#that was the worst person probably but also the number of times people asked me a question

[scarah-screeeaaammss]

made a little purchase yesterday bc friday was..... well let's not talk about Friday lol and I had some coupons applied plus this ghoulies were already cheaper than usual so I got these and the Howliday Clawdeen for only $57 lmao Clawdeen will be here Thursday!!!

#draculaura #lagoona blue #monster high #monsterhigh #mh #my dolls #dolls #my first lagoona!!! shes got the good hair bless #idk about drac yet tho i havent opened her bc im just so unthralled with goona #unthralled?? enthralled my god brain brokey today #anyway i had mild buyers remorse for a sec bc 57 dollars is a lot but considering the original price just for clawdeen. #yea im not too broken up about it lmao #personal #anyway i was at spirit on friday and it was just the fucking worst. ive never had so many people be that rude to me ever #one bitch got in my face accusing me of 'forgetting' to give her her receipt #when she was the one who walked away without it so..... bitch. anyway. good thing im smart and kept the fucking thing just in case #that was the worst person probably but also the number of times people asked me a question #and then id answer #and theyd go but could you check?? #like girl they are going to give you verbatim the same answer #i hate people sm #but im done with customers for the season!!! #so i decided to treat myself >:3c

[urfavleo777]

warnings: age gap, tattoo artist! colby x reader, alcohol

"Angel's wings!" your best friend exclaims, speaking completely seriously. Your other friend approves, clapping her hands eagerly. "Get them tattooed!"

You almost choke on your drink when you hear how seriously Katrina gives you a new idea for your first tattoo. If someone told you that friendship between three people doesn't exist, you would laugh at them. The three of you are living proof that it's not the number of people in the group that matters, but the love that exists between you. Each of you is different, but that is the most beautiful thing. There is nothing worse than boredom and monotony in friendship.

"Come on, you'll be eighteen in an hour. Do something that will make you happy, not your parents." Sophia, usually the voice of reason, tries to convince you.

You don't know if it's the alcohol you just drank, but in a split second you undergo an internal transformation. You'll be of age in an hour. No one will be able to lecture you. Even your parents who, instead of spending this birthday time with their daughter, decided to go to the mountains. At first you reacted with sadness, but over time you were glad that the situation had turned out this way because you could invite your two favorite girls over for the night.

Katrina and Sophia look at you with impatient eyes, encouraging you to make a quick decision. You take a deep breath, tilting your head back. As pathetic as it sounds, you try your hardest to get advice from the ceiling.

You look back at your waiting friends. They send drunken glances your way, which only reinforces the fact that you must probably look like one of them at this point. Sophia and Katarina's eyes widen. Something unexpected is about to happen; something that will change the course of history forever.

Katarina clenches her fists like a true boxing legend, preparing for the worst possible scenario. With each subsequent inhalation, you feel even more excitement and arousal wash over you. You open your mouth to announce the official verdict.

"If not now, never, right?"

After saying these words, you're crushed under the bodies of these two freaks. And, you swear to yourself that if your parents had been home, after all those squeals of happiness, you would have ended up under a bridge.

"The best decision you've ever made, Y/n! I'm so proud," Sophia squeals excitedly, and Katrina joins in. You realize that you still hold the glass in your hand. You hiss, knowing that you'll definitely need to change the sheets of your bed after tonight. "Don't worry about it! Let's go to the tattoo artist!"

"Now?" you keep mumbling under their bodies.

Katrina and Sophia step away from you, exchanging meaningful glances with each other. You are finally able to catch your breath, but you don't really understand what they're trying to tell you.

"Yes. Now." Sophia grins. "Katrina, are you thinking about the same person as me?"

The friend nods her head in response, also with a big grin on her face.

"Oh, yeah! The handsomest, hottest and most expensive tattoo artist in town," she starts counting and you wonder why you've never heard of him before. "Y/n, we guarantee you the best fucking fun."

"Let's fucking do this!" They both squeal, grabbing your hands and pulling you out of the bed.

***

"You guys didn't even give me a chance to change clothes!"

You are wearing a black body suit and really low rise jeans so people on the street can see a bit of skin, which makes you feel a little uncomfortable.

"You look great." Sophia assures you and Katrina nods to her. Well, they're wearing perfectly balanced sweaters compared to you. They decided to make you the main star without outshining you with clothes. You feel like standing out of the crowd, which you don't like very much.

"Do you think this tattoo artist will accept us without prior consultation?" you ask, genuinely curious. "Maybe we should call him? We'd better get back home..."

"Relax, Y/n," you turn into a street you've probably never been to. Katrina tries to convince you, but with each step you take, you become less and less sure. Even though your parents have well-paid jobs, they usually don't let you hang around the rich districts. They would be disappointed if they knew that while they were away their daughter was getting a tattoo, not really knowing where.

"You said he was an expensive tattoo artist. I don't think I want to spend money this way." You continue, feeling the alcohol drain from you. You regain consciousness and regret saying yes to your friends. "Maybe we should really turn back?"

"Y/n," you stop in front of a building emanating LED light. The girls move closer to you and one of them puts a hand on your shoulder. Sophia, the fucking voice of reason, says: 

"He is my brother's friend. They have been friends since childhood. He practiced on my brother, making the first patterns. He would never take money from me or my friends. We are always out of line. Trust me, you're in good hands."

"He was the one who gave me that big tattoo you liked so much," finishes Katrina.

You sigh, trying to convince yourself first and foremost. Sophia pulls out her phone and brings it closer to your face.

The first thing that catches your eye are the huge white numbers on the screen. What's more, they don't seem blurry at all. You must be really sober. You take a deep breath, recalling the quote of your favorite teacher in your head.

12:00. Carpe diem.

 "It's time to go fucking crazy, Y/n." 

***

"Sophia? What's for today?" It’s a male voice. Raspy, yet soft. The sound of it makes you whip your head over to your friends, but you're trying to stay calm. He lets out a heavy sigh before humming to himself in thought. Only after a while he notices that Sophia is not alone. "And who is this?"

"Hello, Colby. Meet Y/n, your new client." 

And the way he shakes your hand is firm but gentle, not as hard as you think it'd be given the size of his biceps probably are larger than your head. But then he softly grips your elbow and guides you into the chair with a hand on your back. "Don't worry, I don't bite."

"Well, I thought I would have to convince you.. longer."

You flush a little under his gaze because he's noticed how you're shaking like a leaf next to him. And the way he smiles indicates he might enjoy biting you anyways... and maybe you'd let him. 

"I was just about to close, but you know perfectly well that I will always make an exception for you, Sophia." Your friend smiles at his words.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" he focuses all his attention on you. You swallow, not really knowing what to answer. Katrina decides to save your ass from total embarrassment.

"Angel's wings." 

He looks like he's about to roll his eyes.

"Seriously, I can't count how many girls asked me for the exact same pattern. Try something more creative."

"I'd like to stick with the wings, please. In a place invisible to the eye."

"Getting a tattoo so you don't show it to anyone? How old are you anyway?"

"Eighteen." He doesn't look convinced. With one movement of your hand, you pull your ID from your back pocket. Colby, as you can guess, surprised by the concrete, grabs the ID in his hand and looks at it carefully.

"She's so young." When he talks about you in the third person, something happens to you. "Are you sure you want those fucking wings?"

"Come on, Colby. You did this to my brother many times." Sophia interjects. "Don't ruin her birthday."

"Ah, yes. Happy birthday or something." You can tell he’s in a good mood based on the playful amusement in his voice. 

"Thanks," you hang your head.

"We have to do something about her shyness." he turns to your friends.

"Maybe wings between her tits? I bet no girl has ever asked for this," suggests Katrina. You almost choke on your saliva. You want to get up from that chair and run out.

"That sounds perfect." His voice is sweet with a touch of flirtiness, and you swear you can hear the smile in it. "What do you think, Y/n?"

"There's no way I'm going to show you my tits." You take courage. Colby laughs loudly. He clearly takes pleasure in your attitude and shakes his head, leaning in to watch you.

"It's your choice." You bite at your lip instead of answering him. 

"Come on, Y/n. We won't look either." Katrina says and Sophia nods.

You've already succumbed to them once in a while. Nothing will stop you from doing it again.

The girls send you their last kisses. After a while, it's just you and your tattoo artist left in the room.

***

You're honestly glad when the uncomfortable silence is drowned out by the song "Ultraviolence" by Lana Del Rey. You asked to simply turn on the radio, but you were surprised when Colby asked you for the title. What was even weirder was when he used the fucking vinyl of one of your favorite albums instead of Spotify.

He hums to himself. "Those are nice."

You got rid of your bra. No one has ever complimented your boobs, but you smile slightly, burying your face in your hands.

He gives you a little wink before stenciling what you had in mind, his fingertips tracing the lines of the ink that leaves goosebumps across your skin.

There's a lingering feeling as he pulls his hand back. You think he's toying with you. Frightful little thing, you are and here he is wanting to play with his pretty little client. Next thing you know, his hand is around your throat.

You tense and realize that he has moved some of your hair to the other side to give more access to the space between your tits. It definitely could have been done easier and better, but the twinkle in his eyes said he did it on purpose. Oh yes, he was definitely having fun with you. The way his hand barely grazed your throat and the side of your neck before he would gently scratch your arm with his blunt nails and pull away.

He let's out a huff of quiet laughter and then gets his tools ready. "So, y/n, you have a safeword?"

And you're brought out of your thoughts about his large hands because... "Huh?"

"A safeword. It's big."

W..what's big? You can't stop your eyes from flitting down to his thighs and what may lie between them. He laughs and shifts so your eyes are instantly back up and staring at his eyes that glimmer in amusement.

"The tattoo, I mean. It's a big piece. Need to know if it'll be too much, yeah?"

#colby brock #colby brock fluff #colby brock smut #sam and colby #colby brock fanfic #hell week #sam golbach #sam and colby smut #sam golbach smut #sam golbach x reader #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock imagine #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x reader #xplr #colby brock x oc #colby brock x you #sam and colby x reader #sam and colby fanfiction #sam golbach x colby brock #sam golbach x you #colby x reader #xplr club #colby

[actual-changeling]

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner - although today it is less unhinged and more of a watertight analysis.

What I am about to present you is something most people have probably already noticed, but it has been three months and I still lose my mind while going through the final fifteen frame by frame (which is a normal thing normal people like us do, right? right).

You literally cannot convince me my following meta is wrong, and the only person whose criticism I will accept on this post is Michael Sheen and Michael Sheen ONLY. If you're not Michael Sheen (hi Michael Sheen who probably has a secret tumblr account) then your guess is as good as mine, though again, I think mine is solid.

So.

We all love and hate Aziraphale's "I forgive you", but what I find even more painful is the fact that before that he almost said "I love you". Then he stops himself and changes it, and the amount of micro-expressions on his face as he makes that decision is my current cause of death.

Here's the clip as evidence #1, and while it can definitely support itself, let's dive into the pain a little more, shall we?

One important thing I noticed is that Aziraphale doesn't look at Crowley while he stutters his way through his initial reaction. He blinks up at him for a few frames before averting his eyes again and only holds eye contact after the almost-confession (from here on referred to as IL-).

This is Aziraphale holding eye contact with Crowley (left) vs. him looking away (right):

The frame on the left is from the I forgive you (IFY) part of the scene, the other one from right before IL-. If we go through the above clip little by little we will find that he avoids Crowley's face the entire time and his gaze slips further and further down, which I interpret as him overthinking/trying to come up with something to respond to this entire situation.

He is overwhelmed and surprised, caught between his two main desires: Crowley and being a Good Angel.

Combing through the frames, we can actually nail down exactly when Aziraphale first makes eye contact before the IL- and when he stops. Keep the above comparison in mind! The angle is slightly different because his chin is lower and he straightens up throughout the scene.

So! This is where he starts looking at Crowley:

And this is where he stops:

Hard to see? Let's zoom in on his eyes (numbers are the file names):

Now, you might ask me "Alex, this is all fine, although a bit insane, but why is any of this important?"

Because, fellow tumblr user and good omens enthusiast, I think that looking at Crowley is what changes his mind about what to say.

He doesn't look at him -> about to confess his feelings.

He looks at him -> says the absolutely worst possible thing.

Partly to hurt him because they're both lashing out at each other during this argument, but he looks at Crowley, looks at the person that just kissed him, that told him they could have been an us, that wants him and has always wanted him, screw everyone else.

He looks at Crowley and he wants to say l love you but then what? Once he says those words, he can't leave. He just can't.

We have to remember that they have existed within a complicated dance, a game that they have been playing for centuries without ever telling each other what that game actually is, what the rules are - because they couldn't. It was based entirely on trust and knowing the other person well enough to play it safe.

Crowley just flipped the playing board. Nothing is the way it should be, he is refusing to do their dance, refusing to play. He is looking at him and daring him to stop trying to put the pieces back on the board. The only thing neither of them has done yet is actually say I love you out loud.

Saying those words would mean stepping away from the playing board and acknowledging the room they have been playing in. It would mean saying fuck you to heaven, yes, but it would also force Aziraphale to finally define himself outside of the role he has been playing for both Crowley and heaven, and he isn't ready for that yet.

Additionally, there is the fear and/or knowledge (depending on what else the Metatron might have said or done that we did not see) that heaven will retaliate against him and Crowley if he disobeys them now, and he does not want to risk that either.

All that is what, in my opinion, happens in his head when he averts his eyes and interrupts himself. I do kinda what to make a whole different post about his facial expressions leading up to the IFY, so I will end this one with one more bit of pain.

Ready?

Firstly, the face he makes when he makes his decision.

Look at the tight line of his lips, the pain etched into his face, the pure pain in his eyes.

This is the face of someone who knows exactly how badly he is going to hurt Crowley and himself. This is an apology, an I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, this hurts me as much as it hurts you. I'm sorry but I have to.

And then he winces afterwards. I don't know about you, but this is exactly the kind of face I make when I'm emotionally torturing myself with my own thoughts. For the final blow, please look at the picture very, very closely, especially the last frame, because Aziraphale isn't just sorry and he isn't just in pain.

Aziraphale is scared because he knows* that he might lose Crowley over this. He knows that saying I forgive you is (almost) unforgivable. He KNOWS.

He does it anyway because he will lose Crowley either way but he'd rather have him alive and hating him than dead.

With that I am concluding today's unhinged meta corner, thank you for your attention and you're welcome for the pain.

Also: If you want to call me a 'tin hatter' or insane or otherwise make fun of me - this is very much a girl, what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament moment because you read my meta post all the way to the end. <3

-

*authors note: what Aziraphale thinks he knows and what is actually real is not the same thing but that's a different post

#alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens kiss #good omens 2 meta #no nightingales

[wonwoosthetic]

Hi can you do anything that’s pre-outbreak of Joel and reader anniversary. It can be smut but the beginning can be Joel and Sarah planning the anniversary! I love their relationship so much

series masterlist

pairing – pre-outbreak!joel x reader

word count – 11.6k (this was supposed to be short and sweet... what happened...)

warnings – slight injuries, hospital scene but nothing major, cute smut (18+)

a/n – some more cute domestic joel stuff 🥺 with some smut hehe 😬 thank you for the request <3 I hope you like what I made with it ˙ᵕ˙ also just want to quickly take the time and thank you guys for all the love on my previous joel work, you actually made my app crash 😅🤭

Happy Anniversary?

2000

After Sarah had finished her homework at the Adler's place, she ran home and hopped onto the couch to enjoy some child-friendly TV - being stuck in a house with only people over sixty wasn't really her favourite way of spending her free time.

It didn't surprise her when her dad wasn't home at six. It also didn't surprise her when he wasn't there yet at seven. Around eight in the afternoon though, she started to wonder. The only way she could reach him was the landline, so she leaned over the armrest of the sofa to get a hold of the phone before dialling the number her father had made her know by heart back in kindergarten. It didn't even ring. The robot's voice immediately let her know that he was unavailable. With scrunched eyebrows and her lips pressed together in a tight line, she leaned back into the cushions.

There was one other person that would probably know where he was. You. Another number Joel had asked her to learn once he had noticed that things were getting serious between the two of you. The girl didn't need to wait for long before the familiar tone of your voice rang through her eyes.

"Hello?" Of course, you had the number of Joel's landline saved in your phone, but you didn't know who of the Miller household was calling.

"Hi, Y/N!"

"Oh, Sarah, hey! How are you?"

Sarah smiled, just like she always did whenever she got to talk to you. The relationship the two of you had built up over the past year she had known you, was something very special. Not only did she love the connection you, from one woman to another, but she truly felt like you had a close friendship she wouldn't want to give up. Ever.

"I'm good, thanks, how are you?"

You sighed, "Good… now that I'm home."

"Adult work isn't getting any more exciting?" She joked, making you chuckle.

"Exactly." A second of silence passed before you noticed nothing coming from her side. "Are you okay?"

Sarah made herself more comfortable on the couch, "Yup… sorry that I called you-"

"Don't worry, sweetie, trust me, hearing you right now has been the best part of the entire day."

Your comment made her grin even wider, "Well I'm happy to make your day better," to which you both giggled. "I was just wondering if you've heard anything from dad. Did he say he has to work late today?"

You let her question register in your brain before you went through the conversation you had with Joel last night since you haven't heard from today yet. "Ehm… no, I don't think he said anything about that. Isn't he home yet?"

Sarah shook her head before realising, you can't see her, "No, so I kinda thought, maybe he's still at work, but… now I don't know."

"Maybe something came up-"

"He isn't picking up." That made you go quiet. "I tried calling him, and it just went straight to his voicemail."

You bit your lip. Oh, God. You knew the stress of a parent not being at home at the usual time just all too well, remembering all the times it had happened to you as a kid and you immediately thought of the worst-case scenario.

"What about uncle Tommy?" You suggested.

The girl was just about to open her mouth and answer when the front door opened. Her head snapped to her left, eyes immediately on the familiar figure of her father entering the room.

"Wow…" she breathed out.

"What? What is it?" You hastily wondered.

"Speaking of the devil," you could hear the slight annoyance in her voice, "Guess who just walked through the door?" Joel sent her a questioning look as he walked further into the living room, throwing himself onto the couch, right next to his daughter.

You couldn't help but chuckle, "Hm… maybe your father, who once again decided to work longer and not tell us about it?"

"Mh," she grinned before turning to the man and shaking her head with a frown on her face.

A breath of relief fell from your lips as you got up from your position on one of the armchairs in your living room, "Well then, mystery solved. You better interrogate the heck out of him."

"Without you?" She gasped.

"Oh, trust me, he'll get a good talking-to from me tomorrow." Your answer received a grin from the girl, followed by a subtle devilish giggle.

"Good. Thank you for picking up, not like some other people here." Her comment was clearly directed to her father, earning her a soft shove to her upper arm, making her grin.

You smiled, "Anytime, sweetie. I guess I have to go back to my boring life now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep!" The happiness and excitement radiated off that little girl, lightning up the sparkle in her eyes at the mention of the following day. "See ya! Good night, Y/N."

"Good night, Sarah."

The youngest Miller placed the phone back on the side table, before turning to the oldest one, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She cleared her throat, "What do you have to say in your defence, Sir?" Her eyes followed his movements as he leaned back into the sofa with a groan, running a hand over his face.

"I forgot to tell you-"

"Oh, really!" She quickly exclaimed, interrupting Joel, receiving a warning glance from him, making her sulk back into the cushions.

"So as I was saying," he glanced at her, "I'm sorry that I forgot to tell you that I'd be in town after work. And I forgot to charge my phone."

Sarah scrunched her eyebrows, "What were you doing in town?"

Joel groaned, getting up to look for some food in the kitchen, "I wanted to get something for Y/N for tomorrow."

His answer made the girl laugh out loud as she got up to join him in the other room, sitting down at the dining table, "Are you serious?"

He looked up at her from his crouched position as he was trying to find something to eat in the fridge. "What?"

His daughter shook her head, "You're looking for an anniversary gift one day before your anniversary?"

Joel took out the container holding dinner from two days ago, grinning when it reminded him of you. Always making sure there was food in the house he lived in. You cared for him. And his daughter. "I've been thinking about what to get her for a few days, alright? But I haven't had the time to actually go and look for it," he defended himself, but it didn't get the look off the girl's face.

"And what did you find?"

He sighed, "Nothing. That's the problem."

"What are you gonna do now?"

"I have no idea…" Sarah could tell how exhausted he must be with the heavy breath leaving his lips. But the fact that he truly cared about getting you something special made her ecstatic. "You hungry?" Her father wondered, getting a shake of her head in response,

"I ate earlier." She shot up from her seat and skipped over into the kitchen, "So?! What are you gonna do?" Leaning on the counter, eyeing her dad suspiciously as he took a bite of the cold food with a fork. That also earned him a weird look from her, but he just wanted to get something into his stomach, not caring about the temperature - your cooking was gourmet to him in any way.

"I don't know," he answered, shrugging, "I can't believe I'm so fucking bad at giving gifts." Sarah ignored the swear word, blaming his fatigue, and didn't remind him of the swear jar you and her had brought into the house two months earlier.

"What did you gift her for her birthday?"

Tomorrow would be your first anniversary together.

A full years of being an official couple. While Joel was a romantic gentleman in every way possible, buying you flowers 'just 'cause', calling you sometimes multiple times a day 'just to hear your voice', keeping you in the house over the weekends and sometimes overnight during the week 'because he could never spend too much time with you', he still was a horrible gift giver - a fact no one could deny.

But more of a problem was your inability of receiving gifts. Because you hated it. You loved giving, hated receiving - not in all parts of life though. Especially not with Joel.

Though, whenever he had asked you what you wanted for your anniversary, birthday, or even International Woman's Day, he got the same answer each time: "I don't want anything." The truth was, you truly didn't. You've never been a big fan of material things, rather finding the thought behind something and a small gesture much more meaningful and loving. All the 'little' things your partner would do for you were enough - opening doors, carrying you whenever your feet hurt and taking you out for dinner on random days, were just a few of them. Yes, it may be the bare minimum, but still a rare minimum.

A rare minimum you had never been blessed with, with any of your past boyfriends. All until you met Joel and found out what it was like to have a true man by your side.

"That necklace you told me she'd like," he reminded her, brushing a hand over the wild curls he adored so much.

Sarah nodded with an open mouth, "Aaah, right right, I remember. She really did like that." They both nodded in sync. "But do you know what she loved even more?" Making the oldest Miller's head perk up,

"What?"

His daughter grinned at him, "The poster I made for her."

"True," he couldn't help but copy her facial expression, "She did like that a lot."

"She LOVED it!" Sarah shouted out, hitting her palms on the top of the counter, "She almost cried when she saw it," followed by giving her father a side-eye look, "She only said thanks to your gift, but she had tears because of mine."

Joel glanced at her, one eyebrow raised, "What are you tryna tell me?"

"Y/N loves me more than you," she flipped an invisible strand of hair to underline her comment.

The older man smiled, "Sure."

"Buuut," she dragged out the word, leaning over to steal a piece of broccoli from the container Joel was eating out of, "I also think that she would just appreciate self-made stuff more than things you can buy."

He stopped for a second to think before nodding his head, "So you're suggesting that I what? Build something?" Sarah nodded. "And what exactly?"

"Man, what do I know… You're the contractor here." But all he could do was sigh. He was in fact the contractor, but what the hell had that something to do with anything. The man put the food to the side to make some space and place his elbows on the counter, shoving his face into his two palms, groaning out loud.

The daughter of the family stood by his side, staring at him in amusement, finding this situation much funnier than her dad. With a chuckle, she passed him placing a somewhat comforting hand on his back.

"You're a lousy gift giver." Her comment though was anything but comforting.

He straightened his back to glare down at the girl, "Thanks." But it just got a giggle out of her.

After a quick glance around the room, the idea she had been holding in, as it was supposed to stay a secret present from her to the couple, came back up into her brain. "We could bake something for her."

That caught his attention. Joel didn't hate the idea. He definitely didn't. Your sweet tooth was known to the family, added to your appreciation and love for self-made gifts turned it into the perfect present.

"We?"

Sarah scoffed, "You really think I'd trust you with baking a cake?"

"Hey," he took her statement as an offence, "I'm doing very well in the kitchen." He didn't even believe that himself.

"Pff," she patted his back once again, "Sure, dad. Sure."

"I'm a great cook, alright?" he took it one step further, but his daughter was having none of it, giggling at him while shaking her head,

"You're an okay cook and a terrible baker."

He took the last bite of what was left in the plastic box before moving to put it into the dishwasher. "You can't be serious right now…"

Moments like these were Sarah's favourite. Watching her dad get all rilled up just never failed to make her chuckle. Joel enjoyed it just as much. The happiness radiating off her, with a beautiful and bright smile decorating her face, was a sight he never wanted to lose. "Uncle Tommy's a better baker than you," she quickly added before sliding past him to find the fitting cookbook on the shelf in the living room.

Joel's head shot into her direction, a finger pointing at her before she disappeared, "You take that back!" Her high-pitched giggles filled his ears with love and joy.

-

Sarah's feet were dangling off the counter while she was snacking on some of the sprinkles she wanted to put on the cake, along with taste-testing the pink sugar writing. Her father was preparing the frosting, every now and then checking on the cake in the oven, making sure it wouldn't burn because that was the last thing he needed.

They were sharing a few moments of comfortable silence in the room, whereas the girl's mind was filled with questions, daring to slip out any second as she didn't want to hold them back for much longer.

"So, Y/N's coming over tomorrow?"

Joel nodded with a whisk in the bowl, covered in blue-greenish frosting Sarah had coloured, "Yeah, I'm picking her up from work, and I'd bring her here," he looked up, "If that's okay with you."

"Of course," his daughter chuckled, putting the sprinkles down, freeing her hands so she could place them on the counter. She puckered her lips, thinking carefully about her next question. As much as she thought of a way to introduce the subject, she couldn't think of one, so she just jumped into the cold water.

"Do you wanna marry Y/N?" The words made Joel stop in his tracks, his eyes shot up to meet hers.

