, the promise of safety from the elements and the things that went bump at night finally letting their bodies surrender to slumber. 

A slow, drawn out, crooning “Oh Mickyyy~. Time to wake uuupp~” had roused Mick from his deep sleep, and he had awoken to two lifeless, black orbs right in his face, surrounded by the old, grimy fur of a dead raccoon. It had scared him so badly he screamed, and in his panic, he had kicked the possessor of the dingy taxidermy, Dell, right in the leg with such force it had sent his kneecap right out of place with a sickening pop. Dell’s snickers were swiftly replaced by his own scream as he collapsed to the floor, holding his leg and breathing through his teeth. Mick’s blood ran cold and before he even had a chance to fully wake up he was scrambling over, his hands cupping the air around the other’s knee, horrified at what he had just done. Dell had just kept saying “its alright, Stretch. It’s alright. I’ll be ok, I’ll be alright. It’s alright-“ in that soft, comforting voice and it just made Mick angrier at himself. And then Mick heard it. That drawling croak that had been a source of white-hot dread time and time again: the clicking of a clicker. Dell and Mick had both looked straight at each other with wide eyes, and the two of them fell dead quiet in a rigid tensity. But it was too late, the damage had been done. The croak turned into a screech, and Mick realized in terror that it wasn’t just one. It was multiple infected. Mick looked over at the small window of the door and he watched as three figures sprinted towards them, janky and uncoordinated. Air was sucked into his lungs in a jarring motion as fear iced his bones over, freezing him in place. They were already so close- 

Dell had shot up, using the wall behind him as leverage, and grabbed Mick, tugging him close to harshly whisper as he began dragging the younger across the room. He kept nearly tripping on the taxidermized animals beneath his feet with his lame leg in his urgency. 

“We need to get the fuck outta here, now! Cmon, let’s g-“ 

The already weak door proved to be a meager safeguard as it easily broke off its hinges as the weight of 3 bodies slammed against it, the infected crashing onto the floor with cries and groans on top of the sad piece of wood. Mick barely had time to look around before a vertigo overtook him and he was being thrown into the back room across the hallway, his shoulder painfully nicking the doorway. Mick cried out quietly as his heavy knapsack thudded into his chest, his arms barely making it in time to catch it. He looked up to see Dell already turning to face his three opponents and wielding his gun and machete with a grim but determined look on his face. Mick felt his heart drop and bile rise as Dell turned back around and shouted. 

“Go! Run until ya can’t run anymore, ya hear me? Run! ” 

Mick would never forgive himself for his cowardice. He listened. He ran. He ran until he couldn’t anymore. And when he couldn’t, he walked. And when he couldn’t, he dragged himself until he saw the geometric outlines of man-made buildings once more. He collapsed as soon as he saw the figures of watchmen looking over at him.

He had stumbled across the Boston Fortress.  

He was finally safe for the first time in his life. 

And it had cost him everyone. 

[octoooo]

Ubuyashiki Family (Magical Slayers ✨)

It’s mostly Kagaya but I mention Amane too.

Ok long story short Kagaya is mansplain manipulate manslaughter. I made him similar to Kyubey from Magica Madoka. In the sense he has good intentions, but very underhanded ways of getting people to join the Corps.

He is Entirely fed up with the (lack of) progress of the Corps. He wouldn’t call all the efforts pointless, however losing several dozen (or hundred?) Hashira and hardly killing any Upper Moons (and no signs of Muzan since Yoriichi’s era) is very much a Net Loss.

He’s tired and ready to end this war by any means necessary, even if it means forcing people into becoming slayers. (The fact this man has foresight just makes his goal a little easier and a little scarier.)

I can make an excellent example of the lengths he’s willing to go with the Tokito twins.

Kagaya did not take kindly when Amane reported that Yuichiro shut down the offer every time. He is not above lighting a fire under them to get them moving, and by fire I mean a demon sent to their house as an “incentive” to join. By showing them what they’re at risk of if they don’t join first.

We all know how it happens in canon: Yuichiro repeatedly denies Amane, weeks later the demon attacks, suddenly Amane returns days(?) later and Muichiro decides “why not” to join the Corps.

This lines up perfectly for my au :D

After the repeated rejections, Kagaya pulls some strings to stage a demon attack. It’s not really staged/fake since the demon does try to take out the twins, but it was planned by Kagaya. As an extra part of the plan, there was supposed to be another slayer to deal with that demon to ensure the twins survived. They’d be scarred, but alive and (hopefully) open to becoming Slayers.

Things didn't go as planned and the assigned Slayer doesn’t make it on time, leaving Muichiro to take things in his own hands after Yuichiro gets attacked. Yuichiro only loses a chunk of his arm, it’s still a lot but not half his arm like canon. He’s able to wrap the wound (and pass out) while Muichiro deals with the demon all night.

Kagaya and Amane actually visit them around noon the next day and happen upon them barely alive. Yuichiro is worse off than his brother and praying for Muichiro to live. Kagaya tells the boys they don’t need the aid of the gods who struck them, he himself will help, and in return they’ll do something (become slayers) for him.

(Kagaya was relieved when this worked. He may be cruel enough to do it but he doesn’t want to kill them. They wouldn’t be useful to him if that happened)

This also means Yuichiro lives.

The bright side is he doesn’t do this with every slayer I guess? He does have an interesting habit of showing up soon after demon attacks to offer the survivor a new life within the Corps. In their freshly traumatized minds all they see is a hand reaching out to help, and not knowing any better they accept.

This is a good time to mention, he is still cursed so he eventually has Amane visit the possible-slayers in his stead, bring them to the estate should they agree to join and uhhh..

Rip their soul out of their body, infuse it into a special brooch, give it back to them & point them in the direction of a cultivator.

anyway don’t worry about that part. Kagaya certainly doesn’t, and he tells the newly-made Magical Slayer not to worry either.

Who cares if you’re basically a zombie now? If your body is injured it’s fine, it’ll just take extra time and magic to regenerate. (Like,,some hours with lots of focus. Maybe just an hour or so for Hashira. Their healing abilities may be good, but they’re not ‘instant regeneration’ good like the 12 kizuki)

He actually doesn’t even tell them they’ve become a zombie. Normally the head of the Corps is supposed to lay down everything that becoming a slayer means, and then the person can make the choice to join or not. Obviously learning you’ll become a zombie is a bit of a turn-off, so Kagaya has just stopped telling his slayers the awful details.

Why do that when it’ll scare them off? It’s more beneficial for him to not say anything and keep them in the dark.

Also I’d like to mention, In canon Kagaya gives respect and gets it in return.

Here though? The Hashiras respect for him is built from fear. Everyone else is able to see, “ohh there’s something wrong with this guy. Better not piss him off.” And try their damn best not to.

Except Sanemi at his first Pillar meeting. 🪦

[limetameta]

Voldemort, in 2013: If we can't say mudblood anymore can we at least say fag?

Delphini: D: No!!! Fag is a slur!

Voldemort: Queer then.

Delphini: QUEER is a slur!!!

Voldemort: Delphini, I got called all of these things. None of these are slurs.

