#but she’s maybe lower upper class

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

I had an urge to draw Tape Girl as she’s the only FNAF disembodied voice I haven’t made a design for I think

[v0ideddr3ams]

Coming back to this

This doesn't even include that most people in the undercity don't have places to bury their dead, additionally, most families had lost others to shimmer. They grieve having a basically dead family member hooked on a drug that will never satisfy them.

And Caitlyn is just "it's so hard not to hate them"

Honey, your mom died in a fucking explosion. She did not have a slow and painful death. She died on impact. AND you got to bury her and keep the places that reminded you of her.

You're lucky that she ACTUALLY DIED and didn't just drift further and further till you don't even KNOW if she's dead or alive.

Caitlyn, you are privileged that you got to grieve even if it was a short period of time. You were not a child that had to fight to survive like Ekko and Vi did. Your parents at least survived long enough to raise you. Your MOTHER at least raised you.

You still have your father and both of you are well taken care of by the society you live in.

This was a draft I had before arcane s2 was fully released

I don't think Caitlyn will ever understand just how privileged she was. Yes, you're grieving, thats legit.

But you got to actually bury your mother.

Yes, you're mad,

But you can't take that out on a group of people who have less than you.

Going back to the statement where Vi and Jinx couldn't bury both sets of their parents.

Jinx had gone through 3 cycles of parents too.

Vi and Jinx couldn't bury their bio parents, they were left to rot on the bridge

They couldn't bury Vander, too much happening, they had to leave him in the streets

And Jinx couldn't bury Silco, let's be honest they'd destroy his grave for one reason or another.

Caitlyn got to bury her mother. She gets to visit her grave.

Jinx and Vi don't even have graves to visit. Just places that are ghosts of their parents memories.

[matsunoluvr]

I thought I saw you were looking for writing ideas. Can we get the LaD men reactions when their s/o touches their butt by accident? (Bonus points if she shyly offers to let them touch hers to make up for it)

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ accidentally touching the love and deepspace butts…?

warnings: suggestive content, swearing

author’s note: HELLO i’m so sorry this took literal months… classes beat me HARD. also… so very sorry for the zayne girlies, i had zero idea what to write. i feel as though i have disrespected him.

characters: rafayel, xavier, zayne, sylus

link to master list here!

more under the cut :3

when rafayel paints on small, detailed canvases he’s always edged up close to the canvas - basically eating the paints

it’s the reason why he literally gets his materials all over him, but that’s not what annoys you.

his back is quite broad, and it makes it almost impossible to see the canvas properly as he paints.

one day, out of curiosity, you try to lean in and get a glimpse of how he’s painting - getting on your tip toes to see over his shoulder

then you lean a little too close - but as you bring your hand up to balance yourself, you feel something brush against the back of your hand

and hear a very, flustered yelp.

“Ah! What the fu-”

immediately rafayel’s head whips around, his body tensing as he felt the gentle graze of your hand.

his eyes are wide and his ears and cheeks are already turning red with embarrassment - whether it’s because of your touch or his reaction is hard to discern.

he’s sputtering and stuttering over his words, unable to speak properly

like a fish out of water just flailing around, hands doing this and that whilst he’s just like “Uh, uhhh?? Huh? HUH?? WHY?” and you’re like “NO IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I SWEAR IT-“

definitely doesn’t want to admit that it felt ticklish, poor fishie had a sensitive butt :3

pouty and very upset with you, he was flustered beyond belief!! how could you be so… so prude!!!!!

definitely rubs his butt after to try and get rid of the tingling sensation it left

i feel like rafayel (if not in the ‘mood’) gets really easily embarrassed if you touch his erogenous zones - like his collar bones, ears, neck, abdomen and… butt

am i overplaying my ‘virgin-pure’ rafayel headcannons right now probably

maybe it’s in lemurian customs that touching in general is an act reserved for the one you love most/bonded to

and when you touch rafayel he still is flustered by it, regardless of the fact that he’s lived as a human for a long time (especially when you touch his butt I’M SORRY I CAN’T GET OVER SENSITIVE RAFAYEL)

so when you then suggest so innocently, so purely and so so softly if he wanted to - quote unquote - ‘touch your butt to make it equal.’ he almost burst on the spot

like literally you could here the little pwoof of hot air that came off of him

“You want me to- to do what?”

he gets even more embarrassed, i would say he gets red but he’s already so flustered he’d burst a blood vessel if he did.

is he against the idea of touching your butt? absolutely NOT rafayel loves every part of you, including your ass - but the idea of touching it just makes him a mess

and when you offer so sheepishly… how is he even supposed to touch your butt?

does he go in for a little brush? a handful? how long? finger tips or whole palm? upper butt or lower… does he go for one cheek? which cheek???

literally just malfunctioning on the spot, paintbrush dropped.

his hands are clenching and unclenching as he swallows dryly, composing himself as he takes a deep breath and reaches out - eyebrows furrowed as if he was concentrating really hard

slowly, he just - rests his finger tips against your butt.

he was so shy, as if he’d never touched your butt before - although to be fair he was much less off guard and more… in the mood.

you could almost laugh at how sheepish he seemed, not even making eye contact with you

“Hmph, this doesn’t make things even cutie.”

you and xavier were taking a nap together, well more like cuddling as you had both long waken up.

he was nuzzling into you, face rested in a gentle smile of content as his nose prods gently into your neck, arms lazily wrapped around your waist

your arms were trapped in his grasp until you wiggled a little - much to his dismay, and freed them

“Don’t wanna cuddle with me?”

faux offence masks his face as he pouts up at you, eyebrows furrowed as he gives your neck a loving little kiss

rolling your eyes, you shift in his grasp to allow yourself to cross your arms over his back

but as you reached around to hug him… instead of grabbing his lower back you aimed a little too low

boom.

hand full of ass.

xavier is definitely surprised, you can tell by the way he doesn’t say anything and instead he widens his eyes a little, lips parting slightly

his butt is nice and soft, and to be honest if you weren’t so embarrassed by the wholesome situation turning very PG18 in a matter of seconds you’d probably appreciate it a little more

but you have no time to revel in the stress-ball, mochi-esque butt before you shrivel up in mortification

i feel like xavier gets over it quite quickly, just blinking a bit before giving you a cheeky smile

“I didn’t know you wanted to do that to me.”

no matter what flustered excuses you give, he’ll innocently tease you further about the little situation

he’d say things like ‘would you rate your experience?’ and ‘is this an exclusive perk only you get?”

to be honest, you couldn’t tell if he was trying to ease the tension or if he genuinely just didn’t care that you literally squeezed his butt like it was a toy

shifting around in his arms, you try to face away but he just airily chuckles - grasp firm enough to make it difficult to turn but not impossible

he knows you didn’t really wanna turn away

until you do turn around

immediate switch in demeanour, going from teasing and playful to more concerned and serious

thinks he upset you by teasing you or that you got too embarrassed around him - both terrible outcomes in his eyes

but just as he’s about to ask what was wrong, you mumble out some words

xavier asks you to repeat yourself even though he’s heard the first time

he thought he heard wrong

but when you repeat yourself, a little ‘you can do it back…’ he’s holding back a jaw drop

however, after not too long you feel a large, firm hand snake its way from your waist, to your hips, then finally settling cozy on your butt - and you could feel his smirk against your skin.

definitely gives it a little squish, not a squeeze, just a squish

don’t be fooled by his faux calm demeanour, he’s actually using every ounce of his self control not to take you on the spot as he watches your reaction

“I’m not quite satisfied yet… is there anything more for you to offer me?”

playing doctors with dr zayne…

him checking out your blood components, heart beat etc, just a routinely check-up to ensure your protocore syndrome isn’t acting up

his hands soothing over your upper arm as he takes your blood pressure, calloused fingers rubbing (whether intentionally or not) against you whilst adjusting the device

he’s fully in business-no-nonsense mode, you could tell by the crease in his eyebrows

you can’t help but become amused at his professionalism, i mean, after all, he was your boyfriend - what’s with the coldness?

giving his cheek (face… not ass) a small pinch, you try to egg a smile out of him - only for him to frown and move your hand away gently - but firmly - a clear message of ‘not until the procedure is done’

fine… doctors orders i guess

after everything’s done zayne’s face relaxes a little, and you know he’s out of professionalism mode

to celebrate another check up of not dying and not being in imminent danger of your protocore syndrome wiping out your existence, you jump up from the table and go to pat his back…

pat his back… oh how pure and innocent your intentions were

unfortunately for you, the results were far less PG when you watch zayne stiffen up, eyes ever so slightly widening as he feels your palm flatten against his rear

a small “Hmph?” for a reaction

it was a little surprising how firm it was, and if you’d not whipped your hand away at mach-fucking-speed it’d probably have tensed a little more

but your hand did retreat much faster than humanely possible

his lips part… expecting some sort of comment from him

you already began to scheme some sort of excuse

it was the wind.

he was hallucinating, how much sleep did he get last night?

and then he readjusts his tie, looks down at his clipboard and carries on talking

…

..

what??

you, his significant other, just touched his ass and his response is to read out your ‘average platelet count’ and ‘mild arrhythmia but-nothing-out-of-the-normal-for-you’???

when you look at him incredulously, he falters ever so slightly

“What’s the matter?”

not so politely pointing out the obvious that - hey dude, you’re not going to say anything after i groped you?? - he can’t help but respond with an amused huff

replying with something sophisticated about “accidents happen all the time” and that you’re “both mature enough” makes you feel, well, embarrassed at how relaxed he was

it made you want to tease him, mess with him, see him as flustered as you.

so, naturally, as any person would, you asked him if he wanted to “return the favour”

and naturally, as any person would if their partner suggested something like that, zayne’s mind short circuited

“Not in the hospital, Y/N…”

don’t feel too dejected, that night he DEFINITELY made use of that ass (proud believer of zayne doggy style lover)

missions with sylus were always an adventure

you were either going to be diverging on a mini ��date” (toooootally platonic.), looking at flowers, enjoying the nicer outskirts of the N109 zone, or quite literally fighting for your life

today… well somehow you found yourselves playing cat and mouse with a group of men…

except imagine the cats had literal war weapons

and the mouse had a crow friend with a bit too smart of a mouth.

which definitely spoke the wrong words at the right times.

sylus had insisted he just “rid of the problem” to which you pointed out that the mission goal was to extract intel from one of the masked members

after muttering something unintelligible under his breath (probably some curses or whinging, man child.) he decided to jog after you

which is how you two ended up hiding behind a flight of stairs, three or four mossy, wooden crates pressing the two of you against the dull brick wall

the faint damp smell of rotting organic matter, however, served nothing to distract you of the sensation of your front pressing a bit too much into sylus

sylus is a tall man, evident by the way his was craning, preventing his hair from brushing on the underside of the stairs

which also meant your lower tummy was pressing flush against his butt.

if sylus was uncomfortable, he definitely did not show it, nor comment on it

in fact, it seemed as though only you noticed the predicament the two of you were in, but you knew that was far from the truth.

nothing could evade his inhuman senses.

the sound of footsteps flooding the streets almost drowned the rush of blood that was flowing through your face, invading your ears and sending a dull ring through your skull

why was it kind of soft?

would it not be more muscled, toned?? his thighs look well sculpted, does he neglect his ass??

or is he just born with a peachy butt? is he blessed by some butt genie?

peace be with you, butt genie, this ass is marvellous.

“Sweetie, they’re all gone.”

his low, calm voice reels your mind back as you realise what was going on.

oh my god. you were literally GROPING his ass.

hastily pushing back and away, you almost tumble over the crates as you distance from his ass as MUCH as possible

it was too powerful, like a magnet it’s force field dragged your body to it!

as sylus was extracting himself from the hiding spot, you slowly come up with some sort of repentance, an apology.

you’d say you apologise for pushing any boundaries and that you understand that it was inappropriate and then the two of you would continue with the mission.

which was obviously why when he was dusting off his clothes you stutter out “You can touch my butt too.”

if you were trying to see sylus surprised for the first time, it definitely was successful.

after his initial confusion, a little smirk plastered his lips as he raised an eyebrow

“Could I claim my prize now?”

with the hesitant nod of your head, a large, warm hand clasps around one of your cheeks and gives it a firm squeeze.

he lets out a deep, appreciative hum before letting his thumb rub across the peak of your butt, then lifting his other hand to gently tap the end of your nose

“Naughty kitten, don’t offer these services to anyone else. Okay?”

end note: ARGHHH i’m not happy with this lowkey but i can’t do any better!! im so sorry requester if this disappoints (;´д｀)

[sanguine-prince]

i’m sure i’m not the first to say something like this, but let me tell you about my poc-passing-as-white jay gatsby headcanon!!

for some background, in the 1920s there was an interesting shift regarding (white) skin tones. previously, tans were viewed as a sign that a person worked out in the fields, and therefore a trademark of the lower class. however, slowly after the industrial revolution, it increasingly became a representation of luxury, since the rich upper class would have the time to lounge about and sunbathe at their leisure.

i say all this to show that a poc gatsby would have the ostensible class and wealth for a tan, which would ‘excuse’ a slightly browner skin tone in the public eye.

(the 20s was also the setting of passing by nella larsen, so that’s neat.)

in my vision, he’s biracial (maybe his mother was black & his father was a german immigrant) with skin light enough to pass for white.

the fact that nick states that gatsby keeps his hair neatly groomed and cut might be to prevent it from curling up.

additionally, i think it could contrast tom’s white supremacy & his fear of poc social progress.

it would also create a deeper divide between gatsby and daisy, and once again the contrast between him and tom. in my mind, daisy wouldn’t know about it until the point where tom reveals everything about gatsby’s bootlegging etc. with jay revealing it to her in the car ride back (oops then she hits myrtle).

then, when she chooses tom and the life of comfort, wealth, status, etc that their marriage offers, she also rejects not only gatsby’s new money but also his race.

it’s a lot more thematically significant for the american dream as well—it’s still unattainable and essentially tainted by capitalism, and it also emphasizes that it’s restricted to the white upper class. social mobility only becomes available to gatsby when he disguises his racial identity.

similarly, it fits with gatsby’s identity reconstruction—the quintessential american is white, rich, and educated.

daisy and tom have that ticket into society because they have that inherent thing that he will never have—pedigree, in both class and race. that’s something that even nick has.

(in my mind, he tells nick all about it the night before he dies & nick understands as best he can and doesn’t think less of him, because it further highlights the differences between his & gatsby’s relationship v. gatsby’s relationship with daisy; namely, the transparency -> acceptance give-and-take that he and daisy never had. because of having to hide himself from daisy in order to maintain her affection, he builds an expectation that he must be someone that he is not as well as developing a transactional definition of love (he gives, and people love him as long as he can continue to give) in order to be loved. therefore, nick’s immediate curiosity and fascination with who he truly is is foreign to him. not to get too into their dynamic lmao i just think it’s really interesting.)

finally, the very last part where nick is sitting and looking at the bay and thinking about the first immigrants and their dreams and how gatsby embodied the purity and naivety of those dreams is further exemplified by his racial ‘otherness.’

and there’s,,, technically nothing in the book to explicitly refute this from what i remember!

(n.b.: it has been a hot second since i’ve read tgg, so lmk if i’ve got anything wrong!)

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

The idea of Heatwave being a Wavewave sparkling but mainly from Soundwave tears me up. So I'll submit you all to my PAIN!!!

The idea of Soundwave growing up in the pits, fighting for his life, becoming a top gladiator but still being seen as the lowest of the lowest, but then, this Sparkling appears in his life. A little red bot who seemingly was abandoned or was not picked when it emerged from the All Spark.