He sent her a questioning glance, "W-Where's that coming from?"

She shrugged, "I was just thinking. You know… you've been together for a year… and you seem happy-"

"We are," he assured her.

"And don’t adults think about getting married? When they’re happy."

He stood up straighter to lean onto the counter, crossing his arms, leaving the work on the frosting on the side for a bit. "Aren't you a little too young to be thinking about marriage?"

"For me? Yeah," she scoffed, "Because boys? Disgusting," getting a proud smirk for father as a response, "But I mean for you two… I don't know… I was just wondering."

Joel sighed, getting back to work, "Well… I mean, you ain't wrong, sweetheart. But there's a lot of things you need to do before you get married or even think about proposing."

"Like moving in?"

"Sure," he nodded, "Some couples move in before they get married. It's not the traditional way, but as we know, traditional is boring." She copied his head movements with a grin plastered on her face.

"Then why not ask her?" Sarah tilted her head and raised her eyebrows as soon as she locked eyes with the oldest Miller again.

"What do you mean?"

"Ask her to move in."

Joel chuckled in surprise, the spit in his throat almost making him joke, "You sure have some interesting suggestions today, kiddo. You alright? Do I have to be worried?" His facial expression made her laugh out loud as she nudged him with her foot, making him squirm away jokingly.

"Nooo, dad! I'm just saying," she motioned around with her hands,

"You've been together for a while… and… she's already spending every weekend here and sometimes comes over during the week. She makes sure we eat," Joel nodded along with all of the things his daughter was listing, "She takes care of me and you, she already has some of her stuff in your drawer-"

"How do you know about that?" She grinned sheepishly at him, "I saw it when I went through your stuff…"

The father took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, "Alright… how about we don't do that anymore?" Eyeing the little girl sitting on the counter to his left, but she just shrugged,

"You said we shouldn't keep any secrets from each other."

He sighed. Fuck. She wasn't wrong. "You're right… I did say that." Goddamn, always smarter than any other adult in the room. That was his little Sarah.

"So, are you gonna ask her?"

After tasting the frosting and checking its consistency, he gave the girl the whisk, just like he saw you doing it multiple times before. She accepted it with a bright smile.

Joel enjoyed having conversations like these. Obviously, he understood that she was still a kid, and he would never deny her of her innocent mind and easy-going-with-the-wind mindset, but he also appreciated the slightly more adult talks they could share. That's why he was more than happy to explain it to her.

"It's not as easy as you think it is, kiddo. Y/N still has an apartment. One that she shares. So, we’d have to talk about that first. And there's a lot of document stuff we'd have to get-"

"I asked her," she caught his attention when he came back up to stand up straight from looking at the cake through the oven window.

"What?"

"I asked her if she would like to move in with us. Not like actually, but just, you know, the idea of it."

Now Joel became interested. Of course, the two of you had had the conversation about a shared home before, but every couple had that at some point in their relationship. Hearing what you'd think about the idea now would have maybe changed. Now it was more relevant than ever, apparently.

"And," he looked down at his fingers, "What did she say?"

Sarah smirked, "She said the same thing as you just did. So really a match made in heaven," and rolled her eyes jokingly, "But she also said that she'd really like the idea… if I was okay with it."

"And? Are you- I-I mean, would you?"

"Of course! Are you kidding me?! I love her so much! Probably even more than you-"

"I doubt that."

"I don't," she stated straightforwardly, "And you're happy when you're with her, and you make her happy. What more you could want? AND thanks to her, the weekends aren't so boring anymore."

"What was wrong with the weekends before?" He was slightly taken aback by her comment, unsure if it was meant ironically or not. But then again, he was probably overthinking a lot at that moment.

Sarah smiled, "Don't get me wrong, dad. I loved the weekends with you and uncle Tommy, but having another woman in the house is just…" She shrugged, unsure of how to explain just how comfortable you made her feel. Joel and her were open about a lot of things, but Joel was… well, he was your typical single Texanian-dad, that didn't know what to do in certain female-focused situations - let's just put it like that.

Having conversations from woman to woman was something the father appreciated very much when it came to what you brought along when getting to know his kid. And the girl was happier than ever, being finally able to talk to an older person about certain struggles she might encounter that were still slightly too embarrassing to discuss with her dad.

"It's different, I know. I understand," he smiled at her.

"It's good different though," she nodded, "I really like her."

"And you'd be okay with her living here?" He finally asked. Sarah was the reason for his still-intact heartbeat. The only thing having kept him alive so far. Now you had also joined to share that position, but he was still his blood, and you'd never even try to get in between that.

"More than okay," she exclaimed, "I'd be SO happy to have her here constantly. I'd finally have someone against you."

Joel squinted his eyes at her, "Because Tommy isn't enough already?" Receiving a smug smile in return.

He shook his head with a chuckle when the timer went off, indicating that the cake was finally done. Sarah hopped off the counter to stand back on her two feet when her father leaned down to get the cake out of the oven and placed it on the stove.

"You know," he threw the dishtowel he used to not burn his hand to the side before turning to face the girl, "You might be a bit too smart for a kid your age."

The youngest Miller crossed her arms proudly, holding her chin up high, "Thanks, I got it from my uncle." That just made Joel look at her in surprise, almost making her laugh out loud.

He put on his low dad voice, "You got that from your father, thank you very much."

She dropped her hands, "Whatever," and moved a bit closer to stand right next to him, "So will you ask her tomorrow?"

"Yes," he promised her, "I will ask her tomorrow." To which she started bouncing up and down, her body full of excitement, making Joel chuckle and pull her in for a side hug and gift her a kiss on the top of her head.

She clapped her hands, "Now, let's start decorating."

-

You were running -scratch that - Sprinting through the hospital corridors, desperately trying to find the info point a nurse had told you to go to.

You had never crossed town at the speed you just did. Once the message from the other side of the call registered in your brain, you dropped everything at work, ignored the calls from your boss, just shouted a quick, "Family emergency," and raced to catch the next possible bus.

With a big breath shooting out of your lungs, you came to a halt once you came to sight with the hotspot you were looking for. You braced yourself up with your palm, trying to catch your breath before you spoke up, "Hi, sorry, I'm looking for Joel Miller. He's supposed to be in a check-up room."

The nurse looked up at you, surprised by the sound of urgency in your voice. She was quick to type the name into her system, but it felt like hours for you. Your legs were nervously shaking, barely able to hold you up anymore.

She opened her mouth, making you stare at her, eyes widened, "Room 293, down the hall on the right." You were just about to thank her and continue your race but she continued, "He's just got done with the medical exam, but I'd ask you to please wait outside until a doctor comes and approves of him accepting visitors."

Fuck that. You muttered a quick thanks before your legs took you where she explained the room would be.

If they really thought you'd wait for a fucking doctor to allow you to see your boyfriend you expected to be in the worst possible condition, they were wrong. Very wrong.

Hectically, your eyes scanned each number plate on the side of the doors as you tried to find the right one.

290… 291… 292… 293! A sigh of relief washed over you. You got closer to the door, glancing to the left and right, just to make sure there was no one that could see you walk in before you knocked three times. A quiet, "Yeah?" rang through your ears and you didn't wait for another second to open the door.

Your eyes immediately fell to the man sitting on the examining bed. He was alive. At least he looked like it.

"Y/N?"

Out of breath, you tried to speak, "Joel… w-what the fuck?!" He couldn't even open his mouth. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the- what the hell happened to you?!" You got closer to him, your fingers coming up to gently touch his chin, turning his head to look at the small scraps next to his eyes. You noticed the bandage on his forehead, guessing he must've gotten stitches there, only making you sigh again.

Joel got a hold of your hands, holding them close to his chest as he tried to calm you down, "Sweetheart… I'm okay," he brushed some wild hairs that were covering your face, to the side, "I'm alright."

"No," you shook your head, already feeling your throat close up, "Look at you."

"This is nothing, I promise."

While his right hand held onto yours tightly, the palm of his left one ran up and down your lower arm. You shrugged out of his grasp to hide your face behind your hands as soon as you could feel the first tears rolling down your cheeks. Your fingers pressed into your eyes.

"You scared the shit of out me," your voice was not much more than a whisper, but the room was quiet, so Joel was able to hear you clearly. He pushed himself off the bed, standing up in front of you to engulf you in a warm hug when he noticed your brittle voice and your whole body shaking.

His low voice tried to calm down your soft cries as he pressed your head into his chest, ignoring the slight pain in his ribs, remembering the big bruise that was forming there. "I'm sorry, darlin'," he whispered, "I'm sorry. But I'm okay. I promise." He moved his hands from brushing over your back to cupping your cheeks, his thumbs caressing your skin, wiping away the wet stains your tears left. "I'm alive," he grinned at you, but you just shook your head.

"You're a fucking idiot, Miller," pushing a finger into his chest, getting a subtle groan out of him, making you flinch back immediately, "What?" Your eyes hastily ran over his body, "You're hurt there too."

You tried to push his shirt up, but he stopped you, placing his hands on top of yours, "No no, don't worry. Just hurts a little."

You couldn't help but to sigh again. That man was going to be the death of you. With a few steps back, you distanced yourself from him, sitting down in one of the chairs by the desk across from the bed. Carefully, Joel sat back on top of the bed. Your eyes scanned his form as you noticed the hiss he was trying to hold back, his lips pressed together tightly.

You shook your head and closed your eyes, lowering your head.

"Did Tommy call you?"

You scoffed, "Obviously."

"Did you call Sarah?" To which you motioned a 'no' to him.

"You don't need two women in your life to have a heart attack," you explained, "And I didn't know what to tell her. Tommy just said there was an accident on the construction site, and you're in the hospital. I didn't even let him finish. I sprinted out of the office." Your story made him chuckle, but he noticed your still anxious and tense body.

"He brought me here just to make sure everything was alright. I wasn't hurt badly. No one was."

You looked up to meet his eye, "Joel, you got stitches!"

He shrugged, "Not the first time, not the last time."

"Why would you say that?!" You stared at him unamused, your mouth open. Taking a deep breath in, your hand brushed through your hair while you let your eyes travel around the room. You hated hospitals. You had yet to have a positive experience in one of these buildings. The silence that overcame the room was choking. But you weren't in the mood to say anything else, nor did you know what to even say, and Joel could read you like the back of his hand. He knew he scared you. He hated it, so he was the first to break the stillness.

"Happy Anniversary."

You raised your head, finding him grinning at you shyly, making you shake your head, "Don't. This isn't funny." He nodded, understanding what was going on in your head. Another moment of silence filled the room.

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't the way you expected to spend our anniver-"

"I couldn't care less about the anniversary, Joel!" You exclaimed in frustration, "I- I thought you were-," you stopped before you could get choked up again, not even wanting to dare to say out loud what was going on in your head when you answered Tommy's phone call. "God knows what could've happened to you!"

"Come 'ere," he nodded you over, but you shook your head,

"Joel-" you were stopped by the motion of his hand for you to come closer. The man was already hurt, you didn't have to add to that. With a sigh, you stood up, leaving your bag on the chair next to you, before walking up to him again. The oldest Miller leaned forward to grasp your hand and pulled you closer, even getting a soft smile out of you.

His hand rested on your hips as you stood between his legs while you intertwined your fingers behind his neck.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, darlin'. I promise I'll be more careful."

"You better," your finger slid through his hair as you noticed the look in his eyes while he was staring at you. His right hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you down to finally do what he had been wanting to do all day. His lips moved against yours as you could feel him smirking before he pulled back slightly.

"I'll make it up to you tonight." You looked into his eyes in confusion, but only for a second before you moved your head back with a gasp.

"Joel!" You smacked his shoulders gently, "You're sitting on fucking a hospital bed, how could you think about sex right now?" He just continued grinning, his hands moving all over your body, keeping his eyes on yours, "How could I not with you in front of me."

A chuckle escaped from your lips followed by a shake of your head, "You're unbelievable." You got pulled closer again, his lips smashing against yours.

"Unbelievably in love with you." Earning himself a giggle and a quick peck from you.

Your fingers softly grazed the skin of his cheek, careful not to touch any of his injuries as you smiled, "Happy Anniversary, Joel." He couldn't help but to copy your facial expression, keeping you as close to him as he possibly could.

-

You drove the two of you home after the oldest Miller had gotten released from the hospital, and Tommy had already made his way back to his place. Joel was definitely moving slightly more carefully, but he assured you he was a-okay - you didn't fully believe it, but it wasn't worth a discussion.

After parking the car in the garage, you made your way into the house through the backdoor. Joel opened it for you to walk in first, just like he always did. You gave him a quick, "thank you," and stepped in before you stopped in your tracks, a high-pitched voice surprising you with a loud,

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!"

"Oh, Jesus!" Your hand flew up to your chest, your breathing quickening as you took in the scene in front of you. Sarah was beaming at you with her bright smile, a pink poster with big letters staring directly at you.

You started laughing, "God, you scared me, kid."

Joel stopped behind you, laughing at the sight. She ignored your exclaim, running up to wrap her arms around your torso, making you do the same around her shoulders. You pulled her in, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "You really are just the cutest," pulling back to look at her, petting her cheek, "Thank you, sweetie."

She gave you another quick grin before moving on to her father, doing the same to congratulate him, when she noticed the cuts on his face.

"What happened to you?"

Joel shrugged, a hand brushing over her hair, "Just a little accident at work. Nothing to worry about."

You moved further into the house, placing your bag on one of the dining chairs. Your eyes took in the room, holding your gaze once again on the poster Sarah had clearly self-made. She had placed it on top of the table before she had rushed over to the two of you, so you were able to run your fingers over the little stones and glitter patches she had glued on. You remembered the sign you had gotten from her only a month ago.

"You outdid yourself this time, Sarah," you turned to her when you noticed she had come to stand next to you, "It's so cute."

"Thanks," she radiated her happiness on you. "And look!" She skipped into the kitchen, making your gaze follow her when she pointed to the counter when you saw what got her so excited.

You started giggling. On the countertop sat a turquoise-coloured cake, with white frosting details on the side on pink hearts decorating the top of it.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, "Awww, did you do that yourself?"

She shrugged with a smile, "Dad helped me." To which Joel got closer to you two, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion,

"I thought you helped me." His arm snaked around your waist.

"Well," she answered him, "You thought wrong," sending him a sheepish grin that made you chuckle.

You opened your arms to get her into another hug, tightening your arms around her just a little tighter than before, "Well, I appreciate it a lot. Thank you, sweetie. I love it." Your eyes may have gotten a little glassy, but you were able to hold it back, not wanting to surprise them with a gush of happiness.

Joel next to you cleared his throat, gaining all the attention of the room. You released Sarah from your grasped and wrapped your arms around your partner's waist. "And thank you to you too, of course," smiling up at him as he looked down. You puckered your lips, making him smirk and lower his head to meet your mouth, giving you a quick peck.

Sarah interrupted your small moment of love when she called out, "Okay, let's eat!"

All three of you followed her orders and sat down around the dining table after grabbing plates, forks, and a knife to cut the cake. While your eyes were on Joel, who was giving each one of you a good slice, you also noticed the little girl next in the middle of the two of you, happily clapping drumming her hands on the surface, that smile of hers never leaving her face.

It was in moments like these when you truly thought to yourself what you could have possibly done in your past life to deserve people like them in your life. A boyfriend that would carry you to the ends of the world, in whose arms you felt safer than anywhere else, along with a wonderful daughter that looked at you as if you were the reason for the stars lighting up the sky.

You enjoyed the sweet dinner, easily falling into a comfortable conversation like you usually would. Sarah told you about her good day at school, bragging about the grade she had gotten on her chemistry exam, earning her a round of applause from you and a kiss on her cheek from her father. Joel and you talked about your workdays, leaving out the time you had spent in the hospital. He was fine, that's all you cared about.

After the meal, you brought all the dirty dishes into the kitchen, loading up the dishwasher, Joel placed the cake back into the fridge, and Sarah was put in charge of choosing a movie to let the evening come to an end.

Her choice fell on Jurassic Park, knowing how much the oldest in the house loved the movie, and after getting a nod of approval from you, she put it into the DVD player, telling you to hurry up and join her on the couch.

Joel and you sat down on either side of her before the girl made herself comfortable and laid her head on your lap while resting her legs on her father's. Automatically, your hands found their way to her head, brushing through her unruly hair you always complimented.

This position allowed Joel to come just a little bit closer, lifting his daughter's legs to slide over to you, pulling your head to lean on his shoulder and copying your actions to start patting your head as well. Not even forty minutes later, the soft snores and even breaths from the little girl accompanied the sounds coming from the TV. You looked down with a chuckle.

"What?" Joel wondered, "Did she fall asleep?"

"Yeah," you smiled, eyeing him suspiciously once he stood up with a groan,

"Finally." He crouched down slightly, moving one arm underneath Sarah's knees, while his other one steadied her neck. He straightened his back and pointed a finger at you, "You stay here. I still have something to make up to you."

Getting a giggle out of you, "Joel!"

"I mean it!" He shout-whispered at you before disappearing upstairs.

You brought your knees up, hugging them to your body when you remembered the little gift that was still hidden in your bag. With a soft huff, you pushed yourself off the sofa and walked over to the dining room the snatch your bag off the chair.

"Darlin', where- oh, there you are," Joel found you with your back turned towards him, rummaging through your back when he crept up on you and placed his hands on your hips once he got close enough. His lips immediately latched onto your neck, peppering it with kisses, making you giggle.

"Stooop," you laughed, leaning back into his chest.

"What are you doing?" He wondered as you turned around, your hands hidden behind your back.

You grinned up at him, "I've got something for you."

"You do?" His eyebrows shot up, "Why? Having you here is already enough," he didn't even wait for a response from you, just saw you rolling your eyes, making him chuckle as he pulled you in for a quick kiss.

You were first to retrieve back, receiving a low whine from him in return, to which you shook your head with a smile. "May I give you your gift now?"

Joel stood up straighter and put his hands out, palm up, in front of you, closing his eyes along the process. Without wasting another second, you placed the little box into his grasp. He opened his eyes again, looking suspiciously at the packaging, shaking it slightly,

"What is it?"

"You really expect me to tell you instead of just opening it?"

He smiled, "Alright, alright."

You could hardly contain your excitement as he ripped the paper off the box, throwing it onto the table behind you. As soon as Joel opened it, his eyes shot up to find you grinning right at him.

"Darlin'…"

"Sarah told me you've been looking for one," you explained, "But she also said that you never take the time to go downtown and look for one. So, I thought, I'd just save you the stress."

His fingers ran across the rounded edges of the watch in the box. It looked expensive, that's for sure.

"You didn't have to do that, sweetheart," he spoke quietly, still in awe of the present worth so much more than just money in his hands.

You shrugged, "I know, but I wanted to."

Joel took it out of its packaging, putting that to the side as well before wrapping it around his wrist. Your fingers came to help, closing the little buckle so it fit him perfectly.

He couldn't take his eyes off the watch, "Thank you, darlin'," but you were a much better sight to him, "I love it," so he pulled you in again, "I ain't never taking that off ever again."

Your hands found their usual place on the back of his neck again as you kissed him back, whispering against his lips, "I'm glad you like it. Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary," he mumbled back, giving you a peck before sliding out of your embrace, "Well, I guess it's time for me to give you your present now?"

"Joel," you whined, "I told you, I don't-"

His hand stopped you before he exited the kitchen and came back only seconds later, his hand in a tight fist. You waited patiently for him to open his mouth again, even though you were anything but that.

He stopped in front of you, raised his arm and let what he was holding drop down while holding onto what looked like a key ring.

"What is it?" You reached out to grab it, laying it flat against your palm to analyse it. A key. Attached to a pendant representing three figures, a figure that was supposed to be a man, next to a woman, who then again stood next to the same figure just in small.

"The key to my heart?" He jokingly answered, making it sound more like a question, making you look up.

"Ha ha," you rolled your eyes. Always the romantic…

Joel took a deep breath before clearing his throat, "I mean… I guess it kinda is, but ehm… it's a housekey." You had to tear your eyes away from the object in your hands once again once your brain registered what he had just said.

"What?"

"So," he started explaining, his hands immediately on your hips again, "I was racking my brain over what I could give you today. But I just couldn't think of anything. Because honestly… I didn't think there was anything in this world that I could buy you, that would show you just how much you mean to me."

"Don't make me cry," you quickly intervened, making him chuckle as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek,

"I'll try," and put a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yesterday Sarah, the way too smart for her own good kid, that she is," the description made you smile, "got the idea of baking something for you because she said you value that a lot more than bought stuff." He had to take another deep breath before continuing, "And then while we were preparing the cake… you know her, she started asking all those questions until we landed on the whole moving-in thing." Throughout the whole speech, you listened attentively to your partner, keeping your eyes on him the entire time even while his drifted around the room. "Since you already spent the weekends with us and are here every now and then during the week, she asked me why you're not living with us yet."

"And your answer was?" A smug smile made its way onto your lips.

"Do you want the truth or what I told her?"

"The truth, please."

Joel's eyes followed his hands as they ran up and down your sides, "That her dad hasn't had the balls yet to ask his girlfriend." You shyly looked down back to your hands. At the little charm.

He noticed where your attention was and pointed at it, "Sarah picked that up today after school." Of course, she did… You could feel the tears coming back up. God, that girl was just too pure for the world…

"So?" His voice made you meet his eyes again, "What do you say? Can you handle three Millers under one roof?"

You pretended to think, playing with the lips he so desperately wanted to feel on his again, "It won't be easy."

He grinned, "That's not a no." You dropped the key onto the table behind you before your hands went back around his neck, pulling him in close enough for your lips to almost touch. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten.

The corners of your lips curled up, "That's because it's a yes," pecking his lips, "I'll take good care of you."

His left hand travelled to your lower back, "And we'll take good care of you too," he repeated giving you multiple little kisses, making you laugh. Oh, God how much he loved that sound. And now he would be able to hear that every single day. "Now, how about I stick true to that promise I made earlier?"

You nodded, breathing against each other's mouths, "Yeah, please do." And he didn't need to be told twice.

With one swift move, you were put onto the table, before he situated himself between your legs. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you as close as possible. You moved yourself slightly forward, letting a moan escape from your lips when you felt his tongue glide across your bottom lip.

Opening your mouth wider, gave him the opportunity to slip in, earning a deep groan from the man in front of you. Your fingers started playing with the hem of his shirt, signalling for him to pull back and pull it up as you helped him along with it, dragging him onto you the moment it came off - eyes immediately on the dark bruise forming on his ribs.

"Joel…," you gasped, reaching out to touch the dark spot, but he got a hold of your hand, bringing your knuckles up to his lips,

"It's nothin', darlin', don't worry about it." You could worry about the truth in his statement tomorrow, for now, you wanted to get him back on you, so you smashed your lips back onto his.

He chuckled, "Someone's eager," he started trailing kisses down your neck.

"Well, someone made me think about this for hours," you grabbed his face to bring him back up to you. You could never get enough of the touch of his lips. You would drown in it if you could. You wouldn't even care if you couldn't breathe anymore, it would be a happy death.

"And that someone is gonna make sure you won't be able to think at all for the next few hours," he whispered as his right hand slipped underneath your shirt, his thumb tracing over your bra.

You couldn't help the shake in your voice, "Hours? I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, Miller." Knowing damn well that he wasn't. You had the privilege of getting the house to yourself every now and then or having had some alone time in your apartment. If he wanted to, he could go on for hours and hours. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy rilling him up just a little bit.

He scoffed, pulling your shirt over your head easily, "Sure, keep saying that. Keep talking while can." He knew what he was doing to you with those words.

His hands roamed your almost naked torso, cupping your still-covered breasts into his big hands, making you moan into his mouth.

You could feel that gentle touch of his on your body before it stopped on your ass, pulling you closer to him as he mumbled, "Come 'ere. Let's go upstairs."

You were held up tightly against him as he carried you up into the first floor, taking a sharp left to get you both into his, well now your, bedroom. Your bedroom. From now on, this was the room you'd be sharing with your partner. God, what a good time to be alive…

Once you had reached the bed, Joel slouched over, making sure to place you onto the mattress gently.

There were two sides to Joel Miller when it came to sex. You were very familiar with both. There was the soft side you adored so much. When he took his time with you, kissing every inch of your body, working you up just right, adoring your body and covering it with pure passion. His thrust would be slow and deep, gentle, yet just filled with the same amount of lust as his other side. The alter ego, as you'd like to think of it was fast-paced, hard, yet never too short, sex. Still very passionate, but loud and messy. Bruises weren't a rarety after a night like that. And while that was what you understood when thinking of sex, you adored love-making just a little bit more when the time was right. Just like at that moment.

His kisses moved from your neck, down between your breasts, along the middle of your torso, holding onto it tightly, until he reached the rim of your jeans. His fingers got to work on your button, opening it along with the zipper, before getting up slightly to free your legs from them, sliding them down as he started kneeling on the floor. Down at your ankles, he pulled them off completely, getting rid of your socks as well before starting his journey of kisses back up again.

You squirmed more and more the higher he came up, making him have to move his hands to your hips to hold you down and pull you closer to the end of the bed to reach your inner thighs.

"Ah, fuck baby…," he moaned in between kisses, "So. Fucking. Beautiful."

You were brushing some hair out of your face, heavy breaths leaving your lips. You didn't even dare to look down, knowing you'd probably only get closer to coming right then and there with the sight. "Joel, please…" you whined.

"I know, I know, darlin'," he continued admiring your thighs with his lips before hooking his fingers into the side pieces of your underwear. He noticed which ones you were wearing.

"You know," he gave them a kiss too, right onto your pelvic bone,

"These are my favourite."

You chuckled, "Of course, I know. Why do you think I put them on?"

"Well, but then it wouldn't be right of me to just take them off right away, now would it?" He smirked letting go of the fabric and prepping your legs up on the mattress. His lips moved down to the centre of your pussy, placing a gentle kiss right where you wanted him, sending a shiver through your entire body along with a shaky breath tumbling from your lips.