Delphini: They are now. Hermione says only mages born to muggles are allowed to say mudblood.

Voldemort: I will have you know that the preferred nomenclature WAS mudblood in the 50s and 60s. Due to the Mudpride movement.

Delphini: The what?

Voldemort: The...Mudpride...movement. Does the name Nobby Leach mean anything to you?

Delphini: We don’t really cover the history after WWII. But yeah, that's the guy that died.

Voldemort: The guy who died...

Delphini: Yeah.

Voldemort: Who teaches History?

Delphini: Someone Vinda appointed. You probably don't know him. Zephyr Avery Jr.

Voldemort: That man is a Death Eater and I regret ever marking him. I did it as a favour to his father. Brainless man, that Jr. Only chases after skirts.

Delphini: You are so old.

Voldemort: Child. I am not even a hundred years old. You should know recent history.

Delphini: Nobody can tell it to you in an objective manner, though. That’s why people aren't teaching it. That's what professor Avery says. Mum says that after Nobby Leach died everything went to shit.

Voldemort: Do they still attribute his death to me?

Delphini: Nah. They uncovered a written confession from the late Abraxas Mafloy that he did it for clout.

Voldemort: For what?

Delphini: Prestige.

Voldemort: He did it because he was doped on cocaine.

Delphini: Lmao.

Voldemort: What?

Delphini: Nevermind. Hasthag rip king.

Voldemort: *blinks* How did Bellatrix let you become like this?

Delphini: Short answer: Mum loves me :)

Voldemort: A mother’s love *sarcasm* What a powerful magic.

Delphini: In the 1910s what was it like to see a telephone for the first time?

Voldemort: I was born in 1926.

Delphini: Ok fine. I bet you don't know when I was born. >:]

Voldemort, genuinely still struggling with remembering his years post ressurection, it's all just one continous thread of events: I want to say late 1997?

Delphini: 1998. HA!

Voldemort: All right. I tire of conversing with you.

Delphini: You want me to show you more youtube videos of people compiling news and major events?

Voldemort: If this is the only way I can get as much information in the shortest amount of time. I will suffer through these edited videos.

Many videos later

Voldemort: This has depressed me.

Delphini: Do you want to hear a cool song that I think will cheer you up?

Voldemort: If I must.

Delphini pulling up You’re gonna go far kid but in an AMV

Voldemort: It’s a nice song but who are these people?

Delphini: Just some anime characters. But listening to a song through an amv is 63738% better than watching the regular vevo.

Voldemort: :/ What happens if you put my name on here? *points to the search*

Delphini: On muggle youtube- nothing. Voldemort doesn't exist. There is a Little Hangleton sketch by some comics that mentions the Riddles. But they mean your father and not you when they say Tom Riddle. Now! If we access MAGE youtube *does her magic clicky things on her phone* *searches lord voldemort* The video with the most hits is a Jackass parody that George and Fred Weasley did in 2004. *pulls up video called LORD VOLDEMORT - FUCKING WITH THE TABOO* This is the biggest piece of evidence we had that the taboo was completely gone. Up until this moment people were still on the fence about saying your name. They say it... *fast forwards near the end of the video* 394 times.

Voldemort: :| Is that you in the shopping cart? *points at a little child in a shopping cart shouting Voldemort*

Delphini: Yeah! I was their little helper :) Harry held the camera.

Voldemort: And Bellatrix let you do all of this?

Delphini: Why wouldn’t she? These are all purebloods. Plus Harry. She had no reason to object getting a night off from being a mother.

Voldemort: And Rodolphus?

Delphini: Dad started a betting pool that someone would get maimed filming this. Fred lost an ear in a shuriken throwing accident. But that's another video. We were really into Naruto.

Voldemort: I have had enough.

Delphini: *puts away phone* *looks at him*

Voldemort: Yes?

Delphini: Do you have any mental illness or a history of such things? Any developmental disorder or such?

Voldemort, slipping into cockney from the sheer absolute disbelief and shock: Are you asking if I'm retarded?

Delphini: D:< That's a slur, too!!!

Voldemort: :// *stands up and leaves the room* I have had enough 2013 for the day, thank you.

Runs into Harry

Voldemort: What isn't a slur these days?

Harry, thinking: Err, I think cunt.

Voldemort: At least there's still something.

[autistpride]

The torture of disabled people is *still* legal in the US. And it’s still happening at the Judge Rotenburg Center in Massachusetts.

In 2010 the UN declared the devices torture!

In 2021 the DC circuit overturned the FDA ban to allow it to continue!

JRC uses this method of "punishment" alongside a reward room where children can spend points they earned by being good.

A common practice used in ABA.

Children as young as 3 years old attend this school and the students wear electrodes up to 24 hrs a day 7 days a week to receive "correction". This is a boarding school, students do not go home. They live at the school recieving this treatment everyday with chances of visits for good behaviour.

The UN has even reported the school as abusive and appealed to the US government to have this practice stopped.

Apparently the DC circuits claimed it's abusive but for a good purpose and that the devices are banned for general use but totally fine for one single purpose... this one.

But of course these would be illegal on criminals or in military use to extract information that could be "for a good purpose" because it's abusive and violates all sorts of laws.... but apparently not when the person is a vulnerable autistic or disabled person.

One parent sent their child to the school because he wouldn't allow physical contact in the form of hugs and would bite his arms. The child is now a young man of 24 and still lives at the school with occasional visits from his parents.

This is the most absolutely ridiculous thing to electrocute someone for and even more if the person needs 10+ years of their program and still has not graduated that should be proof it's not effective.

“The first shock was in my leg. It was a stinging, ripping, and pulling pain that froze time. I was standing when it happened, and I immediately fell because I lost control of my leg. It hurt, but didn’t really register with me. I wasn’t afraid yet.”

–

“I no longer had my meds, and I would get this itchy feeling, like a hundred ants under my skin. I would fight it, but then I would get a tingle down my spine, and then I would become terrified because I knew what was coming. My hands would get cold and shake. Then the burst would come. Like slamming my head on the desk over and over until the shock came. After that would be a strange feeling of calm and peace — because it was over with. I released the impulse and had gotten the coinciding shock.”

–

“Some actual behaviors I was shocked for were: covering my eyes with my hands, covering (pressurizing) my ears, tic-like body movements, wrapping my foot around the leg of my chair, not answering staff within 5 seconds, saying the word “no”, shaking my head, tightening my fingers for more than 2 seconds, waving my hands in front of my face, 5 verbal behaviors in an hour (talk to self, repeating, crying, bizarre speech, nagging), tensing up, getting out of my seat without permission, not following directions, and attempt to remove restraints.”

–

“The video of Andre McCollins being shocked on the board tells the story. It is absolutely terrifying. The anticipation and the helplessness of being tied down and not knowing when another shock is coming. And that was the point, to add more fear to the shock. I had this done to me many times. Only sick, sick people can think this is ok.”

–

“It’s so scary. I would ask God to make my heart stop because I didn’t want to live when that was happening to me. I just wanted to die and make it stop,” [Jennifer Msumba] told CBS News correspondent Anna Werner in an interview at her mother’s home outside Boston. “I thought, they won’t be able to hurt me anymore.”