That being their first meeting, Soundwave was not yet the Soundwave we know so he didn't know what to do. His best hope was that the little bot would end just like him, surviving on its own... or just die with no pain. After all, there was no one else but him, just him, and Ravage too ofc but really no one else...

So, imagine how stupid must he have felt as he took the sparkling from the ground and was unable to put it down. Ravage in the background wheezing as she realizes what has happened ¨Oh yea, that's how I adopted you too HAHAHAHAH¨

And things well get hard. Why did he do it? Was it some left kindness on him? Did he lose his mind? or maybe, he just compasioned...?

Time passes, he keeps fighting, Ravage keeps being annoying but is still there for him, and the Sparkling now going by the name Heatwave, was there too looking from afar. Soundwave had decided that the little Bot would not participate in the arena, he would just watch and learn.

Heatwave was amazed at the way his ¨creator¨ fought other bots who were bigger than him and much more robust in comparison. Tho he didn't wish to become a gladiator just like his creator, but he still wanted to show how strong he was helping others.

Time passes, they're a small ¨family¨ for all they can say, but they are very strong and united. In every fight, Soundwave participates in the entertainment of the upper classes, he kept in reserve credits so that one day Heatwave can leave the pits and form a real life outside the misery. It would of course be a slow process, but Soundwave knew that he could do it.

A big surprise was when Heatwave shared with him that he wanted to become a Rescue Bot, a particular job that didn't really fit in any of the class rankings that Cybertron had been using... it was a job that came with intense training that if failed, all the blame would go to the bot who failed and not to the institution who trained them. A job that was more chosen to do for the pure of one spark than the want to win something. Such was that it was known that the High Council would prefer losing 5 Rescue Bot units than one Council member.

The job was clearly going to be a dead sentence, but after a long discussion, there were not many options like the Rescue recruit institutions offered to give a semi-normal life to low-class citizens... at least, for the time Heatwave would be trained he would have a home with basic needs, and once out of training and to the practice, the payment would be enough to even feed Ravage.

Soundwave still didn't want to say yes. to give Heatwave permission, but, Heatwave was just hotheaded, he was promising that with this he would be able to give Soundwave the life he could not grow up with... the life he gave to Heatwave...

Soundwave still saved credits as he kept participating in the arena, just in case.

Time seemed to fly through this change. Heatwave met his assigned team and close friends, Soundwave met new bots too, aspiring and strong allies for both of them. Yet, their ideals seemed to change as their lives grow appart.

They still saw each other, they kept communicating, and Ravage always reminded one or the other to call. But things just can't stay calm forever. The pits and many parts of Cybertron considered for the lower cast were being destroyed, homes and families being displeased so the upper class could take those areas. Slowly, a revolution was being armed with strong bots taking the lead. One in particular, Megatronus, wanted Soundwave as his second in command as he saw potential in him.

Soundwave wanted to decline at first. This could endanger Heatwave in many levels if it was known that they both were family. Megatronus seemed to understand, and it seemed that someone else would take Soundwave's place as SIC... is it wasn't for that one call...

The call that changed forever Soundwave's perspective on life and on his own decisions. It was from the Rescue recruitment system that chose Heatwave informing him of... the red bot dead, with the rest of his team...

Rescue Sigma-17 had been deployed to help another unit very far away, and as it seemed that the job was being completed, the communication began to cut. In short, all signals were lost and no vital was detected. Both units had been gone enough time to be declared deceased...

There was not going to be any effort on further location or send a 3 unit with more equipment to help or to at least know what happened. There was not going to be any effort on finding Heatwave's body for a proper funeral, his stuff as the stuff of his team would be tossed or given to their creators. That being said, Soundwave and Ravage received nothing but a big box full of credits, enough to live a luxurious life in the middle class...

It had a note from Heatwave. Just like Soundwave was saving for an emergency, Heatwave had been doing the same. Probably not eating or working extra to have this amount of credits...

... Soundwave tossed all that in their faces not accepting a damn. As fast as he could he went to Megatronus and began their plan to attack...

...

...

...

At light years far away, after more tragedy had occurred. A small ship floating in the middle of nothing received a message that redirected t it to a planet called Earth.

Landing, four bots from stasis had awakened to see the beauty of an organic planet and to encounter a figure not many would be able to talk to, Optimus Prime.

[janeyseymour]

The Artist in Me

Summary: a request from a LONG time ago. Reader is the upper grades art teacher, but when the lower grades art teacher has to leave, Reader ends up taking over the arts for the entire school.

WC: ~3.45k

By some Grace of God, Abbott Elementary has it in the budget this year to hire a second art teacher. And you, after leaving your old school due to issues with the principal, were able to snag the position to teach the upper levels of the school.

In the time that you’ve been at Abbott, you mostly keep to yourself upstairs and throw yourself into providing the best education that you can for these kids. Despite being a related arts teacher, you’re also able to integrate different core subjects into your teaching, and you love being able to help enrich students with information that they might not get otherwise.

You’ve also made yourself out to be a bit tougher- the younger elementary art teacher is all sunshine and rainbows, and you can’t find it in you to be like that. So, you’ve gotten the reputation as the hard-ass of the related arts programs. You don’t really care. Some of these kids need discipline, and as long as they’re doing what they’re supposed to (and not trying to eat the clay you have for pottery projects), you really aren’t that tough.

The other thing is… your principal isn’t all that fond of you. You can’t quite figure out why though. You’re always on time, you’re prepared, you stay professional. It is what it is, you suppose. So, you keep to yourself, and you don’t really mind it. You’ve always been a bit more introverted and quiet, yet not timid. The only times you really see any of the other teachers is if you walk past them in the hallways or during a faculty meeting.

During those faculty meetings, you tend to doodle. All of the things that Ava speaks of either don’t relate to you, or they pertain to trainings you’ve already taken care of. You look up at her and her slides every once in a while, just to give off the illusion that you’re paying attention, but after diligently listening to the first meeting, you realized you didn’t have to do that to keep your job.

So, instead… you draw. You draw still lives of the library, you doodle up little flowers and other scenes, and then you take to drawing portraits. You have about a dozen drawings of your own face before you decide that maybe you should attempt another subject. So, your eyes wander around the room. Your gaze immediately focuses in on the beautiful red hair that is sitting with the one group of teachers that Ava always seems to chat with during her free time, which is conveniently a lot.

Melissa, you think that’s her name, rolls her eyes at something ridiculous that comes out of your boss’s mouth, and then she turns to another teacher and fake yawns. You only get a glimpse of her eyes for a moment, but in that second, you’re captivated. They’re a stunning shade of green, and you could swear you could see the little specks of gold in them too. You spend the rest of this pointless faculty meeting trying to get a sketch of her eyes just right.

The next faculty meeting that you find yourself dragging yourself into, you pick a seat where you can see Melissa fully. And… damn. The second grade teacher has quite a figure, and her face is beautiful. You spend most of that meeting drawing the redhead as she props herself up with her elbow. You’re just perfecting the glasses that hang off Melissa’s nose when you hear your name.

“And since we are losing Miss Lee so suddenly, Y/N will be taking over all of the art classes until I can find a replacement,” Ava sighs.

Your eyes widen, and you can feel every other staff member’s eyes on you. “I- Ava, what?”

“You heard me,” your boss shrugs. “Miss Lee is moving away next week, so you’ll have the entire school.” She then continues on about another topic- one entirely unrelated to the absolute bomb that she just dropped on you.

You glance to your lower grades art teacher and give her a questioning look. She just frowns and shakes her head, a tear falling down her face silently.

You spend the rest of the meeting trying to wrap your head around the fact that you are now in charge of the entire art curriculum, and your doodling of the redheaded teacher’s emerald eyes is put on pause.

It feels like an eternity before that meeting is over, but as soon as it is, your coworker is apologizing profusely to you.

“Y/N,” Miss Lee sighs softly. “I’m so sorry. I- I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I just haven’t had the time while trying to prep everything and come up with a way for you to be able to teach everyone.”

“What’s going on?” you ask her quietly as the two of you make it out of the library and into the hall.

“I’m leaving,” is all she tells you. “I- It’s for the best… if I want to live.”

“Soph,” your jaw drops. 

“Just… trust me, okay?” your coworker wipes a tear away. “C’mon. I’ve already come up with a schedule for you. You’ll have two classes at a time, but they’ll all be doing relatively similar things, so… I had the rest of this year planned too, so… hopefully this won’t be too difficult for you.”

You allow yourself to drop your act of not quite caring for your coworkers and squeeze the woman’s elbow gently. You don’t miss the way she flinches- it would be hard to. You immediately know why she’s leaving with such urgency.

“Don’t worry about me,” you tell her softly. “Just… keep yourself safe, yeah?”

“I’m gonna do my best,” Sophie grimaces. “If we meet during our preps the rest of this week, I can help you prepare.”

You nod. “And- and if you need any help with anything, I know we aren’t close, but… I’m here for you.”

As you transition into teaching the entire school for art classes, Sophia helps you as much as possible. You begin to combine classes, and you’re quite thankful that every teacher is a fan of your coworker’s, because they don’t ask questions about her leaving, and they are more than supportive of this decision. Although, those that don’t usually make it to the second floor aren’t necessarily thrilled about the trek they have to take to come up to your room. They just give your coworker a sad smile as they know it will probably be one of the last times they see her before she heads out and on her own. You continue to offer your support to Sophia as the days stretch on.

But she never asks for help. Instead, she whole-heartedly throws herself into helping to prepare you the best she can- everything from lugging materials up to your room to ensuring that what you’re having the older students do at least somewhat lines up with what she was planning for her younger students to make life even the slightest bit easier on you. 

And after Friday, it’s like she never existed. She completely goes off the grid. You can only hope that she’s alright in her endeavors.

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve taken over the arts for your school. You feel like you’re up to your eyeballs in clay, paint, paper mache, and pretty much any other art supply that would be able to stick to your body. You’re exhausted, to say the least. The days where your preps used to consist of cleaning up your room and settling in with a nice book are gone, and they’ve been replaced with a preparation period of running around trying to set everything up while also grading the elders’ art essays, firing up the kiln, scrubbing down tables from glue that the kindergarten and first grade students managed to get everywhere… it’s ridiculous. While you used to leave right as the teachers’ bell rang, you’re stuck staying late, and you usually come in at least an hour early to ensure that everything is as organized as it can be before your hurricanes you call students run amuck in your space. And if you’re being honest, you’ve had enough. 

So, while you should probably be preparing for the next… what feels like ever, you take your preparation period to head down to the teachers lounge and actually relax for once. You already worked through your lunch- you deserve this. 

As it would turn out, your preparation time is when the group that your boss loves has lunch. How convenient for them to all have lunch at the same time…

You give them a small wave as you practically drag your exhausted body over to the refrigerator to grab the small lunch you packed yourself this morning. You take a seat that’s somewhat distanced from the group and begin to eat.

You don’t even realize how tired you are until your eyes begin to droop and your head begins to lull forward. You have to catch yourself with a small gasp before you smack you face on the table. Of course, that draws attention to you, and your face turns about as red as Melissa Schemmenti’s hair.

“Oi,” the woman lets out a small chuckle. “Work wearing you down lately?”

You just nod as you continue to feed yourself from the tiny bag of pretzels you packed.

“Of course she’s exhausted,” another voice pipes up- Barbara Howard’s. “Who wouldn’t be exhausted after taking over art classes for the entire school. Oh dear, have you heard from Sophia at all?”

You shake your head silently before just barely offering up, “And I doubt I will. She left pretty abruptly, and from what I could tell, her situation was pretty serious.”

“Well, we do thank you for helping our classes,” Barb tells you with a sad smile. “As much as we hated to see Miss Lee go, our students are still going to get a fine arts education because of you.”

“I’m doing my best,” you sigh quietly as you finish off the rest of your pretzels. You nod to yourself as you close your bag and take another deep breath. You go to stand from your place at the table, but you find yourself seeing a few black spots in your vision. You force yourself to sit down again.

“You alright there?” Melissa asks, clearly at least a little concerned.

You nod. “Just a little tired is all.”

The green eyes that you still haven’t gotten quite right in your sketches stare into your soul for a split second. “Is that all you had to eat today?”

You shrug. “Don’t have much around the house.”

“No wonder you’re on the verge of passing out,” she rolls her eyes. Before you know it, she has a plate in front of you and is spooning some of her meal out onto it for you.

“This is yours,” you say quietly, in protest.

She dares you to challenge her as she continues to ration out her food. “And I also don’t need you passing out today… my kids have art later.”

You look to her, as if to see if she’s testing you or something. She just looks to the food pointedly and then back to you.

With a sigh, you thank her and begin to eat. “You didn’t have to,” you tell her softly.

The redhead shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. I blame it on my being Italian.”

The rest of your lunch is spent trying to subtly stare at Melissa Schemmenti’s eyes in order to perfectly capture how to draw them in your sketchbook.

When you’re finished, you sigh softly and thank her again before heading for the door.

“You should start having lunch with us if you can,” Janine tells you. “If we’re going to be working with you now, we should probably get to know you, right?”

You bite your lip nervously, thinking. Doing that would give you the perfect opportunity to observe the second grade teacher. You would probably be able to capture not only her eyes then, but different looks of hers, aside from just a standard sort of portrait. You nod. “Y-yeah. If I can fit it into my schedule, I’ll try to start coming down.”

When the redhead brings her class up to your room, she has a mug of coffee in hand too. Silently, you wish that you had a cup of coffee for yourself. The proper meal that you had helped to bring your energy up a bit, but the coffee would certainly be a nice pick me up. Maybe you can convince her to bring you one for when she picks up her-

The mug is being offered to you with the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen out of the tough teacher. “Thought you might like the pick-me-up.”

You tilt your head to the side, touched by this small but sweet gesture. “Thank you.” You take the mug gratefully, allowing the warmth of the steaming liquid to warm your cool to the touch hands.

Green eyes are rolled with a hint of a smirk dancing on her lips. 

Your days go by much nicer when you’re able to join that little crew for meals. They’re actually a lot nicer than you expected them to be. Melissa continues to bring you food, claiming that you’re actually helping her by eating some of the portions because she only knows how to cook for twelve. And when you aren’t able to make it down to the staff lounge, preoccupied with prepping new units for your classes, the second grade teacher makes her way up to you and sits with you while you continue to flit around the room and try to get everything in order. She continues to bring you cups of coffee on days where her class has art, and when her friends have art too, they usually come up with a mug and a soft, “from Melissa.”

As time goes on, you begin to show your less professional side- the side that your friends see. The Abbott crew begins to welcome it warmly, seeing that you aren’t as stuffy as you play. And in doing that, your boss begins to take more of a liking to you as well. It makes working at this school much easier. The only thing that is becoming more and more difficult as you integrate yourself into this school is the growing infatuation you have with a certain redheaded second grade teacher. She shamelessly flirts with you now, and you find yourself reciprocating quite often.

Since growing closer to the quirky little group, you have doodles of almost all of them down to a science. But there’s still one person who you can’t get quite right. Melissa Schemmenti. And for the amount of time you spend watching her and smiling with her, she should’ve been the first person you drew at the school to perfect. But you just aren’t satisfied. Or maybe you don’t want to be satisfied, because then that means you don’t really have a reason to sketch her anymore.

You’re sitting at one of the tables in the library while Ava drones on about God knows what. Your sketchbook sits in your lap as you continue to try to get her look just right- the way her eyes sparkle and her glasses sit on the tip of her nose as she clearly doesn’t pay attention to what your boss is going on about.