Once again, his finger hooked underneath the fabric of your underwear, only this time, pulling the centre piece to the side, giving him a clear view of your sex, clearly glistening even in the dim light coming from the moon outside.

He didn't let another moment pass before he covered your slit in little kisses, his hands having a tighter grip on you once you started moving again. You were still enjoying the soft feather touches of his lips on yours when you suddenly felt the tip of his tongue running over your clit, getting a low moan out of you. You had to remember there was still a little girl in the room across from you - too much noise would eventually wake her up and you were not ready to have that kind of confrontation with her yet.

"Ah… Joel…" you breathed out, your fingers tangling around his hair, pulling slightly once you felt his tongue movements quicken and deepen.

He slipped around your clit, running it down to your hole before drawing circles around there as well. As soon as he was up again, gently sucking on your clit, you could already feel the arousal dripping out of you, making you shudder and hold onto his hair just a little tighter. He switched between focusing on your bundle of nerves and gathering every drip coming out of you with his tongue.

"Fuck," you couldn't help the whine erupting from you. You had to be quiet, not silent. Especially not when you knew what your sounds could do to Joel. You were confirmed of your thoughts when you heard the buckle of the belt on his jeans opening, followed by his zipper. Joel had to free his hands from holding onto you to get his jeans off his legs, dragging his boxers along with them to free his erect dick. But his tongue never left your heat - he was a God of multitasking and had proved that many times before.

Once you felt his right hand being placed on top of your abdomen and heard a deep groan coming from him, you knew he had started grasping his cock in his free hand. The thought of your partner jerking off to eating you out and the little breaths coming from you only added to the sensation that had been building up between your legs.

"Joel," you whimpered, "Don't-fuck, don't stop," begging him to keep going. His answer was another strong suck on your clit, and a lick of his tongue as he slid into you. The hand that had been holding you down was moving lower, still keeping you from moving too much, while his thumb had found its way to your clit, making sure to stimulate it, while his tongue was working inside of you.

"Oh, God, yeah…" you breathed out, uncontrollably starting to move your hips as well to get closer to the edge. Your moans came out higher-pitched as you pressed your lips together tighter, trying to keep as quiet as possible, while your partner was doing the Lord's work on you.

"Fuck- Joel, I'm gonna cum," you whined out, "I-"

"You can do it, baby," he encouraged you, letting go of his erection, to replace his tongue with two of his fingers, and going back to kissing your clit passionately while his right hand interlaced with yours.

"Come for me," he breathed against you.

You nodded, moaning slightly louder as the grip on his hand tightened, your hips moving around more. The tension kept building up, encouraging you to keep going as he moved his fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds echoing through the room.

"Come on, darlin'." His whisper made your body shake.

And after the last small whiny, "yeah…" slipped from your lips, you fell apart beneath him, tightening around his fingers, humming uncontrollably, and trying to hold in the moans and groans you could've let out.

Joel didn't stop though. He never does. He only removed his fingers to start cleaning you up with his tongue, not letting you recover from the orgasm that had washed over you.

You tried catching your breath, releasing his hand from your tight grasp, as you moved both your hands back to his hair, begging him to come up and hover over you, "Joel," you whispered, chest still heaving heavily.

With a smile, he came back up to face you after finally taking your underwear off completely, his arms resting on either side of you, peppering your face with kisses before stopping at your mouth. You could taste the remains of yourself on his tongue as he pushed it past your lips to slide over yours.

"I love you," he spoke quietly against your mouth, moving down to your jaw, making you smile as you pulled him to look you straight in the eyes, "I love you too," kissing him with just as much passion as before.

His right arm moved underneath your arched back, towing you into him as he sat you up on your knees. His fingers quickly opened the back of your bra, sliding it down your arms, following its trail to mark it with kisses. Once were boobs were free in front of you, he leaned down, getting to work on them as he decorated them with his lips. You threw your head back in relief, giving him easier access, sighing his name out loud.

When he wanted to feel your mouth on his again, he positioned his hand on your tits, engulfing them in the warmth of his palms.

"You're always so good to me." Now it was your time to move your lips down his throat, getting a soft moan out of him, while his fingers came to play with your nipples.

"How could I not," he got a hold of your chin, moving it gently so you'd be facing him again, "You deserve it," going back to stealing your breath and devouring your lips.

Joel sat down properly on the bed, giving you the opportunity, to take a seat on his lap. You let your hand travel down your body, between your legs to smear some of your wetness onto your palm before you moved onto him, covering his fully erect cock. He held himself up with his hands on the mattress, tilting his head back, letting the pleasure wash over him as a groan fell from his lips.

You pumped your hand up and down four times before you were ready to lower your head, but a soft grip on the back of your hair stopped you, gently pulling you back up, "No no, darlin', come on," Joel patted his lap, "Sit down." He had always been more of a giver than a receiver. Not that the hated blowjobs, how could he with your mouth, but he enjoyed giving a lot more than receiving.

You listened to his demand and scootched up onto his lap, not letting go of his erection in your hand as you lined it up with your sex before slowly sinking down on it, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as soon as he grabbed you by your hips.

A soft but long whine vibrated in your throat as he started to fill you up, stretching you with his size. Your fingers started digging into his shoulders, making him hiss with a chuckle. His strong arms kept you as close as possible to him, waiting for you to set the pace and start moving.

You let your forehead fall against his once he was fully inside, and you started rotating your hip right away. Moving them back and forth to create some friction as both of you shared a round of low moans, kissing to prevent them from getting too loud. He moved his hips along with yours after getting to know the speed you were working with, making you sigh out loud. "Oh… fuck…"

Joel's hand came up to brush some of the hairs that stuck to your forehead, away, giving your cheeks a few pecks.

"You know, you get more beautiful each day," directing them down to your throat and the side of your neck.

You chuckled, "You're one to talk, dilf hot-shot." Your comment made the two of you giggle in chorus as you remembered him of the nickname he had earned himself at the last parent-teacher conference, which you found out, thanks to his daughter, who wondered what it meant.

He rolled his eyes,

"Oh please," he jerked his hips up to tease you, almost making you screech if it wasn't for you hiding your face in his neck. "I'll always find you beautiful, sweetheart, no matter the age."

His hand on your hair pulled you back gently to look at him again,

"Likewise, handsome," you smiled at him, gifting him with a kiss before your hands on his chest pushed him down, while you kept yourself up on your knees. As Joel lowered his body, following your directions, you felt his erection tipping with him, nudging the rough spot inside of you, getting a shaky moan from you in return.

Once he was comfortable, you braced yourself with your arms on the sides of his head to hover above him, continuing your make-out session. You felt his hands going down your body, finding their new place on your ass as he held on to it, keeping you still, while started to move his upwards. Having to pull back from the kiss, you released a soft sigh before starting to move against him, meeting his thrusts in the middle.

His grip tightened with his lips on you again, "Fuck, baby," he hissed, slightly picking up the pace. "Ya' gonna' be fuckin' death of me." You loved whenever his deep Texanian accent made an appearance during sex. It just told you, you were doing everything right.

With one last kiss, you pushed yourself up to fully sit on his cock again. He pushed his knees up slightly to give you a makeshift backrest once you started moving your hips faster. His fingers quickly interlaced with yours, giving you something to hold onto as you yanked them closer to you.

"Joel…" you dragged out his name in a hush, getting a groan from him in response.

"You're doing so good sweetheart, keep doing," he encouraged you.

You sat up straight, "Put your legs down," giving him the directions you needed for your next position, sounding almost out of breath. He did as you asked, giving you the room to lean back and hold onto his thighs, opening up your body as a sight to him.

"So good, baby," he moaned out loud as he put his hand to your pussy, after wetting his fingers with his spit, circling them around your clit, making you shake.

"Fuck," you cursed out, sighing along with it as you started moving your hips faster, now with the encouragement of Joel's touch on your sex.

His groans felt your ear, letting you know he wasn't far from his release, just as much as you. You kept moving, bouncing up and down on his erection that kept brushing your walls, letting you feel every vein on his cock.

"Joel, I'm so close," you moaned, which was all he needed to know before he freed his hands from yours, only to bring them back to your ass, lifting you up to change his position. You kept yourself up, taking a few deep breaths, trying to steady your breathing with the small rest you got.

He sat up on his knees, wrapping his arms around you again to lower you back onto the mattress, this time with your head against the comfort of your pillows.

Joel stayed in this position, making sure to keep you as still as possible in the tight hug, as he started snapping his hips against yours. His cock slid easily in and out of you, the wet sounds ringing through your ears as you felt his balls slapping against your ass.

You lifted your arms, your fingers desperately trying to find the headboard to hold onto as you tried to contain yourself from the noise you wanted to make. All you could let out were high-pitched whimpers and gentle moans when you could've easily screamed into his ears with the pleasure that was rushing through your body.

You could feel Joel's fingers digging into your skin, his groans only getting deeper as he attacked your neck, hoping to keep it as quietly as possible. The second orgasm was approaching you rapidly and you wanted to open your mouth to let him know, but all you could make out was,

"I- Jo-" as he kept on hitting just the sight spots inside of you.

He nodded, "I know, baby," breathing heavily against you, "Ya gonna come with me?" Making you nod hastily, "Yeah?" To which you nodded again, a whimper tumbling from your lips.

Your feet started digging into the mattress as the pressure leading you to your release was getting intensely more.

"I-I'm gonna c- fuck, I'm gonna cum," you managed to get out. Joel kept his lips on your neck, gifting you more encouraging words.

"Yeah baby, come with me," was the last thing you needed to hear before he smashed his lips onto yours just at the right time before you could scream your orgasm out into the world. Your fingers tightened around the wood of the headboard as you felt him shoot his cum into you. His groan against your mouth sent vibrations through your body, which was already shaking from the aftermath of your release.

As soon as he pulled back, the two of you shared your heavy breaths, sweaty foreheads pressed against each other, a smile of pleasure decorating both of your faces.

Joel started peppering your face with kisses again, making you chuckle as you still tried to catch your breath, just as well as he still was doing.

"I love you, darlin'," he whispered against your skin as you brought your fingers back to his hair, brushing them to make him look at you.

After placing a loving kiss against his lips, you breathed out, "I love you, babe. I love you a lot."

"A lot?" He chuckled, raising his eyebrows.

You nodded with a smile, "A lot."

With a deep kiss that let you know just what you needed to know, he was back gazing into your eyes, freeing your face from all the small hairs that had made their way to your sweaty forehead, "Well then, I love you a lot too." But you couldn't let him go yet, yanking him towards you for one last, passion-filled kiss, moaning into his mouth as he smirked.

Joel pushed himself back up, slowly sliding his erection out of you, making you shiver, and him chuckle before he walked over to the basket of clean clothes he had yet to put away.

He searched for the clean cloth he remembered throwing in, and once he had found it, he brought it back to bed with him. He was back to hovering above you, continuing your innocent make-out session while he started cleaning up the mix of his and your cum that was dripping out of you. With every swipe, you buckled your hips up uncontrollably, just enjoying the pleasure washing over your body.

After he got done with that, he threw the cloth into the basket for dirty clothing before starting to look for his boxers, standing up on his two feet to pull them up his legs. You crawled over to the edge of the bed, bending down to gather your underwear before looking up at Joel who was standing closer to the clean clothing than you were.

"Can you give me a shirt, please?" Already knowing that you were asking for one of his, he snatched a dark green one and passed it over to you, who had gotten up from the bed, legs still shaky, but you could make it work.

Once you had thrown that over your body, you felt the familiar strong arms wrap around you again, and Joel lowered his head to get another few kisses from you.

"Happy anniversary," he whispered once again.

You smiled against his lips, "Oh, it is a very happy anniversary, babe." When there didn't seem to be a stop to the make-out session he had initiated, you tried to push him away, but he wasn't budging.

"J-Joel," you giggled, "I need to go."

"Where?" He immediately pulled his head back, gazing at you in surprise, but you quickly calmed him with a soft hand on his chest,

"Downstairs to get our clothes. I don't need to traumatise your daughter on the first day of moving in," you freed yourself from his hug, "And then I have to take a shower."

As you passed him, he couldn't let go of the opportunity to get a hold of your ass, squeezing it, getting a screech from you in response. You were quick to turn around and hit him on the upper arm, making him flinch away with a smirk.

"Joel!" You hissed at him, motioning for him to be quiet.

He raised his arms, "You're the one being so loud," earning himself a death glare from you, but it only made his grin wider.

His eyes followed your form as you left the room before he let himself drop down onto the bed. He ran a hand over his face, not even caring to hide the smile that just didn't seem to go away.

You were officially moved in. From today on, he'd wake up next to you every single day. Sarah and he would have you by their side every afternoon after work. He'd be able to pick you up and bring you both home. Together. He knew now the pressure of the next step in your relationship would be approaching quicker, but he decided to put that thought aside and focus on the present - and on your footsteps that were coming back up.

Joel laughed to himself as he got back up, on his way to join you in the bathroom for round two - after all, he had promised you hours.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #imagines #imagine #smut #fluff #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal #x fem!reader #hbo!joel miller x reader #pre-outbreak!joel #x reader #pedro pascal x reader #x you #one shot #domestic #soft smut

[imdead770]

bro you should write x reader fluff headcannons for each of the outsiders characters

The Outsiders x Reader fluff - Dallas Winston

Authors Notes - 1. This is such a great idea. This is a great ask, woah. Thank you so much. 2. I'll do one for each of the characters, but I'm in a Dallas mood. 3. These aren't complete thoughts, more random sweet shit they'd do.

Dallas Winston

• Let's start with the basics

• Dallas Winston? Sweet? Damn you're lucky.

• When he confessed to you it wasn't a direct confession

• Called you pet names before you started dating

• But you're dumbass thought that was just his personality

• Which it is. You're right. He flirts 25/8.

• One day just asked you if you wanted to catch a drive-in

• And you were all 🤯

• Dallas Winston??? Actually asking someone out??

• The gang was practically flipping tables

• At the beginning he's still keeping up the act

• You know the one

• The " I'm from New York, fight me bitch " act

• But once he gets comfortable with you he's more " I'm from New York, love you bitch "

• He literally never calls you by your real name

• Doll is 100% his go-to

• Sweetheart, doll-face, the occasional darlin' and princess

• If you ask what your name is he'll probably ask which one

• He's actually surprisingly good with dates?

• Like the number type of date and give me your number type of dates

• He could list your birthday, the day you first kissed, the day you first fucked, easy.

• Never will though

• Gotta stay tough

• But he also is pretty good with balancing his time with you, the gang, and whatever else he does

• We all know he wouldn't hold your hand

• His hand's either around your waist, your shoulder, or in your back pocket

• He's practically attached to you

• He's not affectionate, but his hands always somewhere on you

• Like a moth to light

• He kisses you so much??

• Not pecks, he isn't Soda.

• If he's kissing you, he's making sure you remember it.

• Mf makes out with you anytime he gets a chance

• You're bored? He's kissing you. Trying to sleep? His tongue is already in your mouth. Accept it. You wanted this.

• Worst part is you can't even complain cause he's a damn good kisser.

" Dal- "

" Yeah? What, you got a problem, doll? "

" I hate you.. "

• You made out for like 3 hours.

• You're literally tired 90% of the time cause this motherfucker has too many hormones

• Not just kissing.

• You normally go over to his room at Bucks and sleep

• If you have strict parents he'll sneak into your room

• Not really a cuddle guy, but he'll let you rest your head on your chest or he'll drape an arm around you

• HIS CHAIN!?!

• I don't think people talk about this enough

• You fidgeting with his chain as you lay on him, both of you half asleep as he slowly smoked

• 😭🫶

• Whenever he's in jail and you visit him he'll give you his chain so you have something of his

• 😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶

• Has two pictures of you in his wallet

• One of your face, helps him get through jail and long nights

• Another of your body, either in lingerie or stripped, whatever you were comfortable with. The reason for this is self explanatory.

• Johnny's gotta move down to 2nd place because he loves you so much

• He's a close second though

• He skips classes a lot, so you've probably skipped with him before

• He went to school more so he could see you more

• Still almost flunks out though because he's busy starring at you

• This is getting long so I'll wrap it up

• He's still a little bitch, but he tries to get better for you

• Him and the gang are so grateful for you because his life would've gone to shit without you

No idea who to do next so please comment because I'm too indecisive 🙏

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #sodapop curtis #dallas winston #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #darry curtis #the outsiders x reader #dallas x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #the outsiders dally #dally winston #dally x reader

[libraryofgage]

Hashah Tovah! It's Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and there's no such thing as too much Jewish Steve in my book (that being said, this story isn't about the New Year, it's about Shabbat hfjdks)

Also, I'm gonna be honest, this fic is a love letter to Judaism and my experiences with my temple and the people there. My experiences aren't universal, though, so please don't take anything here as, like, the end-all-be-all of Judaism. If you have questions about anything here, you can ask me; I'll be happy to answer ^_^

The time period is also very loose. Upside Down happened, but some of the attitudes are probably a bit more modern. Honestly, I suggest just shutting off your brain and enjoying the story lmao

CW: vague mentions of antisemitism and homophobia

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't

(also this is like 4k so buckle in bois)

----

Steve's car has officially given up on life. Honestly, he's surprised it even managed to live this long. For all it's been through, it probably deserves some rest and TLC. Steve just wishes it could have demanded that rest and TLC on any other day.

Because it's Friday. Because it's Shabbat. Because he's about to have a mob of concerned elderly members of his temple crowding his door if he doesn't go to services tonight, and that's not something he wants his neighbors to see.

He considers calling Robin, but she won't be much help. She might be his Emergency Goy, but she doesn't have a car. Now that he's thinking about it, Robin may not be the best Emergency Goy, not that he'd ever tell her that.

He knows one other person with a car, of course, but that means he has to call Eddie. Not that Steve has anything against him, of course, but Eddie makes him feel a lot of things that he's not quite ready to confront just yet.

Steve frowns, staring at the phone for a long moment, trying to come up with any other option.

Steve comes up empty.

Shit.

He takes a deep breath and takes the phone off the receiver, slowly punching in the numbers as though he'll suddenly have an epiphany before he's finished dialing.

Unfortunately, he doesn't, and the phone is now ringing. It rings twice before getting picked up, Eddie's familiar voice saying, "You've reached Casa de Munson. The fuck do you want?"

"Do you always answer the phone like that?" Steve asks, momentarily forgetting about the favor he was planning to ask.

He hears Eddie hum and can practically picture the way he's now leaning against the wall next to the phone, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Stevie. What, pray tell, has you calling me?" he asks.

Steve almost hangs up. This is already stressful for him. What if Eddie doesn't agree? Worst, what if he does? Wouldn't that mean Eddie is going to see a part of himself that nobody but Robin has seen? That's fucking terrifying. What if Eddie suddenly hates him?

"I, uh, I need a favor," Steve admits.

"What kind of favor?"

If he wanted, Steve could just lie. It wouldn't be his first time lying about Friday plans. "My car won't start," Steve says, hesitating for a second more before continuing, "and I need a ride to the next town tonight."

"Gee, Harrington, get invited to a party?" Eddie asks, a slight edge to his voice that Steve can't quite place.

"What? No. I...it's not a party, okay? This is really important to me, man. Can you give me a ride or should I ask someone else?"

Maybe Hopper or Joyce would have enough time to give him a ride. He just needs to be dropped off. Getting back...can be a bridge he crosses when he comes to it.

"What time would we be getting back?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

"Probably after nine. And we need to be there at six, so that means leaving here no later than five," Steve says, trying to ignore the growing hope and sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. "I know it's really last minute, but you could spend the night at my place after. If you want."

"Will it be fun?"

"Uh, maybe? I don't know, man, it kinda depends. I find it fun, but you might get...bored," Steve says. Or offended. Maybe infuriated? Maybe betrayed that this is a whole part of Steve's life he's never hinted at.

"You're being real mysterious about all this, big boy."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just hard to explain."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm bored and curious."

----

On the drive, Eddie keeps trying to figure out where Steve is directing him. He keeps asking questions, Steve keeps dodging them, and that feeling of inevitable dread keeps growing.

Of course, all that dodging is rendered obsolete as Eddie pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the van. A few families are walking into the temple, some parents glancing curiously at the unfamiliar van, some glancing suspiciously, and some too distracted by kids to notice.

"Uh, are you sure this is the place?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly as he looks at the temple and then at Steve.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, his hands nervously gripping the material of his sweater. "I'm Jewish," he blurts out, feeling his face burning. When a few seconds pass without any response, he burns holes into a tree outside and adds, "It's Friday night services. Shabbat. I've missed too many because of...you know. The, um, the Rabbi called and asked if I was okay, and I promised to be at services tonight. You don't have to stay if you don't feel comfortable."

"You don't look Jewish."

Steve tenses, jerking his head to look at Eddie. There's no malice in his eyes. No suspicion, either, thankfully. He just looks...confused. "What's a Jew supposed to look like?" Steve asks in return, wondering if Eddie even knows that he's toeing the edge of the antisemitic swimming pool.

Eddie opens his mouth before closing it again. "Uh...I don't know, actually. Just...not you, I guess?"

Okay. Yeah. Steve can deal with this. He forces himself to relax. "Well, Jews come in all shapes and sizes," he says. He hesitates before deciding to get a burning question out of the way. "Are you angry?"

"What the fuck would I be angry about?"

"That I didn't tell you. That I was Jewish. To be fair, only Robin knows."

Eddie shakes his head, turning in his seat to face Steve. "No, Stevie, I'm not angry. I mean, I live in Hawkins, too. Not exactly the place to be standing out unless you wanna get accused of murder."

Despite himself, Steve can't help snorting at that. He takes a deep breath, the last bit of tension leaving his shoulders. "Well, uh, do you want to stay for services?" he asks.

"Can I? I'm not Jewish. And I'm dressed like this," Eddie says, gesturing at his clothes.

A Hellfire Club shirt, denim vest, gaudy rings, and dark jeans. It's incredibly Eddie, and something about it reassures Steve. He says, "You're with me, so not being Jewish is fine. And your clothes are okay, too. It's not formal."

"My shirt literally says Hellfire."

"Well, it's a good thing Judaism doesn't really have a hell."

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds, clearly full of questions, but then he just nods and climbs out of the van. Steve blinks and scrambles out as well, wanting to create some kind of buffer between Eddie and the congregation members who see a stranger and instantly become defensive.

The moment he's shut the door, he hears a little kid shout excitedly, "Steve!"

He whirls around in time to see a young girl rush across the parking lot, much to the shock and concern of her guardian. Thankfully, there aren't any cars, so the girl is unimpeded in her rush to Steve.

Eddie comes around the side of the van just in time to see the girl launch herself at Steve, giggling when he lifts her up and spins. "Yael! Have you gotten bigger?" he asks, smiling brightly as he comes to a stop and sets her on his waist.

Yael returns his smile with a grin of her own, tilting her head up so he can clearly see the brand-new gap in her teeth. "I lost a tooth! See? It came out last week," she tells him, practically bouncing in his arms.

By now, Yael's grandfather has reached them, smiling indulgently. "Yael," he says, his voice gentle but firm, "you know better than to run across parking lots." When she mumbles an apology, he looks at Steve, his smile turning warm. "Steve, it's been a few weeks. I'm glad to see you again, and you've even brought a friend."

Steve returns the smile and nods, shifting closer to Eddie. "Yeah, things got a little...chaotic in Hawkins. Oh. Mr. Adler, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, Elijah Alder."

Mr. Adler's eyes light up, and Steve suddenly remembers something incredibly embarrassing. "Oh?" he says, looking at Eddie with renewed interest, "So this is the famous Eddie Munson? I'm glad to see you've healed well."

Eddie blinks, glancing at Steve. "Uh, thanks. How'd you know?"

"Steve asked the Rabbi to include you during the Mi Shebeirach."

"The Misha what now?"

"Mi Shebeirach," Steve says, gently nudging Eddie with his elbow. "It's a prayer for healing."

Mr. Adler nods once, his eyes practically dancing with new gossip. "Oh, yes, you've created quite the stir among the Sisterhood, you know. They have a backlog of Mi Shebeirach cards and nowhere to send them."

Steve translates that information as "the old ladies have been dying to know who this mysterious Eddie Munson is, so Steve had better brace himself." His smile becomes a little strained. "Well, let's get it over with, then."

Mr. Adler nods and gestures for Steve and Eddie to follow as he leads them toward the temple. While they walk, Yael looks at Eddie, her eyes wide. "Why is your hair so long?" she asks.

"Cuz I like it that way."

"Oh. Why are you wearing rings?"

"Because they're cool."

"Oh. Why did you need healing?"

"I was hurt really bad."

"Oh. By what?"

"A bear."

"Oh. Are you Steve's friend?"

Eddie glances at Steve, meeting his eyes for a brief second before smiling at Yael. "Yeah, Stevie and I are best friends."

Yael smiles right back. "Steve is my best friend, too! He's super strong and can carry me without getting tired and makes the best hamentaschen at Purim!"

"Yael," Mr. Adler says, cutting off any continuation of the conversation as they reach the doors of the temple. "Why don't you go let the Rabbi know Steve has joined us?"

Her entire face lights up with joy. "Okay!" she shouts, wiggling in Steve's arms until he lets her down. She tugs open the door, straining until Steve smiles and helps her. "Thanks! Bye, Steve!"

With that, she dashes into the temple, her voice carrying Steve's name into the room full of other people. When almost all of them, including three children that Steve can see, stop what they're doing and look over at the door, Mr. Adler says from behind Steve and Eddie, "Brace yourselves, my boys. The wolves have appeared."

Steve groans as Mr. Adler pushes them both inside. "Should I be worried?" Eddie whispers, leaning in closer to Steve as the door shuts behind them.

"I apologize in advance," Steve tells him.

Despite his words, he has a large grin as the three kids shout his name and rush over, much like Yael did. They're followed by a few teenagers and their parents. The kids pounce on Steve, two holding onto his biceps and hanging from them as he raises his arms while the third clings to his leg.

"Where ya been?" one of the teens asks, her hair pulled back into a ponytail so permed it looks ready to burst.