–

“They grabbed my arms and walked me over to the board. Told me to sit then lie down and started locking me in. I was begging, pleading that I didn’t do anything and could they explain what I did. Nothing. I didn’t fight, I just shook. My limbs went cold with fear, knowing what was coming and having to wait for it. She went outside the door and closed it most of the way so I couldn’t see her. All I could do was breath in shudders and kick my one leg that was looser then the other. Then she shocked me out of nowhere. And said “there is no hurting yourself”. One down, 4 to go. When they do this, time stops and everything around me would turn into a nightmarish cloud. I would just beg in my mind for them to hurry up and do it. But the whole point is to MAKE you anticipate. To fear, to suffer. Not knowing when it’s coming. The shit is so sick and twisted, it should be in a movie. They put this show and tell on that they care, but this is what REALLY happens. This is what really fucking happens. After about 10 minutes of agonizing mental and physical torture and 5 shocks later, they took me off the board.”

[fleur-de-femme]

Limitlessly Spreading her Constrained Sorrow to Achieve a Hallucinated Completeness

it is moments like this when i feel the most overwhelmed.

Looking at social media does not help, just rushes in the information of hundreds. So much light goes through the mirrors  that they become blind-sighted and you cant even see yourself with in. I don’t know why my brain can never just settle down and work to a task but i think its because someone is trying to tell me something. It feels like my brain just replays certain quotes that I have heard from other people, over and over again like a broken record. I have so many people in my head telling me different things and I cant make use of all of them, I can’t even make out the words most of the time. How do I separate them from my conscious and subconscious? Why when I see someone they visually seem fine but I can sense  from their true energy (based on subtleties such as a constant shake of their leg or a slightly extended pause in their speech ) that  tells me otherwise. I’ve always thought of those people being able to filter out the noise that is why they are able to create a cohesive thought. But what if they are just better at grounding their face?

[The isolation gets to me sometimes I can’t lie. Im not sure if its the isolation that drives me insane or the fact that I am scared of living through my thoughts.]

It’s scary because Im truly realizing how wise and intuitive I really am. Like one part of me holds a lot of information and knowledge in which I am able to define patterns within myself and others and in society as a whole and recognize it as parts to a whole rather than thinking in black and white morals; some things are just responses and reflections to something else.

Like for example, with this whole depression thing going on. I keep associating these feelings of fatigue, withdrawnness, and overwhelm in a category of “bad” rather than the “good” category where I place emotions like excitement and motivation. I am someone who loves to live in excitement, and this is where I think I get things confused. There is only but so much that one can do at a given time and has the right amount of energy to do so. I am not a god. I cannot produce an infinite amount of energy.

I think for me, these feelings are arising because:

A. I was not on the right meds

B. My head is filled with all of these ideas and questions and thoughts and I am just trying using different variations and forms of escapism.

My mind is always in a constant state of wonderment and awe and there is just so much information out there and so much to explore and so many concepts. There is just so much beauty and so many tales and I want to feel and live through all of them. And thats why i love philosophy and fashion and photography because I think they truly take these thoughts that all of us go through and package it in a way that can really resonate with others so they can feel ok with the fact that we don’t know anything.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around psychological evolution . The way that we have evolved into beings that can separate itself from the other is just crazy the more you think about it. Oceanic consciousness is that we all take in everything at once we are one with the universe. Animals, babies ,and primitive humans have this. It is more of a collective mindset that doesn't allow for one to perceive oneself as a distinct entity from the whole.

Humans developed away from this for some reason? Or are we really as separate as we believe?Technology has really reminded us how collective our minds truly are. It is terrifying how something we birthed has ripped through us and is exposing the harsh truths of how insignificant we are individually. How wrapped up we are in the perception of others and typical our personal styles and ideals are. We really thought there was more to this!  Leaving us overwhelmed and confused because everything we thought we knew about ourselves is a lie. We are still a collective mind. But knowing the presence of oneself makes us think we are separated from each other when we are actually not. The illusion of the self.

[vulcanhello]

[h0tchner]

Any Age, Any Day, Anywhere (Part 1) - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: WRITTEN FOR AN ANON REQUEST: "ok hi so u already wrote a jealous reader and was wondering whats your take on jealous hotch? i mostly see him in fics as possessive and yeah being the leader type i would think he could also be possessive but i also think that he would just be sad like ya know he doubts himself as we saw in some episodes and i think he would need assurance and a lot of convincing that u only love him but if you’ve given that to him then thats the time he would be possessive and god i would love to imagine a possessive and feral aaron hotchner"

word count: 3.5k

includes: kissing, so much freaking adorable fluff, talk of body insecurities, insecure!hotch, protective!hotch, wifey reader, super brief mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, confrontation with a drunk asshole (derek & hotch are all over it tho dw), party at papa rossi's!, smut to come in next chapter...

rating: 18+ (technically there is no smut in this part, but there are adult themes such as drinking, kissing, etc.).

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! This is part one of a two-part fic! The next part will be pure filth, so keep your eyes peeled for some feral hotch content... ALSO! PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Aaron! Can you come here for a sec?” you call out to your husband from the bathroom, muttering curses under your breath as you try (and fail) for the third time to zip up the back of your black cocktail dress.

“Sure, I just need a minute,” he replies from the bedroom closet, securing the last opalescent button on the arm of his white dress shirt. He looks at himself in the closet mirror, zeroing in at the bags under his eyes and the sprinkling of grey in his stubble. He looks… tired. Tired and old. And he hates it.

Even though Aaron is only in his late-40s, he has lived lifetimes; years of working as Unit Chief of the BAU will do that to a man. Every horror he’s seen and every person he’s lost has weighed on his body and mind. In the past few months, amidst work changes and a new baby, he’s been exhausted and in fear that he’s letting himself go. Of course, being the stoic man that he is, he’s done his absolute best to hide these feelings from you. Tonight, however, he doesn’t know if he can. It’ll be your first night out together as a couple since welcoming baby girl Hotchner to the family four months ago. With no pressing family or work distractions, he just knows that you’ll be able to sense his apprehensions. It’s only a matter of when.

Taking in a breath, he turns a little to the side, frowning at his profile. Aaron winces a little at his “dad bod,” but quickly recovers from the discomfort, milliseconds after it flashes across his face.

“Aaron Hotchner get your handsome butt in here and help me zip my dress! We’re gonna be late,” you exclaim, trying one last time to reach the zipper before giving up and crossing your arms in defeat. You lean back lightly against the countertop facing the door, letting the fabric slip off your shoulders, and wait for your husband to rescue you from the hell that is this dress.

At the sound of your voice, Aaron snaps out of his trance. He shakes his head lightly, as if to physically erase the intrusive thoughts, and clears his throat. Grabbing his suit jacket off the hanger, he flicks off the closet light and closes the door behind him.

Languidly, he meanders from the closet toward the bathroom. He drags his feet a little longer than he normally would, still feeling off and a little bit shy about his appearance.