There’s something about this drawing that has you thinking you might just get it right this time. And because you have that feeling, you start to focus so intensely on your art that you don’t notice the meeting going on around you ends. In fact, you’re only made aware of the ending of the meeting when you feel a familiar hand on your shoulder.

“Wow,” is all she breathes softly as she looks at what you’re working on. “Is that… is that me?”

Instinctively, you try to slam your sketchbook shut. You can’t believe you got so into the zone that you didn’t realize the faculty meeting was over, and you really can’t believe you were just caught in the act of sketching your coworker.

“No,” Melissa says. “Open it back up. I want to see.”

You shake your head and try to stand.

“C’mon, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” the redhead tells you.

You just shake your head again as you head out of the library, refusing to make eye contact with her. You practically sprint up to your classroom and shut the door behind you. Your cheeks burn, and your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

Your coworker doesn’t try to approach you right after the meeting. Instead, she waits until her lunch period. You don’t come down, just as she predicted. So she brings you up the portion that she brought for you. As she expected, you don’t turn when she enters your room, instead focusing all of your attention on the papers in front of you and trying to grade essays.

“You ain’t coming down?” her gravelly voice asks you.

You just wave your hand as you continue to bite at the tip of your pen. “Gotta grade,” you tell her from the little corner of your room that has a bean bag.

Green eyes glance over at your desk, and right there is your sketchbook on your desk.

“I’ll just set your stuff over on your desk then,” she says slowly as she toys with the idea of peeking at it.

You just nod along, entirely forgetting that your book is sitting there and open to the page that you were working on during the meeting this morning.

You hear her heels clicking against the tile to your desk, but you don’t hear them walking away. Only then do you look up and see that she’s once again looking at your sketchbook. And then you watch her flip a page, and you’re mortified.

The previous page is quite literally just you trying to get her eyes right- something that you finally achieved last night.

“Hun, this is-“ she’s going to say incredible, but you all but tackle her to get your book back.

“Please stop looking at my things,” you say sharply as you grab the book from her clutch.

“Have you been drawing me during faculty meetings?” she asks you as she takes the book back into her hands. At this point, she’s holding it just out of your reach, and you know she’s already seen your work, so it’s futile to try to hide the sketchpad from her.

“I’ve been sketching a lot of things lately,” you sigh as she flips through.

Her eyes gaze over the still life of the library, of your classroom, of the portraits of your coworkers, but she looks at you with a furrowed brow.

“A lot of these are of me,” she notes quietly.

You worry your bottom lip through your teeth. “I’ve been trying to get your eyes right,” you manage. “They’re a bit more complicated than the others- brown eyes, green eyes, you know?”

The redhead continues to scan your sketchbook. There’s doodle after doodle.

“You’re real good,” she whispers as she allows her fingers to gently trace the pencil marks in your book. “Like… you shouldn’t be an art teacher, but an actual artist good.”

You blush. “I ain’t that good.”

“You are,” she promises you, and her green eyes look into your own. “But if you need help getting my eyes right, you can always just ask.” She looks up at you through those long lashes, and then her eyes flit down to your lips.

“M-maybe,” you whisper, your own eyes glancing down at hers, as you lick your lip subconsciously.

“I’m honored you would try this hard to get my eyes right,” the second grade teacher says softly as she moves just the slightest bit closer. 

You give her a nervous smile. “A beautiful thing deserves to be captured just right.”

“I’d say you captured my eyes nicely,” Melissa mumbles as she allows her hand to cup your cheek.

“Oh?” you raise a brow. “Can I try to capture something else of yours?”

“And what would that be?” You can practically feel Melissa’s breath on your lips.

As you give into your desire to kiss her, you mutter, “Your heart.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[seat-safety-switch]

"Get in the fucking car, loser. My name is Detective Tina Clownhater, I came from Upper Precinct, and we're going to the fucking circus. One of the clowns was found dead in among about 72 others stuffed into a tiny car, and we think it's Japanese."

"The car?"

"The clown."

I'd heard of Detective Clownhater before. Read some of her reports when they came around the inter-office mail. Circus division. She also did carnivals, which people think is the same thing, but really it isn't. As we rode in silence to the Carny District, I decided I wasn't going to like her. Mostly, it was because she still clung to an outmoded, indulgent, and inefficient mode of transportation known as the 2003 detective-issue Crown Victoria. My own City II Turbo would have been a much more enjoyable ride, but I didn't want to press the issue. Chief was already getting on my case about racking up the mileage per diem anyway.

Maybe I should introduce myself, too. My name is Archibald Shitpope, and I'm a detective for the city police. Every detective here specializes in something – they figured it was more efficient than having us all fight over the same books in detective school – and for me, my passion carried me to Japanese-made economy cars. You'd be surprised how often they crop up in my cases. This was going to be a bit outside of my remit, being a Japanese-made economy clown, but I'm a professional. I'd do the job.

I regretted that promise as soon as we stepped onto the crime scene. Besides the copious amount of blood and viscera thrown about the scene ("explosive decompression," explained Todd the CSI, in between Instagram updates of the most grotesque parts,) the clowns had been stuffed into a Fiat. An Italian-made shitbox. It's amazing they weren't burned alive. From what we could tell from interviews, the clown used to be Takenobu Unchipiero, a famous clown actor in his home country. Top of the industry, I was assured. After a series of gambling scandals, he was forced to retreat to North America, where our standards for clowns are much lower.

I was about to ask Detective Clownhater to buy some business-class tickets to Tokyo so we could "chase up some leads" – I wanted to buy an S660 while the auction market was still soft – but the amount of boiling rage behind her eyes indicated to me that she had already assumed I was going to do that. Instead, I returned to my work of checking the crime scene and interviewing witnesses, only intermittently pausing to take a look at the latest wheels posted to Up Garage's terrible website.

That's when Todd cracked it for us. While mopping up what was left of poor Takenobu, an artificial heart fell out. I couldn't help but notice its unique design: a triangular pump that spun eccentrically in a housing. A rotary engine, in other words. No normal person would have such a heart. Mr. Unchipiero was up to his neck in debt with the Wankel Mafia.

[yndrgrl]

katsuki bakugo has a glow up during summer break, & now he has a lot of girls' attention

fluff. ooc! bakugo. bits of jealousy. sfw. x reader. acquaintances to lovers. long ass fic.

a/n: the horny content will continue after this message :) also i kinda got nerdy so just ignore my rambles about fighting haha

the whispers & murmurs buzzed like bugs throughout the halls of u.a. you couldn't help but eavesdrop when you heard lower classmen gush about how good katsuki looks, how he definitely had a summer glow up.

it's not that he was bad looking before, that's just not the case. so, when you heard that he somehow got hotter over the span of a few months, you grew curious.

your best friend, ochaco, began to rave about him. "no, you don't understand, y/n. have you seen him yet?"

"i haven't yet, but it doesn't matter! he's still rude as hell!" you told her. "besides, aren't you still going after midoriya?"

"yeah, but i can still appreciate attractive people," she retorted, shoving the rest of her her breakfast-on-the-go in her mouth. you fished your phone out of your school cardigan pocket to change your music when, like a kdrama (or a shitty fanfic), you ran into something-- no, someone.

speak of the devil. "oi! watch it!" the abrasive blonde spun around & met your eyes. his harden glare soften oh so subtly.

"i'm sorry," you quaintly apologized. it's the first day & the first hour of the next 180 days, & you're not going to get in a fight.

"it's whatever, just make sure where you're going next time," katsuki responded. his tone was still harsh, yet what he said was almost nice.

he walked off into the both of yours' classroom, leaving you & ochaco stunned. you both stared at each other, mouths agape. "what just happened?" she finally spat out.

"i have no idea."

"WAS HE JUST NICE?"

a week later, you sat in class, listening to mr. aizawa drone on about something so utterly boring, you'd rather stick your head in a toilet & flush it yourself. you let your eyes wander around the class. for the most part, everyone stayed the same.

then, your eyes landed on katsuki, who was seated by the window. now that you had time to think about it, he did change. his jawline was a tad sharper, his hair appeared more soft, & his shirt clung onto every inch of his upper body. he definitely bulked up during the summer.

his skin is clear, he must've also began caring for a sense of style because his fingers displayed grunge rings, & his eyes were somehow a darker, more alluring shade of crimson. wait, his eyes... were staring at you.

no, he was staring at you staring at him.

god, you felt like a creep. you were expecting him to yell at you, scowl through gritted teeth, but no. he didn't do any of that. he shot you a smirk, then went back to jotting notes.

confusion settled in after embarrassment. you couldn't help that a light pink dusted your cheeks. it wasn't noticeable though, thank goodness.

the subtle, weird antics didn't stop. maybe he's just playing with me or something, you wondered. or maybe i'm looking too much into thinks.

when passing him in the halls, he'd acknowledge you by giving you a small nod-- even if his friends were talking his ears off. he'd hold the doors open for you & only you, but would walk away quickly. he was treating you differently then he treats everyone else, & you don't know why.

"bakugo~" a girl you barely recognized greeted. "you look handsome today!"

he & his friends sat on the other side of your friends' long table. you were the closest to his squad, only three seats away from them. they could hear your conversations, but that means you could hear theirs.

"shut it, & eat your food," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. with his chopsticks, he picked at his bento box.

"ooo~ what did you pack?" she pressed as she inched closer to him. "aww, did your mom make that?"

"no, i did," he raised his voice. she wouldn't take the hint though.

she merely giggled, asking, "could you feed it to me? i wanna try some~" she crossed her arms under her breasts to intensify her cleavage. she was picture perfect, to say the least. any other guy would be drooling at the sight of her.

not bakugo though. he was goal-oriented, focused on the future, & not into dating from what you gathered. a small part of you is bummed out that he isn't interested in romance. he was practically everything you wanted in a guy after all-- just minus the whole "jerk" part.

"what are you looking at, bakugo?" you didn't realize you were staring -once again- until the girl whipped her head around & caught your gaze. her cattish smile dropped into a thin line. "quit staring, idiot-"

"don't call her that, bitch."

both yours & her eyes widened at the quickness & unexpected defensiveness spewed by bakugo. he stuck some of his egg omelette in his mouth, unbothered.

"wh-what? i don't think i heard you, bakugo."

he swallowed his food, ran his tongue across his top teeth, and started to pick up more food with his chopsticks, reiterating, "don't talk to y/n like that, got it?" he put the food in his mouth.

she scoffed, humiliated. "i have to leave," she said, voice dropping at least an octave. your eyes trailed her as she sat with her friends, & they immediately began gossiping. how could you tell? the way they all looked back at you with a nasty expression on their faces.

you returned your attention back to bakugo, who had both your friends & his friends floored with what just happened. "thanks for that," you started. "you really didn't have to do that."

"i know i didn't, but someone had to shut her up."

you replied, "i mean, i'm sure there was a nicer way."

"i tried," he told you with that small smirk on his face again. "she didn't get the hint, i have to be more obvious."

"yeah, in more ways than one," a friend on his side, sero, snickered.

"hey, what's that supposed to mean?!" classic katsuki, reverting back to yelling.

ever since that happened, your friends haven't stopped talking about it since. "guys, c'mon. it's almost been a week," you groaned. you were all getting ready in the school locker room to do hand-to-hand, no quirk combat with a celebrated instructor.

"i think bakugo likes you~" ochaco teased in a sing-songy voice.

you tried to reason, "maybe he was just annoyed with her, & it has nothing to do with me."

"i don't know, y/n," momo laughed, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "he seemed pretty into you."

"no way, not bakugo-"

"well, why not bakugo?" mina, who just so happened to be good friends with said man, asked while she slipped on her shoes.

"because we all know what he's like. he doesn't really scream the dating type, you know?" you grabbed a water bottle & locked your back into your locker.

mina shrugged, & ochaco said, "you said one time that bakugo was the closest to your type... do you like him?"

"WHAT?"

the rest of the conversation was cut short when tsuyu pointed out they should be in the training room by now, causing all the girls to scramble out of the locker room.

the instructor, once the bell rang, introduced himself. he was a nice man seemingly. he was a well-seasoned martial artist who knew what he was talking about.

after his brief speech, he had his assistant -a younger, more egotistical guy- be his dummy when explaining a move. "does anyone have any questions?" he asked. no one answered. "cool, find a partner, & try it out."

everyone scurried to find their partners. pair by pair, no one chose you... all except-

"hey you, be my partner," bakugo practically demanded.

"me?"

"no, the wall behind you. yes, you, y/n," he joked, the same smirk only you get to see on his face. this time, however, it was a full-blown smirk.

"are you sure?"

"yeah," he scoffed, dragging you by the arm to an empty space. he studied how your face contorted from surprise to concern. "listen, if you think you're gonna drag me down or whatever, you're not-"

"no, it's not that," you interrupted. you felt your pride inflate slightly.

"then what is it?"

"i just don't want to hurt you."

it was his turn to be shocked. what did you mean by that?

the first hour went by, techniques were taught, & moves were learned. however, now it was the time that really put things to the test: open spar. it was at this time in training when things got heated. everyone in the room gives it their all no matter what, so the atmosphere turns into something animalistic, yet so empowering.

but before that, is a small water break. speaking of water, where did you leave yours? you swear you brought it in. bakugo must've seen how confused you appeared when he offered (or told you), "here, take some of mine."

too thirsty to even care the open-mouthed expressions from your peers, you took the bottle from his outstretched hand. "thank you!" you cheered, taking a few sips then handing it back to him.

"was that even enough? you barely drank anything," he jested. it sounded like he was teasing you, but, again, he said something like he cared about your well-being.

"yeah, i'll be fine. the worst that can happen is i'll faint."

"you better not. i need a good training partner."

"oh whatever, you're getting a good training partner."

suddenly, the instructor boomed, "water break is over! get back with your partner for sparring!"

once everyone huddled back with their partners & got situated, the instructor explained briefly that everyone will be grappling ("no striking" he repeated ten times as well) five minute rounds, switch partners, another five minute round, & so on so forth. "alright got it?"

"yes sir!"

"good," he nodded to his assistant, who got the stop watch ready, "3, 2, 1, go!"

yoy & katsuki go into your stances. one thing about being shorter than him is that, in the game of wrestling, you're at in advantage at first. "don't go easy on me," you told him, it was meant as a warning

"i was just about to tell you i wasn't." the moment he finished, he took a double-leg shot. it was executed near flawless-- emphasis on the near.

you sprawled your legs back, collapsing your body on top of his. you drove your shoulder into his neck, which resulted in bakugo's face smushed against the mat. he might be strong, but no one's neck is that strong to hold up an entire person. you heard him audibly groan "fuck!"

you caught his arm & his head with one of yours. the two of you were on your knees, but your goal was to get him flat, stomach down. with his trapped arm & leg, you pulled him out from under you & quickly sped towards his back. you mounted him, keeping yourself close to his. you gazed up at your instructor, who gave you a knowing nod of approval.

like a good fighter, katsuki sprung his head up. he missed your nose, instead having his skull collide with your cheek. it hurt, but you had to keep going. "since when did you learn how to wrestle?"

"what do you mean?" you thought everyone knew. you swore that you've mentioned it in front of the class.

"you're fucking good, you know that?" he praised as he fought of your hands.

"you're not too bad yourself," you told him before you crossbody locked him.

"no, i'm being serious. you're too damn good. you're gonna be my partner every time we grapple."

you & bakugo, now you call him katsuki, have only grown closer since then. he would take time out of his study session to ensure you understood the material. before he could finish, the library assistant -a girl around your age- would ask if he needed help with anything, shy blush on her face.

other times he'd walk with you back to your dorms when a group of girls would ask for his number.

it was a constant occurrence; girls notice him, ask for something, then ultimately get rejected. it wasn't in a nice way either. he always degraded & humiliated them, but they'd let him because of how handsome he was.

it was a saturday afternoon where you & katsuki got food from a nearby convenience store & sat in the park. no scheduled training or overwhelming amounts of homework. he insisted on paying for you, & who are you to reject free food?

"okay, but i really have to ask," you started, eating your food, "why aren't you dating anyone?"

"i don't know," he simply put it, downing a bottle of a protein drink.

"you do know, you're just not telling me." you actually didn't know if that was true, you were just bluffing.

"fine, i'm just waiting for a some girl to realize i like her," he admitted so nonchalantly, as if he didn't drop a mind bomb.

your mood dampened. he was your dream guy, the more you hung out with him. you might have developed a crush on him, yet you didn't even realize he liked anyone else.

"no way! who?" you had to sound enthused or he would know something was up.

"no one, forget i said anything," he cleared.

"i want to know~ i can help find out her favorite flowers or something so you can confess!"

"really?" he asked, brow quirked. you nodded your head.

"tch, alright. what's your favorite flower?"

that didn't make any sense. "what?"

"you said that you're gonna help me confess, so what's your favorite flower?"

"katsuki, i don't think she has the same favorite flower than me."

"oh my god, you're so fuckin' dense," he muttered under his breath. "i want to know your favorite flower, y/n, so i can confess." his cheeks reddened as he gave you intense stare, studying your expression. it was still confused.

"confess to who-" he cut you off by putting his hand behind your head & pulling you into a kiss. it was gentle, passionate, & truly shocking to you.

"confess to you, idiot," he panted when the two of you pulled away. "i'm already here," he said with a fuck-it attitude.

"y/n, i've liked you for a long time, a really long time. i thought i made it obvious but you never really caught on cuz you're a dumbass or something."

you laughed, & he smiled at you.

he continued, "so then shitty hair told me i had to make it even more obvious, so that's what i've been doing this entire year."

"but all those girls-"

"yeah well i didn't know i was getting a fan club this year. honestly, they don't fuckin' matter though. what matters is you & i," he told you, his face still so close to yours. "so tell me, if you feel the same."

"i-i do," you stuttered out. in your defense, you were not used to such close proximity to anyone, let alone a sculpture chiseled by ancient greeks themselves.

"say it again," he said, voice deep & eyes half lidded. "i need to hear it again."

"i do, katsuki," you repeated per his request. "i really, really like you."

he pulled you into another kiss, & you both felt each other smile. it felt right.

[suki-na-kumo]

A little headcanon on the fairy family) (❁´◡`❁) Wanda: 1) Wanda is top in their pairing with Cosmo, but sometimes she needs to let go of control and her husband helps her out without question. Cosmo: 2) Cosmo is left with a small tummy and stretch marks from his pregnancy. He is proud of it and remembers his youngest son fondly every time. 3) Yes, he has two sons. Timmy: 4) Timmy stayed with a family where he is loved! 5) I think the whole wizarding world suffered when they tried to take Cosmo and Wanda's eldest son away. 6) I think Cosmo blew everyone up like 9 times and Wanda, well….try to take her baby away from an angry mother(You'll wish you were never born))) 7) TIMMY WAS MADE A FAIRY YAY! 8) Wanda has pointy wings. Cosmo has round wings. Peri's upper wings are pointy and her lower wings are round. Timmy's upper wings are round and his lower wings are pointy. 9) Timmy's hair is gradually changing color. 10) He hides it under his cap, as well as his crown. 11) His wings are growing and his back is itchy from it! 12) Lives in the human world for now, gradually moving to the fairy world. His flat is in the next neighborhood from Mum and Dad's, but inside it's just one of the rooms in Wanda and Cosmo's house. So they live together, and it's convenient for Timmy to go to classes. 13) Goes to classes for fairies in the evening to learn magic. 14) He works at a comic book/video game shop. 15) His wand is a game joystick. 16) He's skinny and tall, but has fat on his tummy and thighs. He ate junk food until he was reprimanded by Wanda. 17) Goes to the beauty parlour once a month with Peri.

Peri: 18) Peri has a lot of fancy clothes. 19) Peri has a great waist and hips, thanks to Wanda's genes. 20) Often complains to her older brother about her problems. 21) Often makes Timmy carry him on his back or shoulders. (He'll never admit it out loud, but he just misses his childhood when his brother used to carry him in his arms all the time.) 22) His wings in human form turn into a silk scarf. 23) The stars are their family symbol. 24) Everyone wears a pendant with a family photo on it (Cosmo hides it under his shirt). 25) I think Timmy would randomly meet Dev and Hazel at his comic book/video game shop and later notice the very familiar pink and green key chains and purple headphones). That's all I'm thinking for now, maybe some of it I'll draw or sketch. If you've read this far, I hope you at least found it interesting or emphasised some ideas for yourself). With you was Suki-na-kumo and her wild thoughts.✌️

[loaksky]

no thoughts other than professor!abby / coworker!abby and the holiday stocking ! this is like 80 percent backstory bc who am i to not blabber about my new favorite trope...full length fic abt them in the works oops! not proofread + no warnings other than language!

tlou masterlist | main masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔ first let’s set the scene by establishing that abby’s probably a tenure-track professor in a hyper specific literature study or maybe cross-teaches a course or two in the women and gender studies department. you’re a new educator probably teaching english 101?

⋆.ೃ࿔ abby first sees you at the faculty meeting for her department during the late summer and is immediately enamored.

⋆.ೃ࿔ by some stroke of luck, she finds that she’s been assigned to your neighboring office and her final lecture is held in the hall across from yours.

⋆.ೃ࿔ abby’s usually pretty good about the timing of her lectures and she ends up finishing 10-15 minutes early every session. so sometimes she hears the tail end of your lessons and can’t help but think you’re so fucking brilliant.

⋆.ೃ࿔ the students are taken by you too, usually not paying any mind to professors that teach lower level classes, but you’re animated and hands-on, and abby realizes that maybe she should take a page from your book.

⋆.ೃ࿔ literally can’t work up the courage to say anything to you first and is so surprised when she’s having an internal warfare one day while she’s locking up the lecture hall and you slink past her.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “have a good weekend dr. anderson!”

⋆.ೃ࿔ nearly short circuits because how in the fuck do you know her name? (hint hint: you haven’t been able to get a grip after seeing her in the same faculty meeting she’d basically fallen head over heels for you at).

⋆.ೃ࿔ for the life of her, can’t get her shit together over the weekend. is so scatterbrained because the hot new professor knows her name?? practically spirals because that means that she’s been perceived and she has no idea if it’s a good or bad thing because what do you think of her ???

⋆.ೃ࿔ runs into you bright and early monday morning as she’s about to duck into her office and she wants to make a beeline for the safety of her ergonomic chair, but you look a little frazzled and she’s speaking before she can stop herself.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “everything alright?” she asks as you miss the slot for the keyhole a few times and blow out a shaky sigh.

⋆.ೃ࿔ notices you’re carrying a fuckton of things and is wordlessly grabbing your stack of folders and taking your heavy knapsack from you as you finally get the key in the keyhole.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “thank you so much,” you say, voice thick with unshed tears. “i just, fuck, shit, sorry, that wasn’t professional—”

⋆.ೃ࿔ and she could melt because you’re so cute.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “i don’t think i saved the form for midterm grades on my laptop and the battery just crapped out on me, and i’m pretty sure i just missed the deadline and—”

⋆.ೃ࿔ “hey, breathe, breathe,” abby says gently, hands involuntarily smoothing over your shoulders. “you’re okay, it’s okay. shit happens.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ “god, i’m such a idiot.” you scrub your hands down your face. “the upper level professors were right, i do suck—”

⋆.ೃ࿔ “whoa, whoa,” abby calls out sternly, expression horrified. “who said that?”

⋆.ೃ࿔ “it’s not important,” you whisper, blowing out another breath and squeezing your eyes shut as you shake your hands to try to calm yourself. “they’re not wrong.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ “who.” and abby is no longer asking, arms bulging in her oxford shirt as she crosses her arms over her chest and stares down at you.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “dr. paige and mr. ruiz,” you say quietly, fidgeting under such a steely gaze.

⋆.ೃ࿔ abby just makes a noise in her throat, uncrosses her arms and tilts her head towards your desktop computer.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “if you were working on the submission form on your faculty account, it automatically syncs to the cloud both on and offline,” she says. “there’s usually a grace period until the final scheduled lecture for the day which is in...” she glances at her wrist watch, “in about an hour.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ you’re rounding your desk, practically throwing yourself in your chair as you boot up the computer and log into your faculty portal. your cheeks are flushed warm and eyes wide as your gaze flits across the screen.

⋆.ೃ࿔ you deflate in relief after a few clicks to find that professor anderson’s absolutely correct, and there’s the form in all it’s glory, cursor blinking and ready to be completed and submitted.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “holy shit, thank you so much,” you whisper.

⋆.ೃ࿔ when you look up, she’s already stormed halfway out of your office.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “dr. paige and i would just like to extend a sincere apology for our words regarding your tenure here,” mr. ruiz says after they corner you in the staffroom a few mornings later.

⋆.ೃ࿔ your eyebrows are knitting together momentarily before it dawns on you like a splash of cold water.

⋆.ೃ࿔ it explains why professor anderson had been in such a hurry to leave your office after assisting you a few mornings ago.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “s’okay,” you shrug.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “it’s really not,” dr. paige says. “it was immature and uncalled for to make such comments, and such shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ a sudden movement outside of the window catches your eye, and you’re grinning when you see the familiar flash of dirty blonde.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “really, it’s no hard feelings,” you assure them. “now if you’ll excuse me.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ you’re breaking away from them to duck out of the staffroom and surprise surprise, abigail anderson is standing a few metres from the door, arms crossed over her chest.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “are you eavesdropping dr. anderson?” you tease.

⋆.ೃ࿔ she doesn’t even bother to hide it, answering with a firm and resounding, “yes.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ that earns a full-bellied laugh out of you and she realizes that she’s so fucking whipped.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “you’re a wonderful professor,” abby assures you. “your students love you and you’ve already accomplished such great things in the department.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ you can’t help but flush and an awkward but cute silence dawns the two of you after you murmur a quiet “thank you”

⋆.ೃ࿔ “where’s your next session?” dr. anderson breaks the ice. “i’ll walk you.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ the two of you end up getting a lot closer over the rest of the semester and abby starts to get a little frustrated with herself for waiting for so long to actually talk to you.

⋆.ೃ࿔ because you’re practically perfect; so sweet, insanely intelligent, and it’s just the icing on top that you’re probably one of the prettiest girls she’s ever seen and you’ve got an equally pretty ass to match (abby is an ass girl IDC !)

⋆.ೃ࿔ heart is in shambles because you’ve learned how she likes her coffee and frequently bring her one first thing before your string of lectures start.

⋆.ೃ࿔ also, more often than not, the two of you are spending lunch hours together whether you’re grabbing a quick bite from one of the dining halls, splurging a little to eat lunch at an actual establishment, or killing time at the nearby bookstore a few blocks from the campus center.

⋆.ೃ࿔ long story short, you and abby have been spending so much time together and she knows she really likes you, but she can’t find it in herself to say anything because she doesn’t wanna scare you off with such a strong bout of emotions.

⋆.ೃ࿔ but literally everyone sees it! and it’s not necessarily that you’re oblivious, but abby’s accomplished, a really well-loved professor by both the department and her students, and even if there isn’t a ring on her finger, you’re convinced that abby’s got to have someone special in her life...it’s literally you.

⋆.ೃ࿔ even the students see it! dr. anderson’s been lagging recently during her last time slot and it doesn’t take long for a few students who love her especially so to see the way it takes her a little while longer to pack up and how she lingers out in the hall as your class ends!

⋆.ೃ࿔ “have a good weekend dr. anderson!” her last two students chime as they part ways with her. one of them glances over his shoulder and sees you filing out with a group of students from the adjacent classroom. “good luck.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ and abby’s beet fucking red when you finally lock up and ask her what that was about.

⋆.ೃ࿔ fast forward to now, it’s the final week before students are set to go home for the holidays and she’s a little down in the dumps because not only will she not get to see you for almost a month, but she’s usually alone this time of year and it’s agonizing to think that maybe you’ll be going home to someone else.

⋆.ೃ࿔ unbeknownst to her, you’ve been really nervous because maybe you’d overheard her talking to an adjunct professor, owen, about how she’d never gotten a personalized stocking made for her in response to seeing the one hanging on his shelf that his wife and kid had made for him this year, and perhaps you’d watched a couple youtube videos on stocking decorating and went out to buy the supplies right after.

⋆.ೃ࿔ admittedly, the last few days, the two of you are distant, her because she’s sad, and you because you’re probably spending every waking moment trying to think of ways to make the stocking perfect and you’re so in your head that you don’t even notice her change in demeanor.

⋆.ೃ࿔ and you try to make it perfect, really want abby to love her gift, so you fiddle around with it until the last possible moment.

⋆.ೃ࿔ you’re also nervous as fuck as you peer over your shoulder thursday afternoon, hoping dr. anderson doesn’t catch you in the act of staging her gift because frankly you’re too shy to give it to her.

⋆.ೃ࿔ even though you and dr. anderson are on great terms, she’s still so intimidating and you don’t trust yourself to make an ass of yourself, so you relay your message through a pretty piece of cardstock and tuck it into the bag before you’re scurrying off for the end of the semester.

⋆.ೃ࿔ finally, it’s the final day that campus will be open and abby’s trudging up to her office, only really intending to gather the last of what she’ll need since the buildings will be locked throughout the duration of holiday break, but she’s stopped dead in her tracks when she sees the sizable gift bag hanging on her doorknob.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “what that—”

⋆.ೃ࿔ she’s carefully moving around the tissue paper and her heart catches in her throat when she sees a blue stocking bulging with different treats and even a book! with her name carefully stitched on the band.

⋆.ೃ࿔ her first knee jerk reaction is that maybe owen pitied her and made her one, but a matching blue envelope catches her eye and she’s fishing it out of the bag.

⋆.ೃ࿔ recognizes your handwriting from the whiteboards when she’s stealing peeks into your classroom.

⋆.ೃ࿔ cheeks are flaming and stomach is tying in knots as she reads your note.

⋆.ೃ࿔ Firstly, I’m really disappointed I couldn’t deliver this to you in person, but my flight leaves for home on Friday... :( Nonetheless, you’ve been such a wonderful office neighbor and even more wonderful colleague. I truly can’t string together an adequate way to express how grateful I am to work alongside someone as kind and thoughtful as you, Dr. Anderson. You’ve quickly become such a dear friend and I hope you have a wonderful holiday! See you next year! ˆ<3

⋆.ೃ࿔ the fucking heart...the fucking heart!!! literally it’s all abby can fixate on before she realizes that there’s an ass of things tucked in the stocking and not only did you take the time to handstitch onto the fabric, but you took the time to gather things she didn’t even realize you knew she liked.

⋆.ೃ࿔ is unlocking her office so that she can pour the contents of the stocking onto her desk and she nearly dissipates into a pile of goo right then and there because there’s a few packs of her favorite gum (wintergreen), a set of her absolute favorite ballpoint pens (because gel pens are too runny for her liking), a giftcard to her usual coffee shop (“since I won’t be there to bring you your order” according to the note scrawled on the holder), a thick pair of argyle socks in her favorite colorway, and finally, there’s an annotated version of this is how you lose the time war.

⋆.ೃ࿔ and it has to mean something; your book choice and how you raved about it weeks prior during an excursion with abby to the public library, and you’d pulled the copy off the shelf and asked her if she’d read it.

⋆.ೃ࿔ “no,” she answered simply. “never caught my eye.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ “you should read it,” you’d said quietly. “their love was beautiful.”

⋆.ೃ࿔ and she’d never admit it, but she’d checked it out the following morning and blew through the book so fast, heart pounding in her chest as she realized that it was about two women in love. and, god, this has to mean something, she’d continue to agonize, even until this current moment.

⋆.ೃ࿔ and here an annotated version sits, your thoughts and inner feelings inking the pages. it makrs abby bubble with equal parts hope and sadness. sadness because it seems like way too long until she’ll see you again, and hope because maybe this means something more for the two of you in the future.

⋆.ೃ࿔ who knows, really. but abby’s certain that this holiday will feel a little less lonelier with her heart a lot more fuller.

neng © 2023

[al-of-the-stars]

poly vees! poly vees! where everyone loves eachother

anyways, the vee's find themselves attracted to an imp!reader (maybe only one or two at first). i love the upper class x lower class dynamic ajhs

the imp was originally just trying to be a thief in peace and rob them, but they get caught in the process.

gn! reader is more desirable but you can go for a fem or male reader if you want!!

-🍋 anon

"Stole our hearts. (and our money lol)"

A/n: Hi, 🍋! This reminded me a bit of Blitzo and Stolas from Helluva Boss lol Ik I said this before but I'm not too familiar with poly relationships so I'm so sorry if I got anything wrong! I did gn reader but I did mention reader wearing one of Velvette's dresses so I hope it doesn't make anyone uncomfortable! Hope you enjoy!!

Imps were never respected in the hell hierarchy. How ironic that the ones who fucked up enough to get sent here are treated better than the innocent demons who never even got a chance at life in the first place. This was the reason you decided to become a thief. If no one was willing to hire the lowlife so that you could make an honest living, you would steal to live a comfortable life. You weren't a Saint by any means but you weren't evil enough to steal from your own kind, only people who either deserved it or people who could afford to be stolen from. That includes overlords, and more specifically, your latest victims, the Vees. They were known for their social influence on the residents of hell, but you didn't really care much since overlords only live in the pride ring and imps usually residents in Imp City in the wrath ring. That, however, doesn't mean you won't travel there and take their shit. You were currently at Vee Tower late at night. Everyone was asleep so you had the perfect chance to do your job and quickly scurry off, or at least that's what you thought, You usually work fast but that doesn’t take into account the time constraint of Vox’s new security system. The moment you touched the vase, a loud alarm rang and a few seconds later, Vox and his tired partners came up to you. 

“What do you think you're doing,” Vox said, his business smile faltering. Shit. You underestimated this guy's inventions. “Oh.. uhhh..” you were at a loss for words. What were you even supposed to say? ‘Hey I was about to steal this vase that you own’? Absolutely not. Luckily for you, they didn't seem to mind as much as you thought they would. Little did you know that every time you had stolen from the Overlords, they had known you were there. Although they didn't exactly appreciate you stealing their belongings, they had taken a bit of a liking towards you. Even when being mischievous little shit, you still had a sort of charm. Like when you were stealing one of Vox's newest prototypes and spent 10 whole minutes trying to figure out what it did before giving up and furiously putting it in the bag. Or that time you stole one of Velvette's dresses and before putting it in the bag you put it on, just for funsies. She had to admit, you didn't look half bad in her designs, maybe when you finally date them, she can ask you to model for her. And the time you tried to steal one of the blankets from one of Val's studios, which surprisingly sell for a lot. You hurriedly put it in the bag, trying to touch it as little as possible, who knows what things people had done in those blankets. They slowly fell for you one by one, maybe next time, they can finally ask you out. Once they give you the world, you finally won't have to steal their things.

[hotchsloyalstylereid]

50 shades of Hotchner Aaron Hotchner

The billionaire’s Anchor will be out Feb 14th-25 part two

♡ ︎ Summary , “You get the chance to interview the the billionaire who is the unit chief agent Aaron Hotchner who owns the BAU in end up falling for him but that doesn’t happen till part two/three this is your part of the story , part two will be his story . It’ll all fall in to place .

♡︎ Paring fem!reader ! Aaron Hotchner

♡︎ This is IB the trilogy of 50 shades of gray 

—♡︎—♡︎—Headlines —♡︎—♡︎—♡︎— Reader is a college student small age gape .. Studies english literature —Reader is beautiful intelligent not really upper class not lower class either She has little trauma with an Ex . Also she is an intern with Vogue magazine.

Mr Hotchner is a billionaire unit chief agent that owns the BAU headquarters in this scenario he’s has never been Married This is based off the fifty shades but it’s in a different AU . Was talking with @hoe4hotchner About this one . Your name for the best friend in this fic is Ib :) 🫶🏻💕

♡︎ Content hurt/Comfort/slow burn emotional/angst 

♡︎ Content warning trauma with an ex Drinking is mentioned but not consumed anxiety slow burn

♡︎ Word count 5.9k

♡︎ Author notes I’m hoping I’m not forgetting anything this is the first time I’ve ever written anything long like this let’s just say I had way to much fun with this one still learning to write Hotch an the team please be kind

This is inspired by 50 shades , in my own writing this took some time to write about four days maybe longer .

But I had so much fun

Your thoughts are welcome but please be kind …

The longest fic ever omg …

I did proof read this about four times I like how it sounds if I missed anything in the description please let me know but in a kind way please thank you

Omg guys I loved how this turned out I hope you do too eek .. get it Reid all I can say lol …

♡︎Background outline♡︎

You are a 25-year-old college student pursuing a degree in English Literature at a prestigious university in Quantico, Virginia. Known for your striking beauty, intelligence, and keen observational skills, you’ve earned the quiet admiration of your peers and professors alike.

you’ve grown up with a grounded perspective, valuing hard work and independence.

You are deeply driven, throwing yourself into your studies with unwavering focus. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays are dedicated to class, where you immerse yourself in analyzing the works of literary giants and crafting essays that showcase your sharp mind.

Wednesdays, however, are different. On this one day each week, you step into an entirely new world as an intern at Vogue magazine.

The hustle and glamour of the fashion industry couldn’t be further from your quiet life on campus, yet you’ve found a way to excel there too.

Whether assisting with features or observing the fast-paced brilliance of the editors, your time at Vogue challenges you in unexpected ways, pushing you outside your comfort zone.

Though shy by nature, you possess a subtle confidence that emerges when you're with your best friend, Rebecca—a free-spirited extrovert who often brings out your more adventurous side.

Coming from a comfortable middle-class background, you have never known the extremes of wealth or poverty. Instead, you’ve grown up with a grounded perspective, valuing hard work and independence.

You are deeply driven, throwing yourself into your studies with unwavering focus.

Your world revolves around literature, where you find solace and inspiration in the pages of classic novels and the complexity of human emotion. Yet, beneath your poised exterior, shadows linger. You’ve been grappling with the suffocating presence of your ex—a toxic figure who refuses to let go.

His threats come in the form of ominous text messages, late-night phone calls, and echoes of the emotional manipulation you endured during your time together. Each interaction leaves a mark, the sting of his words reverberating in your mind long after they’ve stopped. Rebecca is the only person who knows the full extent of what you’ve been through.

She is your anchor, the one who reminds you of your worth when the memories threaten to pull you under. Still, you can’t help but feel that your life has become a balancing act between striving for a brighter future and outrunning the shadows of your past.

This is the moment that changes everything: your decision to pursue an interview with Aaron Hotchner.

Now

Balancing everything had been a challenge lately. You were in school on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, and on Wednesdays, you interned at Vogue magazine. The internship was exciting, but it only added to your growing nerves—if this interview opportunity ever happened, you wanted to make a good impression.

You had spent the last few days diving into Aaron Hotchner's past interviews—every case, every experience he’d shared online. The man was an enigma, and you couldn’t help but admire his brilliance and the way he carried himself. But now, you were stuck. What if, by some miracle, you got the chance to interview him? You needed questions—good ones.

Sighing, you turned to your best friend, Rebecca, desperate for help.

She glanced at you, rolled her eyes, and grabbed a pen. With a smirk playing on her lips, she scribbled something across the first line of your notebook and slid it back toward you.

“Here’s a question,” she said, feigning nonchalance.

Curious, you leaned forward to read it, and your eyes widened in horror. “Are you gay?”

You nearly choked. “Rebecca!” you hissed, your cheeks flushing instantly. “Seriously? Gay? That’s your idea of help?”

“What?” she replied with exaggerated innocence, twirling the pen between her fingers.

“He’s not married or anything, so it’s a valid question. Besides,” she added with a pointed look, “you need to lighten up a little.”

You glared at her, but she pressed on, her voice softening. “Look, it’s been six months since you and…you know…broke up.

I know he still haunts you with those stupid messages and calls, but you can’t keep living in that shadow.

You need someone who can make you feel again.

It doesn’t have to be Mr. Hotchner, but it should be someone.”

Her words hit a nerve, and you felt your throat tighten. You wanted to argue, to tell her she didn’t understand, but deep down, you knew she wasn’t wrong.

Rebecca’s grin returned as she watched your reaction. “Oh my God, you’re blushing!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with teasing delight. “You totally have a crush on him, don’t you?”

“Do not!” you shot back, the heat in your cheeks betraying your denial.

“Sure,” she said, laughing. “Your face is practically glowing right now.”

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands, already regretting asking her for help. Rebecca’s laughter echoed around you as if to punctuate your misery.

Taking a deep breath, you peeked at her through your fingers. “For the record,” you mumbled, “I already did something. I sent him an email.”

Rebecca froze mid-laugh, her eyebrows shooting up. “You what?”

“I sent him an email,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

The weight of your own words hit you, making your chest tighten with a mix of nerves and excitement.

Rebecca’s jaw dropped, but instead of teasing, her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Well, look at you,” she said, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Guess you’re braver than I thought.” her voice light but impressed. “Miss Literary Genius stepping up her game.”

“I had to,” you said quietly, your eyes drifting to your notebook. “If I want to stand out—for Vogue, for school—it’s not like I had another option.”

Rebecca tilted her head, studying you. “You know,” she said softly, her teasing tone gone, “this could be a good thing.

You’re capable of more than you give yourself credit for.”

You gave her a weak smile, but inside, the nerves churned. It wasn’t just about the interview—it was about the possibility that Aaron Hotchner, the enigmatic, untouchable billionaire, might actually respond.

And if he did, everything could change.

—♡︎—The Email—♡︎

To: Aaron.Hotchner@fbi.gov

Subject: Request for an Interview for My College Research Paper & an opportunity for my internship at vogue magazine.

Dear Agent Hotchner,

I hope this email finds you well. My name is [Your Name], and I’m currently a college student majoring in English Literature at Liberal Arts University college in Quantico, Virginia. And I’m an inter for vogue magazine and for one of my courses, I’ve been given the opportunity to write a research paper on a topic of my choosing, and I decided to focus on the Behavioral Analysis Unit within the FBI.

Your work as an agent and leader of the BAU is fascinating to me. The way your team delves into the complexities of human behavior and criminal psychology aligns with many themes I’ve been studying in literature—how human motivation and character drive stories and actions.

If you are available, I would be deeply honored to interview you as part of my research. I believe your insights would add incredible depth to my paper and provide a unique perspective that no amount of online research could match. I understand how demanding your role is, and I would be happy to accommodate your schedule to make this as convenient as possible.

I’ve prepared a list of thoughtful questions with the help of my friend Rebecca , and I hope to use this opportunity to learn more about your work and the BAU’s impact on both the field of criminal justice and society as a whole.

Thank you so much for considering my request, Agent Hotchner. I greatly admire your dedication to your work and your contributions to making the world a safer place. I look forward to hearing from you and hope this email reaches you in good spirits.

You can reach me at any time via email at 578-865-2134 Yourname.literature@gmail.com or on my phone at Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you need any additional information.

Sincerely,

[Your Name]

[578-865-2134]-fake

Days passed, and you found yourself obsessively refreshing your email and checking your phone for missed calls. Nothing. By day four, you started convincing yourself it wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe your email had been too direct? Or maybe too casual? The thought made you cringe every time it crossed your mind.

5:45pm

That Wednesday, you had just gotten back from your internship at Vogue.

The exhaustion from juggling classes, work, and this looming interview weighed heavy on you—until your phone rang.

The number was unfamiliar.

You stared at the screen, the phone vibrating in your hand. Was it spam? A wrong number?—“Your Ex?

Summoning a shred of courage, you swiped to answer. “Hello, this is [Your Name].”

“Good evening, this is Aaron Hotchner.”

Your heart stopped.

Actually, stopped.

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. The deep, confident voice on the other end sent a jolt through your system.

Your brain barely processed the words before your legs carried you out of your room and down the hall.

“Rebecca!” you hissed, practically kicking her door open. She jumped, startled, as you clutched the phone like it was a lifeline.

“It’s him! What do I say? What do I do?”

Rebecca’s eyes went wide as a grin spread across her face. She motioned wildly for you to calm down. “Breathe! Breathe! And answer him before he thinks you hung up!”

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to inhale deeply. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner,” you finally managed, your voice shaking only slightly.

“I wasn’t expecting your call—it’s such an honor to hear from you.”

“That’s quite alright,” he replied smoothly, a hint of warmth in his tone. “I read your email, and I’d like to discuss your interview proposal further. Are you available to meet in person sometime this week?”— “Let’s say Friday?

Your heart raced as you clutched your phone. "Friday works great, sir," you replied, trying to sound composed despite the excitement bubbling inside you.

"Great," he said calmly. "I’ll send you the details. Is this number okay to use?"

"Yes, sir," you confirmed quickly, barely able to contain your enthusiasm.

"Good. I’ll send you a message once everything is finalized. Thank you for reaching out."

"Thank you so much, sir, for this opportunity," you managed to say before the call ended.

As the line disconnected, you let out a squeal of joy, practically leaping onto your best friend Rebecca’s bed. “Rebecca! It’s actually happening!

I’m going to interview him—Aaron Hotchner!” you exclaimed, clutching a pillow to your chest.

Before you could process the moment, your phone buzzed in your hand. It was him.

The message read:

Hi, this is Agent Hotchner. Just a quick reminder about our interview on Friday at the BAU office at 9:30 a.m. If you have any trouble finding the office, don’t hesitate to reach out, and I’ll help with directions. See you then.

—Special Agent, Unit Chief Hotchner owner of The BAU

You stared at the screen, your hands trembling slightly. "Rebecca," you whispered, holding up the phone, "He texted me."

The excitement bubbling in your chest made it impossible to stay still. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

Your heart raced as you exchanged details with him, somehow managing to sound semi-professional despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The second the call ended, you collapsed onto Rebecca’s bed, clutching the phone to your chest.

“I’m meeting him,” you whispered, eyes wide.

Rebecca shrieked, grabbing your arm and shaking it.

“I told you! This is huge! You’re meeting Aaron freakin’ Hotchner. Do you know how many people would kill for this opportunity?!”

You nodded numbly, your excitement quickly giving way to nerves. “Oh God… What have I gotten myself into?”

Rebecca’s eyes lit up with mischief, and she clasped her hands together as if she had just come up with the best idea in the world. “I know what we’re going to do.

“Oh no, don’t even think about saying no—we’re celebrating tonight!”

You barely had a chance to respond before she announced her plan with a decisive grin. “We’re going to a club. Get ready. You deserve this.”

Rebecca’s energy was infectious, and before you knew it, you were standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the sleek black skirt she had practically forced you to wear.

The gold-strapped top you chose shimmered against your skin, catching the light in a way that made you feel... confident.

Pairing it with black tights and small black heels, you had to admit the outfit was perfect—just the right mix of bold and elegant.

As you reached for your earrings, you caught Rebecca’s reflection in the mirror.

Rebecca stood behind you, her arms crossed and her head tilted, studying you with a proud smile.

“This is Instagram photo-worthy. Seriously, you’re glowing. Come on, we need a little photoshoot before the Uber gets here!”

Before you could protest, Rebecca had already grabbed her phone and positioned you against the wall.

The next few minutes were filled with laughter as she directed you like a photographer at a magazine shoot. “Okay, now give me a smirk. Perfect! Tilt your head a little… yes! That’s it! Oh my God, these are so good!”

Rebecca even pulled you into a few selfies, making exaggerated pouty faces while holding the camera high. She burst into laughter, flipping through the pictures. “Look at us! We’re gonna break the internet.”

As the Uber pulled up outside, Rebecca grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You look amazing. You’re going to have the best night. Trust me, you deserve this.”

Her words melted some of your lingering nerves, and you found yourself smiling for the first time all evening. Rebecca had always had a way of pushing you out of your comfort zone, reminding you that life was meant to be lived.

“Okay,” you said, letting out a steadying breath as you grabbed your purse. “Let’s do this.”

With Rebecca by your side, you stepped into the night, ready to celebrate in a way you never had before.

As the Uber driver dropped you and Rebecca off a few blocks from your apartment, the thumping bass of the club music filled the air.

The neon lights outside flashed rhythmically, casting vibrant colors onto the sidewalk.

Rebecca practically bounced with excitement as you stepped out of the car.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked, her grin contagious.

You nodded, though your stomach was fluttering with nervous energy. Approaching the bouncer at the door, you handed over your ID. He glanced at it, then stamped both your hands with a glowing ink before motioning you inside.

The moment you stepped into the club, you were hit by a wall of sound—music thumping, people laughing, and the hum of conversation blending into a buzzing, electric atmosphere.

Multicolored lights swirled overhead, casting an ever-changing glow on the packed dance floor.

Rebecca turned to you with a gleam in her eye. “Let’s get a drink first!”

You smiled, letting her lead the way to the bar. As you weaved through the crowd, your gaze wandered around the room.

A group of people near the corner of the bar caught your attention. They were laughing and talking animatedly, the camaraderie between them evident.

You didn’t think much of it until you reached the bar with Rebecca and placed your drink order.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar face in that same group.

“No freaking way,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rebecca turned to you, handing you your drink. “What? What is it?”

You nodded toward the corner, your heart skipping a beat. “Look. Over there.”

Rebecca’s eyes followed your gaze. When they landed on the man you were staring at, her jaw dropped. “No. Freaking. Way.

That’s Mr. Hotchner himself. See? I told you tonight was meant to be fun!”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “Oh my God, this cannot be happening.”

“Come on,” Rebecca said with a grin, tugging on your arm. “We’ll deal with that later. Let’s hit the dance floor!

As you were making your way to the dance floor, a tall man accidentally bumped into you.

“Whoa, sorry about that, ladies,” he said, flashing a charming smile.

You smiled politely. “Oh, it’s okay, sir.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sir? Come on, now. I’m Derek Morgan, but you can just call me Derek.”

You introduced yourself, but before you could finish, you heard someone call your name from across the room. You froze, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Oh, great,” you muttered under your breath.

Derek’s brow furrowed as he glanced toward the source of your discomfort. “Everything okay?”

You let out a sigh. “Not really. That’s my ex.

I haven’t seen him in six months, but he won’t stop harassing me with calls and messages. I’ll be fine, though.” You offered a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

“Just Derek,” he reminded you with a smile and nod before heading back to his group.

When Derek rejoined his friends, he leaned in and spoke low enough for only them to hear. “Hey, guys, keep an eye on that guy over there.”

JJ glanced toward your ex, then back at Derek.

“Those girls he’s bothering?

“Emily chimed in , They’re beautiful.”

Derek nodded. “Right, but that guy’s trouble. Stay sharp.”

Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid , who had been quietly observing, straightened up. “Got it,” they said, There tone calm but firm.

As you tried to make your way to the dance floor, your ex suddenly appeared in front of you, stepping into your path with a forceful presence.

Without warning, he grabbed your arm.

“Come on, dance with me,” Nate said, his voice laced with a sense of entitlement.

You pulled away sharply, your heart racing. “No, Nate. No.”

Rebecca, sensing the tension, stepped forward. “Leave her alone, Nate.”

He sneered at Rebecca, getting right in her face. “What are you going to do about it?” he challenged.

You stepped in between them, trying to keep the peace. “Stop, Nate.”

“You think you can do better than me?” he spat, yanking your arm toward him with force.

You winced as you tried to pull away again, your voice trembling. “Nate, please…”

Rebecca didn’t hesitate. She stepped right in front of you, blocking Nate from getting any closer. “I said, leave her alone.”

At that moment, you noticed two figures coming up behind Nate—two men in suits.

You didn’t recognize them at first, but the intensity of their approach made you feel a flicker of relief.

Hotch and Reid exchanged a glance, both knowing what needed to be done.

“Let’s move,” Hotch said, his voice calm but firm.

Reid nodded. “Right.”

They reached Nate, moving with purpose, and Reid spoke up first, though his voice wavered slightly. “Sir, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Nate just laughed, clearly dismissive. “Okay, Dr. Please, leave us alone.”

But Hotch didn’t wait. He stepped forward, his gaze locked on Nate, commanding the situation.

“Take your hand off her.” His tone was unwavering, and it made your heart race in a different way—one of safety.

Nate scoffed, sizing Hotch up. “And who are you? Some guy in a suit?”

Hotch didn’t flinch.

“No, I’m with the FBI.” He flashed his badge, and Reid did the same, pulling his badge from his jacket pocket with practiced precision.

Nate’s demeanor faltered. He let go of your arm, his eyes wide with realization. “Whoa, okay. I didn’t want to start any trouble.”

Spencer added, his voice firm but measured. “Leave these ladies alone.”

Nate stepped back, defeated but unwilling to admit his wrongdoing.

As he walked away, Hotch’s eyes never left you, his gaze steady and protective.

Reid glanced over at you with concern. “Are you guys okay?”

You nodded, feeling both shaken and somehow grounded by their intervention.

Spencer, after sharing a brief look with Rebecca, turned to her with a smile. “Would you like to dance?”

Rebecca grinned and nodded eagerly. “I’d love to.”

With that, they made their way to the center of the dance floor, where the soft rhythm of the slow song started to fill the space.

As they began to move together, you found yourself standing next to Hotch, the noise of the crowd fading around you. The moment felt suspended in time.

The song continued to play, and with it, a quiet anticipation seemed to linger between you and Hotch.

The distance between you both felt palpable. As you stood there, your nerves betrayed you.

After a long, almost unspoken pause, Hotch finally broke the silence. “Would you like to dance?” His voice was calm, steady, like everything around you was perfectly still.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath. Your response came out as a soft, almost hesitant nod. “Yes.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch stepped closer and pulled you gently into his arms. The warmth of his touch was immediate, a powerful presence that settled in the pit of your stomach. There was something so unexpectedly comforting about his strength and the quiet connection between you both.

Neither of you said a word as you moved together, the music guiding you. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear as you laid your head against his chest. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The way he held you, his hand at the small of your back, was both reassuring and electrifying.

In the distance, you could see Rebecca and Spencer, the two of them enjoying their own rhythm on the dance floor. Their laughter mixed with the music, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Rebecca kept glancing over at you and Hotch, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

You stole a quick glance at her, your gaze sharp, silently telling her to stop teasing you. But she didn’t even flinch, her smile only widening as she caught your eye.

Your focus returned to Hotch as you both continued to move together, the slow dance grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

As the music filled the space, Hotch finally broke the quiet. His voice was soft but steady, as if he were reading the air around you. “I bet you weren’t expecting this tonight.”

You glanced up at him, your breath catching slightly. The warmth of his gaze sent a ripple of heat through you. “No,” you admitted with a quiet laugh, “not really. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

Hotch let out a low chuckle, the sound somehow calming yet undeniably magnetic. “I meant me saving you from disaster, of course.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you couldn’t help but smile a little, even as the conversation turned more serious. Before you could speak, your mind drifted back to Friday—your interview with him. The nerves you had then felt so distant now.

You hesitated, unsure of how to word the question that had been on your mind. "When did you realize it was me?"

Hotch’s gaze never wavered from you as he answered. “When Derek pointed you both out to me.”

The admission caught you off guard, but you masked your surprise quickly. “You did a background check on me?” you asked, your voice laced with both curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

He nodded, but there was no malice in his expression. “I mean, I had my tech, Garcia, do it. Your photo was attached to your file.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at the unexpectedness of it all. “Oh,” you said, a little breathless. “I see. It’s... very impressive.”

Hotch smirked slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Well, I like to know who I’m dealing with.” His tone softened, and his hand instinctively adjusted the way he held you, his touch warm and grounding.

You tried not to let the thought linger for too long, but the subtle tension in the air between you two was undeniable. Every shift of his hand, every look shared between you both, seemed to make the room shrink.

As the slow dance continued, you found yourself drawn further into his presence. You weren’t sure whether it was the proximity or the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear, but everything felt different now. The connection between you wasn’t just physical—it was something more, something deeper.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Rebecca still dancing with Spencer, her gaze flicking between you and Hotch, her knowing smile more evident than ever. You couldn’t suppress the small glare you sent her way. But even that felt secondary to the unspoken pull between you and Hotch.

The night was unfolding in ways you never expected, but somehow, it felt like everything was falling into place, one slow dance at a time.

As the night came to a close, you and Rebecca had the chance to meet the rest of the team. Garcia was just as vibrant and lively as you’d imagined, her bright smile infectious. JJ’s warm energy was comforting, and Emily had an air of quiet confidence. Rossi, ever the seasoned professional, gave you a kind nod. Derek was smiling, still a bit playful, as you turned to him, grateful for everything he’d done tonight.

You offered Derek a hug, your voice soft but sincere. “Thank you for looking out for me... and for Rebecca.”

He smiled warmly, pulling you into a brief but genuine embrace. “Anytime. Stay safe, alright?”

Rebecca, meanwhile, was chatting away with Reid, exchanging numbers with him as they laughed. You couldn’t help but glance at Hotch.

Every time you looked, his gaze was already on you, steady and unwavering, like he was silently taking you in from across the room.

Rebecca, clearly sensing your distraction, turned to you with a mischievous grin. “You okay over there?”

You offered her a quick smile, trying to shake off the feeling that had settled in your chest. “Yeah, just... taking it all in.”

Hotch’s voice cut through the moment. “Would you both like a ride home?” His tone was calm, yet there was something in it—something that made you feel both comforted and a little on edge.

Rebecca immediately agreed, her smile widening. “Yes, please. I’m not about to try finding a cab tonight.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. But you knew you couldn’t say no.

Reid, ever the gentleman, insisted on riding with you all, clearly wanting more time with Rebecca. You could see the small smile on his face.

As you all stepped outside into the chilly night air, the cold hit your skin, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Hotch moved toward you, opening the door of the black SUV. You felt a flicker of warmth at the gesture, even though the night was crisp.

Reid did the same for Rebecca, and for the first time all night, she was quiet.

You glanced over at her, wondering if she was feeling the same undercurrent of tension that you were.

Without a word, she reached for your hand, her touch grounding.

You didn’t have to say anything—it felt like there was an understanding between you two, unspoken but clear.

Once everyone was settled inside, you spoke up, your voice breaking the silence.

“We’re just a few blocks from here. Just take a couple left turns, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Hotch gave a short nod, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment. “Got it,” he replied, his voice steady.

The engine hummed to life as the SUV pulled away from the curb, the soft sound of the tires on the road blending with the quiet stillness of the night. But the tension, the pull between you and Hotch, was still there—lingering

As you arrived at your and Rebecca’s apartment, Reid turned to you with a kind smile. “It was nice to meet you,” he said sincerely.

“You as well,” you replied softly, your voice tinged with shyness.

Reid stepped out of the SUV and circled around to open the door on Rebecca’s side. As she got out, she turned to you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Be good to her, Hotchner,” she said firmly, her voice filled with protective warmth.

Hotch met her gaze in the rearview mirror and gave a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of her words. Then, his attention shifted to you, his dark eyes calm yet piercing.

You tried to focus, but your thoughts were spinning. One question had been circling in your mind ever since Rebecca had scribbled it in your notebook. It felt too big to ignore.

You looked up at Hotch, hesitating for a moment. “Can I ask you an off-the-record question?” you finally managed, your voice tentative as you wrestled with your nerves.

“Of course,” he replied gently, his tone inviting trust.

Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out: “Are you… gay?”

Hotch’s brows knitted together in confusion as he processed your question.

Your eyes widened in panic. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what came over me,” you blurted, flustered and immediately regretting your boldness.

Before he could respond, the sound of his phone vibrating cut through the moment. He pulled it out, his expression sharpening as he read the message.

“It’s Reid,” Hotch said, his tone calm but clipped. “He says your ex is waiting for you on the steps.”

Your stomach dropped, a cold wave of fear washing over you. “What?”

Hotch hesitated, reading the message again. What he didn’t say aloud was the rest: He’s got Rebecca. He’s holding her arm.

“Hey,” Hotch said firmly, drawing your attention back to him. “It’ll be okay. We’ve got this, all right?”

You nodded shakily, though your hands trembled. Together, you stepped out of the SUV and made your way toward the apartment.

Your heart dropped when you saw Nate—his hand gripping Rebecca’s arm as Reid tried to intervene.

“Get your hands off her!” you shouted, rushing forward despite the fear gripping you.

Nate turned, his face twisted with anger. “Oh, so you’re with the suit guy now?” he spat, his voice venomous.

“Nate, let her go,” you demanded, your voice stronger this time. “Let her go now.”

Hotch stepped in beside you, his presence commanding. “You need to leave. Now,” he said, his voice low and firm, brooking no argument. “Unless you’d prefer I call my team and have you in handcuffs for harassment. Got it?”

Nate hesitated, glaring at you and then at Hotch. But something in Hotch’s tone—or maybe the promise of a full FBI team arriving—made him think better of it. With a muttered curse, he let go of Rebecca and stormed off.

Hotch stepped closer to you, his arm brushing against yours protectively as he watched Nate leave. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his steady presence grounding you.

You turned back to Rebecca, rushing to her side as tears welled in your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rebecca said, her voice breaking as she pulled you into a hug. The two of you clung to each other, the weight of the moment spilling out in shared tears.

“I thought I had him,” Reid said apologetically, looking at Hotch with guilt in his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Hotch reassured him, his tone firm but understanding. “You did everything you could.”

The four of you stood there for a moment, the tension easing as you realized it was finally over—for now. But as Hotch’s hand rested lightly on your back, you couldn’t help but feel safe, like everything might really be okay.

Hotch turned to you as the tension began to fade, his presence still steady and reassuring. “Good night,” he said gently, his dark eyes meeting yours. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth in his words that helped ease some of the lingering panic.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Reid stepped forward, offering Rebecca a comforting hug before giving you both a small smile. “Good night,” he added warmly.

“Good night,” you and Rebecca said in unison, your voices subdued but sincere.

You and Rebecca headed toward the apartment as Hotch and Reid got back into the SUV. The low hum of the engine reached your ears as the vehicle pulled away, disappearing into the night.

Once inside, you both stopped for a moment to catch your breath, the events of the night weighing heavily on you.

“Man, what a night,” Rebecca muttered, breaking the silence.

“Not exactly the kind I was hoping for,” you replied with a soft laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Rebecca said, her voice trembling.

You turned to her, shaking your head firmly. “This isn’t your fault, Rebecca. Do you hear me? None of this is your fault. You didn’t know Nate would show up at the club, and you definitely didn’t know he’d be waiting for us here.”

Rebecca let out a shaky breath, her eyes glistening. “I guess none of us expected to meet the FBI tonight either.”

At that, you couldn’t help but giggle, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah, not exactly a normal Wednesday night.”

Rebecca gasped, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “Oh my God, you’re laughing! Who are you, and what have you done with my stressed-out best friend?”

You grinned. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” You paused, the weight of the evening still heavy but beginning to lift. “I need a hot shower,” you added, stretching your arms.

Rebecca perked up. “Pizza?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a nod.

“I’ll order it,” she offered, already pulling out her phone

“Great. Extra cheese, please,” you called over your shoulder as you made your way to the bathroom.

The sound of water cascading from the showerhead was a soothing balm, washing away the tension of the evening. You leaned your forehead against the cool tile, letting the steam wrap around you like a comforting embrace. For the first time in hours, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply.

When you stepped out of the shower, the faint aroma of freshly delivered pizza filled the apartment. You grabbed your phone from the counter, smiling at the text message that had come in while you were in the shower.

Hotch: Stay safe. We’re here if you need us. And to answer your off-the-record question… No, I’m not gay. It was nice meeting you tonight. See you Friday for your interview. Also… Reid is absolutely crazy for your friend.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read the message. A warmth bloomed in your chest, the earlier embarrassment of your question melting into something lighter—something you couldn’t quite name yet.

“Pizza’s here!” Rebecca called from the kitchen.

“Perfect timing,” you replied, setting your phone down as you padded into the living room, the smell of pizza making your stomach rumble.

Rebecca handed you a plate, raising her eyebrows when she saw the faint blush on your cheeks. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a big bite of pizza to avoid further questioning.

But as Rebecca turned back to the TV, you glanced at your phone again, the message still glowing on the screen. You couldn’t stop the small smile from returning.

Maybe tonight wasn’t all bad after all.

The next couple of days flew by in a blur of school assignments, internship tasks, and the lingering emotions from that unforgettable night.

Before you knew it, it was Friday—the day of your interview with Hotch.

You were both nervous and excited, knowing the interview wasn’t just for your school paper but also for Vogue, the magazine where you were interning.

Rebecca had insisted on driving you to the BAU office, claiming it was the least she could do after everything that had happened.

“Why are you so calm?” you asked, staring at her in disbelief as she hummed along to the radio.

“I’m not the one interviewing an FBI Unit Chief,” she replied with a grin. “That’s all you.”

You sighed, glancing down at your nearly blank notebook. Despite your best efforts over the past couple of days, your mind had been an absolute mess.

You’d written a few questions, but none of them felt right.

“I can’t think,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “Help me.”

Rebecca gave you a sympathetic look as she pulled up to a stoplight. “Okay, how about this: start with the basics. Ask him what made him want to join the FBI.

Then maybe something about the most rewarding part of his job.”

You nodded, jotting her suggestions down. “That’s good. What else?”

“Hmm… maybe ask him about the hardest case he’s ever worked on or what it’s like to manage a team under so much pressure.”

You scribbled furiously, feeling a small spark of inspiration.

“Also,” Rebecca added with a mischievous grin, “you should totally ask him how he manages to look so intimidating all the time.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t be awkward at all.”

Rebecca shrugged, her grin widening. “Hey, it’s a valid question.”

By the time you arrived at the BAU, you had a decent list of questions, though your nerves were still in overdrive. Rebecca parked and turned to you, her expression softening.

“You’re going to be great,” she said firmly.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, Beck.”

When you walked into the BAU office, you couldn’t help but be awed by the energy of the space. Agents moved with purpose, phones rang in the background, and the atmosphere hummed with quiet intensity.

A receptionist greeted you and directed you to a conference room where Hotch was waiting.

As you entered, you spotted him standing by the table, reviewing some papers. He looked up as you approached, his calm and collected demeanor instantly grounding you.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a small, welcoming smile. “You must be here for the interview.”

“Yes,” you replied, extending your hand. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Agent Hotchner.”

“Call me Hotch,” he said, shaking your hand firmly.

You settled into a chair, opening your notebook as you tried to steady your nerves.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his tone professional yet kind.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before diving into your first question.

“What made you want to join the FBI?” you began, your voice steadier than you’d expected.

Hotch leaned back slightly, considering your question. “Originally, I worked as a prosecutor.

But I realized I wanted to be more involved in preventing crime rather than addressing it after the fact. The FBI offered me the chance to make a difference in a more hands-on way.”

You scribbled down his response, already feeling more at ease. “What’s the most rewarding part of your job?”

He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Knowing that we’re able to bring closure to victims and their families. It’s not always easy, but when we solve a case, it reminds us why we do what we do.”

“What’s the hardest case you’ve ever worked on?” you asked next, your voice quieter as you sensed the weight of the question.

Hotch’s jaw tightened slightly, and you could see a flicker of something—pain, maybe—flash in his eyes. “Every case involving children is difficult,” he admitted. “Those are the ones that stick with you the most.”

You nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy. “How do you manage the pressure of leading a team in such high-stakes situations?”

Hotch folded his hands on the table, his tone steady. “I trust my team. They’re some of the most capable people I’ve ever worked with. We rely on each other, and that makes all the difference.”

As the interview continued, you couldn’t help but notice how thoughtful and measured Hotch was with each response. Despite his stoic exterior, there was a quiet strength and kindness to him that made you feel completely at ease.

By the time you wrapped up, you had pages of notes and a new level of admiration for him.

“Thank you again for taking the time to do this,” you said as you gathered your things.

“It was my pleasure,” Hotch replied, standing as you prepared to leave. “And remember, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

As you walked out of the BAU, you couldn’t help but smile. When you glanced at your phone, a new message popped up from Hotch:

Hotch: Stay safe. We’re here if needed. Also, it was nice meeting you again. And Reid wasn’t kidding—he’s definitely interested in your friend.

You laughed softly, tucking your phone back into your bag. As the BAU disappeared behind you, you felt a sense of pride—and maybe something more—that you couldn’t quite put into words yet.

Thank you for taking time to read this I appreciate it

Much love Kris 🫶🏻💌 part two coming soon ..

Tag list

@hoe4hotchner besties name is in it so had to tag her 🫶🏻💕 thank you for , just for being you . You are an inspiration to me so wanted to add you in this fic .. thank you for being so kind to me .

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@angellsell

@catssluvr

@hotchs-big-hands

@hoe4hotchnerlibrary 🫶🏻💕

@kiwriteswords 💕🫶🏻💗

[goddessofroyalty]

Something i really enjoy in your Zaun Family Au is the concept of physical touch. Let me explain.

I dont know if you did it on propous or not but it sounds like in Zaun touching, hugging, holding or just any other of physical touch is far more common and acceptable. Meanwhile in Piltover you have to be more protocolar. It reminds me of the historical romance novels i have read where you cannot just hug or touch your friend because its "impolite"

The idea:

Since Jayce is from a lower house he is more used to hug and touch people to show them his care. But since he started his studies he just cannot do it anymore. He feels like shit but is ashamed of saying it outloud.

Enter Viktor.

They touch, they hug, they are physical affectionate in a platonic way.

As he goes more and more to Zaun and befriends his family he feels better. He missed this.

A punch in the arm from Vi, Jinx climbing over him to show him something or maybe sitying in his lap while they check some equations, Vander patting his back. He loves this small moments.

The only time Silco patted his arm to congratulate him he almost cry.

This feels like family.

Bonus: Caitlyn is taken aback because she never experimented this level of physical contact before. Yes, she has Jayce but he is like a sibling. She just sagging in Vi's embrace, trembling and feeling so warm.

Zaun having a more touch-friendly culture is an accepted headcanon for me so while I'm not consciously thinking about including details reflecting it when writing the fact it it is just a part of worldbuilding means that it will be reflected in how I write characters.

But yeah I very much believe Zaun has a culture where casual touch is much more accepted than Piltover which has a lot more strict social rules generally.

The fun thing with Jayce and Viktor is that Viktor lived in Piltover for long enough that he's learned their social rules and so is pretty touch-adverse at least when he is in Piltover. Especially because he's Heimerdinger's assistant so is interacting a lot with the very Upper Class of Piltover. And yeah Jayce also learned the rules after starting at the Academy (and gaining the Kirramans as his sponsor) but he clearly struggles more with it (possiblly because he didn't expect to have to change his behaviour compared to Viktor who knew that he would have to adapt to fit in with Piltover).

Basically though Jayce starts the physical affection with Viktor. Cautiously and probably more in the socially-justifiable 'patting a bro on the arm' kind of way that he can easily pass off as a nothing-thing if Viktor reacts like he's uncomfortable like so many other people Jayce has interacted with since joining the Academy did. Except Viktor doesn't react negatively and starts touching Jayce in return, also similarly in the small gestures that can be easily excused if it gets a bad reaction. And then slowly slowly they get more and more bold in their touch, testing out to see if there's a line where the other will push away that never comes. Until they are just very physically affectiate with each other casually.

Viktor's siblings haven't had that much exposure to Piltover when Jayce is introduced to them (only starting to be brought up there by their parents after the explosion and start of the Hextech partnership) so there isn't even that testing period with them. There's also a lot less 'secret rules' when it comes to ineracting with them (or at least different ones to in Piltover) - they are very straight about what they think of Jayce both the good and the bad as well as being very comfortable with physical touch. And it's a breathe of fresh air to Jayce who is more and more dealing with people in Piltover who stand a meter away from him and pretend they like him even when they don't. Honestly how happily he responds to them even when they are being kind of mean to him is part of what endears him to Viktor's younger siblings so quickly. He's not stiff and stuckup like the other Piltites, will let Powder literally hang herself off him, and is a good sport about their teasing. There's still definitively moments where Vander nearly knocks him over because he did not expect how hard that man can hit even when he's just patting Jayce on the back but that's fine, he'd much rather that then them treating him like they'll catch something if they touch him. There's a reason he kind of seeks them out when there's big social events where the Zaun Representative brings his family with him - it's a momentary break from the Piltover Social Rules.

Caitlyn does not know what to do with Vi's family far more so than Jayce. She grew up entirely in the culture where touch is reserved for very limited situations. Even though she's so very touch-starved she doesn't know what to do when they do just sling an arm around her or bump into her in a silent request for her to move over so probably just goes very still at it. With Vi's it's a bit different because she and Vi are dating (or at least romantically interested in each other) and so yeah physical affection with her is easier even if she is amazed at how warm Vi's hugs are. It takes a bit for her to get used to the others though.

[dresshistorynerd]

I've seen a post you've reblogged and added to, among many things about women showing nipples. Can you recommend any ref material (articles, videos, etc.) are share your knowledge about this? Cause I'm curious about that, as nowadays going out in a shirt without a bra makes you indecent, while in like 90s it was okayish? I wonder how it was in previous centuries.

There is a really cool academic paper about bare breast dresses in 17th century England specifically. I think anyone can read it by creating a free account.

Abby Cox also has a good video about the cleavage during the past 500 years in which she goes through also the nip slip phenomena.

I don't have other sources that specifically focus on this subject, though many sources about specific decades touch on it, but I do have my primary source image collection, so I can sum up the history of the bare nipple.

So my findings from primary source images (I could be wrong and maybe I just haven't found earlier examples) is that the Venetians were the first ones to show the nipple for courtly fashion. At the same time in other places in Europe they sported the early Elizabethan no-boob style that completely covered and flattened the chest. In the other corners of Italy the necklines were also low but less extreme. Venetian kirtle necklines dropped extremely low as early as 1560s and they combined extremely sheer, basically see-through partlets with their kirtle. First example below is a 1565-70 portrait of a Venetian lady with the nipples just barely covered waiting slip into view with a movement of arm. There was an even more extreme version of this with the kirtle being literally underboob style, still with a sheer doublet. Though I believe this was not quite for the respectable ladies, since I have only seen it depicted on high class courtesans. They were not exactly respectable ladies, but they did have quite good social position. The second example is a 1570s depiction of a courtesan, which is revealed by the horned hairstyle. By the end of the century this underbust style with only see through fabric covering breasts, had become respectable. In the last example it's shown on the wife of the Venetian doge in 1597.

Around the same time, at the very end of 1500s, the extremely low cut bodice fashion enters rest of Europe. The low cut style was present in the bodices of all classes, but the nipple was really only an aristocrat thing. The lower classes would cover their breasts with a partlet, that was not sheer. Bare breast was ironically from our perspective a show of innocence, youthful beauty and virtue, and to pull off the style with respect, you also had to embody those ideals. Lower class women were considered inherently vulgar and lacking virtue, so a nipple in their case was seen as indecent. Bare boobs were also a sort of status symbol, since the upper class would hire wet nurses to breastfeed their children so they could show of their youthful boobs.

Covering partlets and bodices were still also used in the first decade of 1600s by nobles and the nip slip was mostly reserved for the courtly events. The first image below is an early example of English extremely low neckline that certainly couldn't contain boobs even with a bit of movement from 1597. The 1610s started around 5 decades of fashion that showed the whole boob. The first three were the most extreme. Here's some highlights: The second image is from 1619.

Here the first, very much showing nipples, from c. 1630. The second from 1632.

The neckline would slowly and slightly rise during the next decades, but nip slips were still expected. Here's an example from 1649 and then from 1650-55. In 1660s the neckline would get still slightly higher and by 1870s it was in a not very slippable hight. The necklines would stay low for the next century, though mostly not in boob showing territory, but we'll get there. But I will say that covering the neckline in casual context was expected. Boobs were mostly for fancy occasions. It was considered vain to show off your boobs when the occasion didn't call for it and covering up during the day was necessary for a respectable lady. You wouldn't want to have tan in your milk-white skin like a poor, and also they didn't have sun screen so burning was a reasonable concern.

1720s to 1740s saw necklines that went to the nip slip territory, though they didn't go quite as low as 100 years earlier. The nipple was present in the French courtly fashion especially and rouging your nipples to enhance them was popular. Émilie Du Châtelet (1706-1749), who was an accomplished physicist and made contributions to Newtonian mechanics, was known in the French court to show off her boobies. An icon. Here she is in 1748. Here's another example from this era from 1728.

The Rococo neckline never got high, but in the middle of the century it was less low till 1770s when it plunged into new lows. In 1770s the fashion reached a saturation point, when everything was the most. This included boobs. The most boob visible. There was a change in the attitudes though. The visible boob was not a scandal, but it was risque, instead of sing of innocent and did cause offense in certain circles. I think it's because of the French revolution values gaining momentum. I talked about this in length in another post, mostly in context of masculinity, but till that point femininity and masculinity had been mostly reserved for the aristocracy. Gender performance was mostly performance of wealth. The revolutionaries constructed new masculinity and femininity, which laid the groundwork for the modern gender, in opposition to the aristocracy and their decadence. The new femininity was decent, moral and motherly, an early version of the Victorian angel of the house. The boob was present in the revolutionary imagery, but in an abstract presentation. I can't say for sure, but I think bare breasts became indecent because it was specifically fashion of the indecent French aristocracy.

Here's example somewhere from the decade and another from 1778. The neckline stayed quite low for the 1780s, but rose to cover the boobs for the 1790s.

The nipple didn't stay hidden for long but made a quick comeback in the Regency evening fashion. It was somewhat scandalous by this point, and the nipple and sheer fabrics of the Regency fashion gained much scorn and satire. The styles that were in the high danger nip slip territory and those that allowed the nipple to show through fabric, were still quite popular. The sleeves had been mid length for two centuries, but in 1790s they had made a split between evening and day wear. The evening sleeves were tiny, just covering the shoulder. Showing that would have been a little too much. Like a bare boob? A risque choice but fine. A shoulder? Straight to the horny jail. (I'm joking they did have sheer sleeves and sometimes portraits with exposed shoulder.) But long sleeves became the standard part of the day wear. Getting sun was still not acceptable for the same reasonable and unreasonable reasons. Day dresses did also usually have higher necklines or were at least worn with a chemisette to cover the neckline. Fine Indian muslin was a huge trend. It was extremely sheer and used in multiple layers to build up some cover. There were claims that a gust of wind would render the ladies practically naked, though because they were wearing their underclothing including a shift, which certainly wasn't made from the very expensive muslin, I'm guessing this was an exaggeration. Especially though in the first decade, short underboob stays were fairly popular, so combined with a muslin, nipples were seen. Here's an early 1798 example of exactly that. The short stays did disappear eventually, but in 1810s the extremely small bodices did provide nip slip opportunities, as seen in this 1811 fashion plate.

Victorian moralizing did fully kill the nip slip, though at least they were gender neutral about it. The male nipple was just as offensive to them. In 1890s, when bodybuilding became a big thing, bodybuilder men were arrested for public indecency for not wearing a shirt.

[alottiegoingon]

i had this idea I wanted to write, but every time I started, it I end up hating it, so I thought maybe you could come up with something better!!

jackie doing the reader's make up or hair, and they're really close together and finally jackie can't handle it anymore and closes the gap.

user alottiegoingon is completely dead after this!!! sorry its short, im not sure if thats what you had in mind but i had a draft inspired by that pic and thought it would fit well with your idea

jackie taylor x fem!reader

warnings: fluff and a bit of suggestive ending, not proofread

"you can not go like this." jackie broke into a quiet chuckle, studying every feature of your face. "come on. let's fix that." she grabs your hand and lead the way to her bed.

as always, you were always dragged by jackie to many parties you wouldn't usually go if it wasn't for her. 'lucky' for you, she wouldn't ever miss any. not much of a party girl, you would let her pick everything for you; dress, hairstyle, make up.

tonight, trying to mirror her gestures and putting make up by yourself, you somehow ended up looking extremely boring.

"you don't need any, but if you want to wear it..." she's delicate when pushing you onto her bed, soft smile spreading across her face, but there's something in those eyes when she crawls to you. "then we gotta make it right."

your muscles tightens as you sense the warmth emanating from her breath as it meets your face. jackie had an eyeliner in hand and lipstick and blush resting by your side. her knees were straddling you, supporting her weight as half of her body was leaning over you and you had a hard time discerning if her rosy cheeks were caused by the lack of distance between you two or the blush she had applied before.

she graces you with an affectionate grin and the side of her hand touches your face, the cold and wet feeling of the tip of the eyeliner makes you flinch a bit as it touches your eye. "don't move," she murmurs under her breath even though she was struggling as well with unsteady hands.

the air seems to thicken around you. her focused gaze locks onto your eyes, while her lips begin to slightly part. you have never seen jackie so immersed, not even in class or watching a movie. in a matter of seconds, she was done with your eyes and with a firm grasp on the brush, she swept the pinkish powder onto your cheeks in gentle, circular strokes. "see, now you don't look dead anymore," she lets out a breathy giggle, eyes darting from your flushed cheekbones to meet your hesitant stare.

nervously, you just shake your head to agree with her and give her a faint smile. if your heart was already beating fast, it felt like it was about to explode when she switched to the lipstick. your hands resting on the sheets begin to play with the thin fabric.

popping the cap off and bringing her face nearer, her left hand reaches for your skin, thumb tracing your bottom lip with no rush. she was so lost in the sight of your unselead lips that her ragged and heavy breath was resonating in your ears. holding your breath, you felt like you were about to pass out and judging by jackie's distressed and lost eyes, so were she.

"open wider, please." she demands in a low and raspy voice and her words made your heart stop for a moment. her finger, still resting on your mouth, forcefully parted your lips and her hand then slides down to cradle your chin between her thumb and index finger.

she swallows hard, forcing down the lump in her throat, and with her trembling right hand, she starts to apply the red color to your lips. she's careful to cover every inch of your mouth, paying attention to your upper lip first.

when jackie's about to move to your lower lip, she abruptly stops. looking up at your hazy eyes and back at your colored lips over and over, she was waiting for any sign of rejection. perhaps a spoken longing from you, even a faint noise. but you didn't utter a word and it was all she needed.

with a swift motion, jackie abandons the lipstick on the bed, missing it, and her hands immediately find your face. the sharp clatter of the plastic hitting the floor goes unnoticed by both of you as she fervently presses her lips against yours.

taken aback, you momentarily halted before kissing her back, eyes shutting rapidly.

with her brushing finger over your jawline, her other hand makes its way to your neck, gently wrapping her fingers around it. in an instant reaction, your hands forsake the sheets, eagerly gripping her hips.

"jackie," you tried to break the kiss but your words were nothing but slurred and weak sounds that she didn't care one bit about. "what about the party?"

not letting you speak, denying you any space by not letting go of your lips, and with smudged red lipstick all over her mouth, she whispers something into your mouth.

"forget about it."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Save a horse, ride a cowboy | Chad Meeks Martin x Reader

Summary: You make a move on Chad and end up in an empty bedroom with his cowboy hat on, riding another kind of horse

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: smut, p + v action,

Request: Can you write Chad in his little cowboy costume and reader riding him? Maybe she can wear his hat while doing so?

my taglists are here + you can requests here at any time

—

You met Chad through his sister Mindy. She and you had classes together at Blackmore university and became friends through your passion for horror movies.

One evening, you were in her dorm, catching up on the latest horror releases, when Chad stopped by and asked for five dollars. Mindy had mentioned having a twin brother before, but you didn’t expect him to be the tall and handsome type.

Unfortunately for him, Mindy didn’t have five dollars to give him — but you did.

‘’I can’t take that,’’ Chad said with a short shake of his head, refusing your money. He had no problem taking it from Mindy, but his sister’s friend who he didn’t know? He couldn’t. ‘’It’s your money. You might need it.’’

‘’I don’t need it. You do.’’ You held the folded dollar bill between your fingers, insisting. ‘’Take it.’’

Chad sighed and finally accepted. ‘’I’ll pay you back next week,’’ he promised.

You slipped the money in his jacket’s pocket, then looked up at him with a flirtatious smile. ‘’Let’s make another deal. You keep the money, but you give me your number?’’

His mouth curled into a soft smile, eyebrows rising, getting on the same page as you. ‘’Alright. Deal.’’ He took your phone and typed his number as you bit your lower lip, failing to suppress a smirk. ‘’Text me later?’’

When you returned to the couch to get back to the movie, Mindy made a gagging sound, recognizing the flirty look in her brother’s eyes.

A few weeks — and several late night conversations and R-rated pics — later, you ran into Chad at a Halloween party on campus. He was dressed as a cowboy, with only a bandana around his neck and stupid straw cowboy hat for accessories. Your breath caught in your throat. Fuck, he looked hot.

‘’I can’t believe we’re sitting here on fucking Halloween,’’ Mindy complained, taking a sip of her beer. ‘’We should be having a horror movie marathon and stuffing our faces in candies. That’s what Halloween is about. Not some frat party where everyone is dressed as a sexy version of generic costumes.’’

Although you were sitting right beside her, you weren't listening much. Your attention and eyes were drawn to her brother, watching intently as he played beer-pong with some frat boys — and easily kicked their asses. Every time he threw the ball, his bicep would flex and he would bite his lip in concentration before.

‘’Y/N? Are you listening to me?’’ Mindy’s eyes followed your line of vision, confirming that you were in fact not listening, and snapped you out. ‘’Please stop ogling my brother. I can feel the beer I drank coming up my throat.’’

You brought your red cup to your lips, averting your eyes from Chad. ‘’I’m not—’’

Mindy rolled her eyes. ‘’Oh, please. He’s been asking me all week if you would be coming to the frat party.’’

You heard cheering coming from the beer pong table and saw that Chad had — again — won. You smiled, but it fell shortly after when you saw a blonde in a sexy nurse costume clinging to his side, tapping him on the upper arm and no-so-subtly feeling his bicep. She leaned closer, her back turned to the other boys, and whispered something to Chad.

You were boiling with jealousy.

‘’I’m gonna get another drink,’’ you declared, standing from the couch. ‘’Be right back.’’

Mindy scoffed, watching you striding in her brother’s direction. ‘’No you won’t!’’

She was right.

When you started college, you vowed to yourself to never start a fight over a boy, but tonight, nothing was gonna stop you. This fake nurse was playing in your lane and you couldn't lose.

You quickly schemed, letting strategy set the scene, and casually walked by Chad, making sure to brush his arm when passing by, laying the groundwork. And then, just like clockwork, the dominoes cascaded in a line.

His attention shifted away from the blonde, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. ‘’Hey. I didn’t know you were coming.’’ His body was inclined toward you, a sign that the other girl was forgotten.

You brushed a finger along the seam of his turquoise bandana. ‘’Nice costume. Were you on a tight budget?’’

Chad laughed, not at all offended by your quip at his financial situation.

The blonde girl grabbed Chad’s arm again, rudely interrupting your exchange. ‘’Are we gonna go upstairs?’’ she asked, leaning forward in an attempt to flash more of her cleavage.

Unfortunately for her, Chad brushed her off, having only eyes for you. He put an arm behind your shoulder and led you away. You ended up in the kitchen, sitting on the counter while Chad was mixing drinks. From this new height, you had a better close up of his face; the perfectness of his eyebrows, the two scars on his cheek and over top lip. Those lips — you wanted to kiss him.

‘’Cherry or orange?’’ he asked, holding two liquor bottles.

‘’Cherry.’’ Always cherry.

Chad put down the orange one and poured the other one into cups. While he was doing so, you took advantage of his inattention to steal his hat and put it on your head.

In rodeo, there was a few rules and superstitions about cowboy hats. One of them was: never let someone wear your hat unless you plan on taking them home.

He looked up, his expression lustful at the sight of you in his cowboy hat. ‘’You’re gonna be my cowgirl tonight?’’ he asked, a finger under your chin to look you in the eyes.

The moment between leaving the kitchen and getting to an empty bedroom upstairs was a blur to you. All you knew was that Chad’s mouth crashed on yours the second the bedroom door shut, backing you against it. He would've taken you to his dorm, but he didn’t want to risk Ethan coming in and ruining the moment. Having a roommate fucking sucked.

His hands were on your hips and face, pulling you closer and kissing you with a reciprocated burning passion. You could feel the pulse of his heartbeat as his bare chest was pressed against you, warm and hard. Muscles were usually not your thing, but Chad made you want to trail your tongue over his abs and pecs.

If Mindy were to hear you, she would vomit.

A slight squeak left your lips as your feet left the floor and Chad’s hands grabbed your thighs. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, breaking the kiss for half a second. He chuckled and your back left the door as Chad carried you to the bed, sitting down with you over his lap.

You could feel his hard cock straining against his pants, right under your ass. Arousal dampened your panties and your core tightened.

Chad cursed under his breath as you rolled your hips down, his eyes fluttered slightly at the pressure.

His mouth trailed to your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses as you ran your hands over his chest, feeling the slopes of his muscles. You’ve been wanting to do that since he sent you that shirtless selfie taken in a bathroom mirror, towel very low on his hips. Good thing your roommate was not home, you had never fetched your vibrator faster.

The room was getting hot, figuratively and factually. Your hands left Chad’s body and moved to unbutton your shirt. Chad pressed a last kiss to your jaw and pulled back, his eyes following the movement hungrily. He took a sharp inhale when you revealed your bra, then reclaimed your lips as you reached for the clasp in the back and let both garments fall.

Without disconnecting your mouths, one of his hands came up to cup your breast, palming the soft flesh. His touch was gentle, and the smile etched on his lips boy-ish. He couldn’t wait to watch them bounce and jiggle when you’ll be riding his cock. Chad grunted at the idea. His erection was pulsing beneath his jeans, desperately wanting free.

As if you had read his thoughts, you reached to undo his belt and unzip his pants, pulling his cock out and making Chad moan when you brushed your thumb over the tip.

‘’Ah, fuck.’’ He was so sensitive and needy.

You wanted to take him into your mouth all the way down and swallowing it whole until the tip hit the back of your throat, flick your tongue at the tip and lick all the pre-cum leaking like it was birthday cake icing, but whoever’s room this was would come banging on the door at some point and you’d really hate to not have gotten to the fun part yet.

Standing, you rid yourself of your clothes as Chad did the same.

Ignoring your body insecurities, you shifted your gaze to him, taking him in in all his naked glory, and he tapped his lap in invitation. ‘’Ready for the rodeo, babydoll?’’

You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh to run out of the room. Why did a good looking man like Chad have to have a dad-like sense of humor? You really can’t have it all, uh?

Ignoring the terrible joke, you pushed him down on his back and clambered onto his lap. His mouth turned up at the corner, his eyes raking over your breasts as they rose and fell. Your nipples were pointed proudly towards him, begging for attention. Chad took one of the buds between his fingers and pinched lightly, eliciting a moan from you.

He had priorly gotten a condom from his wallet and put it on to save time. Smart thinking.

You took his hard cock into your hand and brushed the tip against your pussy from your entrance to your clit, smearing your wetness.

Chad‘s eyes fluttered closed at your teasing. You did it again and the boy beneath you had to hold his hands down to not push you down on his cock. ‘’Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.’’

‘’That would be unfortunate, would it?’’ you said, lining Chad’s erection and lowering yourself on his cock under his watchful eyes.

He groaned as he felt your walls wrap around him, warm and snug. One of his hands trailed down the plane of your back, coming down to cup the flesh of your ass and thighs, grabbing at anything he could get. You raised your hips and slowly sunk back down, feeling so full.

You had fantasized about this moment before, alone in your bed. You had imagined how good Chad would feel inside you, how full he would make you feel. A mix of your fingers and your imagination had to be used to mimic the sensation — and even then, it didn’t compare to this.

Chad moved his hips involuntarily and you both moaned, the cowboy hat almost falling off when you tipped your head back. ‘’Shit, sorry. I didn’t—’’

You shook your head and told him to do it again.

A rush of pleasure shot through your body as you began to move your hips at a faster pace. The room quickly became a mess of panting, moanings, skin slapping and various other sounds.

One of Chad’s hands had glided to your clit and started to play with it, adding to your pleasure every time you were meeting his thrusts. You could feel your orgasm coming, spasming around his cock. Soon enough, a wave of intense pleasure flowed through your body, this time losing your hat as you threw your head back. 

Chad followed, joining you in your orgasm and filling the condom, his thighs clenching and fingers squeezing your cheek hard enough to leave marks. 

You took a minute to recover, both of you panting heavily on the bed.

‘’I don’t know much about rodeo, but cowboys lose points if their hat falls off,’’ Chad said, earning a hard slap on his chest.

—

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