"Yeah, man, I've been manning the oneg table by myself," another teen says, his arms crossed over a Metallica shirt. He's got piercings climbing up one ear and through an eyebrow, and his gaze moves to Eddie as he speaks, taking in the other boy. "Who's this?"

"Yeah," another girl asks, smiling at Eddie and batting her eyes in a way that makes even Steve feel uncomfortable, "who's your friend, Steve?"

"Kids," an older woman says, pushing her way through them, "you know better than to crowd. Shouldn't you be passing out prayer books right now?" Once she's managed to shoo the teens away, she turns her gaze on the children still clinging to Steve. "And you three, I heard Mrs. Rost needs help in the kitchen. Something about there being too many cookies to platter all by herself."

Steve suddenly finds himself weightless as the kids abandon him, dashing down the hall toward the kitchen. He smiles with slight relief and looks at the woman. "Thanks," he says, rolling his shoulders.

"Of course, Steve. Now, who's your friend?" she asks, looking Eddie up and down curiously.

"Oh, right. Uh. Rabbi, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, this is Rabbi Sara. I, um, I was hoping he could sit in on services tonight?"

Rabbi Sara immediately smiles at them. She holds out her hand to Eddie, shaking firmly when he returns the gesture. "Of course! I'm glad to see you're doing better, Eddie. We've been a bit worried about you here," she says. She glances around before leaning in and conspiratorially whispering, "There's a betting pool on whether his name would be added to the Mourner's Kiddish."

Steve snorts, knowing exactly which members would have started that bet. "Yeah, well, tell Diane and Yakov they've lost."

Rabbi Sara barely holds back her laughter, nodding once as she lets go of Eddie's hand. "Well, how about I spare you boys from socializing more," she offers.

When Steve nods, she gestures for them to follow her, leading the way to the sanctuary. He glances at Eddie as they walk, taking in the way he's tugging on a lock of hair and looking at the hall around them. "You doing okay?" Steve whispers, leaning in closer.

Eddie glances at him, is silent for a few minutes, and then says, "It's a lot to take in."

"Service will be easier. Lots of music. You'll like it," Steve promises, smiling reassuringly at Eddie. He hesitates before adding, "And if you want to leave, just let me know. The important part was making sure people saw I wasn't dead."

That's not entirely true. Steve doesn't want to leave the Shabbat service. He misses the routine of it and the feeling of togetherness as everyone sings. But Eddie's comfort is taking precedence here; he's already given Steve a ride and has begun subjecting himself to Steve's nosy congregation. Leaving early if he gets overwhelmed is the least Steve can do, really.

The teen in the Metallica shirt, Sam, holds out two prayer books when Rabbi Sara leads them to the sanctuary doors. His gaze lingers on Eddie for a few seconds more before asking, "Dude, do I know you?"

Eddie blinks and raises an eyebrow. "I don't know. Do you?"

Their gazes hold for nearly a minute before Sam's eyes widen and light with recognition. Steve is bracing himself for the worst (you know, devil worshipper, accused murderer, wannabe criminal, take your pick). Instead, Sam grins and says, "Yeah, I totally do! You're in that band, yeah? The one that plays at Hideout sometimes? Corroded Coffin. Your music is metal, man."

Eddie returns Sam's grin, throwing an arm over his shoulders and leaning in close. "You know, you're alright. Always happy to meet a fan. What's your favorite song?"

"You played that new one last Saturday. Bats, I think. It spoke to me, man."

Steve stares at Eddie, wondering how he missed the fact that Corroded Coffin started playing gigs again. A curl of something like regret or maybe hurt begins to build in his stomach, and he's almost overtaken by it when Eddie nods and says, "Oh, yeah, that one's about Stevie."

"Oohh, dude, that makes so much sense now."

"You wrote a song about me?" Steve asks, successfully regaining Eddie's attention.

Apparently, Eddie sort of forgot he was there. His relaxed posture becomes a little awkward, and he removes his arm from Sam's shoulder. He clears his throat, tugging a lock of hair in front of his mouth as he says, "Yeah. Is, uh, is that a problem?"

"No," Steve says, feeling a reassuring smile tug at his lips, "but you should play it for me sometime."

"This is all very touching," a voice says behind them, "but can you take the flirting inside the sanctuary? We still need our prayer books."

Steve jolts and looks behind them, laughing awkwardly when he sees Rivkah, a woman in her early 30s, and her partner, Tamar. "Sorry," he says, grabbing Eddie's arm and dragging him through the doors.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie whispers, allowing himself to be pulled over to some chairs near the left corner of the sanctuary, "is everything okay? Like...are we...safe?"

It takes a moment for Steve to understand what Eddie means. Like, of course, he can't guarantee their safety. It's a synagogue. Every person here old enough to understand the world knows the risk, the potential for one person to show up and wreak utter destruction. Steve is about to say as much (and explain the temple's "worst case scenario" game plan) when he notices Eddie glancing at Rivkah and Tamar.

A light bulb practically clicks on above him, and he almost laughs at himself. He sits down and tugs Eddie into the seat next to him. "Yeah, we're safe, Eds," he promises, smiling softly when Eddie looks at him. "Rivkah and Tamar are married. I attended the ceremony. It was very nice. Tamar broke the glass."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, and he looks around the sanctuary with renewed interest. His gaze especially lingers on the people that file in, taking in the couples and families and groups that wouldn't make much sense outside the temple's doors. Steve is content to let him look, allowing himself to relax back into the seat and wait.

After almost 15 minutes, Rabbi Sara approaches the bema and smiles at everyone. "Good evening, and Shabbat Shalom," she says, nodding along as her greeting is returned. "I'm glad to see so many familiar faces tonight. And some new ones. The week has been long for some of us, but it's now come to an end, and we have gathered to celebrate its end, another week's beginning, and being together. Now, please open your books to page 47 for the L'cha Dodi."

Steve flips open his book as Anna, the cantor and the same girl who tried to flirt with Eddie, starts playing the guitar next to Rabbi Sara. "Uh, the book is backward," Eddie whispers, leaning close to Steve.

"Hebrew is written right to left," Steve explains, taking Eddie's book and opening it to the right page. "Also, don't worry about singing along. Just try to follow. If you don't know where we are, just nudge me. I'll point you to the right spot."

Eddie nods, looking almost overwhelmed, but Rabbi Sara starts singing before Steve can reassure him verbally. Instead, he just shifts so their shoulders are pressed together, flashing a tiny smile when Eddie looks at him before joining the rest of the congregation in singing.

Steve has to point Eddie at the right line a few times, but he doesn't mind. He's memorized the prayer by now, and the book is really just for show. He pulls Eddie up with the rest of the congregation during the L'cha Dodi, turns him to the sanctuary doors, and places a hand on his back to gently nudge him into a bow. Eddie blinks through it, following along but seeming overwhelmed by the entire process. When the prayer is finished and Rabbi Sara invites them to greet each other, Steve looks at Eddie with a smile (one of the most genuine smiles he's had in weeks), holds out his hand, and says, "Shabbat Shalom, Eddie."

Eddie doesn't hesitate to take his hand, leaning in close and returning the smile. "Shabbat Shalom?" he asks, speaking slowly to test the words and let Steve approve of the pronunciation. When Steve nods, Eddie's smile grows wider, and he whispers, "Shabbat Shalom, sweetheart."

That...that's a new nickname. And Steve doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe Eddie just wanted the pseudo-alliteration, but his smile says otherwise, and Steve feels like he's frozen in place.

And then a few of the kids dash over to him, shouting, "Shabbat Shalom!" at the top of their lungs and practically fighting to shake his hand first. Steve would feel honored if he didn't know they raced to beat each other to every adult.

After greeting, they light the candles. After lighting the candles, Rabbi Sara leads them into the next prayer, the rest of the service flowing smoothly with her as their guide.

The service is (beautifully, wonderfully, incredibly, thankfully) the same as always. Prayers are sung, and Steve can practically feel them in his bones. He's never been particularly religious (his mother would say they're more culturally Jewish than anything else), but he can't deny that the sound of over 50 people, young and old and in-between, singing together is an otherworldly experience.

They are singing a language that only a few of them actually know how to speak. Steve is reading a language that he wouldn't recognize outside of the prayer book. It's disconcerting as always, but also special, because he shares in the ignorance and devotion wrapped into singing words he wouldn't understand without the book's translation on the opposite page.

The Mi Shebeirach and the Mourner's Kiddish are Steve's sign that service is almost over. And for the first time in forever, Steve doesn't speak any names when Rabbi Sara calls for them. He sinks back into his seat, an unfamiliar relief easing tension he didn't even know he had anymore. But it's true. Everyone is fine, and they've all healed, and Steve no longer has to say Max's name or Will's or Hopper's or Eddie's. He no longer has to dodge questions or call up the Rabbi and ask her to include an extra name in the service.

And this realization, the sheer relief he feels at the simple act of staying quiet when Rabbi Sara's gaze sweeps past him, is almost enough to bring him to tears. His throat gets tight, his eyes burn, and his voice almost cracks when he joins the rest of the congregation in singing for those in need of healing and those who have passed.

Eddie nudges him gently, and Steve glances at him and then at their shared armrest. Eddie's hand is lying palm-up, a silent invitation, and Steve doesn't hesitate to accept. He slips his hand into Eddie's, interlocking their fingers, and feels infinitely better when Eddie squeezes his hand gently.

----

"So," Steve says, refraining from getting up as others file out of the sanctuary, practically tripping over kids racing to reach the oneg brownies first, "did you...like it?"

Eddie is silent for a few minutes, staring down at their hands. Steve almost pulls away, an apology ready on his tongue, when Eddie squeezes his hand tighter. "Yeah. It was...different. But good. I...there was more singing than I expected."

Steve grins, glancing up to see the sanctuary has mostly cleared, and stands. He pulls Eddie up with him. "Yeah, we sing most of our prayers. It's nice."

"It is," Eddie agrees, still looking a little lost for words.

Steve doesn't push. Instead, he pulls, leading Eddie out of the sanctuary. He gives their prayer books to Sam, grabs two tiny, sample-sized cups of Manischewitz wine, and gives one to Eddie. "Don't drink it yet," he says, nodding to where Rabbi Sara has her own cup and is waiting for the rest to be passed around.

Once everyone is ready, she blesses the wine, blesses the challah, and invites them all to drink and eat. Steve braces himself before knocking the wine back, the strong, warm grape flavor coating his tongue, vaguely reminiscent of cough medicine. He sees the same grimace on Eddie's face. "This is shit wine," Eddie whispers, his nose still scrunched as he tosses the cup into the trashcan like he can't get rid of it fast enough.

"Yeah. It's specifically for services," Steve says, "it's not supposed to be good."

"Right," Eddie mumbles, glancing at the oneg table, his eyes lingering on the desserts laid out. "Do you wanna stick around? You know, talk to people?"

Usually, Steve would. He likes catching up with the kids and teens, likes ganging up on them when their parents come around and playfully scold them, and he likes hearing the most recent temple gossip. But as he looks at Eddie, feels their hands still tightly holding onto each other, Steve finds he doesn't mind leaving early.

So, he leans in closer to Eddie and grins at him. "Or," he whispers, "we could steal an extra pack of brownies from the kitchen, sneak out the back, and eat them on the drive home."

Eddie returns the grin, amusement and eagerness practically dancing in his eyes, and says, "You read my mind, sweetheart."

Later, when Eddie pulls into Steve's driveway after an hour-long ride spent eating brownies, explaining different prayers, and telling him about old temple gossip, a different kind of tension will start to fester between them. Steve will delay getting out of the car, Eddie won't comment on it, and they'll slowly gravitate toward each other.

And they'll kiss. It will be awkward and taste like chocolate and end far too quickly, but it will be perfect.

Steve will pull away, a faint blush rising and his heart racing faster than it ever did with Nancy, and shyly offer to let Eddie spend the night. And Eddie will accept and spend the night and ask to attend Shabbat with Steve again and...

And so much more.

But for now, while he has no clue of the future that's about to start after an hour's drive, Steve glances around the crowded hall and pulls Eddie toward the kitchen.

After all, they've got brownies to steal.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #jewish steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #my writing #this is so fucking self indulgent guys

[nexa00x]

Hellooo, this is a Tokyo Rev ask and I was really interested in the Mikey post u made abt him as a bf realistically since canonically he’s one of the top worst. So i was wondering, what do you think of Keisuke Baji taking number 1 place as best lover? 👀

Hello! Baji is an angel despite his wild personality. I see him as a watchdog, like in that panel in the last timeline when Takemichi meets Mikey and acts like a puppy. He's not interested in a relationship right now, but that doesn't mean he's immune to falling in love or anything.

After doing this, he probably be that guy who stands silently next to his crush in class while blushing, but his scary face makes your subconscious ignore that he's turning red as a tomato. He will probably try 10 times harder to be a good student to impress his crush.

He gets upset with himself when you find out he's in a gang, he thinks it will push you away (it would push me away, but it depends on the person).

He is faithful, either you betray him or one of you stops loving the other, because only then will the love relationship with him end. I feel like he wouldn't want you to get hurt in any way, so he's always tried to hide that he's in a gang to avoid getting in trouble.

Someone like Baji, who despite being aggressive is at the same time affectionate in his own way, and who is willing to do things that many people wouldn't do like suicide is proof that he is not only a good boyfriend, but also a good friend ...actually he's good at everything.

You probably met him thanks to stray animals, or you always fed them or you always went to their pet store. He would probably arrive talking to you about cats and the conversation would flow. Every day you went there to feed the cats and he does that too, not because of you, but because of the cats. But over time it becomes attached to you and ends up appearing there for both you and the cats.

He's the type to behave like an older brother. He doesn't get jealous, he just gets suspicious when someone approaches you. As already stated in the character's book, Baji prefers to resort to violence and before a conversation, this wouldn't change much when you were dating; If he feels like hitting someone who takes up a lot of his time, just prepare your emergency kit to take care of the person he hits later.

I see him declaring himself on an important day like Valentine's Day, Christmas or New Year's, his declaration would have been 100% his and 50% Chifuyu and Ryusei's advice. Baji, like Chifuyu, reads manga, I don't remember if it was here which category he reads, but I'm sure he was inspired by it...

Obviously everything would go wrong. Some delinquent behind him trying to fight, or him simply having brain problems because he forgot what he was going to say. In the end he was only able to declare himself even in serious moments, like moments of near death where he said something like:

"don't give up on me yet, damn it! I haven't even had time to tell you how I feel!"

That alone would be enough for days later for you to talk and resolve the matter and he would simply have to say everything. But that would take years...Baji is a man of steps when it comes to love.

First step would be trust, second would be time, third would be moments together, fourth would be denial of feelings towards you, fifth would be denial and disgust at himself for having these feelings for you, sixth would finally be acceptance of his feelings for you, seventh would be his mental adaptation to all of this, eighth would be gathering courage, and ninth would finally be his declaration. But make no mistake, each stage takes time, in the end only the fourth stage would take a few years.

Baji isn't the physical type either, in fact most Asians aren't very into physical affection. But a hug from him wouldn't bother him, just raise a question in his head.

Him trying hard not to see his mother cry, killing himself for Kazutora is proof that this man would do whatever he could to keep you happy.

He would probably, like Draken, neglect you. the only way to have a perfect relationship with him is to be like him, wild and involved with Toman. Not only would it bring you closer together, but it wouldn't leave you as attention-hungry as our poor Emma.🥺

And these are my thoughts on Baji, if there is anyone with other opinions please let me know, I like talking about it. each person has a different point of view. I was never very close to him, so I only remember a few things...

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #baji x reader #baji x you #tokrev

[terramythos]

Anyway here's my breakdown of the ffxiv jobs, my opinions on playing each, and the tier rank of how good their story was

TANKS

WARRIOR - warrior is so fucking funny why did they make it able to solo heal itself and the entire party in 90% of the content in the game. Raw Intuition/Bloodwhetting is so broken in dungeons its hilarious. And then they have like 3 additional healing skills on top of that. And they kept buffing it throughout Endwalker. So it is currently the easiest to play, does the most damage (i think...?), and has the best healing of any of the Tank jobs. 2nd fave probably.

Story Tier: C, it's ok, Curious Gorge is a good name. i have like nothing to say about it it's a generic AF story

PALADIN - I used to hate PLD but I think the partial rework they got halfway through Endwalker helped it a lot. It's much less clunky now. Probably still my least favorite Tank though Hallowed Ground is fun and it's pretty close to Gunbreaker for me.

Story Tier: F, this is the worst class storyline in the entire game. It's so stupid. The writing is so bad the writers acknowledge it makes no sense at all and I'm like. Yeah, thanks, I am experiencing this shit. Perhaps write a story that makes sense next time instead of pointing that out.

DARK KNIGHT - Unfortunately this is my favorite Tank 🫡 which is rough since it has the worst survivability out of any of them. But I love how you use MP and the silly number of OGCDs. The Blackest Night is such a fun ability and it's a crime that it's not a baseline skill you get from the start. Why do they have so many DRs that only cover magic damage. I must ask.

Story Tier: S, there's a reason it's the most popular and well regarded class storyline. It's really good, also the only questline I know of that uses the quest log text as part of the narrative. Outside maybe a few of the very late Endwalker quests. And, well... same writer lmao

GUNBREAKER: I think GNB looks cool as fuck and I like that it has 2 DPS rotations. The Gnashing Fang combo is so fun. Superbolide memes are always fun. My main issue with it is a skill issue because I am just constantly misaligning its burst windows.

Story Tier: C. It has some interesting lore but I found it pretty forgettable as a story.

HEALERS

WHITE MAGE: I hated White Mage for a while but something clicked and now I totally get it. I find it fun in dungeons cause you get to Holy spam and stun lock everything. As uh. The healer. That's fun. Once you get Afflatus heals (and then Afflatus Misery) it clicks. It's fun maximizing damage and playing chicken with the tank's HP.

Story Tier: B, you get a lot of lore around the Padjal, and I think the Stormblood story where you find a padjal living in hiding with her mother is pretty good! Also it's not technically the job storyline but there's a WHM side quest to get a unicorn mount? i guess it's technically a CNJ quest but same diff. no one else gets that shit. so that's cool

SCHOLAR: probably my least favorite of the healers... it just feels super clunky. You can tell a bunch of different design philosophies went into it over the years and none of them mesh very well. They've made it so the Fairy Gauge controls literally one spell. Why have the gauge at all? It's also a huge missed opportunity that there's no tie in or interaction with the fae in Shadowbringers. I love the idea of a battle tactician healer but I think it needs a rework.

Story Tier: B+, I liked the characters and its the main way to get backstory and lore on what happened with Nym.

ASTROLOGIAN: While I think AST has a similar issue to SCH (lots of different design philosophies over the years) I find it way more fun to play. I like the card mechanic and how it interacts with the rest of the party. AST is basically the only job that has its own like. Minigame? As part of its rotation. And I know a lot of people don't like the RNG for it but personally I find it fun. I know AST is getting a redesign in Dawntrail so hope it's good.

Story Tier: C? I think? I'll be honest I don't remember it super well but I didn't find anything objectionable about it. And I like the tarot aesthetic and lore and how it's healing based on manipulating luck.

SAGE: I think SGE is tons of fun, I'm not sure if I like it or WHM more. I love all the skills SGE has for preventing damage and the gimmick where your DPS heals someone in the party. Visually the hi-tech laser shooting healer is a lot of fun. IT HAS A GAP CLOSER. The only thing i wish was it wasn't so MP negative and that it did more damage. It's a little sad its DPS output is so low compared to the other healers (even AST when you factor in how it buffs the party). Since SGE is supposed to be a healer that heals through damage it's silly its damage kinda sucks.

Story Tier: A, I loved this storyline. Both the Endwalker job stories are very self contained and interesting. While the twist is pretty obvious it's still an interesting exploration of uh. Scientific ethics. Yeah

PHYSICAL MELEE DPS

MONK: I've probably played MNK the least of the phys melee but I like the whole adaptable combo thing. Not much else to say since I have played it so little. Might bring it back out and try again. It DID have the funniest guide in the Balance discord for a while.

Story Tier: D. I think? I remember thinking it was dumb, lmao. Sorry.

DRAGOON: MAN I wished I liked DRG more. It looks so fucking cool and I like how it interacts with the dragon lore. But I find it very punishing to play. To do good damage you have to align so many different cooldowns... and snapshot your DOT correctly... and screwing one thing up just fucks your DPS output forever. Like AST I believe this is being reworked in Dawntrail so I hope it feels better to play.

Story Tier: C+. I think it starts strong since you get to meet Estinien pre-Heavensward and it melds nicely with that story. But I found it pretty directionless post-HW which is a shame.

NINJA: I remember finding this one fun. I like that there are different combos you do that have varied finishers depending on the situation. I am just... bad at remembering which combo to use to get which finisher, lol. So I haven't played it as much. NIN gets a lot of flavor other jobs don't get with their unique run and jump animations. And you get a Bunny of Shame on your head if you fuck up a combo, which is incredible.

Story Tier: A. The Rogue story is probably the most memorable of the basic class quests. Ninja just has great characters and a fun story. What is with that one guy. Karasu? If you know you know. I also like how the Rogue characters show up later in the Ninja story. That's fun.

SAMURAI: I had a similar experience to WHM here because I initially hated it then really came around once it clicked. SAM seems very complex, it has a ton of buttons and different combos. But it is actually quite intuitive once you figure out the general pattern. And it does INSANE damage. I think it's the highest DPS output in the game? I love building the combos and then doing a huge finisher for a bajillion damage. The guaranteed crits and constant OGCD weaves make me feel unstoppable. I think this is tied with RPR for me.

Story Tier: B+. I found the exiled samurai character and his journey toward redemption very compelling. I won't spoil beyond that. However it does fall apart a little in the second half. Still fun but not as good.

REAPER: I love RPR, the teleportation is a lot of fun, and I love finally unleashing the demon form and going ham on the enemy. The weapons are the coolest looking in the game. Every scythe design hits. I probably played this the most in Endwalker. My main critique is the Death's Design mechanic. I hate having to keep a stupid debuff on the target to do damage. It's like a dot but without the optimized snapshotting. If they want to keep this idea i think it would feel better to change it into something like SGE's Kardia where you apply it to one enemy to do increased damage to it without having to worry about reapplying it. not sure how they would balance this for aoe but that's not my job. But even with that caveat I still really enjoy the job.

Story Tier: A+. While it doesn't reach the highs of DRK's story it comes close. I love the badass old lady main character. Her hunting a voidsent that possessed her grandfather would be cool enough but making her a Garlean exile in hiding who grudgingly agrees to train you just adds an extra cool factor. I really enjoyed this story. As a bonus theres a lot of incidental dialogue in the post-6.0 Endwalker story if you completed the RPR story because it ties in a lot.

PHYSICAL RANGED DPS

BARD: It's a bit clunky, its got some outdated design elements, it has one of the lowest damage outputs in the game... and i LOVE IT. this was technically the first job I ever played? totally different character like 8 years ago. and i was so so bad. I think i am actually pretty good at current BRD. the animations look cool. i like that it's a class you really need to work for and optimize to eke out that last bit of damage. and boosting everyone else's damage by existing is kinda neat.

Story Tier: B. I'll be real I barely remember this but I do remember it was gay as fuck so immediately gets an extra tier for that.

MACHINIST: MCH is really funny right now because like. It's phys ranged, right. The design behind phys ranged is you have 100% uptime cause you can freely move around and not have to worry about cast timers or melee range or anything. So the trade off is that they do less damage than other classes. Endwalker MCH did not get the memo and does insane damage anyway. My controversial opinion is that it has similar burst DPS to RPR. No i will not elaborate. I'm also bad at doing good damage on MCH which is impressive since it is easy.

Story Tier: B+. Some Ishgard noble's gay son wants to build machines instead of killing dragons the good old fashioned way and has to prove himself to get taken seriously. A tale as old as time. See I haven't done this quest in like years but I still remember it. He is a memorable character. It's just not like. knockout wowza compared to the A tier stories.

DANCER: Dancer is the second easiest DPS job in the game behind SMN. So if i am sleepy it's the one I like playing. You play simon says. you do a lot of damage when you play simon says then do almost no fucking damage otherwise. I think it's the lowest direct damage in the game? for a dps i mean. You have high stakes sexual tension with a DPS of your choice via Dance Partner. I wish other DNC players knew how Dance Partner works. YOU CAN DANCE PARTNER ANOTHER DANCER. THE BUFF STACKS. BUT YOU CANNOT DANCE PARTNER THE SAME PLAYER AS ANOTHER DANCER. THOSE BUFFS DO NOT STACK. ok i'm good. anyway

Story Tier: C. there's some shit about negative emotions and purging them? in theory i think this has some interesting implications with Endwalker lore considering Dynamis and its role in the story. Very similar mechanically to what's going on with the DNC story. but i really don't think the writers made the connection so it's like pure speculation and not the actual story. It's meh. fine i guess. i did like all the flashy dancing sequences.

MAGICAL RANGED DPS

BLACK MAGE: I am so so so so so so so bad at BLM. i pull up the guide. i read the guide. it all makes perfect sense. i go into a dungeon or trial or something. somehow i always get like Zeromus or some shit. and i drop Enochian or something and everything goes to shit and i'm yelling and i'm not even like slide casting or teleporting or anything i just run around crying. then i remember i have like 10 more buttons i haven't been pressing and oh god the dot fell off. people play this? for fun? i admire it. apparently they do a ton of damage if you can play it. could not be me.

Story Tier: B? There's some voidsent and Thirteenth lore. all the black mage characters are Lalafell because it's funny i guess. OH YEAH it has like the one named male Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te NPC in the entire game and he's fun. look at this twink:

sorry i don't have anything to say about BLM i am bad at it

SUMMONER: easiest DPS job in the entire game. they redesigned it for Endwalker so it is practically a new job. i have no idea how it played before. but it is super streamlined. maybe too streamlined? it's another one to play if you want to turn your brain off. i like that at 90 you summon The Actual Primals instead of little representations of them. and i like the way your burst phase switches between Bahamut and Phoenix. it all looks very cool. they should add Leviathan as a summon in Dawntrail.