“Aaron,” you sing, “I’m waiting for –,” your jaw drops mid-sentence when Aaron appears in the doorway.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out before you can stop yourself, eyes widening at the sight of the gorgeous man in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, crossing over to you, searching your face for any ounce of reprieve.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you’re quick to reply, standing from your leaning position to meet him, holding out your hands.

He takes them in his own, cocking his head slightly, his soft hazel eyes boring into yours.

You shift forward, moving up on your toes to peck his soft pink lips.

He sighs into the kiss, feeling the warmth of your lips against his own. It feels so good that it almost makes him forget about how he is feeling… almost. But the dark thoughts come back, and he pulls away from you a bit, reluctantly.

Aaron clears his throat.

“You called me?” He questions, but it sounds more like a fact.

“Yeah,” you give his hands a squeeze. “I needed you to zip up my dress, but now,” you lean in again, “I kinda want you to rip it off me.” You offer him a sultry smirk, moving your hands up to rest on his broad chest. He moves his hands to settle on your hips.

You lick your lips and let your eyes rake over his body, taking in every ounce of his sexy frame. The way his crisp, white dress shirt hugs his solid body makes you go weak in the knees. His strong, toned legs in those black dress pants? Yes please. His soft black hair and salt and pepper stubble on his face are practically begging to be touched. He looks good. Damn good.

“You look…” you pause, tapping a finger lightly against his pectoral, searching for the right word, “…delicious.”

Aaron blushes lightly at your ogling, offering you a sad smile as he squeezes his eyes shut out of embarrassment.

You sense the falter in his demeanor, knowing that there’s something else nagging at him far beyond his usual flustering when you vocalize your attraction to him.

“Honey,” you implore, looping your hands around his neck to bring his forehead down to touch yours. “What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, swallowing, rubbing soft circles into your sides.

“It’s something,” you counter, carding a hand through his hair at the nape of his neck. You scratch lightly at his scalp, waiting for him to speak. You’ve learned that the best thing to do when Aaron gets in a mood is to give him some time to gather his thoughts. Keeping him close, physically, is a way to show him some comfort without pressuring him to speak. It encourages him, without words, that your arms are a safe place.

“I don’t…” he starts, and then stops himself. His dark eyebrows furrow and his mouth presses into a thin line.

“Mhm?” you question, fingers still tangled in his thick, black locks.

He pulls his forehead away from yours and locks eyes with you. You let your hands be still now, a silent gesture to show him that you’re listening.

He takes in a breath.

“I don’t look the way I used to,” he says quietly, shifting his eyes away from yours.

“What do you mean,” you urge him to continue.

“I mean, I don’t look like I did five years ago. Two years ago. Four months ago. I mean, I was practically a different man when we first met. I was younger, fitter…” he trails off, visibly upset.

“Yes, Aaron, you were,” you agree, keeping your tone temperate.

His eyes snap to yours, confused. It’s clear that was not what he was expecting you to say.

“You were a different man,” you continue gently, resuming your pacifying touch in his hair, “and I was a different woman.”

Aaron lets out a huff.

“Do you love me any less now than you did five years ago?” You ask him.

“Of course not,” he’s quick to answer.

“Why is that?” You prod.

“You’re gorgeous, inside and out. You’re funny, smart, loving…” he begins, but you interrupt him before he can go on.

“And,” you butt in, “if I were to go completely grey, gain thirty pounds, and only wear a potato sack to work every day would you love me any less?”

Aaron huffs again, but this time he’s fighting a smile. He’s starting to catch on. You watch as a spark of levity returns to his eyes. He holds you a little tighter.

“No. There’s nothing you could do or say to make me love you any less,” he grumbles in annoyance, but his upturned lip and matching eyebrow tell a different story.

“Ditto, baby,” you smile up at him. “I love you at any age, any day, anywhere, and there is nothing in the world that can make me change my mind.”

He dips down then, capturing you in a kiss, grinning against your lips.

You giggle as Aaron works his way down your jawline and neck, gasping as he kisses the soft skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, thick fingers gripping the sides of your hips. He moves his lips back up to your earlobe, nipping at it lightly as you let out another soft gasp.

“You always know the right thing to say,” he whispers into your ear, pressing another kiss right underneath it.

“Aaron, I know I said I wanted you to take this dress off me,” you say breathlessly as Aaron nips at your shoulder again, “but Rossi will kill us if we don’t show up tonight. Plus, I really want the chance to show off my super sexy FBI husband. It’s been far too long.”

He lets out a low groan into your skin and gives your hips a squeeze, nuzzling his head into your neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always,” you snort, eliciting a chuckle from your husband as you turn around in his arms to let him zip you up.

He takes his time, letting his fingers brush lightly over your spine as he draws the zipper over your back. When he’s done and the clasp is latched, he kisses one shoulder lightly, and then the other.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning back against his warm body.

“No, honey,” he kisses the top of your head, “thank you.”

_____________________________________________________________

By the time you and Aaron arrive at Rossi’s mansion, the party is already in full swing. Judging by the number of cars in the makeshift parking lot on his spacious front lawn, there must be at least fifty, maybe even a hundred people here.

Despite the bustle of the evening, it doesn’t take long for you two to find Emily, Penelope, and Derek in the living room, drinks in hand, snacking on some very expensive looking food.

“Hey, look! It’s the Hotchners!” Emily cheers, teetering on the arm of the leather couch, wine glass in hand.

“Hello beautiful BAU power-couple!” Penelope chimes in from the seat next to her, cuddled up into Derek’s side.

You laugh and let go of Aaron’s hand, walking over to greet your friends.

“Hey hot stuff, look at you, look at you!” Derek chimes in, eyeing you up and down before standing to shake Aaron’s hand.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes at him as you give Emily a big hug.

“And you don’t look bad yourself, boss man!” Derek adds.

You shoot your husband an ‘I told you so’ look over your shoulder, before untangling your arms from Emily and giving Penelope an equally enthusiastic squeeze.

“It’s good to see you all,” Aaron smiles lightly, all dimples in the low light. He steps in to give Emily and Penelope soft hugs.

“Let’s go get you a drink,” Derek says to Aaron, clapping him on the back.

“White?” Aaron looks to you, even though he already knows the answer.

“Yes please,” you respond, “thank you.”

“Be back soon,” he smiles easily, kissing your cheek, making your heart ache.

Aaron and Derek turn and exit the room together.

Penelope drunkenly pats the seat next to her, and you plop down on the couch.

“We’ve missed you like this!” Emily exclaims, gesturing between the three of you and around the room. “I can’t believe we’ve had to wait nine whole months plusanother four just to have a drink with our best friend again.”

You laugh at her, tilting your head back lightly. “Well, you guys got a beautiful little niece out of it, doesn’t that make up for all the wild girl’s nights I missed?”

Emily sighs, dramatically, “I guess so,” she jests.

“Oh, for sure.” Penelope adds. “You look freaking gorgeous, by the way. I mean, I would have never guessed you were creating a tiny human in that body only a few months ago!”

You blush lightly at her words, “You flatter me far too much, Pen. I owe this,” you gesture down at your figure, “all to Spanx!”