Story Tier: C.. i don't remember a single thing about this questline except you interact with Y'shtola's half sister. i think you go to Cartenau at some point. idk

RED MAGE: RDM is one of those jobs that looks really complicated when you start then you actually play it and it is just super super easy. that being said i think it's really fun. I like balancing the white and black magic gauges. Dualcast is a great gimmick and it feels cool to lob two big spells in a row at something. Dualcast Verraising a chain of dead players is so fucking funny. it's a shame that the existence of Verraise means RDM does shit damage to compensate for its utility. It and DNC just sit at the bottom with BRD barely scratching ahead of them. i think? i don't remember LOL

Story Tier: A, I really like the story and characters. I like that you have a middle-age world weary catboy (catman) as your mentor. and i like that he canonically trained Alisaie too and you chat a little about that. it's a fun story!

BLUE MAGE: what the fuck is a blue mage

Story Tier: ???

#my posts

[sad-outsider]

Why I didn't like the ending of R&R. Part 1. The broken logic of the world

So, as the title suggests, I read TGT and I didn't like the ending. And in this post I will try to explain why I personally (like, probably, many others) was disappointed by this ending. Let's break it down point by point, sit down, this is going to be a long post. Be careful, there is a lot of irony, sarcasm and Russian phraseological units here.

№1 Third amplifier violated the logic of the world in the most blatant way. Three times.

Not that this is something new, because the author violates the logic of his own world in literally every book, but here it is most striking (I have not read beyond Six of Crows, so correct me if there are even more outrageous violations of the lore).

First of all, the Mal amplifier is bullshit. He touched other Grisha more than once, and damn it, he slept with Zoya, if he was an amplifier he should have been revealed as such long ago. And even if we assume that, they say, he is all so unique and intended exclusively for Alina, it still does not make sense, because they also touched each other many times both before Alina was revealed as the Sun Summoner, and after. She should have understood long ago. So this is piano in the bushes (Deus ex machina) number one.

Secondly, transferring Alina’s powers to other people is complete nonsense. If her powers were taken away, then she should have died, and not just become an ordinary otkazat'sya. We have been told more than once that the power of the Grisha is their integral part, which nourishes them and, if it is not used, the Grisha begins to get sick, and subsequently may even die. So I’ll ask again: WHY IS ALINA ALIVE? I NEED ANSWERS, LEIGH!

But as if this wasn't enough, the powers of the Sun Summoner were ✨magically transferred✨ to a bunch of ordinary people. How? These people, apparently, either acquired an additional gene for themselves, or grew a new organ… Yeah, of course, I readily believe it🙄. Insanity is getting stronger, in general.

And third, the apogee of delirium - the resurrection of Mal. So, if I understand correctly, he came back from the dead because he died as an amplifier. Yeah, great, but I just have one question (actually more than one, but let’s put that aside, it’s ✨magic✨ after all): why didn’t the Darkling resurrect with him? He is also an amplifier, and even from the same bloodline, why did he remain dead? It's not even a piano made of bushes anymore, it's a whole FUCKING ORGAN! But that's not even the worst, I'll save the worst for last.

To be continued in Part 2…

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #ruin and rising #anti leigh bardugo #Alina Starkov #malyen oretsev #the darkling #anti mal oretsev #anti malina

[empressgeekt]

Trolls- headcanon, Creek and Branch are Cousins and Rosiepuff was both their grandmother...

okay. This randomly came to me, and I have to write this down. On mobile sorry for issues.

So, I was scrolling through Tumblr and saw fanart of acdepressed creek, and I though, "hey he kind of looks like Floyd's old concept design". Don't look up that design it's horrifying, but originally Floyd was supposed to look like Grandma Rosiepuff. Then things started to spiral. F9r two characters who seemingly have nothing to do with each other, Rosiepuff and Creek look awfully similar to one another. Same skin tone, and they both have minty green in their hair. In fact one could argue that Creek resembles her more then her own canon grandchildren. BROZONE all have cool colors and John, Clay, spruce, and branch all have blur eyes like her, while Floyd has a smaller similar nose shape. But that's the extent of it.

What if Rosiepuff had two surviving children, instead of the one who had brozone? And Creek was born of that second child.

I don't know what other people think but alot of the jab Creek makes towards Branch feel very personal. Sure pre trolls one Branch was not liked by the community, but Creek despises Branch personally. He tells Poppy that Branch doesn't want to be happy. Confronts Branch head on while the others passively complain. He even calls out the vest and that is a deep cut to Branch as we all know...but how would Creek know? Unless they share more of history then we think.

There are number of ways that's this could've played out, be it Creek's parent having a falling out with Rosiepuff before he's born, or maybe they didn't want anything to do with the band, but the two sides of the family clearly don't talk. Evident by Rosiepuff raising Branch alone, and never once is an aunt/uncle mentioned. However it wouldn't be too hard to believe that Creek knows about Rosiepuff, her death, and blames Branch for it. Heck he could've been taught that by his parent, The possible child of Rosiepuff's. And now in turn hates Branch.

This could even be supported by the amount of similar traits Creek has with Brozone. For starters, both Creek and at least two of the brothers (branch and clay) are planners. Branch and clay are prepping for the worst, but Creek is always planning how to control situations he finds himself in. Their uses are different, and as are the strategies, but the principle still stands. Creek also has a high emotional intelligence, like Floyd. He'd have to in order to manipulate people the way he does. A level head under pressure could also be a shared trait, Creek only really panics when he's in immediate danger, being eaten or when he and chef were one fire, otherwise he's very collected. He's the one telling everyone in the bird cage to remain calm after all.

But if they are related the why didn't JD or any of the others ask about him when Brozone reunited? Well, simply they didn't know about him. Creek is either the same age or younger then Branch, and if the two sides of the family weren't on speaking terms in the first place then its a slim chance they would be told about a baby cousin. And I have a hard time seeing Creeks family taking Branch in afte the accident and he went grey. So if branch knows about their relation, he's probably so detached that he doesn't consider them family. Not to mention the whole betrayl thing...

So thought? Was my brain on to something? Or is this just rambling.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls branch #fanfic #headcanon #trolls creek #trolls movie #trolls headcanons #Creek and branch are cousins? #This makes wya too much sense #random #rant post #theory

[twitterpated-passion]

Matched | Monster Boyfriend

You liked to say that you had a normal life. It wasn't interesting, but it wasn't bland. You got through school with minimal mishaps, you had a job and you were thinking of getting your masters. And despite some obvious 'gifted kid' burnout symptoms pulling at you every now and again, you liked the life you lived. Most of the time, at least.

Now?

Now you couldn't say your life was normal even if you were being held at gun point.

-<><><><><><><>-

It all started with that stupid 'volunteer' start up group that suddenly came into play and forced a handful of people from selected cities to sign up. You were one of the (un)lucky few that got chosen, given only a day to pack before they picked you up in front of your apartment building and drove you out of the city.

Only the worst thoughts creeped in your head, telling you that you should've ran the moment you were chosen. It was only natural to feel that way, not a single person told you what the start up group was for and every time you tried to ask you were greeted with silence or a small 'Don't worry about it' from the driver.

You did, in fact, worry about it. You worried about it until someone finally let you know what was happening.

The person who let you know was the first person you saw when you walked into the building, a greeter of sorts in an oversized lab coat with their glasses on the tip of their nose. They perked up when they saw you and quickly pulled you away from the driver to lead you down a hall. "Welcome! You're right on time!"

"No one else chosen came with me though," you said. "And no one was in the entrance."

The person laughed, nodding. "Mhm! That's because it's your time. Others have come and gone before you, and they'll come after you. It's just not their scheduled time."

You shot them a confused look, which they didn't notice, waving their hands in the air to motion to everything. "I'm sure you heard already about what you're doing right?"

"No," you shook your head. "I was told not to worry about it. What am I doing?"

Their jaw slacked as they looked at you with a shocked expression. "Jeez...someone's getting fired."

They shook their head and shoved their hands in their coat pockets. "Anyway- what you signed up for is a very important start up group. I'm sure you're aware of the treaty made with King Ralin? Right?"

"Somewhat? It trended for a week and then disappeared off of the face of the Earth." They nodded. "What about it?"

"Well, in every country, a group of individuals are picked out for the group. The numbers vary on size, but that's not the point. Given that you were chosen, you get to go in your own little pod and rocket up into space, right on their planet. We're trying to ease human and alien relations smoothly, and if this goes well, we're hoping that King Ralin will send some of his people down here!" The scientist seemed so excited while explaining this to you, and a frown appeared on their face as they tilted their head at you. "What? Is something wrong?"

"You want me to be a test subject," you said. "I'm supposed to squeeze my ass into a pod and rocket up into space just to act buddy-buddy with aliens who probably aren't used to humans and might just hate my guts?"

"When you put it like that," they pouted, looking away from you. "It won't be as bad as you think. We've already established that no harm is going to come to the start up group or the aliens. So even if they hate you, they can't hurt you."

"What about the need for oxygen?"

"You ask that like aliens don't also breathe air. Your safety is already confirmed. You have nothing to worry about."

You weren't too sure you believed them.

-<><><><><><><>-

It's been exactly two months and five days since you went in that pod and arrived on planet 'Actae'. How you pronounce that in their language was unbeknownst to you, so you've just been calling it planet 'A' in your mind or whenever you needed to talk to another human about the planet.

It wasn't bad, you were able to admit that. Most of the aliens you met seemed to be more than happy to see humans for the first time, and you were able to quickly make friends with two of them, though, they worked with you in the Capital's library, so it mainly came with constantly seeing each other.

And that's where you were when you met him.

Prince Fonir, a cocky son of a bitch who loved to do nothing but tease you relentlessly every time he decided to 'grace' you with his presence. Though, all he did was make you regret choosing the library job no matter how much it suited you.

And unfortunately, today wasn't the day that he stayed home at the castle. Instead, he was mindlessly browsing through the fiction section, looking at the mixture of books that came from both Earth and Actae.

Even if he did, in fact, infuriate you, you couldn't help but stare, eyes glued to the graceful movements of his hands, to the way his long, baby pink hair would cover his face when he dipped his head down ever so slightly to get a better look at the book. You didn't realize how bad it was until you realized that the big pools of galaxies that were his eyes were looking at you as well, a cocky grin on his face, as he tucked the book under his long arm and sauntered over.

You busied yourself, a huff leaving your lips as his light olive green hands placed the book down. "You know, it's rather rude to stare, especially at royalty."

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the book and using your pointer finger to pull it towards yourself. You lifted the small scanner and pressed it to the book, hearing the high-pitched beep before pushing it back to him and answering, "Really? I wouldn't know, but I don't exactly care either. Isn't being stared at the job of royalty?"

You met his eyes bravely, eyebrow raised. "Which brings me to ask; don't you have anything better to do? You come here twice a week and do nothing but try to stir something. Don't you have your own library, your highness?"

"I do," he admitted. "But my library doesn't have a Jarïle for a librarian."

Your brows furrowed trying to figure out what he had just called you in his language, but nothing clicked, and you breathed a huff through your nose. Forcing yourself not to rub the bridge of your nose to try and ease a little of your annoyance out, you clicked your tongue and took one look at the screen-less computer in front of you. "Next month on the second. Bring in the book then or before. I'm not afraid of charging a prince a late fee."

He loomed over the computer and met your eyes once more before tucking the book under his arm again and turning on his heel, walking towards the front doors. You watched him leave, happy this encounter was shorter than the rest and that you could return to your own book faster.

But what he called you was still repeating in your mind, you doubt you could pronounce it correctly without five hundred tries, but when Jorik came out of the back room, you quickly approached her. "Jorik! I need your help."

She tilted her head, pushing her braid behind her with a small chuckle. "What do you need help with?"

You opened your mouth, but closed it quickly, contemplating on actually asking, and if she'll even know what you mean, considering how much you're probably going to botch the word. But, you ask her anyway. "What's a...jarile...?"

Her smile faltered as a confused expression overtook her face, her pale blue eyes narrowing slightly before she asked, "Do you mean jarïle?"

"Yea," you confirmed, hand moving to bashfully scratch the back of your neck. "What does it mean?"

"It means fire starter," she answered. "Where'd you hear that?"

"The Prince was in...again." You didn't hide the annoyance that bubbled in your tone suddenly, Jorik already well introduced to your dislike to the royal. She looked around however, smile faltering until you wave your hand in front of her face. "He left, don't worry."

She shook her head and focused her gaze back on you, raising an eyebrow. "What about Prince Fonir?"

"He was the one that called me it," you said, a small scoff coming out when you were done. "The hell is his issue with me anyway? I'm just trying to get through the day, just like everyone else."

"Korlae." You shut up at the nickname. It meant honey, but Jorik liked how it sounded in her language more. You couldn't blame her. "Jarïle is an affectionate term."

You blinked, pulling your head back slightly. "What?"

Jorik let out a soft laugh, the sound slightly echoing in the quiet space. With a nod, she walked herself over to the stool, sitting on it to lower herself to be eye to eye with you. "You've never called someone you like a fire starter? Trouble?"

"You act like I've had a partner," you said, sitting in the stool beside hers, lifting it up just a bit. "Don't you guys have matchmakers though?"

She was quiet for a moment, brows furrowed before they lift and hide behind her bangs when she realized. "Oh! K-Kinda? They find our soulmate. I don't know how they do it, but it's a day of celebration for us. It only happens once, when we turn twenty-three in human years."

She smiled fondly. "I only have a few months until it's my turn. Soran has a year for his. And Prince Fonir's is in a week, it's going to be huge. Everyone wants to know who the lucky Horæl is."

"Remind me what that means?" You knew she knew what you meant, and she chuckled at your lack of an attempt at saying it.

"It's basically our equivalent of 'alien'. Like how humans call other humans...humans." Another chuckle left her. "Anyway, they're going to play it all over the planet, since, Prince Fonir is going to take the crown when he's twenty-five. It's important to know who'll rule beside him."

"Yea..." You said, voice drifting off when you're reminded of the similarities for the royals back on Earth and on Actae. "I get it."

"Good, because I'm gonna invite both you and Soran over to watch it with me. I don't think I'll be able to watch it alone." You smiled at how excited she seemed over it, pushing back how annoyed he made you to grab her hand with a nod.

"'Course, I wouldn't miss it for the world, Jorik."

-<><><><><><><>-

The library -like other places- was closed on Prince Fonir's birthday, so instead of having to work and going with Jorik and Soran to Jorik's apartment, you were able to go straight to it. Fortunately for you, she lived fifteen minutes away from your apartment, just a couple blocks down.

You were hardly able to knock before the door swung open and Jorik loomed over you with an excited grin spread across her face. "You made it just in time, it's about to start!"

She yanked you inside and shut the door behind her, ushering you towards the large couch that sat in the living room area of her loft. "You can sit beside Soran."

With a nod, you do, waving over to Soran as he smiled at you and lifted his hands to sign, 'She's pretty excited.'

You chuckled, nodding in response before glancing over at the Horæl who's happily tapping her foot against the floor, the sound creating an unrhythmic melody. "Is it because of the Prince or because she really likes this ceremony?"

You looked back at him, eyes focused on his hands when he responded, 'Both.'

"Ah," is all you were able to say back before the 'be right back' sign on the holographic tv screen switched to show the castle, the crowd around it immense, everyone -humans and Horæls alike- wanting to see who was paired with Fonir .

It switched to inside the castle, showing a gaggle of nobles standing in the throne room. None of them paid the camera that was practically in their faces any mind, all of them chatting amongst each other, or keeping to themselves. There was no noise of it though, only a narrator explaining the importance of the ceremony.

Everything seemed to quiet down though when King Ralin stepped out, his usual event outfit on, just without the cloak he carried on his shoulders. Then, when he stepped out of the way, Prince Fonir came out from the same doorway.

All you could do was stare as the camera focused on him, following his every move as his hands picked at his outfit, the usual monotoned colors he wore exchanged for bright, flashy colors. Purple, pink and gold.

His hair was let down and the two braids pulled to the back of his head kept his hair from his face, since the crown he was wearing wouldn't have helped. Pink touched his cheeks and ears, and his eyes were trained on the ground.

He was nervous.

A light nudge to your foot pulled you out of you thoughts, and you snapped your head away from the tv, looking at Jorik. "For someone who hates him, you seem to like staring at him. Your cheeks are red, Korlae."

Your heart skipped a beat and you shook your head, letting out a small scoff. "I was just seeing how nervous he is."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't all that you saw.

She merely gave you a once over and turned back to the tv, letting you do the same. You were greeted with Fonir standing in front of his father's throne, fists against his sides as the nobles stepped to the side, giving both him and King Ralin space to get the ceremony going.

Two other Horæls came out of the doorway opposite to the one the Prince and King came out of, but they were dressed just as flashy, and if Jorik's excited little noise was anything to go by, you would've assumed that they were officials. They looked older than both King Ralin and Fonir, which amazed you, since King Ralin was definitely older than he looked.

One bowed their head to Fonir before he lifted his arms and allowed them to push up his sleeves, baring his forearms to the other official. The other one produced something like a pen, but when the camera focused on what the official was doing with said pen-like tool, you watched it shallowly cut his wrist three times, though no blood surfaces.

You turn to Soran with a confused expression and lucky enough, he seems to catch it, hands moving fast as he explained, 'The knife takes the blood and they put it in a pen that creates an eternal symbol.'

"...Oh," you said, eyebrows raising slightly as you turned back to the tv. The unrhythmic tapping returned as the three of you watched as Fonir's bright blue blood falls into a pen, the process looking extremely drawn out until it's filled completely.

Fonir's eyes are closed tightly, and you remember the dramatic endeavor you went through when he accidentally got a papercut one day at the library. To say he was good with pain would be a complete lie.

You wanna do the same as him however, when you finally realize how interested you are in knowing who the Horæl'll be. You shouldn't even care, if anything you could be a little happy, it'd get him out of the library more often than not. But you did, even if you weren't sure why.

The symbol basically drew itself on his wrist, covering the already healing cuts and forming something odd, a mandala looking symbol that you couldn't get a good look of, but yet you still glanced over at Jorik because you were in serious need of an explanation. But when she looked at you and Soran, you were met with the same confused look.

"You never actually told me how they found the soulmate, Jorik..." You said, but as she opened her mouth to answer, you heard a gasp from a certain Prince.

You couldn't move your head faster to face the screen, eyes focused on what's in front of you as you, Jorik and Soran watched him look at the symbol with wide eyes. There were whispers in the background in the castle, and the camera stayed where it was when Fonir leaned to his father to whisper something to him.

You saw King Ralin's eyes widen, just like Fonir's was seconds ago. Then you heard one of the official's speak, their voice loud and commanding when they announced, "The symbol belongs to a human."

The air around you seemed to stop as Jorik's tapping silenced and a throaty noise left Soran.

Prince Fonir was paired with the impossible.

-<><><><><><><>-

Every human that was sent to Actae, two hundred to be exact, were ordered to go to the castle the moment the cameras shut off, said order being sent specifically to your phone, rather than everyone's. A shaky breath left you when you read the message over and over.

"So..." Jorik started after a while, "you have a chance-"

"I'm not going to think about that," you cut her off. "I'm just gonna go to the castle and then I'm gonna watch it happen with one of the others."

You stood, shoving your phone into your pocket before walking to the door. "Maybe it's a misunderstanding. Maybe, and here's a thought, Fonir doesn't have a match."

A sigh breached your lips and you opened the door, looking back as you stepped out. "I call you when I find out."

Jorik nodded and Soran gave you a small smile, which you returned before walking out fully and shutting the door behind you.

You walked the distance to the castle, ignoring the looks you got as you were walking. They weren't bad per-se, but you could tell some of them didn't really like the possibility of a human ruling over them.

Not that you blamed them. It's only been three months since the first humans came to Actae, it's already a big change, and to know that one of them is going to rule with the Prince when he turns twenty-five is an even bigger change.

The stares only got worse when you arrived at the castle, your hands holding your arms as you walked in and avoided the looks of the maids that walked through the halls. The only one that didn't stare was the one leading to the throne room, explaining what to do when you walked in. "Stand straight and look them in the eyes when they talk to you, use your right hand to shake theirs and nod your head to bow. Speak when spoken to and when they let you all go, you can return to your home. But only when they allow you to leave."

She turned to you and waited for you to nod in understanding before she pushed the door open. You straightened your posture and walked in, fingers digging into your arm as you saw the other humans, all of them off to the side. You made haste joining them.

When you decided to look at anything other than your peers, you gazed over to the throne and met Fonir's eyes, and for once, you felt something other than annoyance when you saw the small smile on his face. He looked almost relieved to see you, his left hand holding his right wrist, as if he was hiding it.

You looked to your sides, and then back at him when you decided to do the one thing you know you'll just deny when it was brought up later. You lifted your hand from your arm and gave him a small wave. He did the same after a quick glance towards his father, confirming that he was still talking to the officials.

It didn't take long for the others to show up, no one really wanting to make the King to the new planet they're living on upset. It made you feel a little better when you noticed that everyone else was nervous, or at least happy you weren't the only one that looked like they might about cave in on themselves.

Fonir stood behind his father when it was made known that you were all there, and they stood in the middle of the room, the Prince's eyes trained on the ground again. You stared at the King and forced your shoulders back, listening to him when he started to speak, "I'm certain you all know why you're here, one of you happens to be my son's match."

'Getting straight to the point...thank god," you thought, appreciating King Ralin not beating around the bush.

"I thought this would be a simple process, considering no one else had been paired with a human before the 'start-up', but, as it turns out, not everything can be as simple as you want it." There was a small laugh that left his lips and he clasped his hands together. "And because I would hate keeping everyone here for hours, anyone who volunteers and is not the match, can leave as soon as it's confirmed. If we find the match before everyone gets a chance, everyone but the match can leave immediately."

Fonir glanced up and took one large swoop of the crowd, then his eyes fell back onto you. You felt his stare, but it quickly turned away from you when the first volunteer happened to walk up to him, bowing.

You didn't want to look, but yet, you did. You watched as the first five got rejected, you watched as one took longer than the others only to fail and you watched as Fonir got impatient.

His eyes met yours again, and the silent look of pleading on his face made you go after the fifteenth person, raising your hand slowly and silently. You only walked up to him when the King nodded and you nodded your head at Fonir, finally getting a good look at the symbol.

It was a mandala alright, but, the longer you looked at it, the more familiar it got. You lifted your hand from its position on your arm and traced it, stopping only when you felt a searing pain in your left wrist. You hissed and stepped back, tearing your hand away from him before grasping your wrist, pressing against your wrist.

Fonir's eyes were wide as he watched you, your face contorted in pain as you tightly held your wrist, the pressure easing it just a little. "Jarïle," you heard him start through deafened ears, "...move your hand."

You could hardly hear the whispers that came after Fonir spoke, and all you could feel was the burning in your wrist until you saw a green hand slowly clasp over yours. You leaned into the cool touch letting him pull your hand away, only to reveal the same symbol that was on his wrist. Though, instead of it being drawn, it was burned into your skin, like it was made with a branding iron.

King Ralin was at Fonir's side in no time at all, pale white eyes looking back and forth between your marks. "...That's never happened before."

"Being matched with a human hasn't happened either, Fonir," his father pointed out. "I suppose you found your match."

The collective whispers seemed to quiet down immediately when it was announced and the next thing you knew was that King Ralin was wishing everyone but you a farewell and to 'have a safe trip home'. Then the throne room's doors were shut and you were left alone with the two.

Silence blanketed over the three of you and you pulled your hand away from Fonir, eyes falling to the floor as you heard echoed footsteps and then Ralin's voice, "So, I assume you two have already met."

You nodded, but Fonir talked before you could, "They work at the Capital's library, father."

You lifted your head slightly, only to see the King's eyes as he looked at you, a small smile on his face. You pulled your left arm behind your back to nod at him slightly, the burning feeling in your arm slowly dispersing with each moment. His smile widened and his short, neon pink hair tipped to the side when he tilted his head. "Are you sure jarïle is the right nickname for them, Fonir?"

You felt Fonir's eyes on you again, and you met his eyes. "I think it suits them a lot."

Everything you had on your tongue died when you saw him look at you, and you hated how you were anything but annoyed at it. You didn't like the butterflies that formed in your stomach when he gave you a small smile and winked. And you didn't like how you knew that his teasing would just come back tenfold because of this.

"It's just going to get worse," you finally responded after a long moment, and his smile widened at it.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Jarïle." The King laughed and rested a hand on Fonir's shoulder. You appreciated the genuine happiness from Ralin. It was a change from Earth's leaders. Though, he was actually doing a good job.

"I'll leave you two to discuss. We'll all talk at dinner tonight about what the future holds for the both of you. Alright?" You glanced up at him, noticing the 'alright' was more for you, than Fonir. You nodded after a small pause, giving him a slight smile. "Great. I'll see you two later."

Fonir gave his father a small wave before his hand was back on yours and he slowly pulled you to the throne. "So, this is..."

He didn't continue, so you did for him. "Tragic? Dreadful? Terrible? Horrible? Am I getting warmer?"

"Ice cold," he responded simply. "It's something."

"What's something supposed to mean?"

"It's something to get used to." His hand let go of yours and moved back so he could sit on the edge of the throne. "I didn't know being matched to me was that bad for you, Jarïle."

He was teasing you. You could hear it in his voice.

You wanted to bite back, but all you responded with was, "I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"How? By simply saying something that you could've very well been thinking? Don't tell me you expected to be matched with me, much less a human."

"I wasn't," He confirmed. "But that's because it hasn't happened. I'm more than happy to be the first of something."

You bit the inside of your cheek, thumb running along the mark on your wrist, pressing down every so slightly to test if it still hurt. "How's this gonna work?"

"What?"

"Us. Am I gonna have to quit my job and just...sit idle until you take the throne? Are we just going to play nice in front of camera and the moment it turns off things just go back to normal?" He gave you a look, eyebrow cocked in confusion.

"And what's 'back to normal'?"

"You having an issue with me," You said, exasperated, knowing for a fact that it was obvious. "Ever since I came here, you've done nothing but try to stir stuff by teasing the living fuck out of me. Then you go ahead and decide to call me an affectionate term like we're friends and- and if you even thought that was ok, I would assume you'd be friend-"

He cut you off, covering your mouth with his hand. "That was me being friendly. You seriously thought I had an issue with you?"

You froze in your spot, not fighting him when he pulled you between his legs. "You're the first person that's treated me normally, even going as far as to threaten me with late fees. Jarïle, you're possibly the only human I'd feel completely comfortable being matched with. Everyone else treats me like I'm...like-...well never mind the word for it. You're not afraid to be you in front of me."

You tasted iron after biting down on the inside of your cheek harshly, but the pain of it didn't even process, your mind only trying to go through everything he said. "...Do you mean they treat you like china?"

"Is that all you got out of that?" He groaned. "Yes, I meant that, but c'mon, that can't be the only thing you have to say about what I said."

"It's not," you confessed. "I'm just...having a hard time understanding how I got how you felt about me so wrong. I'm usually good at reading people."

"Humans," Fonir corrected. "You're good at reading humans."

You felt like a child being scolded with how he was looking at you, for the tone that took hold every time he talked. But despite that, you still had at least some gall to ask, "...Would you be more comfortable if you got matched with a Horæl? You only mentioned human when you said that."

The braids that pushed his hair back earlier were doing nothing at that moment, framing his face as his crown was nowhere to be seen, but he still had the touch of nervousness he had earlier, and you wondered why he was the one nervous. "I didn't think they needed to be included."

"So you would be?"

"You like assuming things, don't you," he asked, and the slight smile that appeared on his face relaxed you ever-so-slightly. "Horæls also treat me like china, Jarïle. Even more than humans."

You nodded, eyes drifting from him before his hand grasped your chin and brought you back to him. "We have two years until I come of age to take the throne. Does that seem like enough time for you?"

"Do I have to quit my job?" Fonir chuckled in response.

"I don't see why you have to. Maybe when we start ruling, but you're free to do whatever you like." We. The word had your thoughts racing and freezing all at the same time. He wanted to do it with you, even after you actively disliking him, even when you thought he disliked you too.

He must've noticed the zoned out look on your face because he waved his free hand in front of it and tilted his head. "What's on your mind, Jarïle?"

"You said we when you were talking about ruling," you answered, voice quiet. "I thought you were the most irritating person alive and here you are...being overly nice to me."

"Well, considering that my teasing didn't do anything to make me seem nice, I might as well try a new approach," he joked. "And we're a match. Why wouldn't I say we?"

"I wouldn't expect you to want to rule with me," you said bluntly, though your voice was still just as quiet. "I've only been here for like...two and a half months and suddenly in two years I'm gonna rule? No one is going to like that."

"I like it," Fonir admits. "You can learn a lot in two years and...believe me when I say it, you're going to learn a lot if my father has any say."

"And here I thought, King Ralin was nice," you jested, allowing an unsure smile to grace your lips. It only got bigger when you saw him laugh, the sound ringing in your ears like a melody.

"My father is nice, but when it comes to the kingdom...he's pretty strict. We're going to be going through the same things, trust me."

You didn't think before your hand grabbed his, giving the slender thing a small squeeze. "I do."

The smile Fonir gave you when you said that sent your heart to the stars, and another laugh left him. "You spend two months hating my guts and here you are, saying you trust me."

"I found your smug expression and teasing annoying...I never hated your guts though."

He hums, a pleased expression on his face. "I guess today we're both learning something. Neither of us hate each other."

You nodded. "I guess we don't."

His hand squeezed yours as the other hand stayed on your chin, thumb right below your bottom lip even though you knew he could very well touch it if he wanted to. His touch was just as cool as earlier, which you appreciated given the lingering burning feeling in your arm and in your face, even if it was mainly in your cheeks.

Though, right as the moment had started, it ended just as fast, your phone ringing loudly from your back pocket. A groan flew from your lips as Fonir pulled his hands away, your hand making it to the phone that resided in your pants before seeing the contact picture, eyes widening when you see Jorik's face. "Shit, I forgot to call her."

"What? Forgot to call who?" You didn't answer him, simply answering the phone before bringing it to your ear.

"Hey," you said, carrying the 'y' for a few seconds.

"Out of two hundred humans, you happened to be the one that was his match." You winced at her words.

"...Word really carries around fast."

"Of course it does! You're the Prince's Jarïle! Not only did he know you before the meeting, he called you a pet name! Korlae, you're big now."

A breath left you, and you nodded, though you knew full well she couldn't see you. "Yea, I'm aware of that. Look, I was in the middle of something before you called..."

"Yea? Like what?" You met Fonir's eyes and used your pointer finger to tap your phone and then point to him, a silent question of if he wanted to take it.

When he caught on, a mischievous grin grew on his face and he nodded, letting you hand him your phone as he pulled it to his ear. He seemed to listen to Jorik for a long, drawn out moment before glancing at you. The both of you shrug at each other, though his was in response of you doing it to him.

"Hello?" Fonir said, unsure if doing so was even ok, but when you heard the faint talking stop, you let out a snort. He took it as a sign to keep going however, "I'm the something they were in the middle of...Jorik, right?"

You watched Fonir's eyes widen as he pressed his lips together and pulled back your phone, shoulders shaking with silenced laughter. "Did she..."

You drifted off, but the second you saw him nod you barked out a laugh, hand covering your mouth as you tried to muffle the sound. "Your friend just hung up on me."

Your hand dropped and you tipped your head forward, nodding as you cackled. "I've had people who were afraid to talk to me, but- but they hung up on me!"

With another nod, you knew that you weren't going to let Jorik forget what she did any time soon, especially when you heard your phone ring again.

-<><><><><><><>-

You sat at a table in the Capital's library, eyes focused on an Actaean history book as your tutor -who Ralin was very happy to give you- piled more books onto your already gigantic stack, sitting across from you. You refused to glance up at her, already knowing that there was going to be a smug smile on her face.

She wasn't mean, not in the slightest, but she was good at making you feel bad about knowing almost nothing about the planet and its history, which in turn made you feel stressed about ruling and that made you feel bad that Fonir got matched with someone so...stupid. And almost as if he knew you were thinking poorly of yourself, he came in, fast food bag in his long, slender hand. Your first-in-line.

That was the moment you glanced up, a relieved look overtaking your face as he glanced at the books, then over to you with a small smile. "Uiloi, you're working them to the bone. I cannot rule with a skeleton."

"There's only a year and a half left before you turn twenty-five, your highness."

"And in that time, and even after it, they can learn the boring history of this planet. Go take a break, get a drink from the shop down the street." It sounded like a suggestion, but his tone made it apparent that it wasn't, and so Uiloi was quick in standing and leaving the library.

Fonir set the bag down, pushing it in front of you before he moved the stack of books to the far side of the table, sitting in the seat next to you. You shot him a thankful smile and pushed your book aside. "Thanks..."

"You can tell her to stop, Jarïle, she's supposed to listen to you."

"I'd feel bad," you admitted. "...It doesn't seem like it's my place to order anyone around, much less the people that actually come from here."

Fonir pouted, hand grasping your chin gently before he leaned down just enough to leave a chaste kiss on your nose. "That'll pass when you get used to it all, it's only been six months, Jarïle."

"What if it doesn't pass?"

"Then I guess I'll have to be right beside you to reassure you that it's ok," he answered, acting like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Out of everyone on my planet and yours, I'm extremely lucky for it to be you that I'm matched with."

"We met eight-" He cut you off, finger against your lips.

"Does it really matter how long it's been?" You wanted to argue, say that it does, but when you saw his expression and the soft look in his eyes, you knew you couldn't. Because it really didn't matter. Not to you at least.

After a begrudging huff, you shook your head, watching as the smile on his face grew and letting him leave another quick kiss, this time on your temple. "You wouldn't have won that argument even if you tried, Jarïle."

"I know," you said, breathing out through your nose. "I can never truly win an argument against you, you're too stubborn to accept that you were wrong."

"As are you, my little future ruler." Clicking your tongue, you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Shut it with the little alright? You guys are just freakishly tall." Fonir held a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"That's hurtful, Jarïle. Maybe we're the normal ones and you humans are the freakishly small ones, huh?" His dramatic tone made you laugh, one of your hands pushing the book in front of you away to grab at the fast food bag as the other pushed his arm gently. He smiled down at you, a proud expression on his face as he watched your attention divert to the bag now fully in front of you. “I could’ve had the cooks make something for you, you know?”

You shook your head, already halfway done pulling out the greasy fries in its little cardboard container. “I couldn’t make them do that.”

A sigh left him at your words, and you glanced over at Fonir. “What?”

“You think someone would take the fact that they’re going to be crowned royal in the near future and use it for their own good.” You snorted. “Like actual cooked meals rather than human’s ‘quick food’.”

“Hon’,” you started, “you should’ve seen what I ate in college. It was worse than fast food.”

His brows furrowed in response before he pursed his lips. “You worry me, Jarïle.”

Now it was your turn to look proud, a grin spreading across your face. “Gotta keep you on your toes, Princey.”

“You have many years in the future to do that, Jarïle, but I have to insist that when we’re wedded, you take care of yourself.”

“You saying fast food isn’t taking care of myself?” You knew it wasn’t, fast food actually got worse after it was able to move up here but you quickly got past it when you realized how cheap it was, especially when you refused to hear Fonir out about paying.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." You huffed a laugh and shook your head. It was cute how much he doted on you after such a short amount of time.

A knock against the table drew both of your attention towards the person that did it, your eyes drifting over Soran's form, meeting his smile with your own. "Hey, Sor'."

He waved, bowing his head towards Fonir before he looked at you again and jerked a thumb over his shoulder before pulling his hand back to sign, 'Jorik needs help with the book scanner, sorry to interrupt.'

You bit your lip, glancing over at Fonir before popping a fry in your mouth and standing. "I'll gotta help Jorik real quick."

You didn't think twice when you leaned down and pecked his cheek, only pulling back to round the table and walk beside Soran. "Say anything about the kiss and I'll fight you, Sor'."

'I didn't even do anything,' he signed quickly, eyebrows furrowed. 'So quick to assume.'

You glanced up to his face after you got what he was signing, cocking an eyebrow just slightly. "You want to say something about it, don't you."

There was a pause, but eventually he nodded, casting his gaze away from you when the both of you went behind the front desk. "Knew it."

"Knew what?" Jorik asked, simultaneously tapping a book against the scanner.

'Our modest librarian gave their match a scandalous kiss on the cheek,' Soran was quick to sign, not bothering to hide the teasing expression on his face.

Jorik set the book down to gasp dramatically. "Not a kiss on the cheek! Such a travesty, I thought you were better, Korlae."

You swatted at the both of them, swiping the book from the counter before knocking the scanner on the top. When you placed the book back under, ignoring the laugh that came from Jorik at your reaction, you heard the high-pitched beep. "There."

"How'd you-"

"You just gotta bop it on the top. It's like tech on Earth, if it doesn't work, you just have to abuse it a little." You shrugged, sneaking past Soran to the open side of the desk. "If you need anymore help, you know where to find me."

"And your Prince."

"Yes, and my Prince," you said without thinking, the words processing in your head as you swiftly shook it. "The Prince. I meant the Prince. Just call him by his name, Jorik."

“Sure you meant that, Korlae. Totally. Just like you two haven’t been conjoined at the hip with him ever since you were matched with him,” Jorik said, eyes boring two holes into you with a disbelieving but playful expression. “I’m surprised no one has caught you making out yet.”

Your eyes widened, a flush spreading across your cheeks as your face grew warm. “Jorik I’m going to wring your-“

“Ah ah,” she mock scolded you, waving a finger in the air. “None of that. Don’t make me bring over your beloved.”

You held your hands up, arms outreached as your fingers curled into your palms, an exasperated huff leaving you before you turned on your heel and left the desk.

You walked back to the table, falling into your chair with a heaving sigh as Fonir looked up from a book, one that wasn’t from the pile of history books, which means he must’ve grabbed it when you were gone. “What’s wrong, Jarïle? You seem upset.”

“I’m fine, Fonir,” you said, hand moving to pat his. “Jorik’s was just teasing me.”

“About?” You met his eyes, and it only took a couple seconds before it clicked. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “We’re apparently conjoined at the hip.”

He glanced down at his book and shut it after another second. “I wouldn’t say that she’s wrong saying it.”

“So you think it too?” You couldn’t help but ask it, but you knew the answer already.

“Well,” he started, holding onto the ‘l’ for a short moment, “we could spend more time together. You’re welcome to live at the castle.”

“Marry me first,” you laughed. “Give me a reason to make my commute to work longer, ‘kay?”

Fonir grabbed your hand, tipping his head down to kiss the back of it. “I fully intend on doing that…in a year.”

“You’re so quick for me to move in, but you won’t marry me.”

“I assumed that you’d want more time living separately. And it’d give you six months to get used to it all before your life is changed.”

“Because my life was completely normal now?” He shot you a look, and you merely leaned up to kiss his cheek again. “Normal’s boring anyway, match.”

You felt Fonir’s normally cool skin heat under your lips, and you pulled back to see the neon green flush along his cheeks. You knew what got him to be like that. It was you calling him match, that little nickname you jokingly called him three months ago. But when you saw how flushed and flustered it made him, you kept it.

“Match,” he repeated, just for you to nod. “My match.”

“Forever and ever, Fonir.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Part two

#x reader #monster fucker #human x monster #monster boyfriend #monster love #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monsterfucker #reader insert #gn reader #gender neutral reader #terato #exophilia #This is now my brand #Idec lemme project my types through my stories #Prince #Royal #Alien #alien x reader #alien x human #Fonir #I wasn't lying when I said I'm gonna be a monsterfucker blog #This is a soulmates thing #I don't know what I'm doing #teratophillia #I have opinions and therefore I put them in here lmao #None of the alien words exist #Don't try to look them up

[cometkenji]

Virginia vampire - 1/2

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x vampire!fem!reader Cw: SLOWBURN BRO, descriptions of hunting/blood consumption, angst, fluff, non-descriptive mentions of an abusive dad, cursing, typical criminal minds violence, possible ED trigger (more in disclaimer), idk bro you tell me Summary: You escaped your scientist father when you were 17. When requested by Quantico PD to deal with a stemming serial killer, you realize you recognize the wounds. You used to be the one inflicting them. Disclaimer 1: Reader is chubby! She's not physically described here at all but a fat woman is always the MC. Disclaimer 2: Reader lives strictly on blood. This story discusses themes of intense bloodlust/hunger, UNINTENTIONAL avoidance of blood (food), and physical consequences due to not eating (more so in the next chapter). This is NOT pro-ana or anything like that, and while these themes are explicitly negative, they are still there and may affect those struggling. Please look after yourself, this is all fantasy and is not meant to trigger you. That's all <3 WC: 9.6k Like I said, please head the disclaimer as I would hate for anyone to feel negatively about this. I personally have struggled with a restrictive ED and would not write/publish anything I felt would trigger/contribute to pro-ED rhetoric. I'm actually rlly proud of this one I think it's cool and neat and I'm excited to share. I also looped eat your young by Hozier while writing this so would recommend as ambiance. Enjoy <33

The Quantico streets seemed to get darker the more you came out. It was late - technically early, as midnight had passed two hours ago - but still a time of pungent heathenism. Nobody out at this hour had good intentions. You knew yours were certainly questionable, discreetly following a man decked in club attire as he stumbled his way down the street. This was the worst part - having to stalk behind them, giving you nothing but time to humanize them in your head. He was probably going home, back to safety. The process of hiding a body is one you could recite with your eyes closed. It’s bitter and metallic, but familiar, and you seemed to project that harbored guilt onto him. It wasn’t as though he’d never see that safety again, you didn’t kill people anymore. Your unusual diet required this type of robbery, but you’d busted your ass for almost three years to figure out the perfect amount. The amount that keeps you just on the cusp of living, closer to death than most but still able to function effectively. The number of times you felt a heart cease it’s beating against your lips because you went too far would strike envy in the evilest of individuals. The amount you took was pure necessity - a full syringe, never a drop more. It would last you about half the week when rationed out. It was livable, doable, only ever being a problem if you couldn’t get more the exact night you needed to. 

You hated preying on drunks, the alcohol in their blood making it taste rancid, but this was the easiest target you could ask for. Beggars can’t be choosers. He took a moment to catch his breath after he nearly toppled over, and you saw your opportunity on a silver platter. Contrary to the movies, stealth was not an inherent trait you get when you live on blood, you’d gained yours from experience. You never liked being so good at this, but as you rendered the man unconscious and silenced his fall to the ground, you relished in the fact that you were. The days of amateur hunting were long over, and the cries of people as the blood rushed from their necks are ones that echo - ones that sit with you. 

You dragged the man to the innards of the closest alley, propping him against the wall and rolling up his jacket sleeve. You took off the bag hanging from your shoulders, removing a syringe and a flashlight. Since you hunted at night, it was impossible to find a vein without lighting. It was something you realized quick when you made the switch from neck to wrist. You turned the thing on, clamping it between your teeth and angling it down at his arm. Growing up with the world’s cruelest biologist as a father, you were well versed in the world of human anatomy per his insistence. You watched the vial fill with liquid, cursing your entire situation for being so despicable. The only way to properly describe your father was Frankenstein, eagerly allowing his only child to grow into the role of his monster. He’d handcrafted your DNA in a petri dish, ensuring that malice was weaved throughout your most instinctual needs. He was a well off man, respectively referred to as the brightest mind in our current age. He’d gained fame after presenting his magnum opus - the invention of literal vampirism. Somehow, something only he knew how to do, he’d made a string of DNA that derived the body’s energy from the nutrients in blood. He started with insects, impregnating beetles with the specific code, making embryos that fed purely on blood of the same species, which manifested into a hostile blood lust once the thing was born. He’d reached rodents and promised he would be ending his tests there, not wanting to breach the topic of morality and push forward with mammals. Unfortunately, your father was as honest as he was kind, so here you were. 

You finished the extraction and pulled the needle from the man’s flesh, apologizing profusely under your breath. You patched him up, a bandaid over the small hole, and hid him amongst some garbage bags. Nobody out at this hour had good intentions, and you weren’t about to offer them a possible victim for whatever desire they may be looking to express. You hated that you had to hurt him at all, no matter how minimally. The least you could do was shield him from the people who truly intended harm. You tossed the now full syringe back into your bag, the flashlight following a second later, and exited the alley. The only thing that kept your feet moving was the few days of peace you would get now that you had food. Your head pounded with the feeling of blood just sitting in your bag, the body full of blood laying defenseless just a few feet away. It was a battle you fought everyday, seeing those closest to you as two separate entities - one was a person you loved, one just a plethora of functioning veins and arteries. Their lifeforce was the closest thing to ambrosia you could imagine. It’d taken you years to get control, though, and you refused to undo that for a couple minutes of gratification. You couldn’t. Losing control would grant your father the victory he ached for, and you would die before letting that happen. You rushed to walk away, choosing to propel yourself with the image of his disappointed face rather than the breathing blood bag leaning on a dumpster. He’d killed your mother before you even got to know her, you refused to be the reason someone didn’t get to know their parent.

–

The BAU was an unwelcome sight when the time was five in the morning instead of your usual seven. You’d been ushered to the building by a sleep deprived JJ, spouting off different remarks of remorse for the early hour but needing the team there immediately. The whole table seemed to share in the disdain, as half of them could barely hold their eyes open and the other half were practically chugging shitty break-room coffee. Aaron was, surprisingly, the last to walk in. Greeting everyone with attempted normalcy while visibly fighting off his own exhaustion. His hair was messy, his torso lacking the coverage of his uniform baggy blazer. The sight of him slightly unkempt from the spontaneity of the gathering caused the air to flee from your lungs. You’d had a bit of a staring problem since you started working here, but his appearance now displayed a casualness that was making you dizzy. The deviation from his standard presentation felt strangely intimate, a more personal version of him. You looked away quickly, you had to. He took his spot next to you, having reserved that place for himself when you were first hired. He greeted you personally once he sat down, something for just the two of you. You had looked at him, about to reciprocate when JJ officially started the meeting. 

“Good morning, everyone. I’m sorry for the early start but we’ve been urgently requested by our local PD. They think we’ve got the start of a serial killer, three bodies were found last night with the same MO.”

“Three bodies?” Morgan’s words were laced with bewilderment. “As in three people were actually killed or three bodies were dumped?” The table knew what he was getting at. Three murders in a single night was quite the task. Especially considering the police had to find the bodies, meaning no pedestrian had seen anything worth reporting.

“They’ve left the crime scenes untouched for us, but they’re betting all of them happened in the same time span.”

As if he could read your mind, Hotch asked the main question that’d been circling your mind. “How are they being killed?”

“That’s why we’ve been asked for.” JJ started distributing files containing the crime scene details. “All the victims so far have the same stab wound in their carotid. Nothing had been stolen, and they were all found in alleyways. For the amount of blood that comes with puncturing an artery, there wasn’t a drop found at the scene.” 

“No signs of torture?” Morgan was looking at the photos as he asked, double checking the information he was reading in the file.

“All of them were basically untouched from the neck down. There weren’t even indications of defense.” JJ shook her head as she spoke. “This guy definitely gets the jump on them.”

“A blitz attacker.” Prentiss concluded, closing her file as she reached the end of it. “Any witnesses?”

“None.” The worst answer JJ could have. “Police found them while on patrol.” 

“Alright.” Hotch stood from his seat. “Prentiss, Morgan, I want you at the first scene.” The agents nodded at the orders, exiting the room to complete the task. He looked towards Spencer, drawing his attention away from the file as he addressed him. “When Rossi gets here I want you guys at the second body.”  The man just uttered a “got it” and looked back down, waiting on Rossi’s presence to start moving. Aaron’s eyes made their way to you. “I want you with me. We’re gonna go meet the officers at the latest discovery.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, feigning preoccupation with closing your folder and simply muttering a noise of agreement before standing. 

“I told the press to keep it quiet. Last thing we need is word of a mini spree leaking to the public.” JJ informed the remaining people of this on her way out, peeking her head back through the door to say it before returning to her office. You watched Rossi finally show up and retrieve Reid from the conference room as you were leaving, heading to the car with Aaron close behind. 

Once you were buckled into the passenger seat, you started talking. “Three bodies in under twelve hours. Haven’t heard those numbers since the Barly Butcher in ‘64.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t reach that.” His eyes, although you couldn’t see them, went slightly vacant at the thought. He couldn’t imagine dealing with that level of killer in the modern age - he certainly didn’t want to. “One was too many. God knows we don’t need a Quantico butcher.”

You couldn’t imagine either. “No kidding.” The drive wasn’t shaping up to be a long one, seven minutes went by and you were already approaching the flashing lights of cop cruisers. You got out of the car, the sheriff swiftly coming over to talk. She had thanked you for taking the case, grateful that her precinct wouldn’t be dealing with this one alone. There were CSI already there, but you slid gloves on your hand and headed towards the body regardless. They were respectful, allowing you control of the scene, walking away as you got closer to give you space. 

You turned the woman’s neck slightly to get a better view of the injury, the image shaking the ground beneath your feet and causing the water in your tear ducts to form a haze over your eyes. There were teeth marks around the incision. Such a minor indent that it was no surprise it went over looked. You could see it because you’d once been the cause of such a thing. The closer you examined, the more parallels you drew to your beginner days. The skin around the wound was curling upwards, a sign of applied suction. No wonder they couldn’t find any blood, it’d been sucked out. You nearly fell off your feet from where you were crouching. The unsub clearly knew enough about the human body to inflict such a precise cut, pair that with the obvious motivation to feed and you got the bone-chilling realization currently seeping through you. He’d made another one. You had a sibling, and he was hungry.

–

When the regroup was called back at headquarters, you lead an uninformed and slightly confused Aaron to meet the rest of the team. He’d noticed your determination at the scene, questioning your findings and being eager to get back when you made him wait to hear about it. You wasted no time as you entered the room, pulling up the image on the big screen to properly show them your theory. 

“The unsub is drinking their blood.” Looks of defeat and absurdity were present in all of their eyes, but you continued explaining, zooming in so close that the image went slightly blurry. “If you look close enough there are teeth prints around the wound, not bite marks, but the type of print you get from resting your teeth around the wound and applying pressure. The edges of the wound are curling in and up, so it can be assumed some type of suction followed the stabbing.” Most of the team was squinting at the screen, absorbing the details you pointed out and already trying to form a timeline, a motive - something. “That’s why they couldn’t find any blood. It was consumed.”

“So we’re dealing with a vampire?” Morgan sighed, his eyes detailing a reluctant belief. He couldn’t argue with your theory yet, it was the only logical thing they had. “Maybe we should visit your dad, Y/n.” 

You scoffed at the quip, images of the man throughout your early life flashing through your head. “Funny.” You furrowed your brows at him. “You’d have to find him first.” You had slipped from his grasp when you were seventeen. The home you spent your childhood in was vacant a few years later, effectively severing all your remaining knowledge of his life. You’d never had any way to contact him, only the relics of his stories that refused to leave you. The only thing he ever spoke about was himself, and most of his tales were burned into your memory like a branding. If you were honest, you’re surprised he’d never physically branded you, he’d surely thought about it. The dread started to build in your gut. You handled most cases with a healthy distance, some could regard it as a coldness but you preferred the simplicity of your process. This, however, was impossible to deal with impersonally. This threw you headfirst into a situation you had never bothered to prep for. Not only would you be seeing how your team feels about what was essentially an early version of you, but you didn’t want to prosecute this unsub. His path was one you walked for years before acquiring the life you have now. You hadn’t been a villain, there was a high chance he wasn’t either. The bloodlust was controllable, he just needed someone to teach him. Pursuing him with the vigor of a typical unsub would wreck you. You felt protective, almost maternal. Your father had made another monster, but that didn’t have to mean they live a life of his design. You could get him out.