“Amen!” Emily toasts. You raise an imaginary glass to theirs and pretend to clink, taking a swig of invisible liquid.

“Are J.J. and Will here?” You ask them after they’ve had a few more sips of their wine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily nods, “they’re around somewhere.”

You take a moment and look around the room, taking in all the sights and the sounds of the party. You see some faces you recognize from around the bureau, but others you don’t. Just as you’re about to turn back to your friends, someone catches your eye. One face stands out from the crowd: he’s a young, suave-looking man in a sharp navy suit. Sandy hair perfectly gelled, shiny brown loafers, and bright blue eyes looking right at you. In another life you would have been exhilarated by his attention, apparent charm, and good looks, but now? Now, you’re married to the love of your life with an amazing stepson and a wonderful baby girl. His wolfish gaze means absolutely nothing to you. You simply flash him a curt smile and turn back to Emily and Penelope without a second thought.

You and your friends resume your chatter, waiting for the men to return with more drinks... only they don’t. Perhaps its “new mother anxiety” talking, but the longer your husband is gone, the more you start to grow concerned. A few more minutes pass of antics, laughter, and catching up until the nagging voice in the back of your head turns into an all-out scream. All you know is that you’re suddenly feeling very overwhelmed need to be with Aaron. So, you announce to your friends that you’re going to hunt down Derek and your husband.

You stand from the couch and smooth out the skirt of your dress with the promise to be back in a few minutes.

You walk out of the living room and into the grand foyer, following the same route as Aaron had earlier. Your black kitten heels click on the marble flooring, the skirt of your dress swishing lightly as you walk with purpose towards the kitchen. You’re so concentrated on reaching your destination that you don’t realize the man who had been watching you in the living room was now hot at your heels, following you through the house. It’s only when a hand reaches out and jerks your arm backward that you stop, startled, just past the grand staircase, turning face to face with him.

“You’re not an easy woman to get alone,” he smirks, reeking of alcohol, still gripping your arm, tight. Up close he is decidedly not as handsome as the low light of the living room made him seem. In fact, he seems… creepy. Really, really, really, creepy.

“Can I help you?” You blink at him, pulling your arm out of his vice grip.

“You sure can, baby,” he steps closer to you, voice oozing with sleaze. You gag at the liquor on his breath.

Moving away, you scowl at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

“What’s say you and I head upstairs for a little while? I’m dying to get my hands on your body.” He jerks his head toward the staircase, reaching out to grab your arm again.

You’re fuming at this point, ready give him a piece of your mind when a stern voice beats you to it.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” Aaron articulates, approaching you both with Derek not far behind.

You breathe a sigh of relief as your husband glares at the drunken man vengefully, coming to stand by your side. Aaron pulls you into him, roughly, hand tight around your waist. The anger radiating off your husband is equally terrifying and HOT.

“Take a walk, man,” Derek adds in, coming to stand next to the drunken asshole. The man looks from you, to Aaron, then over to Derek, and finally back at you.

“Whatever,” the man grumbles, putting his hands up, “she’s not worth it anyway. Not pretty enough for the hassle. I just thought she looked like an easy lay.”

“That’s enough,” Aaron snaps, seething. “Leave now, before I make you,” your husband growls. He angles his body forward so you’re slightly behind him. A shiver passes through you at his fierce protectiveness.

“Fine, I’m going to get another drink,” the man utters.

“No,” Aaron interjects, “the party. Leave the party or I’ll have you removed.”

“What’s your problem?” The creepy man retorts, this time, more confrontationally.

“My problem?” Aaron says, angrily. You feel his entire body tense at the accusation.

“Hotch,” Derek warns, “I’ll take care of it. You guys go enjoy yourselves. Forget about him.”

“Come on, Aaron,” you tug on his suit jacket lightly, eyes pleading… but Aaron doesn’t budge from his spot. He only holds you tighter as he continues to stare down the man as Derek ushers him away and towards the front door. He doesn’t falter until they are out of sight.

“Aaron?” You repeat.

He looks down at you, finally, blinking away the fury until all that’s left is an all-consuming love. He releases you from his protective hold, and you face him.

“I’m okay,” you assure him in earnest, letting out a shaky breath.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” he breathes, bringing his hands up to cup your face.

“Aaron, it’s okay, really,” you bite your lip, shifting your eyes away from his.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron kisses your forehead, and then the top of your head. “So, so beautiful, and I’m so sorry.”

“Aaron, can we just go home?” You ask.

“Sure,” he kisses your head one last time before weaving his fingers between yours and guiding you gently toward the back exit.

_____________________________________________________________

The car ride home is quiet. The only sounds are the occasional click of the turn signal, and the hum of the wheels on the road. Aaron is still upset, and so are you, but you’re also… something else. Something you can’t quite put your finger on. You feel guilty for ruining the evening, guilty that you FEEL guilty for something you had no control over, hungry, tired, and… horny? Oh, and guilty for feeling horny.

It isn’t helping that one of Aaron’s hands is planted firmly on your thigh. He lifts it only to adjust the air conditioning or to scratch his nose, but otherwise it remains on you the whole way home. When he pulls into the driveway of your shared house, and shuts the car off, he still doesn’t move it.

“Honey?” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed. You take in the strong features of his profile, noting the prominence of his nose and the way his eyelashes rest on his high cheekbones.

“I almost punched him.” Aaron whispers, opening his eyes to look over at you sheepishly.

“You what,” you exhale, mouth slightly agape.

“That guy,” he continues, bringing his left hand up to pinch his nose. “I almost punched him for saying that about you.”

You snort, amused by his confession.

Your husband lets out a short laugh, squeezing your thigh as he does.

“I would’ve liked to see that.” You’re grinning now and so is he.

He flashes his eyes at you and laughs again, this time less anxiously. You join him, feeling the tension dissipate with every passing moment.

“My big, bad FBI man decking a barely-legal drunk dickhead for making a move on his wife? Where can I get my tickets?” You joke.

As you say the words “his wife,” Aaron’s breath hitches in his throat. His hand on your thigh presses down instinctively. Neither of his reactions go unnoticed.

You lay a hand over his where it rests on your leg.

“You know, Aaron,” you begin.

He looks over at you, jaw tight, but this time it isn’t from anger.

“This is the first time we’ve had the house all to ourselves in months,” you pull his hand off you and bring it up to your lips. You press a kiss to his palm, and then to his wrist.

“This… is true,” he breathes out, studying you, taking you in.

“So, I’m just wondering:” you grin, linking your fingers with his, “are you going to carry your wife into our house, Aaron? Or do I have to walk myself?”

[nmikaelsonimagines]

Villains: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: Hey, could you do a klaus x reader imagine where reader is captured by one of klaus' enemies and tortured for info on him, but then he finds her and saves her? If not that's ok! Ily <3

I’ve been waiting to use this gif for so long! Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

Everybody saw Niklaus Mikaelson as the villain of the story. If this was a superhero movie, he would be the boss, his siblings almost acting as his sidekicks. Everybody saw him as something to be feared, something that needed putting down, defeating, the Joker locked away in Arkham Asylum. 

But what was never accounted for was the Joker meeting his psychiatrist, and a twisted love story ensuing. Of course, the love story that had blossomed between Y/N and Klaus had a much more happy ending than the one spelled out in images of black and red. 

In those images, the colours were markers of control, the villain overpowering the woman who had fallen for him. For Klaus and Y/N, black was the backdrop of blood, red gushing from the enemies who tried to take her away from him. 

Everybody saw Niklaus Mikaelson as the villain of the story, but for Y/N, he was nothing more than a hero. He would come to her rescue, not in a cape, but in a black jacket that hugged his figure perfectly, his identity known to all. 

He would come to her rescue, she told herself as another cut opened on her palm, the blade of a knife piercing her skin, blood staining the ropes that kept her bound. Y/N gritted her teeth as pain set in, refusing to let the people who had taken her see her as vulnerable. That was always the first mistake the damsels made in the movies.

To scream would be to show that she could be broken, that she could be used against Klaus. 

To scream would be to let them know she was the perfect bargaining chip, and she refused to let that happen. 

She took a breath, staring at the cuts along her skin, the blood that had dried and the blood that looked as if it had only just been painted on her. She had seen red paint before, crimson on the end of a brush held by delicate hands that had the ability to tear into flesh, to punch through bone. 

Y/N knew that when Klaus arrived, such a scene would unfold. She visualised it in her mind as she glared at her captors, as one of them asked the question that had been asked a hundred times. A request for information on Niklaus Mikaelson, the Original hybrid, so they could take him down. 

This time, as had been the case with previous occurrences, Y/N said nothing. She hissed as a sharp sting had her head falling to the side with the impact of the slap that was delivered, the ringing in her ears doing nothing to cover up the supposed insults that were thrown her way. 

Klaus had brainwashed her. She was no better than him. How could she defend someone as evil as him? She must be a villain too. 

If Klaus was truly the villain in the eyes of these people, then she was proud to be compared to him.

Y/N was conscious of how much blood was flowing from her veins, how images were starting to become a little hazy around the edges. She was barely awake when she saw a familiar outline enter the room, one with deep blue eyes. She was barely awake when she heard sickening crunches, when she saw streams of crimson paint the skin of her captors, when she saw her rescuer without a cape on his shoulders. A hero in a black jacket, dots of red bright against their backdrop,

The last thing she heard was his voice, those delicate, bloodstained hands on hers as she slipped away into unconsciousness. 

The first thing Y/N heard when she woke up was the sound of crystal glass clinking. The first thing she saw was a familiar outline holding the glass, one with deep blue eyes. She sat up as she looked at Klaus, sat next to his brother - Elijah the ultimate sidekick - black jacket ripped, red stripes trailing down his skin. 

She breathed his name, and his attention turned to her. There was relief in his eyes, love and adoration flowing from every pore. But behind it all, there was still that devilish glint Y/N knew and loved, the one that made him the villain in so many stories, the hero in hers. 

She stood, walking over to the table where he and his brother sat. She pulled up a chair, a glass of whisky in one hand, the other reaching across to hold Klaus’s. She considered making a joke, about how it was just another day in the life of the Mikaelsons, but the look in Klaus’s eyes stopped her. 

She knew later he would tell her how he really thought he had lost her this time, how scared he was that she might be gone. He would tell her that he had healed her, refusing to leave her side until she awoke; he had only been at the table as Elijah insisted he needed to give her some space. She would tell him his momentary absence didn’t matter; he was always with her, and she loved him for it. She would reassure him with her words, her touch, her kiss. Just as she always did. 

Klaus’s grip on her hand tightened, and she smiled at him, black and red combining to form the most perfect of pictures. 

His smile back was the reminder she needed. 

Even a villain could choose to be a hero. And when it came to Y/N, Klaus would make that choice every single time.

Masterlist

[etsuven]

♡♡Prompt List♡♡

here is the prompt list!! (ft. fischl and her unfairly photogenic self)

more prompts will probably be added!!

sfw prompts

from creative writing prompts

romantic one liners

oblivious and flirty

“I could listen to you all day.”

“Have I already told you how cute you look?”

“One kiss is just never enough.”

“Not to sound cheesy, but your smile really lights up the room.”

“I cannot find the words to describe how I feel about you.”

“Being happy, fortunately coincides with making you happy.”|

“Call me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”

“Tonight was just perfect.”

“However many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you.”

“I have the feeling that you’re trying not to kiss me and I give you permission to just do it.”

“You remembered my favorite food.”

“Sometimes, being with you feels like a dream that I don’t ever want to wake up from.”

“Being half-asleep is a very good look on you.”

“You can always talk to me, I will always be here for you.”

“I’ve missed you so much.”

first kiss prompts

-“Thank you, and I’m going to wash the sweater you lent me and give it back to you as soon as possible.” “Oh, please keep it. I like you wearing it.” “Really? I thought it was your favorite one.”

-“Why are you blinking like that with your eyes? Is everything ok?” “That was supposed to be a wink!”

-“I like your costume, you look very cute.” “Are you making fun of me?”

-“It’s so cold, you should hold my hand, so it doesn’t freeze.” “I’m not that cold, I can give you my gloves if you want.”

-“I would very much like to kiss you right now.” “Please.”

-“I’m not sure how to…” “Just follow my lead.”

-“Is it ok if I kiss you?” “I would like that very much.”

-“I knew I would love kissing you, but it this was…” “Even better than the dream?” “Yes.”

-“This would probably the perfect moment for a kiss…” “And we probably shouldn’t waste it.”

-“I would like to show you how I good I feel when I’m with you.”

-“I’ve never done this before. I’m probably not going to be great at it.”

-“Neither have I. But we could figure it out together.”

from fayesfairylights

smutty prompts (techncially all of the ones under this text are smutty one liners but i don't feel like changing the numbers around-)

remember- DOM READER ONLY

1: “we’re in public, you know”

2: “you were always more than just a one night stand to me”

3: “stop teasing so much” ‘make me’

4: “bite me” ‘if you insist’

5: “mine” ‘say it again’

6: “we can’t do that here!”

7: “all you had to do was ask”

8: “either take it off, or I will happily do it for you.”

9: “I don’t care what you do just as long as you do me.”

10: “were you just touching yourself?” ‘yeah, what are you gonna do about it?’

11: “do you think they could hear us?” ‘yes we can.’

12: “this sofa costs fifteen thousand dollars, don't you dare ruin it” ‘guess ill just have to cum in you then’

13: “were just…friends.” ‘friends don't do this type of shit!’

14: “how quickly can you cum?”

15: “just let me finish this and I swear I will go down on your and make you cum three times.”

16: “the only way you are gonna get off is on my thigh.”

17: “tell me how you want it.”

18: “there’s no way I’m gonna let you wear that in public” ‘why not?’ “cause It would be a shame to rip it off in front of a hundred people, such nice material.”

19: “I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so badly.”

20: “take off your clothes, but leave the heels on.”

21: “shut up.” ‘well why don't you come over here and make me?’

22: “you aren’t taking me to bed….ever.” ‘who said it had to be a bed?’

23: “for the love of fuck.” ‘yeah that's me, I love to fuck.’

24: “would you re consider if you were sober?”

25: “they may be all lollipops and candy bars, but I bet behind closed doors they're hand cuffs and gags.”

smutty one-liners

from creative writing prompts

1: “I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.”

2: “Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago.”

3:“We should probably leave, before we start a scandal.”

4: “Stop looking at me like that or my knees will not hold me any longer.”

5: “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

6: “The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind.”

7: “I want to count every one of your freckles with my lips.”

8: “Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you.”

9: “I could make you feel better.”

10: “You’re a lot more flexible than I thought.”

11: “I want to please you.”

12: “Your shirt got a little dirty, how about we take it off?”

13: “I want to give you a hickey, so everyone can see how I feel about you.”

14: “Do you want to take it off or should I do it for you?”

15: “I never imagined you to be so sensitive, but I love it.”

16: “Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.”

17: “If we weren’t in public right now…”

18: “Your hand feels much better than my own.”

19: “As soon as we’re both sober, we can do every dirty little thing you ever dreamed of.”

20: “Come on, you have to work for it.”

21: “I’ll take it that you like what you see.”

22: “Your moans will wake everyone up and I’m oddly fine with that.”

23: “Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same.”

24: “I can never seem to get enough of you.”

25: “How about we continue this somewhere more private?”

26: “Oh, can you feel this?”

27: “We won’t be missed for a couple hours, we should take advantage of that.”

28: “Reality is even better than my dreams.”

29: “I told you, you would eventually start begging.”

30: “You always know so well what I like.”

31: “Oh, you’re such a tease!”

32: “I’m not necessarily hungry for food right now.”

33: “You’re so tense, do you want me to make you more relaxed?”

34: “Hmm, is that a threat or a promise?”

35: “Who would have thought that this is something that you’re into?”

[lily-drake]

Death

Death was nothing new in Marinette’s life.  In fact it played a large role.  Her friends and city had died a hundred times over.  Her brother.  Her funny, smart, loving, dramatic brother had died at the hands of a mad man.  She didn’t think it was wrong for her to use the horse miraculous to visit her brother's grave.  It was officially five years after all.  He would be 20, he would have loved to plan out her 16th birthday this year.  She sat down and read Pride and Prejudice out loud, only a few tears falling as she glanced at the grave every so often.  She had also brought a bouquet of white lilies, statices, red carnations, and white daisies.  Soft grass laid over the dirt, the sun gleamed above, and sometimes when she would lean against the grave it was almost like she could feel him.

Dark storm clouds began to cloud the sky, and she knew she would have to leave soon, though she didn’t want to.  Dad would be upset if he caught her, though considering how many weeds she had to remove from the grave and how abandoned it looked, she doubted anyone had visited any time soon.  Suddenly the rain began to pour down and it felt like the earth shook.  She felt a great imbalance, but where, and how?  She touched both of her ears and she could feel her miraculous still there, Tikki even poked her head out from her bag with a look of fear.  A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine as rain came pouring down soaking everything in sight.  She looked around, and she kept spinning searching for something, anything that could have caused or been affected by the imbalance.  She waited there for many minutes just waiting, when she felt the dirt beneath her feet begin to shift a little.  She quickly moved away and watched as the dirt slowly moved and shifted.  She felt sick, because the dirt moving was directly where Jason was lying in eternal rest.  This couldn’t be right, this must be some mistake!  Her brother had died, she had seen the body, it haunted her nightmares for so many nights.  He’s been gone for five years!  This can’t be possible without some type of wish.

The grass began to move and shift away, and a fleshy mud covered hand raised from the ground causing a scream to rip from her lungs.  Her body sprung into action before her mind caught up to her beginning to help dig up her brother's grave, and when she saw the jet black hair covered in dirt and mud she knew that it was him.  She heaved him out from the hole and stared in shocked horror as he just sat there staring at her.  His eyes were the same blue she remembered, but they were so clouded.  Fear, confusion, and nothing shown in his eyes, like he wasn’t even truly there.  This must be a dream, it has to be, no, a nightmare.  Her brother shouldn’t be back, he died, she saw his limp body in dad’s hands, even if Alfred and bluebird tried to stop her.  But the imbalance was real, she could tell, and he was affected by it.

Slowly she raised her hand and hesitantly placed a hand on his cheek.  He leaned into her hand, though his eyes were still clouded and void.  He may be alive, but he wasn’t fully…alive.  She tackled her older brother into a hug and began sobbing onto him, but just sat there, head leaning against hers.  Pressing her ear against his chest she could hear his gentle heartbeat, and just for a moment everything seemed like it would be ok.  Then she felt a sharp prick in her neck and the world faded to black.

________

Marinette awoke to darkness.  She tried to sit up and felt her hands held behind her back being held together by something cold and thick.  Memories flooded back into her mind and she snapped into awareness and looked around.  It was dark, though there was a small light coming from a window far above where she could not ever reach.  The walls seemed to be made of thick stones and there was a heavy iron door a few feet in front of her.  Jason wasn’t there though, he wasn’t in the room, she didn’t understand.  Suddenly the door opened and she looked up and saw her mother’s green eyes.  Her panic grew again, how did she get here, was she captured too?  She had visited her often in Paris.  She was very vague about her job, and she knew it was probably sketchy, but could it be bad enough to be captured?

“Marinette, My Darling.  I apologize for your treatment, I did not realize that you were part of this.”

Talia rushed towards her daughter and unlocked the chains.  She was pulled into a tight hug that Marinette quickly returned.  After a few moments she pulled away but held her shoulders gently.

“I must show you something, come.”

Talia quickly stood and helped her daughter to her feet and walked swiftly through the calls of Nanda Parabat.

“What is mom?”

Talia smiled at that, she had always loved when her daughter called her that.

“It’s a surprise, My Flower.”

A few more twists though hallways and they stopped in front of a thick wooden door.

“I want you to meet someone.”

The door was pushed open and there sat a small baby in a crip with dark black hair, tanned skin, and dark green eyes.  Marinette gasped and covered her mouth,

“Meet your brother, Damian.”

Marinette slowly walked over and stared at Damian through the top of the crib.  He silently watched and studied her without making a sound.

“He’s about 3 months old.”

Talia said, smiling happily as she watched her daughter run her fingers through Damian’s small tresses of hair.  With a snap of her finger one of her shadows stepped next to her.

“Bring Jason.”

And with that order they were gone returning a few minutes later with a boy who was alive physically, but was mentally gone.  She could fix that though, it would be the last resort if all else failed, but she could fix it.  Marinette looked up when she heard Jason’s footsteps and her bright smile fell slightly into a small sad one.

“Jay-Jay.”

She whispered softly as she took slow steps towards the boy.  She quickly ran and hugged him again.  He no longer smelled like mud and he wasn’t wearing his suit, and he was….he was alive again!  Tears fell down her cheeks, because she missed him so much.

________

Marinette stayed with her mom in what she learned was Nanda Parabat.  She trained with Jason, but he was catatonic, just going through the motions blankly.  It worried her, especially as she watched her mother grow more anxious.  She cared for her little brother, and wondered if her dad knew, or if he would even care.  She often looked at Paris news for when she needed to go for Akuma attacks, but if her host parents even realized she was gone.  They hadn’t, nor had any of her “friends” apparently as they hadn’t sent her a single thing from the weeks she’s been gone.

Marinette knew that Nada Parabat wasn’t a good place, knew that the people were bad, knew that her grandfather was the head of it.  He didn’t seem to care who she was, he just thought she was some nurse for Damian, and she was thankful for that.  She knew that the Lazarus Pits were here, what they did, how they were made, how her grandfather used them for selfish purposes.  She didn’t do anything though, she was mad at her father for sending her away, mad that he adopted a bee kid only a year after he sent her away, mad that he never talked to her, mad that Dick never fought for her or looked for her, mad that Jason was forced to wake up and climb his way out of his grave only to be practically brain dead, mad that her classmates believed lies over her, mad that her host parents believed them and treated her like dirt or an invisible object meant to seen and not heard, mad that Chat Noir would leave her during battles because she didn’t return his affections, and mad that no one cared that she was gone!  So she trained as hard as she could, made sure that she perfected everything her mother threw at her.  Took care of her family and made sure they knew how thankful she was for them and loved them.  Then when she finally got a text from someone it was insults for being a horrible person and hurting Lila when she hadn’t been there for weeks!

She threw her phone at the wall and the crack echoed around the room.  Her breathing was harsh and ragged and then the tears she had been holding back finally fell.  Sobs wracked her body as she bit her lip to keep silent.  She tried to take in deep shuddering breaths, but it was no use and the sobs came out.  Her knees felt weak and she crumpled to the ground.  The door burst open and she saw her mom there knife in hand looking around the room with swift deadly eyes.  When she didn’t see any visible threats she kneeled in front of her daughter and looked directly into her eyes.  Eyes a storming blue that flooded with tears and made her heart ache and her want to murder whoever made her precious daughter look so broken.

“My Flower, what’s wrong?”

“N-nobody cares ab-about me!  No one cares that I’m g-gone.  Everyb-body hates me, and I’m so tired of it!  I’ll n-never be enough for an-anybody and I’m t-trying so h-hard to do wh-what everyone needs or exp-ects me to be!”

Marinette stuttered out between sobs.  Talia glared at that and felt anger at Bruce.  She thought that he at least checked in with her every once in a while.  She had guessed wrong then.  She pulled her daughter into a hug and let her cry against her shoulder.

“Shh, shh.  It’s okay.  You are perfect the way you are Marinette.  You don’t have to prove anything to me.  You’re such a good sister, you train so hard, and you have so many amazing skills and talents.  You are enough, don’t let anyone say anything different.”

Marinette gripped onto her mom and they both just sat there in silence as Marinette finally just cried.  After who knows how long Marinette gently pushed away and looked her mom directly in the eyes with complete seriousness said,

“I want you to help me fake my death.  If everyone wants to pretend I’m gone or wants me to disappear, then fine.  I will.  I don’t want to be seen anymore.”

Talia stared at her daughter in shock for a moment then gave her a small smile.

“It will be done my dear, you will be free.”

“Thank you mom.”

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess @buginetye @miraculouslydumb @laurcad123

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

[rex101111]

Cheap choice but I genuinely love hearing you talk about him, so Anji?

– Overall opinion of them

He's a fucking weasel and I love him. There's just something striking about a guy who's whole deal is lying to everybody's faces with a serene smile when the series he's in is full of people who could rip him in half if they wanted to. His whole deal was being a smooth talker and never showing his true nature and overall just being confusing for everyone around him and I dunno I know you think he's too flippant but something about him just seemed interesting to me straight off.

And him finally showing at least part of that true nature around someone he actually cares about and using those exact same tricky tricks to do some good and help people is just icing.

– Gender/sexuality headcanons

Baiken-sexual. I kid I kid, if only slightly. Personally I see him as Demi because I don't think he's ever shown any actual interest with anyone other than Baiken. Gender-wise cis, but I'm cool with whatever, though the idea of Trans Anji showing off his mastectomy scars has always been one I've been especially fond of. Of course he's running around without a shirt on, he's put a lot of time effort and money into those boobs so he's gotta show them off!

– Favorite moment in canon

That one arcade ending (in X I think) where he very casually tells I-No that Asuka is very disappointed in her and then traps her in a crystal while she's cursing him out. Just something about how blasé he is about the whole thing. He very easily just brushes off I-No's angry comments and does his job without a hint of hesitation or remorse.

It's one of his darker moments, no question, but I like to keep this moment in mind because for all of his dancing and grinning, Anji is also ruthless and cold when he needs to be and I think that's an aspect of his character that she be explored more.

...oh, also any and every moment he shares with Baiken, both because I am biased and because they just bring out the worst and best in each other.

– Favorite moment in a fanwork

There's this one piece I can't for the life of me remember who made that has Anji carrying Baiken on his back. She's throwing a bit of a fit up there, but isn't really visibly attempting to get him to drop her, while Anji is just happy as a clam and grinning dopily at her while she's yelling at him.

It's a very good summation of their relationship, I think.

– Favorite line, in canon or otherwise

"...I'm not the only one. [...] Check my mirror someday, you'll see." Maybe it's because Another Story has stuck itself in my mind but I just really like that line. It says something seemingly innocuous on the surface, but soon reveals itself to be a much deeper cut than you first imagined. Anji in a nutshell.

But also: "...I dunno, I don't have an answer to that. All I know is, I don't want you to die. [...] Ok, let's go. From now on, it's my job to keep you alive. So get used to having me by your side." Childish, presumptuous...but it's also one of the first moments where we see this guy being honest.

– Characters I love seeing them interact with

....do i need to say it? do I? Okay so Baiken is the obvious answer because you put this smooth talker with the rough and tumble samurai and you get fireworks but other than that, him and Chipp are an amusing duo. With Baiken he's able to be serious but with Chipp he's either forced into being the Ninja Babysitter when Answer isn't available or he gets dragged along with Chipps nonsense and they have an Excellent Adventure and it is a treat.

– Last thing before sleeping headcanons

He stretches. I think he's also gotten into the habit of looking into the mirror before he sleeps and muttering, "you're anji mito, remember, you are anji mito", because there is no way that is his actual name and he needs to remind himself that he's grown past that, but having a hundred aliases tucked away in your head for anytime use could get confusing.

– Sleeping habits headcanons

He's a wired, shallow sleeper. He goes to sleep very quickly and wakes up very easily. He's the kinda guy that, if you startle him awake, his instinctual response is to throw a punch.

– First thing after waking up headcanons

He checks his surroundings (where's my bag, where's Zessen, where's Baiken ah fuck where's my damn glasses) and then gets up for a glass of water and to splash water on his face. He wakes up early and doesn't waste time.

– Favorite locations headcanon

He's learned not to get attached to any one place, being a wanted vagabond traveling with another wanted vagabond means that staying in one spot for too long means people will start wondering if you look similar to a poster they saw the other day. But personally I think he's very fond of grassy hills. Perfect for sitting down and admiring the view.