“Can I speak with you?” You hadn’t even noticed the analytical gaze Aaron held, too focused on your own internal spiraling. “Outside?” He motioned his head towards the hallway, instructing you to follow him.

You always felt like a kid in the principal’s office when he called you away from the team. “What’s up?” You hadn’t even waited for him to fully shut the door before you prompted the conversation. You were fully prepared to raise hell and high water to find your unsub, and you needed all the time you could get.

“Is something going on?” He always took extra time to check on your wellbeing. You figured at first it was pity, some type of undermining or an indication he thought you were less equipped for the job than others. He’d never hinted at any of those, always showing genuine concern for you, and eventually you stopped thinking he had ulterior motives. “You’ve been skittish and antsy since you saw the body. You’re speaking faster and can’t look me in the eyes. You’re nervous. Why?”

“Hotch.” You sighed his name, and he tilted his head, leaning in slightly as though pulled in by the sound. “I am nervous. There were three people murdered last night. If this guy is drinking the blood of his victims seconds after he kills, there’s no predicting how long the cool-down will be. He could strike again tonight or he could be gone for weeks. I don’t want more people losing their lives because we waited around too long. I need to figure this out.”

He could tell you were withholding something, you saw it in the way he looked at you. Thankfully, though, he allowed you to keep your secret. Breathing out a sigh of his own and just nodding. “You know where to find me if you want to talk.” 

You held back the look of pure adoration you wanted to send his way, settling for the appropriate neutrality. “I know.”

You both rejoined the team shortly after, ignoring the curious looks of your coworkers and instead inserting yourself into the conversation. Reid went over the typical blood fetishists, along with the multiple philias and phobias associated with blood consumption. All of them falling flat in one way or another. You suggested swabbing the victim’s neck for traces of saliva, Prentiss calling to request the task be performed the second you’d said it. With hours going by and the promise of lab results by tomorrow, you all said your goodbyes. You said a silent prayer under your breath for a body-less night and drove home with a plan. If he was like you, he’d be out again tonight, and you had every intention of finding him.

–

This was the first time in your life you’d ever felt thankful for your knowledge of nightlife. Patrol was amping up, tonight it was one too many cop cars on the street. Tomorrow it could be officers searching the area on foot. With no way to predict the criminal, there was also no way to predict the response, and that was scary as hell. Any attempts they were making to stop him from feeding would affect you just as bad. There hadn’t been a single event since you started hunting more ethically that you’d had to break routine. You wanted to help him, but you also needed to stop him from fucking up your regimen. You were wandering, aimless and anxious. You tried connecting to whatever energetic wavelength you might have with him considering your partial relation, getting nothing but a firm reminder of why that stuff wasn’t considered fact. You ducked away from the second police cruiser of the night, just barely evading the lights before their illumination painted your face red and blue. The alley was a welcoming partner, allowing her shadows to drape over you and create a solitude unique to that darkness. You’d heard the noises a second later - panting, consistent and ragged, followed by a period of silence before resuming. You clicked on your flashlight, shining it maybe ten feet ahead of you and feeling like someone threw sand in your eyes. He was here, dressed in jeans and a black zip-up, hood over the back of his head. You wouldn’t have been able to see him even if his hood was down - he was crouched over a woman, shoulders hunched and mouth greedily stealing what little life she had left to give. He was so small, you physically felt your lips curl in sorrow when you realized he couldn’t be more than fifteen. The woman’s fingers were still flexed, and you assumed she’d died less than a minute ago by her arm placement. They were crooked at the elbow but weirdly resting on the assailant, as though she’d been gripping his shoulders before her strength blew out with the wind. 

You waited, just a moment, stilling to see what move - if any - he would make. He was completely entrenched in his task, but you were surprised your light hadn’t set him off yet. It was only when the river ran dry that he seemed to notice your voyeurism. His head snapped in your direction so fast that you jumped on your feet a little. You thought back to how volatile you’d been in his shoes, deciding the best way to approach him would be that of a rabid animal. You inched closer, seeing him mirror you with a slight back-step. 

“Hey.” You talked quietly, breathily, trying to subdue any dominant undertones you could be carrying. “I need you to listen to me, ok?” You crouched, hoping to put the two of you on the same level. “I know you’re not trying to hurt anyone. You’re hungry, yeah? You’re hungry and I know it fucking hurts. Worse than you ever imagined it could.” You thought back to the days of captivity. Your father made you the absolute pinnacle of gluttony, feeding you even when you finally didn’t want it, engorging you with the only thing you could sustain yourself with. Going from a state of constant overflow to barely a drip-feed was agony, causing fits of hunger so extreme that it was a miracle he hadn’t hit double digits by now. “I can help you, alright? I’ve been there. It doesn’t have to be this way - I promise it’s manageable.” You really should have planned some sort of script for this, you were winging it and from the accusatory look he was wearing, you didn’t think it was working. 

You asked if he knew your father, hoping to establish some reputability in his mind and prove you knew what you were talking about. The name, though, seemed to hit him like a bullet. He took off running and blew past you so fast it knocked you over. You jumped up as quick as you’d been put down and set off after him. The kid was fast, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you lost him. He had the advantage of being half your height in a city full of narrow shortcuts. You pleaded with him in between breaths to just listen to you, promised you didn’t want to hurt him, all of it was futile. He ducked into a subway and slipped from your grasp before you even knew you had him. Your eyes teared up from frustration, so close to being the saving grace you were desperate to be but just managing to graze it before it leaped away from you. You felt the toll of such a run immediately sodden your legs and weaken your lungs. You didn’t have nearly enough fuel in the tank to give chase, but what were you supposed to do? You’d seen him, almost had him before the acidity of your fathers name melted all the progress you were making. Fitting, you thought. You slipped your phone out of your pocket, you were still an agent who had just found a body. Another victim in a string of serial killings; if you didn’t report it and were traced at all back to the scene you could be fired - or arrested. Hotch’s contact burned a hole straight through your pupils. How the fuck were you gonna explain this? You just happened to be on a classic midnight walk alone as a woman in the city currently housing a vampiric serial killer. You could almost hear the crease of his eyebrows as you told him where you were, requesting the team be awoken and the local PD be sent to you. You’re sure he could hear the ball in your throat as your vision got watery again. He promised he’d be there soon, telling you to hang tight. He was comforting, but there was a determination in his voice that told you he wasn’t letting it go this time. You didn’t know how to prepare for whatever that meant, but you knew some worms would be leaving the can. 

Ten minutes later and you heard the familiar shout of your last name. “What the hell happened?” Morgan seemed worried you’d been attacked, scanning over you to check for any signs of injury. He wouldn’t find anything but your rapidly rising chest.

You watched the EMTs wheel away the woman in a body bag, locking your gaze on Derek when you started to feel nauseous. “I’m fine.” You crossed your arms, rationalizing that maybe a physical security would grant you the strength needed to conceal this mess. “I live right up the road. I go out walking sometimes when I can’t sleep. I just saw the body in the alley, guy was gone by the time I found her.” 

He seemed relieved at your avoidance but also completely floored by the stupidity of walking so late. “Stop walking alone at night.” He was clearly protective. “That's why some of these cases are even possible.” He looked at you, taking your story as truth without a second thought and letting a sense of mourning flood his irises. “I don’t know how I’d cope with having to put you in one of those bags.” How charming. “You get me?”

You looked at him, putting on a face of regretful understanding and simply uttered back a quiet “I got you.” to hopefully dodge all the attention he was giving you. 

He chuckled, looking behind you and gaining a sort of cringe in his smile. “Good luck with that.” He nodded towards whatever was approaching and joined the congregation of other agents and officers, essentially isolating you with the thing you’d been dreading most. Aaron Hotch.

“Aaron-” You turned around to face him but stopped talking when you saw the look he cast at you. Something so curious and pleading for the knowledge you withheld, he seemed to manually dim it with the aspect of his authority. He was your supervisor, but he cared for you as something deeper than that.

“We’re heading back to the BAU. I want you in my office when we get there. We need to talk about this.” He waited a second, letting the unusual professionalism sink into you before seeking confirmation. “Am I clear?” He was gentle in delivery, but the fear you’d betrayed him weighed heavy on you.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, looking at him. He wasn’t mad, and you didn’t regret the decisions that got you here. Your mind was simply racing with any plausible lie you could tell him to escape this situation unscathed. He knew you better than you were even aware of, you didn’t know if you could get away with lying at all, let alone lying in excess. You just prayed he was feeling particularly forgiving, along with hoping he was especially tired due to the hour. If you lucked out, you might only have to relinquish your integrity instead of the truth.

–

The sound of his door closing felt like the final sign of your demise. He hadn’t slammed it, he’d shut it gently and moved to sit opposite you in his office chair. You couldn’t remember a time he’d been genuinely angry with you. Right now he simply reeked of desperation, of empathy, and it was that notion that kept your eyes from meeting his.

“What’s going on, Y/n?” He was so soft, the tone of his voice combing through your ears like hypnotism. You were so fucking guilty.

You stared at his name card and wondered immaturely how it would feel to share a surname with the man. “I told you what happened.”

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “You told them what happened.” You begged him internally to just leave it alone. “Now I’m asking you to talk to me. You can’t even look at me. You seem to think that because you can conceal the standard signs of lying that nobody can tell. You slip past their radar because they don’t know your tells, Y/n.” Your heart sped up, he’d probably known you were keeping something from him before you’d even made the choice to. “The top of your middle finger covers your index when you’re lying or when you’re not telling me something, you know that? Every single time. You haven’t held a conversation in the past week without doing it.” He clasped his hands on the table, readjusting to really focus on you. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Something about him always had a way of wearing you down. You’d been smothering the feelings you held for him for years, so when he showed such devotion to you, he could wring you out like a sponge with just a sentence. You visibly deflated, shoulder slumping forward. “I saw him.”

He straightened, assessing how to tackle a statement like that. “You saw the unsub?” You just nodded. “Do you know how important that information is?” He seemed bewildered, even a little angry at the fact you didn’t tell them. “You know better than most how significant every sighting is. Why would you ever keep something like that from us?” He was speaking slightly faster, confused frustration filling his words as he continued. “It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt, Y/n. This was extremely reckless, I don’t understand how you could-”

“Hotch.” You’d never had to speak over him before. “He’s my family.” The words were coated in bile as they left you - this was a steep slope. You hadn’t anticipated sharing even that piece of information, your family history was far too close to your less than common genetic misfortune to ever be talked about. 

“...What?”

Your eyes teared up. You were going to tell him, and you were also going to cry. “I have to tell you something.” You felt the quiver of your lips, heard the shake of your voice as it circled the air. What the fuck were you thinking? 

“My father - um…lied to the public about his testing. He promised everyone that he would stop at mice, but he didn't plan on actually doing that.” You shook your head in tune with your words, speaking slowly as you thought of how to drop this bomb and cause the least amount of damage. “He kidnapped a woman, my mother. At that point he’d figured out a way to implement the DNA strand he was using on rodents into human sperm, and he managed to get her pregnant with it.”

His face went slack, an emotion reaching far beyond shock, beyond disbelief. “You mean…?”

“It’s not vampirism in the cinematic sense, Aaron. We don’t burn in the sun or have heightened senses or speed. It’s just a cruel mutation. Human blood is the only substance our body can process.”

“You - you keep saying ‘we’.” He was frantic, you didn’t blame him. “Are there more?”

“Just the unsub.” The look in your eyes was begging for acceptance, for empathy and tenderness. You hadn’t even expected him to believe you, but now you feared the possibility of him running for the hills and spilling your secret to anyone he came across. “He’s the only one I know of. I didn’t expect my father to do it again.”

“Jesus Christ.” You concealed a laugh at how expressive the confession was making him. You knew it was the worst possible time, but you’d never seen him so human. “Is this - I mean how do you live, Y/n? Are you killing people?” You understood the accusation, but that didn’t dilute the sting of it as it hit your ears.

“No, Aaron. God, no.” You rushed out a denial before he could think too hard on it. “It took me years to figure out the bare minimum I could live on, ok? It’s two full syringes a week, nobody ever dies. Ever.” He seemed out of it, you didn’t know how to gauge whether this was a good or bad reaction. You’d never told anybody. How did you even proceed in a situation like this? “Look, I know, ok? This is fucking crazy, but you can’t tell the team.” He widened his eyes at you slightly like the thought of not telling them was wilder than anything you just told him. 

“You can’t seriously expect-”

“Aaron.” You were on the brink of losing your breath. “I’m not a threat. I’ve worked here for years. I’ve lived with this my entire life and I have control. We need to focus on finding the boy and that won’t happen if they know.”

“Boy?” He furrowed his eyebrows deeper than you’ve ever seen. “He’s- It’s a kid?”

You thought back to the encounter. You could cup him in your palms. “He has to be. He’s tiny, fourteen or fifteen I’d say.” You nearly broke as you thought of the child he’d never get to be. 

“There’s no protocol for this, Y/n.” This was one of the first times you’d seen him speak with his hands. “I don’t even know how to approach it anymore. It’s hard enough dealing with a child unsub when they’re human. How do you suggest we deal with a vampire?”

“Hotch.” Your eyes held disappointment. He was coping with the situation, and you knew that, but his words still didn’t sit right with you. “He is human. A very scared and lost human boy. My dad overfed me as a kid, wanting to disable the signal that tells you when it’s enough. It’s why he’s killing so many, he must have recently broken out. You get…I don’t know, insatiable. You start and don’t know when to stop, it's just blind instinct. He doesn’t want to be hurting people.”

“You speak from experience.” You didn’t want to tell him he was missing the point, but there certainly wasn’t a mutual focus between the two of you.

“Nobody’s perfect, Aaron.” You spoke with tears lining your eyes, your past was the most shameful thing you carried with you. “I need to find him. I can help him.”

He sighed, baffled and exhausted at the entire situation. He nodded soon after. “I won’t tell them.” You felt the increase in oxygen as you practically gasped in relief.

You stood up, stopping with your hand on the doorknob. Were you running? Yes, most definitely. But he wasn’t speaking and you couldn’t imagine he wanted to stay in your company. “I promise I’m not a monster.” You didn’t quite know if you were trying to convince him of this, or if you were hoping to affirm what he was already thinking, but it was the only thing you could think to say. 

He just stared at you, eyes vacant but clearly attempting to imitate the warmth that would normally reside there. “Goodnight, Y/n.” It was such a familiar phrase that it nearly made you puke from the comfort flooding your body. You scoffed at the casual nature of the remark in the face of such an unusual time, but were still unfathomably thankful for it. 

“Goodnight, Aaron.”

–

Three days later, and you were really feeling the distance. He stopped the routine of checking in - he stopped speaking almost entirely. He spoke of you, giving you orders or assigning your assistance to others but never talking directly to you. He used to pull you aside sometimes just to ask about your day, now he wouldn’t even look at you. The bodies had only been piling, patrol increasing night by night all hell bent on catching the so-called ‘virginia vampire.’ The absolute last thing you needed was a media wave of infamy to drown the boy, but there was no stopping the press once they were off and running. You doubted it made a difference, internet access was fully forbidden within the iron fist that was life with your father. You were hopeful some type of DNA could be pulled from the bodies, as the clean up was nonexistent and some of the necks had still been wet upon police arrival, but you got nothing. Or rather, nothing within the system. Garcia had compared the results of the sample to every database in the country - sometimes branching beyond that - but nothing proved useful. It was foolish to be disappointed, obviously your father wouldn’t have registered the baby of his hostage with the required legal standards. You hadn’t even known what you wanted to find, but the presence of absolutely nothing was crushing.

With the new surveillance demands your local PD wanted to meet, the BAU ended up pitching in to night monitor with them. It wasn’t difficult by any means - just tedious. You sat in turned off cop cars for most hours of the night while trying to ignore the persistent burn of hunger that was lighting up your stomach. You knew it’d been too long since you went out, but you were out of luck. People weren’t on the street hardly at all, and even if there was a small population to prey on, the cops breathing down your neck made it nearly impossible. You’d been paired up with Morgan for the last two nights you’d done this, time moving faster with him there to entertain you. Needless to say, sitting in the dead silence of the Quantico pm with Hotch was not what you were anticipating when you came for your shift tonight. You were only two feet away from him, but you could almost gaze into the sinkhole that sat between you two. Cold and dark, brutally reminding you that you’d volunteered for this abyss when you spilled your guts. You stopped yourself from shifting in your seat as another contraction of hunger pulled at your abdominal muscles. You knew that if someone were looking, they’d be able to notice the decline in your recent performance. You were slower, more zoned out, antsy, irritable. You were good at suppressing those things, confident in your ability to conceal them, but you had a feeling the man beside you could tell. He’d been looking at you all night, analytical and lukewarm, letting the start of a conversation sit just on the tip of his tongue. The silence, though, was taking it’s toll on you. It seemed to morph into a ringing that bounced between your ears like it was determined to slip into your skull and bury itself there. You realized you would take the most awkward conversation over a night of partnered solitude. 

You wrestled with what to say, deciding to stick with your streak of brutal honesty. “Will you ever wanna talk to me again?”

He sniffed, continuing to stare forward like he was expecting the question. “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/n.” You didn’t know either. 

You took a moment to mentally gawk at his words, tripping over them in your attempt to process the answer and decide how to respond appropriately. “Anger?” You felt yourself ramp up slightly, your hands moving as you spoke. “Resentment? Sadness? I mean… you’ve just been cold and I can’t work with that, Aaron.” You looked at him, mouth slightly open as you laid your helplessness out for him to see. “I need something.”

“I just-” He shrugged, shaking his head while figuring out the words he needed to say. “You can’t expect me to adjust to that information in three days. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.” It was deeper than that. You both held a sort of mutual understanding that these lumps weren’t as surface level as confusion. The woman he’d been infatuated with for years had confessed she lived on the blood of her fellow man, how the hell do you act after learning that?

You tried your hardest to be empathetic towards his situation. You’d lived with this arrangement your entire life, so it was hard to put yourself in the shoes of shattered expectation, but you tried. It hurt to hear him refer to you like you were a different entity all of a sudden - but to him, you were. “So ask me. Ask me any question you can think of. If you want to know something, I’ll tell you. I just can’t stand the silence, Aaron.” You put your hand to your forehead as you relaxed into your seat. “I miss you. I’m the same person I was a week ago.” 

You heard him sigh and shift to be leaning forward slightly. “Do you have a…” He trailed off for a second, searching for the way to put it that would ensure you understood his question. “You know, a bloodlust? Do you feel what the kid is feeling?”

The air solidified in your lungs. Yes, you absolutely fucking did. However, you weren’t going to sit there and profess your never ending homicidal urges to a man who was already struggling to accept your bare minimum. You weren’t going to scare the man you cared for more than you already had. “Um…you could call it that, I guess. I do know what he’s feeling right now, but I don’t live in his mindset anymore. It gets less the more you live with it.” You weren’t lying, per say. It truly did get easier to manage, you were simply omitting the follow up of still being a bottomless pit for the substance. Just because you weren’t enslaved to it anymore didn’t mean the constant possibility wasn’t a part of your very being. 

He looked over at you, and in the dim glow of the street light his eyes seemed fuller, pupils rivaling puddles of tar. “What does it feel like?”

Your lips parted to let out your breath as it elevated slightly. The car seemed to humidify in the moments between his last question and now. Was he actually asking that? “It feels like…this-” Jesus Chist how did you even put words to it? “this constant…pulsing…in your gums.” You thought back to the haze it used to cast over your mind. You could barely think clearly when you first got out, focused on stealing the life force from beneath the skin of others. “Your whole body just fucking aches for it.” The eye contact between you and him was searing past your eyes and sinking into your soul itself. It was different than any way you’d looked at him before, so full of remorse and pure want that you’re surprised he didn’t laugh at your patheticism.

You caught quick movement draped in a shadow from your peripheral and were knocked back into your actual purpose. You and him both exited the car, creeping up to the spot previously occupied by the figure. You didn’t see him, simply felt the force of him pelt past you and crash into your shoulder. You, to your surprise, held your footing and were running after him a second later. Hotch was just behind you, both of you sprinting desperately to catch the boy. But, just like the last time you’d walked this path, the nimbleness of his smaller frame won almost effortlessly against the two of you, and you lost him. This time, you’d lost yourself right after. You felt the nonexistent padding of concrete on the sidewalk bruise your body before you even registered you’d fallen over. The world wasn’t fading, you were very awake and very aware of the pain spreading to your entire right side. You determined - rather quickly - that your legs had just given out from lack of proper energy. The embarrassment of doing this in front of Hotch severely trumped the pain of hitting the ground. 

“Jesus.” You heard the concerned mumble come from him as he crouched down to your level. “Are you ok?”

You said you were fine, but oxygen seemed to adopt the weight of a semi-truck and it got harder to accept the necessity into your body. You simply told him to stand up, following his lead and rising from your position with difficulty you hadn’t faced before. Your legs failed you for the second time, though, and you fell back onto your knees with a small sob of exertion being expelled from your chest. He crouched back down, stabilizing himself on his knees and letting you lean against him when you couldn’t hold yourself up.

“Y/n.” The shame of your current situation kept your eyes from his, only looking at him when he forced you to. “When was the last time you ate?”

You just shook your head, weakly trying to free yourself from his hands but failing. “Patrol’s been so high I just couldn’t - “ You sniffed slightly, gasping lightly as breathing became harder to do than the chase you just gave. “I couldn’t get out.” 

He muttered ‘ok’ under his breath a few times, seemingly coming to terms with something, looking around in all directions before rolling up his shirt sleeve. The implication of the action registered instantly and you began squirming away from him. Mumbling words of disagreement that you knew he could hear.

“I can’t, Aaron. I can’t drink straight from the source - I can’t stop.” You felt your lips tremble as you recalled the feeling of impending doom clashing messily against the rush of excitement that coursed through you at the possibility. You hadn’t known that specific cocktail in years, you thought you’d go the rest of your life without feeling it again. “I can’t - please.”

“Well -” He started, pulling up his pant leg in search of the small switchblade he started carrying after being disarmed one too many times. “If we don’t do this, you’ll lose consciousness. That means they’ll take you to the hospital on an IV and you’ll have to explain why none of the nutrients are helping you.” You were so fucked. He was right, a rock and a hard place didn’t even break the surface of your situation. This was hell.

Your vision went blurry as the water in them doubled in quantity. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t.” Bastard. 

“Aaron-”

“You’re practically catatonic, Y/n.” He let energy surge through the response, saying it more as an exclamation than a statement. “I’m not watching you die and I’m not letting you out yourself to some random workers because you’re scared. You need blood.” He positioned the knife away from any major arteries and dug deep, exhaling slightly at the sting. Softening his voice, he looked to you again, and moved his wounded wrist slightly closer to you.“Just let me help you.” You watched it run off his wrist and swore you felt the impact of the drops as they fell like a phantom pressure lighting up your skin. He was breathing heavy, you didn’t know if you were breathing at all; only being able to gauge the depth of your existence by how badly you needed what he was offering. You hadn’t felt yourself accept the invitation, only tasted the poison of it all once it bypassed your lips. You wondered if this was how Eve had felt when she succumbed to the serpent. If so, you didn’t blame her. You would have condemned all of humanity for this feeling too. It hadn’t ever felt this personal, this euphoric. You fed on strangers, never on someone who held as much importance as him. This trampled the idea of simply knowing him, this was a bond you could never backstep. It was done, and it was terrifying. The warmth he always seemed to emanate infested in you from the inside-out, beaming through your entire body and fending off any destruction being done by the famished vines winding around you. He held you against him as it happened, safe and welcoming, and it made a heat line your stomach with such intensity that it teased the idea of burning right through you.

He wallowed in the feeling for a few minutes, only stopping the exchange when he felt his head become too heavy for his neck to hold. “Enough, enough.” His way of tapping out, the words making you detach immediately with a slight gasp that prompted your panting breath. You realized he was panting too, eyes slightly wide and skull resting uncomfortably against the brick wall that sat behind him as he recovered. You assumed your face was painted with the horror that was flooding your system, but he couldn’t see the extent of the expression in the darkness surrounding you. “Does it always-” He was cut off by the approaching vehicles of your team and other officers. It was time for a shift change, and you felt a small sob intertwine with your exhaling breath and extend to the air around you. With your newly acquired strength, you got up and limped to the closest cop car. You forced away the urge to cry as you asked the officer to take you home, claiming an urgent need to check on your pets. Just add lying to an officer to your list of sins committed in the last 24 hours. You watched your team congregate around the still bleeding Hotch and bit your tongue. His actions had been so instinctual, so automatic in the way he rose to the occasion. He’d given you something nobody ever had, and you weren’t sure you would ever be looking at him again. 

–

In the week that had dragged by since then, bodies were being found significantly less than they were. You’d successfully halted all interaction between your boss and you - which is much easier said than done - and had essentially treated him as though he didn’t exist. It hurt him - visibly - and you despised being the one to instill such a wounded haze to his eyes, but you couldn’t help it. No amount of oral hygiene procedures could singe the taste of him off your tongue. If you let the thoughts linger in your mind too long, you could almost feel the flow of his blood cascading down your throat. It threw you so effortlessly back to your freshly escaped fledgling days that it fucking horrified you how badly you wanted it. You really should have assumed that consuming the blood of someone you treasured would dramatically increase the craving. You weren’t prepared, not even slightly, and that would certainly manifest into some less than work appropriate advances should you acknowledge your boss again. 

The lack of frequent bodies unfortunately didn’t reduce the amount of cops on the street, but you’d managed to slip back into your routine. It was about ten times harder than it used to be to both evade officers and find people outside but you were fed, and that was all you chose to focus on. You had left tonight’s guy under a park platform a couple blocks over, having to resort to unconventional means when hiding them post-theft. You hadn’t stopped your search for the boy, having been out every night since it started. Sometimes on the clock, sometimes off - always trying to think outside of the box. Clearly, that all proved futile, as there was a boy sitting on your front steps practically consumed by the surrounding shadows when you arrived home. You simply continued your trek, stopping maybe five feet away and giving him the space to control the situation. He looked up at you, pulling down his hood and standing to his full height. He was practically gleaming in the dim porch light, his skin seemed to reflect the moon in a way only rivaled by the finest china. 

“What did you mean?” He was as timid as a mouse, looking at the ground as he spoke. “You saw me that night in the alley and you said you knew what was happening. What did you mean?”

You couldn’t say you were surprised your father didn’t inform him of your existence. Knowing the man, he would most likely deny your relation if questioned directly. “I’m like you, buddy.” You slowly let the bag on your back swing forward to a place of accessibility, grabbing the vial of the inky substance and flashing it slightly before returning it to your bag. “I’d offer you some, but I can’t imagine you’re needing it.” You swung it back to rest behind you again, settling the straps comfortably on your shoulders.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused but apprehensive, as though the motion might upset you. “You live on that?”

You chuckled at his innocence, barely being able to comprehend the pure dichotomy you were talking to. You understood it fully, but such a sweet boy holding such intense homicidal capabilities was an absurd notion. “Took me a while.” You nodded as you confirmed his question. “But yeah, about two of these a week.”

Disbelief quickly befriended the features on his face. “You aren’t…hungry?”

You looked at the boy with undiluted sympathy, you knew the feeling he hinted at well. If you were him right now, you’d have probably lashed out in a jealous rage at such an ability to control consumption. You hadn’t believed it was a livable amount until you’d contained yourself within it’s limits. “A little, I won’t lie to you. But it’s well worth it to avoid killing someone. You get used to it after a while.” He simply looked down, and you realized you might have made him slightly guilty with your wording. In an eager attempt to pivot the conversation, you told him your name, hoping to get a proper introduction from him.  

“I’m Daniel.” You crouched down after he said that, wanting to open him up a little more by shrinking below his height. “You know my dad?”

You smiled at the ignorance, it wasn’t often somebody didn’t know exactly who resided on your family tree. “I do. He’s actually my dad too.” You preyed with everything in you that you were coming off as comforting, docile. You wanted him to trust you. “How old are you, Daniel?”

“Twelve.” Jesus Christ. 

You tried not to let the shock ricochet along your face. You wouldn’t earn his alliance by being wobbly, you needed to be a dependent structure for him to lean on. “You’ve got me beat, kid.” He tilted his head, the meaning of your statement lost on him. “I was seventeen when I got away. Quite an impressive thing for someone your age.” Praise, you hoped, would solidify you as a place he could receive affection. He definitely wasn’t getting it from your father. 

His eyes went wide, lips parted as you saw his head lean forward in response. “You escaped?” His breathing sped up, microscopic, something you wouldn’t have noticed had you worked in a different profession. “How?”

You felt the bottom of your stomach rip and release every ounce of hope you ever carried. Something wasn’t right. “How?” You questioned him rhetorically, mentally pleading that he wasn’t about to confirm your suspicion. “Are you still with him?”

He nodded his head with such casualty it broke your heart. You knew it was all he’d ever known, but seeing him have such peace with his predicament was a sight made of pure devastation. “Yeah.” He sighed out the response. “He says there’s no use in running away. That if I decide to just stay out one night, he knows how to find me.” You notice his averted eyes, a sudden embarrassment becoming evident in his stance. “I’ve…kinda been too scared to see if that’s true or not.”

“Why don’t you come in?” It took all the effort you had to suppress the desperation begging to penetrate the look you were giving him. “I can protect you, Daniel. He’s not as tough as he pretends to be.” In all honesty, you didn’t know if that was true. He’d never sent you out on hunts when you were younger. He gave you any indulgence you wanted, absolutely trampling your hunger cues and making you a nightmare on anyone with a pulse once you finally broke out. You figured it was a fail safe for if you were ever on your own. He couldn’t have you, but you would start piling bodies and would eventually be put down when they traced it back to you. You didn’t understand his game plan here. Why did he suddenly want a high body count? Had he been starving Daniel out just to set him loose like some feral bull? 

He frantically shook his head, stepping away from you slightly and waving you off. “No, I need to go back.” He started tearing up, remembering the true reason he’d stepped foot on your lawn at all. “I need you to help me, Y/n.” He swiped at his nose as he bit back the tears. “You have to get rid of him.”

You felt your own eyes go watery at the ask. “I’m gonna get you out of there.”

He chuckled, light and short, puzzling you for a moment at what he could be finding humor in. “It’s not even about me.” He looked down. “I just wanna stop hurting people.” 

You covered the tremble in your lips in a pathetic attempt to mask the sadness that poured from you at his declaration. “I’m so sorry.”

He returned his head to the safety of his hood, refusing your apology with a shake of it. “It was nice meeting you.”

You stared at him, every instinct you had sparking with the urge to shield him. Absorb him into the atoms that made you up and let live through your screen of security. But you couldn’t, so you just sniffed, reigning in any emotion that slipped from your grasp during the conversation and sealing it back inside. “I’ll see you soon.” And then he was walking away, turning slightly to offer a wave before resuming his role as part of the abyss around you. Only one thought remained in your head - You were gonna kill your dad.

#aaron hotch #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch angst #slowburn #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x chubby reader #aaron hotch x fat reader #aaron hotch x plus size reader #vampire au #multiple chapters #aaron hotch x y/n #x chubby reader #x fat reader #x plus size reader #aaron hotchner #comet: AH

[fangirleaconmigo]

I just finished Time of Contempt for the third time and I am deep deep deep in my Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon feelings again. Now that know what’s coming and I understand her arc, I’m catching a lot more.

TW: mentions of sexual assault

Ciri’s descent, which we see a hint of at the end this book, her “corruption arc” is the story of what war, and what the associated abandonment and abuse of children, does to a society. It is a visceral story about how (as the saying goes) A child who is not embraced by the village, will burn it down to feel its warmth.

Probably the worst interview of Sapko that my eyes have had the displeasure to read was a guy who asked him basically (paraphrased) how could Ciri’s mind be so “weak” that she falls into murder and crime after everything she learned from Geralt.

And like BUDDY DID YOU NOT READ THE STORY? Wow ok.

Sapko is like…because that is real, look around you.

“Well, I suppose here my fantasy becomes very real and lifelike. What happened to Ciri happened to hundreds of teenagers, in that number some I knew.”

There is a narrative.

And when kids are all by themselves and repeatedly traumatized and threatened, they will turn where they need to for safety. Their minds and the way they process empathy and emotions will change as a result of related abuse.

And to me, that arc is very believable. And it is part of her rite of passage of ultimately choosing good and coming fully into her power, choosing the love and example of her found family (primarily Geralt and Yen but also Kaer Morhen and Dandelion). In this terrible interview (seriously someone let me interview the man I could do better) he says:

And – last not least – that’s me, the author, who has invented Ciri and her fate, who has invented the whole storyline, and the storyline required of Ciri to become a teenage killer. It was a stage in her rite de passage, the rite of passage.

It is an arc. And for me a very believable (if extremely painful one) First there is the “before”.

The story is very clear who Ciri is before she is alone without the protection of Yen and Geralt.

Her character is already established by Time of Contempt but the narrative still goes through the trouble of showing her deny the offer of destructive power.

As a little girl, (in Blood of Elves) Ciri risks herself to save Triss’s life when she and Geralt’s caravan is attacked. She doesn’t wait for someone else to help, she shields Triss with her body. (That made me feel some kinda way in retrospect let me tell ya)

In the same scene we see how tender hearted she is towards the elves plight and how she resolves not to be neutral.

Blood of Elves and Time of Contempt both show how she is just a little kid who wants parents (running away to see Geralt, writing him letters from Meliteles temple begging him to come see her, identifying fiercely as a witcher girl of Kaer Morhen, idolizing Yen)

But at the end of Time of Contempt, Ciri still makes two dramatic, narrative establishing decisions, that show what kind of person she is.

First is the refusal of power. The refusal of revenge.

In the desert, she taps into prohibited power (fire power) to save Little Horse. It begins to consume her, offering her dominion over the world. It is personified by Falka and it shows Ciri vengeance. It shows her her enemies. It shows her the people who killed her grandma and sacked Cintra. It shows her the black knight.

Ciri and vengeance is already a theme. We know she feels urges towards vengeance for the people who slaughtered her family. The only bad fight she’s had with Geralt was about that. (She says she wanted vengeance and he overreacts and has to follow her and comfort her and apologize. The narrative doesn’t let us hear what he says, it’s through Triss’s eyes, but it is heart wrenching)

And now she is being offered vengeance by showing her what it really looks like. People suffering and dying. And it’s asking hey little girl you want this? Because I can give it to you.

This power also shows her her loved ones.

At this point in the story, Ciri is alone, lost in a desert, and feels abandoned. And any kid that feels abandoned blames her parents. It makes her a very believable kid character. Im alone? Where are my parents?? They’ve abandoned me?? At least that’s what she says.

But when the power offers her the opportunity to take the hurt she is feeling and hurt them back she is horrified.

She shouts out loud that she relinquishes it. She relinquishes all the power and collapses.

She makes an incredibly important decision to refuse destructive vengeful power.

The second thing that happens to establish her character at this point in the saga is she is being pursued by people who want to kill her and/or turn her into Nilfgaard. She is running and trying to escape. She is armed and gets a clear shot at a pursuer but again, sees a human face, and can’t do it. She shows mercy because her empathy will not allow her to see a persons face and kill them.

She is very lucky to survive that encounter.

She is a good, decent, human being.

But the story doesn’t leave us there. It gives us an ominous hint of the oncoming storm.

To get out of a life threatening situation, she joins a gang called The Rats. The Rats are a group of heavily traumatized war orphans who have been abandoned, raped, and abused and have banded together to not be alone. They’ve become murderers and no longer feel empathy for those they harm, but rather they take pleasure at killing others. She sees the look in their faces and identifies it as evil.

They adopt her. They protect her. Suddenly she is ‘safe’. Suddenly she is with others like her (war orphans with heavy trauma). Suddenly she is no longer alone. She is being offered a new identity (her old identity will get her killed at this point) She is them.

They also sexually assault her. (Cycle of abuse. I had to fast forward those parts. I’m listening to the audio and I can’t do that again)

But by the end Ciri has a new family. It’s the only option to her for survival. She finally manages to kill someone and takes the name Falka.

And as the return reader, you already know just how horrific it’s gonna get before it gets better. The feelings of doom. Ooof.

There is so much coming and if you’ve already read it, the dread is real.

It takes worse torture and assault than you can possibly imagine for Ciri to become the “teenaged killer” the narrative demands.

Because above all Ciri is like Yen. She is a survivor. She is angry. She has impulses for vengeance when she is harmed. All of these things are normal and human and can be given healthy outlets in normal situations. But this is not a normal situation.

So yeah I love her so much and the feelings of doom I have going into the next book are hanging over me. Of course it makes the bloody vengeance at the end that much more satisfying. But yeah.

And just to be clear I don’t judge her at all for anything she does during this “corruption” arc. I just don’t. She is surviving and no one can make me hate her ever. I’m an irrational person when it comes to her. And the her growth, her arc is one of the most satisfying I’ve ever read.

Most of us may not be war orphans being pursued by half the world. But the parallels to being an unprotected teenaged girl in a world that wants to exploit you, chew you up, and spit you out, is something those of us who came from abusive homes can understand. It is ultimately very validating and inspiring.

So I’ll be skipping the worst parts on audio. Some of them I just can’t do again. But I’m still obsessed with this story and I love my girl.

Ok thanks for reading my Ciri feels.

#the witcher #the witcher books #cirilla fiona elen riannon #thinking about the witcher books yet again #thinking about Ciri yet again

[shadamyheadcanons]

It’s kinda cute to see that Bark has a canonical crush on Amy (in the newest comic if you haven’t seen). She’s such a magnet for the stoic, hardy, initially antagonistic types lol. How do you think Shadow would feel to know that Bark was crushing on Amy before anyone else?

In reference to this interaction in IDW’s recent comic for her 30th anniversary:

It was also made apparent in Sonic’s 30th anniversary comic:

Looks like IDW took a cue from Archie and re-canonized Amy’s tendency to get cold easily. Sonic never took the hint...

...but it’s free real estate for other Amy ships. A+.

The bigger question is why a polar bear needs a scarf in the first place. Maybe I’m not supposed to ask that.

Anyway, I wouldn’t say it’s 100% confirmed that it’s a crush. No one ever says it is. He might just think she’s a sweet little girl. Panels like these make it seem like he just thinks she’s a nice kid, like a little sister. You could easily substitute Knuckles in for Bark here:

Blushing is usually used to indicate a crush, but not always. It can also be used to show embarrassment. I personally think he’s just shy because he’s not used to being hugged and hearing things like this:

It’s not surprising that Bark has a soft spot for her. He’s very strong and hangs out with Fang’s group, so a lot of people assume the worst. On top of that, he’s nonverbal, so he can’t really argue against it. She’s the only one who gives him a chance off the bat.

It’s also more appropriate if it’s not romantic, given their implied age gap. I’m glad Sega removed the official ages, but even without exact numbers, I’d be very surprised if an official Sonic publication made an older teenager have a crush on a child. If they did, I think Shadow would hunt him down, lol. I have a headcanon about him going after Storm about it, but Storm actively makes himself a problem. Bark isn’t like that.

Even if another stoic and quiet character developed a crush on Amy, though, I don’t think Shadow would be jealous. I usually imagine Shadow hiding his feelings for Amy, and this is the same situation. He doesn’t act on it. At most, I could see them exchanging a subtle nod of acknowledgement.

They’d just both have good taste. Shadow might have to get used to it, but after that, I doubt he would see a character like that as a “problem.”

Shadow also might just flat-out appreciate Bark. It’s always a relief to have someone else who makes her safety a priority. Even when Bark and Amy “fight,” he outright refuses to hurt her:

(In case anyone needs more evidence that blushing isn’t always romantic in this comic, Amy’s blushing right there in panel three. Something tells me she probably doesn’t see this as a romantic situation.)

And when they’re on the same team, he keeps an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t rush into danger and get out of her depth:

I made a post recently pointing out that Shadow might have helped Amy out in Cryptic Castle because he also notices she rushes into situations she can’t handle alone. She’s a danger magnet whose first ever appearance was getting kidnapped, and it was a long time before that stopped happening. We need more characters who’ll keep an eye on her. I can imagine Shadow and Bark pointing to situations like these and looking at each other as if to say, “Ah, so you’re the reason she made it to adulthood unscathed.” They’d see each other as allies, not competition.

#ask #Anonymous #not a headcanon #bark the polar bear #amy rose

[trashinaglass-archive]

Asshole

Chris’s first impression was not great

A/n: I’ve had this idea saved in my drafts for an embarrassingly long time

It was routine for anyone. You take your partner to meet someone, and the first question is always how did you two meet?

It got annoying with other relationships; having to embarrassingly admit you met on tinder or the boring we met in high school story that no one really cares about. Until your latest boyfriend came around and made the worst question one of your favorites.

“So, how did you two meet?” Your cousin asked excitedly, looking between the both of you. You looked over at Chris with a smirk as he rolled his eyes, letting you tell the story.

. . .

You were in Vegas. It was spring break, and you were relaxing by the pool, eagerly soaking in any noise that wasn’t a professors voice.

You had just ordered a drink when a body bumped past you. You turn in annoyance for a quick second before feeling your foot bump into something. Bending down, you pick up the wallet and realize the guy that bumped into your shoulder had dropped it.

“Hey,” you called for him, tapping his shoulder.

“I’m not taking any pictures,” he snapped, not bothering to turn around.

“But I just-“

“I’m not giving you anything,” he turned making you stop in your tracks as raised his voice slightly. “Just go away.”

He kept walking, as you held the wallet in your hand, tapping it against your palm a few times before finally opening it. Maybe you had the wrong person. You pulled out the identification.

Christopher Robert Evans

You continued looking through the wallet, trying to find a number of anyone you could contact, but there wasn’t any. “What an idiot,” you breathed out.

You have one last look in his direction, seeing that he had officially walked out of the pool area, and turned back to your sitting area where your friends were giving you strange looks.

“Where did you go?” She asked as the waiter brought you your drink. You gave him a quick thank you before turning back to your friends.

“Someone dropped their wallet, and when I tried to return it to that someone, he got very angry and basically stomped off like a child,” you shrugged.

Their brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

“Chris Evans,” you mouthed, unsure of who’s were ears may be listening. The girls eyes quickly widened in disbelief. “I couldn’t get anything out, he just starting screaming about no pictures. Like, I don’t want a fucking picture with you, I’m just trying to be a good person.”

“Should you take it to the cops, report it as lost?” One of the girls suggested.

“Probably,” you admit with a smirk. “But I could also hold onto it with the hopes of him coming back to look for it and make him answer for his actions.”

“You’re an asshole,” she giggled.

You shrugged, “he started it.”

—

You all went back up to your room a few hours later, showering and getting changed for dinner. You decided to wait for them in the hotel lobby, loving any chance you got to people watch in a city like Las Vegas. It didn’t take long to notice the tall man walking up to the front desk. You could hear him from where you sat, asking if any lost wallets had been turned in. You pulled it out of your purse, holding it up in the air for him to see.

You were the first thing his eyes landed on when he turned in frustration. It showed on his face that he remembered you, a look of realization falling over his features as he walked over to you.

“Take a cold shower?” You asked. “Seems you had some steam to blow off.”

He sighed, nodding his head. “I’m sorry. I just- I was having a bad day and so many people had been approaching me wanting something. It was no reason to get angry with you, but I just needed a break.”

“I understand,” you smile at him. “I’m no celebrity, but I’m sure it’s not easy.”

“So you aren’t angry,” he clarified, making you laugh.

“I was extremely annoyed at first, but no. I’m not mad at you.” You hand him the wallet back, and he stuffed it into his back pocket. “Not even gonna check if I took anything?” You joked.

He laughed. “I wouldn’t really be mad if you did. I’m the one that didn’t take it back when you tried.”

“Well, shit, give it back, I want a $20.”

You both burst into laughter at your sentence. “Maybe I can offer something better- I don’t have any plans tonight. Would you like to go to dinner with me? As an apology.”

You breathed in a sigh, wondering how you were supposed to reject a hot movie star. “I had actually-“

“Don’t say no!” Your friend shouted from behind Chris, startling the both of you. “She would love to go.”

Chris stood patiently waiting for your answer. “I would love to join you for dinner,” you answer finally, blushing when he offered his arm to you. Your friends silently cheered behind him as he turned to them.

“Promise not to keep her too long,” he said politely, as if they were your parents.

They flicked their hands and shook their heads. “Keep her as long as you want.” “Don’t even worry about it.”

Chris chuckled at their response and turned back to you. “See you later,” you waved at them as the two of you walked out of the hotel. As you reach the door, you turn back to mouth at them oh my god as they gave you thumbs up, mouthing back good luck.

—

“Compliments of the chef,” the waitress said, placing two spoons and a small plate with a slice of dessert on it between the two of you before turning fully to Chris. “He’s a big fan and actually showed up today in a Captain America shirt.”

Chris smiled shyly at that. “Well, let him know I say thank you, and the food was incredible.”

“I will. Um, and are you guys on two checks or one?” She asked looking between the two of you.

“Two,” you say, right as Chris says “one”.

You both look at each other, unwilling to let the other win. “I gave you so much trouble today, don’t worry about it.”

“It was not a big deal,” you tell him, pulling your card out of your bag. “Take my card,” you turn toward the waitress, feeling bad she had to stand through the situation.

“Don’t take her card,” he objected, holding his own out for the waitress to take.

She laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry, but I have to stick with the girls,” she said as she grabbed both cards. “I’ll be right back.”

“I have to use the restroom really quick,” you excuse yourself, grabbing your phone but leaving your bag behind. You dial your friends number, hearing the dial tone barely ringing before they pick up.

How is it going?! Is he as amazing as he seems on tv? If y’all smush, can I watch? Omg, you better put out tonight!

“Oh my god,” you gasp as you’re bombarded with questions from your friends. “Fucking chill out. It’s not even a date. I doubt he’s trying to fuck me.”

“He’s a man, of course he is,” one of them replied, making you giggle. “But, whatever, tell us everything!”

You turn to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, smiling softly thinking about the man waiting for you at the table. “He is a perfect gentleman. And I don’t ever want tonight to end.”

“Awww,” they both say. “Can we be bridesmaids when you get married?”

You roll your eyes, fixing your hair a little. “Don’t give me hope.”

“He likes you!” Your friend exclaimed, giving you the confidence boost you needed. “Any normal person would’ve said thanks, maybe give some cash as a reward, but that’s it. He wouldn’t have invited you to dinner if he didn’t like what he saw.”

“Liking what you see and liking the person they are, are two different things,” you shrug.

“And if he can’t see that you’re just as beautiful on the inside then he doesn’t deserve you. That’s his issue, not yours.”

You sigh, not knowing what else to say. “I really like him.”

“I can tell,” your friend laughed. “Don’t let it get in your way though. Stop being nervous, and just have fun.”

You nod, “you’re right. Okay, I got to get back. Thanks for the pep talk. I’ll see you guys later.”

You hang up, take on last look at yourself in the mirror, trying to freshen up as much as you could, and made your way back to the table.

“Sorry for taking so long. There were a ton of people in there,” you tell him as you sit back down, the waiters following soon after to return your cards and checks as she wished you both a good night.

The two of you signed off on the checks and left, taking your precious time walking back to the hotel. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner. I had a lot of fun,” you turn to look at him as you made it back, Chris offering to walk you all the way to your room door where you stood now.

“I had a great time, too,” he smiled at you and you could feel the blush coming to your face. “And I’m sorry, again, for being an asshole to you earlier. My mom would be so embarrassed.”

You giggle softly at the comment, finding it so sweet. “Well, she did a good job raising you.”

“Thanks,” he also softly chuckled. The both of you stood there for a second in silence as you held onto the hope that he would ask for your number. “Well, um, have a good night. I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.”

“Thank you, you too,” you smile as you watch him turn and walk back towards the elevator as you unlocked the door, catching his eye contact as you step inside and close the door. “Did you hear everything you were hoping to hear?” You called out, knowing your friends had their ears against the door before you opened it.

“No, now sit your ass down and tell us how it went.”

You did as instructed, telling them everything, both to include them, but also in hopes of committing it to memory. Once they were pleased with the information they got, you took a shower and put on fresh clothes. You pull your journal out of your bag and toss it on the nightstand when you noticed something poke out the corner. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you open the book to find out what it was.

It was a folded piece of paper that you opened to find two twenty dollar bills and a phone number. Since you asked so nicely ;) was written on the paper beneath the dollars. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help feeling like a giddy little kid, quickly grabbing your phone and entering the number.

Thanks for cash, but I only requested $20…

You clicked send and anxiously watched for his reply.

I guess that means we’ll have to see each other again so you can return one

That can be arranged

#Chris Evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #chris evans blurb

[utilitycaster]

Hi, you've mentioned for a few times that people tend to react harder on everything Liam does compared to other male cast members. Why do you think that happens?

This is a good question, and I think genuinely someone could write an entire graduate thesis on fandom and gender, misogyny and backlashes of hate, and I am not the person to do that for a number of reasons. With that said I think there's a couple reasons Liam gets a lot of hate, but I think it's worth noting that literally every cast member gets a pretty significant amount of hate, and that post-Campaign 1 it's honestly been pretty even, from what I've seen, just coming from different quarters.

The first is that, and people who were around while C1 was running feel free to jump in (yes I understand the irony of me, a person who joined the fandom with the start of C2, saying this), but there is a really ahistoric understanding of the fandom in Campaign 1. It's obviously true that there was a ton of misogyny, particularly towards Marisha and Laura (and probably Ashley was spared the worst of it at the time simply by being absent and not out of any respect) but there was also no small amount of homophobia/biphobia (hating on Liam for playing Vax as an openly bi character, hating on Taliesin for being a bi person). There was also, from what I understand, a not-insignificant amount of backlash hate for Vax being bi but choosing to pursue a romantic relationship with Keyleth rather than Gilmore; and people not liking generally that Vax was on the surface the cool fast rogue guy but also was extremely emotional and explored grief and depression in depth.

(I think there's a similarly ahistoric reading that Travis and Sam were the heroes of the dudebro crowd, and to an extent they were, but the downside is, as I said in my post about Marisha, the dudebro crowd of C1 has, thankfully, waned over time, but the backlash towards it hasn't, and so years later people still don't take Travis and Sam's characters seriously and treat them as stupid jokes, despite that never having been the case. Also the dudebros who liked The Player Who Was Asked To Leave have hated Travis from early on, since is feelings on the matter were pretty transparent.)

Moving into Campaign 2, Caleb was quite popular and the "ew, a man having feelings?" crowd was, as mentioned, drifting away, but you got the Marisha Character Defenders who were mad that sometimes characters argued with Beau, or that sometimes people just preferred Caleb to Beau, and you got shippers (largely Beau and Jester shippers) who were furious about Caleb and Jester as a ship. My own feelings aside re: Caleb and Jester and the shippers thereof and their behavior since that ship was sunk, at least they weren't in the habit of harassing cast members over their music choices or sending death threats. A lot of them assumed Fjord was not interested in romance, so Travis was left out of it until pretty late in the campaign, and a lot of them would not admit to being mad at Laura or Marisha, even though they were, ergo: Liam.

The final reason? Liam is on social media and responds to things. I hate to sound like my parents here, but like...Travis and Taliesin get hate on tumblr but also I don't think either of them pay attention or care, so it's not satisfying to people who like being an asshole. Liam actually responds to this stuff (this is not a judgment, I understand the impulse) so people keep doing it. I don't think Liam is actually swayed by the fandom in his gameplay, but I do think he tries to be generous and kind and good faith on social media and so people attempt to take advantage of it. I think Matt is similarly sensitive to the fans but as DM cannot really address all questions/got over it sooner; and Taliesin, Travis, and Sam are all to an extent openly dismissive or oblivious, so while there's some hate it hits a dead end.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag