#i spend too much time in hope county

[chobit92]

Been a shit day at work. I needed Jacob. 😔💎

[bvidzsoo]

Under the pretense (1)

The second installment of Popular boys? Overrated ♡

❝𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢, 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲.❞

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

🎭Warning: cursing, very slight mention of being suicidal 🎭Word count: 6.2k 🎭Genre: humor, cliché themes, 90's rom-com vibes; University!au; Popular guy!au; Sport!au; Enemies to Lovers!au 🎭Rating: nc-17 🎭Summary: What was supposed to be the best time of your life turned into something more bizarre and only slightly fun. Don't get me wrong, having to share your theater class out of the blue with popular guy Jeong Yunho, to most, didn't sound like the worst idea, but to you...yeah, you would've been more grateful if the principal found other methods of punishment for her son's misbehavior.

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I present you the start of Yunho and our MC's story, I hope it caught your attention and you'll stick around for the next two parts. You can also check out Seonghwa's, which happens in the same universe, it's in the series m.list. The taglist is open, so just lmk in whose part you'd like to be tagged. I made a visual board and playlist for the series, so check them out as I still update them! ^^ Thank you for reading and let me know what you thought of this part, I love reading your feedback! divider

Taglist: @anxiousskylar @philijack @alienvibecheck @yunhosfairy

♡ Series M.list ♡

꧁༺ Visual Board ༻꧂

♫ Playlist ♫

            I had always been a dreamer, a child with big sparkling eyes, eager to discover the world and its wonders. My parents had always considered me naïve and way too kind, but I found life easier to navigate if I remained humble and kind to those around me. I was not too fond of loud spaces and huge crowds, I would much rather prefer smaller circles where everyone came together to spend their time in silence. That’s how I discovered my elementary school’s reading club. I had been young and disoriented after a strenuous P.E. class when walking down the hallway, pushed into a door by two bigger boys as they chased each other down the hallway. The door I was slammed into wasn’t closed, so I very ungraciously fell inside a classroom in which five people sat in a circle, in silence, with books in their hands and candy on the round table. Eyes fell onto me, mostly surprised, and I blushed as I sputtered my apologies, embarrassed and wanting to hide away as I had disturbed their peace, but my curiosity got the better of me. The teacher in the room made sure I was fine and asked whether I wanted to join them when she noticed me staring longingly at the book in her hands. I didn’t say no to her.

And really, that’s how my love for literature and theatre sparked, evolving into a passion by the time I reached my high school graduation. I knew what I wanted to be, I knew what I had to do next. I had been a theatre kid my whole life, so when my mother rushed inside my room one cool summer evening with my acceptance letter in her hands, I knew my life would change in the next few seconds. Allston Hall University, the dream institution of every student who wishes to become someone important and useful in the near future. I was one of those students, tears streaming down my cheeks due to happiness when my mother read the letter, informing me that I had been accepted and was even the student with the highest grade currently. It was a dream come true, everything I have worked for, my aspirations and hard work were tangible, and I finally felt like I could release the breath of air that’s been constricting my lungs ever since I sent in my application. I was rushing towards the future I wanted, the one I had been dreaming of.

But all good things had a downside to them. Allston Hall University was huge, the biggest in our county, and it harboured various majors and many people, to the point you’d have to watch your every step in the hallways to avoid crashing into anyone. My first day, and week, had been nerve-wracking. People were loud and friendly, sometimes too friendly, to the point I felt uncomfortable in their presence and had to excuse myself to take a moment of solitude. Despite being a theatre kid myself, I felt like the odd one in my circle of people, the one that didn’t fully belong, the one that was a bit different. Everyone around me was outgoing and boisterous, eager to be heard, and even more eager to make more friends. I was quiet and curious, but I liked watching people from the sidelines, assessing a situation from afar before jumping into anything. I liked to meet new people, but I struggled to find common ground with them. I never had many friends growing up, most were surface-level, but the one true friend I did have decided to move counties and start working, instead of following an academic path. There was nothing wrong with that, but our time was limited together and she rarely visited, our friendship has transformed into a long-distance one.

But, to my utmost surprise, I didn’t stay friendless at this huge university for too long. As an extracurricular, I have picked up a Visual Arts class since I have been always interested in it. The class was small and filled with people who dressed better than in any fashion magazine I had seen, all of them having a peculiar aura that I seemed to enjoy a lot. And, to my surprise, they were more like me than my own colleagues. They were quiet, mostly sticking to themselves with big headphones on as they bobbed their heads to the music, briefly greeting you once you entered the classroom. They were mostly art majors, but they didn’t make me feel bad for not being one. A passion was a passion, and they didn’t make fun of you for loving what you loved. However, even here, it seemed that there was someone who wasn’t like the others, someone who was loud and energetic, always laughing and joking with students and professors alike. She was like a happy virus, her happy disposition contagious, and without realizing it at first, I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Perhaps it was because we were complete opposites, unlike my closest friend who thought and viewed the world similarly to me, but with Wendy everything seemed to feel like a new experience.

I couldn’t tell when it happened when the two of us became best friends, but it’s been a year since and we were almost inseparable. Wendy loved spending her free time with me, humming to herself and drawing while I wrote sonnets and read through the next play we’d be going through or even performing with Mrs. Jeong. Wendy felt like a fresh breeze, ready to yank me away from my monotonous days, eager to experience something new. I hated amusement parks, but I went to one with her and had the fun of my life, having never screamed or laughed as much as that afternoon. Wendy couldn’t skate, but one snowy evening, I took her to the skating ring and taught her how to find her balance, and through baby steps, she became even better than me. Wendy loved visual arts but she never understood the charm of a book, a play, or a poem, so I brought her along to the reading club I had been frequenting since my freshman year in high school, and it was an unforgettable experience for the both of us, but Wendy concluded that perhaps literature just wasn’t for her. Much similar to my experience, when I let her drag me to Allston Hall’s first baseball game of the year, all excited and giddy to see her favourite players, only for me to conclude at the end of the game that the sport held no interesting elements for me to find likeable or enjoyable, baseball just wasn’t invented for me.

So yes, Wendy and I were opposite sides of the same coin, eager to learn more and discover the world through our own lenses while dragging the other after ourselves. This would explain why we were currently decked out at the bleachers, sitting at the lowest spot as Wendy’s eyes followed the boys while they played a friendly game and warmed up for their very soon upcoming game. Wendy was athletic and loved to get in a good morning run, which she usually did outside the bleachers to catch a peek of when the boys would go in to exercise. It was embarrassing at first, to walk in every second day with her and have the boys gawking at us, but now it was plainly amusing to see Wendy fall over herself whenever one of them acknowledged her. Her father had been a player in a smaller league, so Wendy grew up in the sport, hence her immense love for it. She was convinced the boys on the University’s team were undiscovered gems and she made sure to stick around them until one of them finally asked her out. She thought I didn’t know, but it was rather obvious that her eyes were set on Byun Baekhyun, the biggest trickster on the team with a notorious grip that could send any batter into a spiral when he’d pitch—these were Wendy’s words, not mine.

I continued flipping through the shortened version of Pride and Prejudice as we would soon do a small audition to see who got which role. Mrs. Jeong wanted to do something special and new this year, so there have been added elements to the play—ones that would send Jane Austen into an existential crisis, in my opinion, but Mrs. Jeong likes to think out of the box and considers herself an innovative person—which I agree with, but the play would’ve been best without the modifications done to it. Wendy, sitting in front of me as I had taken the bench between my legs, hunched over my play, sighed dreamily and tapped her fingers against her chin. She was usually a very loud person, but surprisingly she knew when to remain silent, when to give me space and tranquillity to be able to enjoy my reading time. Her short hair stuck to her nape as she decided to run an extra lap this morning, on the verge of hyperventilating when she finally ran inside the arena, spotting me easily as I was the only person in the bleachers while the boys did their warm-ups. Her bag was with me and I knew she refrained from sprawling out on the ground just because Baekhyun was watching her, so I handed her the water bottle with an amused smile. Wendy took it with gratitude and sprinkled some on her face and neck before she took a small sip, chest still heaving from her run.

“That was very sexy of you,” I said with a chuckle as she settled next to me, trying to regulate her breaths as she caught Baekhyun’s eyes, cheeks flushing even deeper as he waved in our direction. Wendy fumbled with her water bottle for a second, then eagerly waved back and pushed my thigh with her elbow to acknowledge Baekhyun as well. I flashed him a smile and gave him a curt nod, which he returned before the coach blew his whistle and called out his name to get him to focus again.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Wendy mumbled, grabbing her towel out of her bag, “my throat was parched and my brain felt like it was overheating.”

“When will you stop finding ways to kill yourself?” I raised an eyebrow and Wendy gave me a look of confusion.

“I’m just pushing my limits, nothing you have to worry about.” Wendy shrugged, taking a sip of her water again, “You know I’m training for the marathon.”

“Right, I almost forgot.” I fixed Wendy with a stare, rather unimpressed as it was impossible to forget that she was training for next month’s marathon. She speaks of it daily, around the same time after she finishes her run and complains about being on the verge of passing out, I’m sure there are other ways of training yourself for a marathon that don’t involve putting too much pressure on yourself and sending your body into despair as it clings to life—a bit dramatic, but that’s what being a theatre kid made of me.

This was half an hour ago, and now Wendy had completely settled down as she was leaned back on her hands, gazing out onto the field as I blocked out the sound of a bat hitting the ball every few minutes, enraptured by the play as I imagined Mr. Darcy standing in front of me, thick eyebrows furrowed and eyes shining with confusion as Miss Elizabeth—me—tells him that he cannot disrespect her whole family and look down on her, and then expect her to fall to her knees and accept his affections. The language was a lot more modern than the one Jane Austen had used, this is where Mrs. Jeong’s crafting comes into play and makes me cringe as Elizabeth is supposed to tell Mr. Darcy that ‘she won’t throw herself at him like every other bitch’, I just knew Jane Austen was rolling in her grave at the atrocity that’s been done to her masterpiece. I could try and convince Mrs. Jeong to modify that part, hopefully, as she’s rather keen on me due to how seriously I take her classes. Cheers erupted on the field and they increased in volume as Wendy gasped next to me, holding her hands together as she was on the verge of shooting up from her seat. The boys were merely training, yet Wendy treated it like a real game every time she got the chance.

“Oh, that’s a home run—” Wendy’s voice was strained, and she sprang up from her spot as the whole team exclaimed, making me lose my train of thought as I couldn’t focus in loud surroundings, “Seungkwan just hit a home run!”

I looked out towards the field as the boys crowded around Seungkwan, forming a circle as they made howling sounds and jumped around, making Seungkwan cackle loudly as he basked in the attention. He was a rather uptight guy, but out on the field, he was simply amazing although he’s never managed to hit a home run until now.

“Oh, this is amazing,” Wendy mused, her eyes sparkling as she clapped away, showing the boys thumbs-up as they turned our way to bow, pushing Seungkwan to the front as he grinned widely, “They’ll ace the next game, Y/N, I can feel it deep in my bones.”

I chuckled but said nothing as I knew this meant a lot to Wendy, and only grabbed her arm to make her sit down when the coach threw her an irritated look. They couldn’t kick us out because we weren’t doing anything illegal or interrupting their training, but I knew the coach wasn’t too fond of two girls always lingering around the bleachers to distract his boys. Not that it was our attention, but I have caught them busy ogling us instead of doing their warm-ups. Wendy was buzzing as she sat down, chewing her bottom lip before she started chewing her nails, making me grip her wrist to stop her as I knew she did it subconsciously. She gave me a grateful smile and I turned back to my play as the boys had calmed down too, going back to their friendly game.

“Do you want to stay for longer?” I asked as I flipped to the next page, eyebrows furrowing as it was Mr. Darcy’s monologue that wasn’t in the original work, “I think I could make use of a coffee right now.”

“Can’t we stay for another fifteen minutes at least?” Wendy asked with a pout, her sparkly eyes widening as I gave her an unimpressed look, “Yunho is up for pitching right now and then it’s Baekhyun again, I promise we can leave once he’s done.”

I sighed but knew I wouldn’t drag my best friend away before she got to watch Baekhyun pitch again, so I just nodded and threw a quick glance at the field. Indeed, player number 04 was up for pitching, Jeong Yunho. His name didn’t leave a distaste in my mouth as I, thankfully, had never had to interact with him, but it was inevitable to know who he was with how huge his reputation had gotten over the last year. We started out at university at the same time, he’s been a baseball player since he was just a child, and he was rising in the ranks rather quickly. He was amazing, even as someone who still didn’t understand how baseball worked, I knew he was good at what he did and he was often praised for his skills. He was the best pitcher the team had—the university has had for ages, at least based on the coach’s words—and he carried himself like a successful athlete would, always smiling brightly with his warm eyes twinkling with mischief-ridden in them.

Sure, Jeong Yunho had a warm and perceiving aura, friendly and even kind, but even those couldn’t stop the rumours spreading of him being a heartthrob. Better said, he was a womanizer. He appeared to be this soft and puppy type of guy, sweeping girls off their feet with his acts of service and soft-spoken nature, but just as quickly as he wrapped them around his fingers, he dropped them without his ‘kind’ smile breaking from his lips, eyes even teary when he told them that he just wasn’t right for them, that they deserved someone better. Behind his innocent mask lay a man who enjoyed playing with others and using them to his liking with a deceiving smile and excuses that didn’t make sense upon another thought. But many girls didn’t care about the rumours, they thought they were simply fake because certainly the sweet and kind Jeong Yunho couldn’t be like that, not with them at least. And that is exactly how they go their hearts broken by the most sought out playboy of our university, from the baseball team at least. The soccer team was even worse, you’d never hear the end of how cool and mysterious Park Seonghwa was. Personally, I preferred my peace of mind and stayed away from both.

I heard the bat collide against the ball with a loud bang, and I could tell it was a strong hit as the boys ‘oohed’, but Wendy just gasped, stiffening in her seat. I paid it no mind as she reacted to every single thing the players did, living in the moment and giving her all to the game—even if just friendly. But some exclaimed alarmed and tried to warn us—or me—of something, but I was too busy ignoring them as my irritation levels were rising. I just really wanted a cup of coffee and silence to be able to finish reading the play before my class later today.

“Y/N!” Wendy’s shrill exclamation made my head snap up, taking in her wide eyes as she gesticulated, only confusing me more. Turning my head to the right, to see what got the boys reacting like that as well, my own eyes widened into saucers when I realized a white small ball was hurling at my face rather quickly. I knew I could dodge it, it wasn’t too late yet, but I felt blindsided as I stared at it, accepting the fact that it would either break my nose or give me a black eye. But someone was moving on the field, had been for a few seconds now, running full speed towards me and the ball. And before it could collide against my face and ruin it, a black glove was in my face, so close that if I puckered my lips, it would’ve touched the fabric. My heart was beating fast and I stared up at the person who caught the ball with wide eyes, exhaling loudly as Wendy yelped and shot up from her seat again.

For a second, it was completely silent, even the coach stood staring at us with an open mouth, whistle threatening to fall from it, but the boys on the field suddenly started howling once again, yelling and calling out my ‘saviour’s’ name. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as his cheeks were rosy from the bite of frost of the morning air, but also from having pitched for the last few minutes. I could feel my own cheeks tinge red from the adrenaline and also from the way the guy’s warm chocolate eyes seemed to melt into mine. Yunho looked pleased that he managed to catch the ball, and his fingers closed around it as he lowered his hand and leaned down a little. My back was rigid as I couldn’t help but blink at him wordlessly, gripping the play tightly in my hands.

“Are you okay?” His eyebrows furrowed more, and his face was ridden with worry as he searched for eye contact. I gulped and averted my eyes, exhaling shakily.

“Yes,” I took a tentative glance at Yunho and cleared my throat, “thank you.”

“I’m sorry.” My eyebrows furrowed as he looked apologetic, biting his bottom lip which was cherry red and plump, “I positioned my arm wrong and I was distracted when I pitched, I almost hurt you.”

“Oh, uhm,” I stared at him for a few seconds as I felt Wendy sit back down and subtly nudge my arm, “It’s fine, you managed to catch it so—good job?”

Yunho chuckled, and I was taken aback by how high-pitched it sounded and how warm his tone was, cheeks puffy and rosy, and definitely giving him this sweet and innocent aura, “Glad to be your saviour despite putting you in harm's way myself.”

I hummed as I found myself lost for words, all the acting classes I had taken flying out the window. There was something about his gaze that made me feel small, made me forget how to articulate my words, “Best if it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Yunho chuckled and I felt embarrassed, but he didn’t look like he meant bad, he seemed simply amused. I was sure he could tell I was flustered and that only made me feel more embarrassed, “Right, I’ll try to keep my eyes off you next time then, focus more on pitching.”

Wendy gasped next to me as I just stared at Yunho dumbfounded, trying not to let my confusion show at the sudden change of events. Well, I was under the impression nobody paid me any mind as I never really paid them any mind, I was here for Wendy and it was pretty obvious.

“Are you reading a play by any chance?” Yunho asked as he looked down at my lap, and I cleared my throat, feeling hesitant as I nodded my head.

“Yeah, Pride and—”

“Pride and Prejudice,” He smiled sweetly, his eyes hidden by his baseball cap, “my favourite.”

I knew Wendy wanted to scream and jump up and down, but she was doing a good job of remaining put and silent. For some reason, Yunho didn’t pass me as the person who would pick up a book, let alone a play, to read, so I just gave him a tight smile and an unimpressed look. I had heard the rumours, and I was sure they were true, I didn’t want to fall for his schemes.

“Right.” My tone was a bit sharp and I knew it took him off guard because his eyebrows twitched, “Aren’t you supposed to be pitching?”

And as if the coach had heard my words, he blew his whistle loudly and shouted, “Jeong, get back on the field!”

Yunho bit his lower lip and grabbed his cap as he nodded his head, winking at me before he was jogging back onto the field, making me grimace. Wendy’s eyebrows were raised and she had a suggestive smile on her face, but I just sighed and shook my head, deciding that I wanted to have coffee now, “We both know he sleeps with every girl and then dumps them right after, so before you get even started, I’m not interested in him at all.”

“But he’s so handsome and tall.” Wendy sighed dreamily and I chuckled, standing up.

“There are plenty of tall and handsome guys at our university, I’ll find myself a decent one, thank you very much.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get my coffee.”

“But Baekhyun hadn’t pitched yet.”

I chuckled as Wendy whined, rooted to her place as I got off the bench.

“Meet me at the coffee shop then, I have class in an hour so don’t stay for long.”

“I love you! Save me a seat by the window!”

I chuckled and nodded, waving Wendy off as she focused on the game again, eyes wide and attentive. I kept to the side of the field so that I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way and walked quickly so that I could be out of the arena swiftly, without angering the coach. Wonwoo, who was the left fielder, threw me a quick smile and I waved at him as I passed by, feeling eyes on the back of my head. I didn’t turn around to check who it was as the coach had spotted me and narrowed his eyes at me. I bowed my head and then slipped out of the arena, less stressed and happier now that I was about to get my caffeine fill of the day.

             The rest of my day had gone well, and I was more than excited to attend my last class of the day, drama class. We’d hold the rest of our courses at the small theatre of the University as Mrs. Jeong wanted us to focus on the upcoming play only, assignments already handed out as our final grade now depended on finishing it on time and also delivering our best in the play, the two grades turning into our final score. I happily skipped down the stairs of the theatre and greeted a few of my colleagues as I settled not too far from the front rows, somewhere in the middle of the row. I liked sitting by myself so that nobody could distract me while Mrs. Jeong gave us advice and coached us on how to deliver the lines, when to put emotion in it and just how much of it. I placed my coat on the chair on my right and left my backpack on the floor as I leaned down to unzip it and grab the play, my yellow notebook, a black pen and a green marker. I heard the door of the theatre close and open loudly, then running down the stairs and shuffling as I straightened up, trying to organize my things in my lap as I waited for Mrs. Jeong to show up.

To my surprise, there was movement on my left and I looked over, curious of who decided to sit right next to me when there were numerous empty seats in the theatre, only to find Jeong Yunho staring back at me with a surprised expression similar to mine on his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hey I know you, hi!”

Yunho and I spoke at the same time as I heard the girls sitting a few rows in the back behind us whisper and giggle to each other. Yunho flushed as he pushed his leather jacket off his wide shoulders and settled quietly in the seat next to mine. I continued staring at him with confusion as his legs spread out wide, his head turning to face me.

“You’re the girl from this morning,” Yunho said as he disregarded my question, “I actually see you around the field often, do you like baseball?”

“No.” I deadpanned and Yunho’s enthusiasm died out at once, smiling unsure, “My friend loves baseball so I tag along with her sometimes.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Yunho’s smile became more confident as his eyes took in my features, making me feel a bit uncomfortable, “And how are you?”

“I’m—fine.” I still didn’t understand what he was doing here, but I wasn’t about to be rude to him, “And you?”

Yunho’s smile widened into a grin, and he threw a short glance behind us when the girls started giggling louder, “Rather good knowing you’re here too. Why are you here?”

I tried to refrain from sighing at his not-so-subtle flirting and occupied my hands as I grabbed my marker and fiddled with it, “I’m a drama major, Yunho.”

Yunho’s eyes widened for a small fraction, cheeks flushing, “Oh, that sounds lovely, I—sorry, I’m just taken aback that you know my name.”

I didn’t mean to glare at him, but he was bad at playing the abashed and shy boy persona, perhaps a few acting courses wouldn’t do him bad, “You’re on the baseball team and I have gone to almost every game of yours, so I think it’s only natural I know everyone’s name on the team, no?” I didn’t let him answer me as I gave him a scrutinizing look, “Besides, you’re quite famous for breaking the hearts of the girls you go out with, right?”

Now, I could tell he was actually flustered as he averted his eyes, biting his bottom lip as the flush from his cheeks spread to his ears too. Yunho’s dark hair was messy and wavy, and he wore his glasses now. The black turtleneck made him look comfy and safe, his dark jeans complementing his long legs nicely.

“Ah, those are just rumours, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” He rubbed his nape and looked back at me, “I’m sorry, I never caught your name.”

I sighed and thought about whether I should tell him, but it was only right since I knew his name and didn’t want to look like a prick, “It’s Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He grinned widely and extended his hand to shake, “I’m Yunho, but you know that already.”

I hummed and took his hand, a little surprised by how long his fingers were and how much bigger his palm was, it made me blush as I carefully pulled my hand out of his, busying myself with my marker, “So, what are you doing here? It’s a bit weird seeing a sports major here, you know.”

Yunho groaned and I glanced at him to see him rubbing his forehead, “Don’t even tell me about it, it’s completely against my will, if I’m being honest. Not that I hate the theatre or anything, but I’d be much rather doing something else.”

“Well, you can just get up and walk out before the professor comes, you know,” I suggested, nodding my head towards the exit, but Yunho had a solemn look on his face. He let his hands fall in his lap as he intertwined his fingers.

“Actually, I can’t.” He pouted, and I tried not to think of him as a manchild, it wasn’t very appealing, “You see, I might have done something that was against the rules, and this is basically my punishment if I don’t want to lose my scholarship, or worse, get kicked out. I mean, my career would be ruined before I even had the chance to start it, you know?”

I nodded, pretty much on board with what he was saying, “Yeah, that makes sense. Well, it sucks but I still don’t understand why drama class out of all classes they could’ve punished you with.”

“Ugh, right?! Don’t even get me started on it,” Yunho rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses as he licked his lips, turning his body to face mine, “Like, the principal is totally crazy for placing me in this class! I don’t know why she thought a little play-pretending would fix my attitude—her words, not mine—but it certainly won’t. Like, whatever I did wasn’t even that serious, it’s the fact that the stupid professor can’t take a joke, I didn’t even sleep with his daughter!”

So, this is who the real Jeong Yunho was, unfiltered, and apparently, not as perfect and charming as everyone thought him to be. I chuckled, amused that he’d have to suffer through our drama classes because I knew the outsiders always viewed us as crazy whenever they stumbled through the doors of the theatre, “And how long until your punishment is over?”

“This whole semester, can you believe it?” Yunho sounded annoyed, but his face remained void of any annoyance as he slumped in his chair, looking defeated, “I swear to God, the principal was high on some shit when she threatened to throw me out if I didn’t heed her orders. It’s like—I know she’s my mother but we’re at school, for fuck’s sake! Like—this is university, she can’t punish me like I’m some sort of five-year-old, no?!”

I covered my mouth to try and hide my amusement at his outburst, which got other students chuckling. I meant to answer him, but a rather loud scoff coming from the first row caught everyone’s attention as suddenly they stood, whirling around, hands on their hips. My amusement died down as my eyes widened, staring at Mrs. Jeong in surprise, I didn’t know she was there, I thought she was running late.

“Oh, really, young man?” Her sharp eyes narrowed, and I watched from the corner of my eyes as Yunho’s own widened, mouth falling open, “You think you’re here because I believed whatever that professor accused you of? No, you’re here because you promised me you’d stop fooling around, yet here we are!”

“Mom?” Yunho seemed pale as Mrs. Jeong glared him down, he turned to me with a desperate look on his face, “What’s she doing here?!”

He whisper-shouted as Mrs. Jeong scoffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. I felt a bit awkward and put on the spot as I nodded in acknowledgement at her, then faced her son, “Mrs. Jeong is the head of our department.”

Yunho’s eyes widened comically and I chuckled as I bit my lower lip, “Uhm, did you not know that your mother is the head of the drama club and department?”

“No!” Yunho whisper-shouted and eyed his mother, who had started to grin in contentment. I could see the resemblance in the two as I looked between the mother and son, their smiles were the same and their cheeks were puffy and almost always rosy. Mrs. Jeong was a lovely and compassionate woman, it sometimes made me wonder why Yunho had such little respect for women when his mother must’ve raised him right.

“If you’re done parading yourself, son, I’d like to start my class, thank you very much.” Mrs. Jeong raised her eyebrows and Yunho grumbled something under his breath as he slipped lower in his chair.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jeong.” He avoided eye contact with his mother and Mrs. Jeong smiled in victory, eyes taking in the place as she counted how many there were of us. I smiled at her when her eyes fell on me and she returned it, clapping her hands once she was done.

“Good, I see more of you joined us—I didn’t count my son in—I hope you’re all ready to rehearse for the play before the auditions, and I’m more than eager to help you all out. Today, I’d like to highlight some of the culminant points of the play and discuss the acting techniques they should be delivered with.” Mrs. Jeong intertwined her hands behind her back and nodded before she went to grab her own copy of the play. Yunho looked helpless as he glanced around the room, sighing long as he peered down at my lap over my shoulder.

“Uh, can you share yours with me?” He grumbled, not so smiley anymore, “I didn’t know what we’d be doing today, I’ll bring my play for the next class.”

“Just this once,” I said with a pointed look and put my copy of the play between us, “I don’t like to share and I like to sit alone, just so you know in the future.”

“All alone?” Yunho asked curiously, “Don’t you like sharing?”

“I like my peace of mind and quiet.” I answered, raising my eyebrows at him, “And I really like to be left alone, Yunho, so don’t try to distract me.”

“Okay,” He whispered as he flipped through the pages, making me give him a small glare, “I’ll be silent, but don’t expect me to survive this whole semester if you ignore me the whole time.”

“Go make friends, I’m sure the girls behind us are more than eager to sit with you,” I muttered with a roll of my eyes, and Yunho grinned as he leaned slightly closer.

“Is that a hint of jealousy—”

“Mr. Jeong,” Mrs. Jeong snapped and we both looked at her alarmed, she was frowning at her son, “Leave Miss Lee alone, yes? Or I’ll make sure to fail you in this class—”

“But mom!” Yunho whined, sitting up straight as he leaned forward, “You can’t do that, I’m not even registered for this class!”

“Really?” Mrs. Jeong chuckled, “Aren’t you?”

“You did not.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Yunho’s mouth fell open in shock, and I had to turn my head to hide my silent laugh as Yunho turned into a whining manchild once again, “You will behave in my class, young man, and you’ll let Miss Lee be, understood?”

“Understood, Mrs. Jeong.” Yunho grumbled under his breath and looked down, a grimace on his face as he muttered something to himself, “I can’t even skip class now, for fuck’s sake.”

A laugh slipped through as I gave Yunho another amused smile and then grabbed my marker, way too amused by how things were turning out to be. Yunho didn’t look too amused but Mrs. Jeong did, and she spoke up with a smile on her face, asking us to flip to the thirteenth page of our play.

I could only hope Jeong Yunho, the Casanova, wouldn’t ruin one of my favourite classes for me.

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[heartthrobin]

please love me, like the wave does the shore

aaron hotchner x female!reader

wc: 7.9k

warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime

an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)

summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.

Portraits of grinning faces watched you from the whiteboard.

Women’s eyes twinkling. Husband’s grinning to the camera. At their wedding, in the woods during a camping trip, on a birthday.

"We have fucking nothing!"

Names and dates lined the edges of what used to be treasured memories in red marker. Memories each couple was not around to remember anymore.

"We have the profile." Hotch's voice was stern. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.

Outside, the ocean crashed loudly against the shore. Seagulls gabbled in the distance near the dock.

"You know that's not enough."

Chatham was one of the most influential and wealthy suburbs in Cape Cod, if not the whole state. Discovering strung out bodies on the crisp white beaches almost five times that month wasn't fitting for the shoreline that housed some of the most elaborate mansions in the county.

The BAU had been in Cape Cod for nearly three weeks. Two weeks too long in the bureau's opinion: a view shared by the team.

Derek slammed his hand loudly against the white board, over a photo of a tall, cream, wood-boarded resort sprawled over the edge of the coast. Seagull's Rest: Couples Retreat and Spa.

"Seagull's Rest is the only place that connects them.” He huffed, pressing his finger into the printed photo. “Every day that passes is another honeymooning couple that's in danger."

Emily sighed somewhere behind you. David lingered by the edge of the desk where Spencer was driving his eyes over some Greek mythology textbook, working the human sacrifice angle he’d been insistent on sharing with you over coffee that morning.

Police chatter busied the space between you and the other agents.

"Morgan," you pressed, "we have no idea what that even means. It could be maids, spa staff ... for all we know, it could even be other guests."

The room was warm, bright: through the window you could overlook the ocean. A scene too beautiful to deserve the blood painted across it’s portrait.

Nights dissolved into mornings at the sheriff's station. Coffee mugs finding purchase in the maze of photos, medical reports, staff lists: all leading back to the one place all four couples were spending their vacation.

"You know what this means, don't you?" David's voice carried over from behind you. You turned to face him, his gaze set hard upon Hotch's.

The team leader's jaw was tight.

He looked like he was considering David's words closely, sucking in a breath like it hurt him to do so.

Emily's chair squeaked where she leaned forward in it, "What is he talking about?"

Hotch's narrow eyes turned to face the team again. "We need to go in. Work the case from the inside."

"Undercover?" You probed, jaw loosening in surprise.

The team hadn't worked an undercover project in almost two years. Everyone understood that they were a last resort, when general good-old detective work wasn't doing the trick.  

Hotch nodded stiffly.

"We're gonna need a couple to go in. Two of us. The pair has to match the preference of the unsub."

There was a heavy quiet before a collective understanding, a collective resignation.

"Fine." Derek nodded. He turned to face the board again. "The husbands, what are we looking for?"

"Alpha males, domineering personalities." David lifted a photo off the desk, examining it closer. "All high-power careers, wealthy. They have a handle on these women. Other couple's in the course with them reported the husband being out of touch, unaffectionate."

Spencer rose to stand, "But no specific physical traits. Unlike the women, they share a specific appearance: the hair, the height, the body shape. They all look like—"

Cold passed over your whole body from the highest point on your head. Like ice water had flooded your shoes.

"Like me."

Teeth sunk into the corner of your lip, the metal taste of blood nipped at your tongue.

It was impossible not to feel the weight of the team’s gaze, how they flickered quickly between where you sat and the photos against the board.

Spencer shrugged, nodding slowly. "Yes, like you."

You chuckled softly, missing most of the humor in the situation as you sunk further back into your chair. "I guess that's settled then."

It wouldn't be your first time working undercover, but you couldn’t say you were as experienced as your colleagues.

You'd joined the BAU last, working every possible hour and chasing down every possible lead to try stay in one of the most coveted positions at the bureau.

It definitely wasn't the easiest thing you’d ever done.

Yes, the team was welcoming - Emily worked hard to make you feel at home, empathizing with you about the difficulty of transitioning into such a team: a team that knows each other's every move and every thought before they themselves have moved or thought - and Spencer was always a friendly face.

Derek was considerate and David was a genius in the line of duty, a marvel to watch work.

What really made it difficult, was Hotch.

In the beginning, he was wary of you. You could feel him lingering when you worked, every decision you made or observation you gathered was held under the magnifying glass of Aaron Hotchner.

With time, he eased up. Trusted you with more, scrutinized over less.

It was then that the next - considerably more concerning - problem began, when you began to miss having his presence over your shoulder.

When your eyes began to linger over his hands where they rested on his holster, or fixate quietly when he brought that steaming morning mug to his lips - sipping oh, so gently.

You were so sure he'd kiss with the same tenderness. The thought kept you up at night.

The feelings you so embarrassingly held for your boss were pushed deep into the corners of your brain.

You felt secure in the knowledge that you acted as casual as possible. Nobody had mentioned anything, and the thought of Hotch ever catching even an inkling of an idea would be enough to never walk back into BAU headquarters ever again.

The only person who really knew anything was Emily.

It had slipped after a drunken night out, on the couch in her apartment, your fat tears staining her blouse: "he's so fucking hot I can't do this!"

And there he was. Silhouette dark against the cast of the sunlight through the window, looking down at you from his towering height. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

His voice wrapped carefully around your throat and you almost choked on its softness.

You coughed instead. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He nodded once, turning back to Derek. "The male?"

Derek shook his head, "Rossi and I went over there a couple days ago to question the owners. They know we're FBI."

The room turned to Spencer, who blinked big hazel eyes at the room innocuously.

You did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled out from your chest. Your heart knocked loudly when you felt Hotch's eyes flicker over his shoulder back at you.

"You wanna be our dominant alpha, Reid?" Emily's lips tugged into a playful grin, clicking the end of her pen loudly.

Soft laughter permeated the room, David knocked Spencer’s shoulder teasingly.

Spencer flushed a light pink, his gaze finding purchase at the open space between his two feet. "Yes. Very funny."

It took more than a few seconds for you to realize that without Spencer, there stood only one other possible candidate.

Your eyes climbed the length of Hotch's long black blazer sleeve. When you reached the top you found him already looking at you. You shivered.

"I suppose that means it’s me then."

Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you found Emily staring right at you - a grin curling up at the corners of her mouth.

"Mr and Mrs Hotchner." David chirped, a mischievous edge to his words. "Congratulations."

You managed to squeak out a sarcastic "thanks Rossi" but Hotch stayed quiet. It made you want to sink into the crevice of your desk chair.

Instead, he turned back to Spencer.

"Get Garcia on the line. She needs to set up aliases and get us registered for the next couple's course as soon as possible."

Spencer nodded once before disappearing into the next room wordlessly.

Next, he turned to you - sucking all the breath out your lungs.

God, he made it so hard to act normal when he showed up in that fucking suit and that perfectly professional haircut.

"I want you to go over the backgrounds of the women again. Get a feel for the unsub's preference, there may be a personality type that he likes best. I'll do the same with the men." You nodded, going to stand and finding yourself always just a little too far from his chest.

"While we're away, the rest of you need to work off the intel we feed. Let's solve this before there's more bodies."

Agents began moving in every direction: out the door, back towards boxes of evidence, but Emily crossed the room to you: eyes wide and alight with mischief.

She grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room and leaving Hotch behind. "This is going to be so fucking good."

Your stomach churned.

-

Just shy of two days later, you found yourself sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz - god knows the bureau has its ways - only two streets down from Shellshore drive, where tucked into the curve sat Seagull's Rest: the beautiful lodge on the Cape Cod coast that offered couple's courses for new and old marriages that delve into the depths of the soul and connect partners in love and touch.

At least that's what the pamphlet said as it stared up at you from your lap.  

It sat at the top of the stack of case files, documents and photos hidden beneath. You pulled out the ID from the midst of the stack.

The photo you'd taken the previous afternoon glimmered up at you: Mrs Eleanor Thompson.

With less than a couple inches of space dividing you, in the driver's seat, sat Hotch.

Penelope was talking over the car speaker.

"I signed you guys up for the Honeymooner's Retreat. It's six days long, but I'm sure you'll be out by then. There are five other couples doing this course with you, you'll find their names in the documents I sent. All their records are clean."

"Garcia, I want you to cross reference all the course instructors with anybody who has—"

Hotch's voice faded from your surroundings, your brain stuttering electrically as your eyes raked over his outfit.

A tight fit black polo that was hugging his chest and chino pants begging for relief over those long thighs.

The last two days had been painful.

You'd slept almost nothing: tossing and turning for hours over the idea that you'd soon be in much closer proximity to Aaron Hotchner than you'd ever been. Too close.

Emily had tried to calm you down, "just ... focus on the case, okay? whatever happens happens."

It was easy for her to say.

Her legs didn't liquify every time Hotch sent small praise her way, like they did on you, and she didn’t have flashing images of taking care of him in the way he never does himself plague her in the small moments of quiet throughout her day.

Making him breakfast, or taking his blazer off after a long case ... undoing the buttons down his shirt—

"They're expecting you for check in at five o clock."

Your eyes found the digital clock on the dashboard, it blinked red at you: 16:47

"Thank you Garcia."

"Yeah," you added quickly, "Thanks Garcia."

"Good luck lovebirds." The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to calm the high power washing machine your stomach had transformed to.

Heat rushed over your face.

You could feeling Hotch watching you from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Sliding your stack of pages into the Louis Vutton handbag at your feet, you forced a smile to press up into your lips.

"To marry you, Hotch?" You feigned a soft sigh, "I've only waited all my life."

The bubbling in your stomach simmered only slightly when Hotch rolled his eyes, what was almost a smile teasing at his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."

The car rumbled to a start beneath you, the expensive engine purring.

"We know what to look for. Keep your eyes on the guests, the instructors, anybody we interact with."

It was hard to focus on Hotch's advice when his wide hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

But you nodded anyways.

It felt like less than a few seconds before the car was being pulled into a luxurious white cobblestone driveway. A sign etched in ivory-coloured wood overhead marked the road: Welcome to Seagull’s Rest.

Bellboys stood in the distance under a grand arched entrance in cream uniforms, luxury cars stretched out in every direction of the parking lot.

The car rumbled to a stop. A valet attendant was already approaching before you’d even a second to gather what was left of your courage.

Hotch turned to you, slow and deliberate as was his manner, leaning precariously over the console. "Remember, we're being watched."

The door opened abruptly on your side, you glanced up to meet the face of the young man holding open the door. He couldn't be older than twenty.

He smiled. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Seagull's Rest."

Your eyes flickered back as Hotch climbed out from the other side, you smiled up at the boy before lifting the end of the olive-green sundress you'd been coerced into wearing and stepped out.

Hotch had rounded the car before you'd even straightened out. He tossed the keys at the attendant.

You were taken aback by how quickly he could escape his usually impeccable manners.

"Be careful with the luggage. There's things in there worth twelve times your salary."

You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your hand into his, sliding his fingers between yours. His palm was pressed so firmly you thought you might collapse.

He made matters worse when he cleared his throat loudly, "Come on, honey, let's go."

The reception was a bright open room, preceded by a tall oak arch, and a high ceiling loomed over the expensive wood of the front desk.

A small framed woman stood behind it, smiling as you approached. "Good afternoon, welcome to Seagull's Rest."

Hotch only nodded curtly in greeting, pulling you abruptly up against his side so that his hand wrapped over your waist. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart thumping hysterically against your ribs.

"James and Eleanor Thompson." He grumbled, "We're here for the Honeymooner's Retreat."

"Of course sir, if I could see some identification please?"

Hotch slid over the two fake ID's and the woman began to tap away at the computer.

Your eyes slid up to the view from the window beyond the desk, how the sun was almost setting over the ocean visible through the crystal-clear window.

Unsure if it was driven by purpose or simply instinct, your arms snaked up to rest around Hotch's hips, letting your head lull against the side of his chest just softly.

His chest swelled. You tried not to read into it.

"Baby," it took a moment, presumable for Hotch to realize you were referring to him, but he hummed in response, not looking down at you.

"Hm?"

You motioned to the window, "Look how beautiful it is. You couldn't have chosen a better spot."

Instead of Hotch, the woman at the front desk spoke in response.

"We boast one of the best spots along our coast. The morning yoga sessions are spectacular if that's something you enjoy, and we have cocktail evening tonight at our restaurant on the beach." Her voice dripped in sugar, sliding the two ID's and the keycard to the room back over the counter.

"That sounds wonderful—"

Hotch's stern voice pierced through your own, "Yes, well, we'll see."

The woman - Leslie, as her tag suggested - glanced carefully between Hotch and yourself. She offered you a quietly sympathetic look before meeting Hotch's face again.

"Y-Yes, of course sir."

You stayed quiet after that, allowing her to direct James and Eleanor to their room. Second floor at the end of the hallway.

Hotch huffed dramatically, grabbing the cards from the desk.

His hand slid from your waist and you almost had enough time to mourn the loss of his warmth against your side before that large hand wove itself back between yours - simultaneously warming and chilling every blood vessel in your body.

Hotch pulled you in the direction of the elevator. Nothing was said between you, only the swish of your dress and the heavy step of his leather shoes against the floors.

You two followed the corridor as instructed, gaze flickering curiously up to your fake husband every few moments before your interest caught the better of you.

"You're a little too good at playing the asshole, James." Your hand squeezed gently against his, "Something you want to tell me?"

He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."

The luggage was already waiting at the foot of the bed when Hotch pushed the door open, allowing you to step in first.

A gasp escaped you.

The room had to be the most exquisite thing you’d seen in all your life.

It was lined in crisp white and cream decor, a velvet couch along the one wall and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the ocean - the sound of the waves filling every crevice of the space.

There was a thud and you turned to find Hotch opening his briefcase, pulling out the neatly packed pressed shirts that lay within.

"Hotch—"

Quicker than it took you to blink in fright, Hotch's hand closed over your mouth. He shook his head, tapping his ear. "Wires." He mouthed.

You nodded quickly, feeling stupid.

His hand dropped and embarrassment flushed hot over your neck. You looked away from him.

This wasn't a holiday and Hotch wasn't your husband.

Eight people were dead.

Unease burnt at your chest, the same kind that had been building with every passing day and every piling body. You moved in silent to unpack your own handbag where you'd placed your files.

Hotch watched you carefully, as you leaned over the bag - silhouette forming against the red and purple tones of the picturesque sky behind you.

He stared a little longer than necessary, capturing the view to his mind.

It was something he found himself doing too often. Whenever he could find a moment, an excuse. His gaze would linger on your frame, your face.

When your fingers would twitch against your necklace or when you laughed a little too loudly for the Quantico office when Spencer told his terrible, very specifically not funny jokes.

But he was Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and nothing if not the epitome of professionalism.

He planted himself far enough from the line to where he could go about his day and pretend like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about you.

"James, did you pack the charger?" Your voice was loud, but wavered slightly. You didn't look up to his face as you usually did.

Hotch tried to convince himself that he didn’t notice.

"Yes, honey, it's in the side pocket."

There was no charger and definitely no need to ask about one besides making casual conversation in the case that wires tapped the room.

Reminded of the very real circumstance, Hotch abandoned the shirts on the bed to move around the room.

Behind him you were doing the same.

He lifted lamp shades, checked under drawers, desks and the headboard for any listening device that could have been planted before they came in.

You shuffled around behind the television stand and at the railings of the curtain before slipping into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes passed in silence before Hotch climbed back to his feet from where he was crouched down under the bed frame.

"We should be in the clear." He announced to you where you still occupied the bathroom.

"Check what I found." You emerged, sundress flittering around your ankles.

He cursed the sway of the material. Somehow you'd arrived in that green dress to the sheriff's station and it had made every nerve connecting his body to his brain turn fuzzy and the man of steel that was Aaron Hotchner was having a harder time than usual keeping his eyes to himself.

You waved a white envelope at him, "It was stuck to the window."

Hotch took it from you, it was addressed to a Mr and Mrs Thompson.

"That's us." He muttered, finger sliding to break its seal.

You stood against his side, close enough to read the letter where he slid it out but also just close enough to make Hotch's head spin from the waft of your perfume.

Good afternoon Mr J and Mrs E Thompson,

We welcome you to Seagull's Rest and want to thank you for choosing to participate in our Honeymooner's Retreat. The next few days will work to strengthen the bond of love and trust between any new married couple, and of course up the intimacy!

Tonight we will be hosting a champagne evening where you will be afforded the opportunity to meet the couples that you'll be spending the next six days with.

Meet us at the Pelican Perch Restaurant on floor 1 at six o clock. We look forward to meeting you!

Kindly, Seagull Rest Staff.

The page crinkled beneath his fingers.

"This is perfect." He muttered, looking sideways at you. "It'll give us a chance to see the unsub in a social environment if he's here."

The unknown subject (unsub) was clarified before you and Hotch had left the station that morning.

David's voice still rung in his ears:

"Someone who is calm and casual in social settings, easy to get along with but holds a position that allows people to trust them. It's what he uses to lure two people at a time to their deaths."

You glanced up at the antique clock on the wall hanging above the television. "That means we should leave soon."

Hotch nodded, "Leave the packing, we'll do that when we get back."

The sun was disappearing behind the glittering ocean surface when the door shut behind you and Hotch again.

His hand slipped down over your wrist before sliding into your grasp, between your fingers and over your knuckles.

Hotch could spend all night convincing himself that holding your hand was imperative to maintaining your cover because you were married and that was in the best interest of the case, but it would still do little to calm the way his heart began to beat from his throat when your grip tightened gently around his.

You made small talk on the walk down to the restaurant, as any couple would.

Mentioning the spa and the interior designs of the glamorous hallways you passed on the walk down to the Pelican Perch restaurant on the water.

The views of the lodging was almost nothing compared to when you two walked under the green vine archway into the restaurant.

Hotch heard your little gasp beside him and was sure it made his heart grow two sizes.

Above your heads hung a glittering maze of white fairy lights overviewing a large wooden floor with tables set in every corner. The bar glittered with bottles of every colour, size and shape that lined the shelves and the wide stacking doors were opened out onto the shoreline.

A soft jazz played and near the center of the room, ten chairs were stacked in a semi-circle around a small podium.

"This is so beautiful." You whispered, almost so soft he didn't hear it.

He looked down at you, enamored by the way the lights reflected off your eyes and your lips were parted in surprise.

"It is." But his eyes never left you.

Already, three or four couples had taken seats, keening over each other as if they two were the only people in the room.

It was almost six. Hotch tugged your hand gently in the direction of the expensive looking chairs, leaning down close to your ear: "Keep your eyes on the people."

You giggled as if he'd said something naughty, putting on a good show for the surrounding guests before leaning down to sit.

The lull of the music in the room almost convinced you that it was all real.

That as you sat and Hotch settled his arm over your thighs, pulling you close against him: that it was because he wanted, not needed, to be there.

Your eyes flickered over the people, a man and a woman were ushering people to take their seats and a tall thin waiter was sauntering around with a tray of champagne glasses.

You took two from his tray, handing the other to Hotch. He gave you a look to remind you to be careful, you could practically hear him chiding "remember, we're on the job."

The champagne was as close to velvet as you'd ever tasted, sliding down your throat far too easily as the man and woman took to the podium in front of you.

The room quietened.

"Good evening to all our lovely young couples!" The man's voice was smooth, warm.

He was older, every spit of hair from his body a stark shining white. The woman was the same, they matched the decor of the resort in the cream beach sets they adorned.

Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, "We're so glad to have you with us. Thirty years ago, we opened the Seagull's Rest to help any couple who felt they needed a place to connect with nature and each other, and since then it's become not only a home to us - but a home to every couple who steps through our doors."

You met Hotch's eye. Owners.

Laurie and Howard Ralph. The founders of the Seagull's Rest.

Howard spoke again: "every class is taught by a qualified, friendly and helpful instructor to make you feel safe in what Laurie and I like to call the education of love."

You'd seen their photos in files and on your tablet, somehow they looked even more pretentious in person.

While you knew you weren't looking for an unsub team, their demeanors didn't put them completely out of range for being possibly responsible.

At least that's as far as your brain could conjure up with Hotch's wide thumb rubbing circles into the side of your thigh - a motion you weren’t entirely convinced he realized he was making.

"We'd like to start off the evening with a few introductions, just to break the ice between you."

They were looking down the line of people, pointing to a Hispanic couple closest to the edge. "How about you two? Tell us your names, where you're from, how you met and your favourite thing about your partner."

The man stuttered, looking to his wife for support. She smiled up at him and you couldn't help the momentary swooping ache to have somebody to look at in that warm, soft way.

"Well I'm Alice and this is my husband Marco." She patted him fondly on the chest, "We're from New York."

"We met when we were kids, we lived next door to each other for fifteen years." The husband was a shyer speaker, but his adoration for his wife leaked through his words. "Before she left for college I asked her to be my girlfriend. The rest is history, I guess."

Laurie and Howard smiled plastically, like the grin was surgically attached there.

"That's lovely, and your favourite thing about one another?" Laurie pressed, before adding, "Remember ladies and gentlemen, this experience is about making yourself vulnerable to each other and to yourself!"

"I love how he can make me feel brand new after a terrible day."

"I love the way she knows me in little ways that nobody else does."

Slowly, the couples spoke down the line.

You were introduced to the Taylors, the Andersons, the Fletchers, the Schmidts.

As the line drew shorter, your breath grew faster.

Of course you knew your story, you'd had it drilled into your brain for the last two days, but your favourite thing about Hotch?

No, you corrected yourself, not Hotch. James.

Your brain fished for a lie, dipping past the bundles of things you loved about Hotch that could so easily be picked from the bush.

But would it be so out of line to admit something honest, something he'd never even realize was true?

Eyes fell on you.

Hotch cleared his throat, his grip over your thigh tightened.

"We're the Thompsons. I'm James  and this is Eleanor. We're from Colorado."

His voice was strong, stern. Someone who didn't know Hotch might say it was how he always sounded, but there he held a jagged edge to his tone. "We met at—"

"Woah, woah," Howard interrupted, chuckling nervously. "James, you're running a bit away with us here. Why don't you let your wife tell us how you met?"

Hotch mustered the audacity to look affronted. "Alright."

You fought hard to suppress a laugh. Hotch was an abnormally good actor.

He turned to you, "Darling?"

You sighed, practically scribbling ditzy airhead over your forehead and lifting a hand to fiddle with the buttons on his polo, "Well, I met James in my last year at college—"

"Screwing the professor, very classy."

The whisper came from somewhere to your left and surprised you.

It was soft enough that you were sure Howard and Laurie hadn't heard.

The look on Hotch's face, however, proved that he had. He'd grown completely stiff under your hand.

You fought to regain composure, "H-He was working at a law firm that I was doing an internship at. It was love at first sight, right baby?" You patted his chest slowly.

He nodded, eyes darting anywhere but you.

The owners nodded, urging you to continue. "That's beautiful."

You looked up, met with the side of Hotch's face - he didn't look like he was going to speak first.

"My favourite thing about James is ..." your mind flickering between some cliché or just spitting out what you really wanted to. "The way he looks out for me. Always makes sure I'm safe, even if it's risking himself."

It was mild enough to pass off for just a casual comment but nearly specific enough that if he knew how you felt that he'd catch on.

He pulled his gaze from where it was fixated on the foot of the podium, sinking it into yours and making the room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.

"My favourite thing about Eleanor is her laugh."

It was short and sweet and deep down you really hoped it was laced in truth.

By the time you looked away from your partner, the introductions had already moved down a couple. Judging by the way the tall blonde woman who'd just announced herself as Jade Atkins was staring at you, you could already gage that she'd been the one to make the professor comment.

You could still feel Hotch's anger radiating off of him. He was hard, tense and his jaw was set tightly.

Hotch was older than you, sure. You knew that.

It was one of the things that assured - plagued - you that he would never reciprocate your feeling.

He was mature and worldly, handsome in a way no man you knew could even remotely compare.

You were younger, not that much, but still. Enough that you could be looked at sideways by stuck-up bitches like Jade Atkins.

You knew you'd never be afforded a chance ... but then why did Hotch look so angry?

He knew he was older, but he also had to know that he left a trail of swooning women wherever he went?

"James ..." you whispered.

He looked quickly down at you, clearly of the impression that it was enough of a response.

"What's wrong?"

The word looked like they hurt forcing itself from his mouth. "Nothing."

You bit the corner of your bottom lip slowly, turning over his response in your mind.

Before you could find the sense to stop yourself, you reached up and took Hotch's jaw into your grasp, pulling it down closer to your face.

Following hesitantly until he was practically leaning over, you whispered into his ear: "ignore her, she just wishes her husband wasn't a cheating alcoholic."

You pressed a warm peck against his upper cheek, close to his eye and pretended that the brush of his almost-there stubble didn't make your heart swoop down into your stomach.

Letting go, Hotch straightened out again. He looked calmer, almost like he could smile.

His eyes flickered over the man, taking in his form. It took him a moment before he whispered back, "You're right."

Within a couple minutes, the last of the couples finished their introductions and the Ralph's were speaking again.

"Thank you all, again, for coming. Please, spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, enjoying more of our champagne—"

"Imported straight from France!" Howard interjected and the couples laughed sporadically,

"—and savor the rest of your week."

Around you, couples rose from their seats. You detangled yourself from Hotch and did the same.

Initially, you had the full intention of floating around the room together, connected at the arm to analyze the guests quietly.

However, almost immediately, the women had dissected from their husbands to form a small group by the balcony.

The men had done the same, converging near the bar.

Blinking in surprise, you look up to Hotch for further instruction.

He nods towards the women, "You should go join them."

Your face crinkled in reluctance, "Don't make me go over there, James ... our friend isn't even supposed to be a woman."

Amusement was alight in his brown eyes, but his mouth remained a thin line.

"Then," he almost made you jump when his wide hand closed softly over your cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down your face, "go enjoy the company. I'll focus on the men."

Sparked by Hotch's warm touch, slightly dizzy on it, you nodded softly before turning to the women.

It was cool out on the balcony and the women greeted when you joined the circle.

You took a long gulp from your second glass of champagne, listening only half-committed to Patricia Anderson's story about their new condo on the Los Angeles beachfront.

"So, Eleanor was it?"

Recognizing the voice as the one who'd whispered brashly behind you not more than twenty minutes previously, you turned to the woman.

Your grip tightened around your champagne glass.

"Yes. Jenna, right?"

The woman gathered the nerve to look affronted, her tennis skirt swayed with the breeze over long bronzed legs.

"Jade, actually. Jade Atkins." She cleared her throat, "My husband is Richard Atkins, he owns all the Sonja Hotels north of the equator, I'm sure you've heard of him."

Another woman - Anne Schmidt - indulged her. "That's amazing, Elijah and I stayed there a couple months ago in Switzerland."

Jade nodded, looking proud, but seemingly intent on swerving the conversation your way.

"Speaking of husbands, yours is quite the catch isn't he?" The chatter of the other women dimmed slightly, the wives sensing the change of direction.

Taking another necessarily big gulp of your champagne, you nodded. "Indeed."

"He's very handsome ... how did you manage to tie him down?"

Her words dripped in condescension.

"Just got lucky, what can I say?"

Jade nodded, twisting a long golden strand between her fingers. Heat was beginning to curl at your cheeks.

"And he's so much older," she laughed airily, lifting her glass to sip at her drink, "but I guess that life insurance money makes him all the more attractive, hey?"

"Oh definitely. He also got a huge penis which helps."

Jade choked loudly around her glass and the women around you burst into fits of high-pitched laughter.

"Don't mind her," Imani Taylor pulled you aside, "All the Botox has gone to her brain."

You smiled kindly at her.

"So a lawyer you said, what's that like?"

Across the room, Hotch was sitting through a similar game of verbal tennis.

A circus of who's car is newer, bigger, better, who's company makes more money or sells more stocks.

He doubted he'd ever been so bored. That's maybe why his eyes flickered so often to where you were talking animatedly with a short woman in a hijab.

A heavy hand against his shoulder sucked him back into the conversation.

A sandy-topped man who Hotch quickly identified as Elijah Schmidt was patting him boyishly, "Don't worry about the girl, Thompson."

He didn't love the idea of you being referred to as girl but said nothing on it.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head vaguely. "Got to keep on eye on them. She can barely feed herself most days, only knows how to spend my money and crash my cars."

The words were bitter, like hot bile on his tongue but he insisted on maintaining a mutual expression. Nobody promised that playing an asshole was going to be any fun.

A handful of the men grimaced at his comment, while the rest just tutted offhandedly.

While the men were far from the nicest he'd met, in the couple minutes he'd spent with them, Hotch was almost sure that his unsub was not among them.

Despite most of their more than patchy backgrounds - mostly corporate scuffles, dug up by Garcia - none of them spoke with the ease that the suspect needed to have, the charisma and the trustworthy character. Hotch's  energy was better placed elsewhere.

"Barely feed herself?" A gravelly chuckle filled the space, "Sure doesn't look like it."

Hotch's eyes narrowed on the short bald man laughing to himself, glancing over to where you stood across the room - a fat cigar between his fingers.

He recognized him as the man who sat with the woman who'd commented when you spoke. Richard Atkins.

Turning his whole body to the man, towering over his structure, Hotch's face twisted - his stomach contents boiling hot at the comment.

"I beg your pardon?"

Pulling at the cigar, the end lighting up, the man shrugged. "Just saying, y'know, she doesn't look like she's skipped a meal anytime recently—"

The expression curling onto Hotch's face must've been cause for alarm, if not the way his fist tightened at his side, because almost immediately two other men stepped in.

One at Richard's side,  "Hey, hey, Richard, that's enough man."

The other patting Hotch's shoulder, "Thompson ... he's had a couple drinks, just let him go."

Richard seemed to find the situation amusing because he was chortling still to himself. "Of course, of course. My bad, just locker-room talk you know. No harm, no foul."  

Seething white anger was tugging on every muscle in his body, and he fought hard to maintain composure - taking a cautionary step towards Richard Atkins.

"I'd watch how you talk about my wife if I were you. Otherwise we're going to have a problem."

Atkins only huffed, turning back to his friend and his cigar. The conversations started up again around him, but Hotch had lost interest.

His wrist watch told him they'd been standing there for almost an hour.

Cleaning out the bottom of his glass, he set it down on the nearest table before excusing himself, offering handshakes and a couple shoulder pats before moving towards the women.

A handful of men followed him, clearly keen to leave as well.

He found you by the railing, laughing gently at something the woman across from you said.

Hotch's arm slid over your waist from behind, dipping his head closer to your ear: "ready to go?"

You nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the woman and some others.

The walk back to the room was quicker than he remembered, or maybe it was the light buzz of champagne against the side of his head and how you were humming something that sounded like Etta James that made it feel too fast.

On return, the prospect of unpacking awaited.

"Anyone interesting among the husbands?" You asked from across the room, lifting shirts and dresses to stack into the open cupboard.

Hotch shook his head, dislodging the secret compartment at the bottom of his suitcase where the case files had been hidden. "The unsub isn't one of them. They're all, for lack of a better word, assholes. Nobody trustworthy enough to follow to your death."

You chuckled lightly, "The women were alright. Except for this one woman, that one who whispered that rubbish when we introduced ourselves."

Hotch's stomach turned at the thought of the woman's words. Screwing the professor, really classy.

The implication on your character made his blood boil.

"Let me guess, Atkins?"

You nodded, "How'd you know?"

"Her husband's a real piece of work too. I'm gonna find something to arrest him for before the end of the week."

Your giggle permeated the space and it worked to ease the knot in Hotch's stomach.

"Don't be so dramatic, James." You draped a towel over your arm, "Mind if I grab the shower first?"

"Of course." Hotch nodded, desperately trying to fan out the image that was quickly rendering in his mind of you in the shower. "I'm gonna phone Garcia."

The bathroom door clicked behind you and you sighed into the emptiness of the room.

You took your time showering, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension over your shoulders, before drying off and slipping into the most appropriate pair of pajamas you'd brought along.

It took some convincing to let yourself pack the silk shorts and tank top, after all: you would be sharing a room with your boss.

Quickly after you'd walked back into the room, Hotch had slipped into the bathroom himself with a towel and pair of pajamas hanging over his arm.

Images of all the people you'd met that very evening sifted through your mind like a deck of cards, flipping through them and filtering the ones you knew couldn't be involved.

The spray of the shower was loud and your mind reached precariously for an image of what Hotch looked like under the fancy head in the shower that had more than enough space for two ... how the hot water was probably gliding over his long strong arms, down his chest and through the happy trail at the base of his stomach leading down towards—

The water shut off and silence echoed across the room.

You heard shuffling behind the door, wondered quietly what he could be doing, but pulled your eyes back to the case file.

The list of connections between the victims and current guests were numerous, too many to be significant as people in this wealth category generally moved in similar groups.

The door clicked open.

"Put that away, you should get some sleep."

"I—" You looked up to meet Hotch's eye and almost swallowed your tongue.

His hair was still wet, drooping over his forehead in a way you'd never seen before, and his blue t-shirt stuck to his chest with dampness. He wore plaid shorts that exposed those long legs that had been so criminally hidden beneath his usual suit pants.

He looked so ... domestic, and it set every nerve ending in your body alight.

"I ... yes, boss. Was just looking." You set the file on the bedside table.

He nodded at you, a warm look on his face. "Want you well rested for tomorrow."

There was a short silence and the look cleared from his features to be replaced by another.

Hotch's eyes flickered between the bed and the couch, and for the first time in more than a while, a look of unsureness occupied his face.

"I ... I think I'll take the couch."

Your heart sunk.

"Why?" The question chased its way out of your mouth before you could reach to snatch it.

"I don't wanna make you ... uncomfortable, considering I'm your superior."

"I mean, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us, Hotch." You stammered, desperate to be close to him. "It's probably gonna be painful to sleep on that couch anyways."

He hesitated.

"U-Unless you think it's weird, you can sleep on the couch it's fine." You wished you could sink into the sheets and disappear.

But to your surprise, Hotch nodded.

The bed sunk on his side as he lifted the covers, as close to the edge as he could from what you could see.

His head hit the pillow before he leaned over to flick off the light, you took it as a sign to do the same.

There was quiet for a long moment.

The door to the balcony was open, it was just too hot to close it, and the breeze curled over the sheets, wafting the smell of Hotch's shower gel into your face.

It took all you had within you not to sigh loudly and dig your face into his neck.

You thought the conversation had closed for the evening, but Hotch surprised you when his voice emerged from the darkness.

"You did well today. I know you were nervous."

A smile tugged at your lips. He could read you better than you thought he could.

"You've got a lot more practice at the husband thing than I do at the wife thing."

You could almost see the outline of his face against the light of the moon.

"Well, I hope this wife ends up better than the last one."

The memory of finding Hotch's ex-wife's body came starkly into view.

"O-Oh, Hotch." Your hand came to your face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have—"

"Hey, hey," he stopped you, "it's my fault. It was a bad joke, I shouldn't have made it."

You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you, "I've never heard you freestyle a joke before, Hotch."

"Wasn't good?"

"It was terrible." You managed around the now growing laugh.

"And yet you're still laughing. Isn't that the goal?"

You shuffled over in the sheets to face him, even though you couldn't see much - the thought that he lingered there in the darkness comforted you.

"Not at that really bad attempt at a joke, I'm laughing at you."

Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore when the light from the lighthouse flickered quickly over Hotch's face that he was grinning.

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"Come on Hotch, you're telling me you don't have a single good dad joke?"

He was quiet a long moment, and for a second you thought you'd pressed too hard.

"Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?"

Absolutely surprised by the question, you shook your head in the darkness. "Why?"

"Because they're really good at it."

The light from the lighthouse hadn't passed over his face again but now you were sure he was smiling and every muscle in your body twitched to grab his face in the darkness and kiss him until he was oxygen depleted.

"That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Aaron." But you shook with small laughter.

"Worse than the dead wife joke?"

"Okay, maybe not that bad."

Quiet fell again.

"You should go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

Fishing for the sheets, you lifted to tuck them under your chin. "Goodnight James."

"Goodnight."

-

Tags:

@montyfandomlove @aurorastuffsstuff @cdizzleswzzlebonzy @pureblood-blake @kad00x @lena-1895 @marimorena06 @farrah-444

[storiesaplenty]

Jelly Bracelets (15) (18+) ~ Final Part

Eddie Munson x f/Reader

Jelly Bracelets Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: swearing. Anal sex. Use of lube. Loss of anal virginity. P in v sex. Unprotected sex. Anal fingering. These two idiots finally admit their feelings for one another.

WC: 1690

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: Do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work. do not belong to me:

Glittery Blue - is willing to perform anal sex

Eddie Munson may be the freak of Hawkins, but he is your best friend. Who is always willing to teach you new things, even when you get new bracelets from your cousin. Eddie will even go as far as teaching & showing you what each one means.

Eddie and I have been spending almost all of free time together, even more so than before.

So much so that Robin brought it up when her and I were doing a bit of grocery shopping for the house.

Steve is somewhere in the store, probably flirting with the woman who works at the meat counter, trying to score us some discounted meat.

"You know, you are hardly around anymore." Robin said as she grabbed her favourite cereal, which made me think we need milk.

"I know, just with work and Eddie, it has been a bit tough trying to figure out a time." I told her.

"I know you and Eddie are getting closer, I know that but I just miss my friend. I miss our random girl days together."

"Look Robin, you're off today, I am off today. Why don't we go and do something. A bit of shopping and lunch, just like us in high-school."

"I would like that."

"Then it is decided. After we drop Steve off, we will go and shop."

We left Steve standing there with our groceries, him looking confused on why he couldn't join girls day.

"Just because you play Mom to Dustin and his little group, doesn't mean you can join our day." Robin said as she stuck her head out the passenger side window.

"We will bring back dinner." I called out, hoping he would hear me from the driver's side.

"Yeah, we will bring back dinner. Bye." Robin told him as I sped away to have a nice day with my girl friend.

◆

As Robin and I ate at the food court, and few bags of clothes between us, she looked at my arms when I pushed up the sleeve to my sweaters.

"Shit, you only have one left." Her wide eyes got even wider.

"Yeah, we have been a bit busy." My pussy clenched around nothing as I thought about the last time I saw Eddie.

How you bent me over his bed and fucked me so good I swear I saw stars.

"You gonna do the last one." I looked down at my arm as I chewed on my corn dog.

The glittery blue one seemed to sparkle as I looked at it.

"I think I will. I trust Eddie." I knew Eddie was waiting for me to let him know if I was going to do this one. He hasn't pushed me to do it, and that made my decision a whole lot easier.

"You got lube?" Robin bluntly asked.

"No, and I know I gotta drive out of Hawkins to get it."

"We can go today. Grab it so that way, you have it for when you want to do it."

"Okay, but please don't go and tell Steve we went to a sex shop. You know he will complain that we went without him."

"Or we can just pick this up. I'll go and call him, tell him to be ready in 20 minutes." Before I could tell her not to do that, Robin was up and out of her seat, standing in the line to use the payphone.

◆

"Really? Anal sex with Eddie Munson. Come on, he gets anal, but I am practically begging someone for a blowjob. What has the world come too?"

Steve complained from the backseat of my car as we drove home from the next county.

"Oh shut up Steve. I see all the different women you bring home. You are doing just fine in that department. Now will you stop talking about it. I haven't even decided if I will be having anal sex with Eddie or not."

I wanted to crash into a tree to get him to stop talking. Steve folded his arms across his chest, and looked out the window, pouting.

◆

As I drove over to Eddie's place, I knew it was going to happen. I have the lube in my bag. I brought my pajamas and a spare change of clothes for tomorrow, as I spending the night.

I didn't bother to knock as I knew he had the door unlocked.

When I saw his smiling face, I became almost nervous, but this is what I wanted.

"Hey sweetheart." He said before kissing my cheek.

Eddie went to sit down but I grabbed his hand, stopping him, he looked back at me, confused.

"Snap it." Was all I said to him.

Hs turned his body to face me. "Are you sure?"

"I have never been more sure about anything Eddie."

He snapped the final jelly bracelet, and he put it in his jeans pocket, to add it to the other ones.

"I don't have any lube."

"I have some."

"What? When did you get lube?" Questioned a very confused Eddie.

"The other day with Robin and Steve."

"Great, I get to listen to those two talk about this aren't I?"

"Yeah, well if you want to continue talking instead of doing this, we can sit and," He cut me off by saying he wants to do this.

I followed behind him to his clean room, which has me stunned as this is the longest he has ever had his room cleaned.

◆

Eddie's lips were attached to mine as he fucks up into me. His one arm was wrapped around my waist as I dug my nails into his chest.

He has two lubed up fingers in my ass, trying to stretch my hole before I tell I am ready, but all I can think about is how good is his cock in my pussy as he fucks up into me.

He planted his feet on the bed, changing the angle of his hips, which quickly brought me to orgasm, calling out his name as I squeezed his cock and his fingers.

"That's it sweetheart. Squeeze my cock. Fuck." The last word was drawn out as he closed his eyes as he fucked me through my orgasm.

"I'm ready, Eddie." I tiredly said.

He gently moved me off of him, and ran to the washroom, probably to clean his hand, and he was back before I even knew he was really gone.

I got on all fours, trying to relax as much as possible.

I tensed up just a bit when I felt Eddie get behind me, standing at the edge of the bed.

I heard him squirt some lube in his hand and I can just imagine him jerking his cock to spread the lube around.

Just the thought had me almost salivating.

He ran the tip of his cock against my hole, rubbing my back to sooth me.

"We can stop at anytime." He said to me as he started to push in.

I squeezed my eyes shut as he got just the tip in, and I couldn't believe how uncomfortable this felt, even with him stretching me out before.

"You good baby?" He asked, his voice sounded tense. I nodded my head yes at him, which had him pushing another inch in me.

"I'll let you know if it becomes too much or I want you to stop. Just continue Eddie, please."

"Okay sweetheart, I got you. Just remember to relax and tell me what you want."

He sunk deeper and deeper into my ass until his hips were flushed against my ass.

He didn't move as we both were getting used to him there.

I reached down between my thighs to play with my pussy, as he pulled back to gently thrust back in again.

He did this a few times until the pain went away, and now there is a dull ache.

"Faster Eddie." I whined.

He groaned as he gripped my hips tightly, and thrust into me a bit harder.

He did this each time I asked him to go harder until he was at the perfect pace for me.

His hips were slamming off my ass as he fucked me.

My hand between my thighs was all bug forgotten as Eddie fucked me like a man starved.

He reached around and grabbed me by my throat, and gently pulled me up so my back is flush against his chest.

He was muttering in my ear, and I didn't catch any of it as I just became consumed by Eddie.

His touch.

His smell.

How is hands felt against my skin.

How his cock felt fucking me in the ass.

"Gonna cum." Was all the warning I got before I felt him still.

The both of us moaning as he came in my ass for the first time.

"Motherfuc," He groaned into my ear just as I turned my head and he kissed me.

His one hand still on my throat, holding me so I couldn't move.

Our kiss was passionate as he stopped coming, his cock twitching as it slowly started to soften.

He let go of my neck and I collapsed onto his bed as he pulled out, making me groan at the loss of him filling me.

"Shit, that is hot." Eddie said as he watched his cum leak from ass before going to get a damp towel to clean us up with.

As he was cleaning up our mess, I heard him say something.

"What did you say Eddie?"

He cleared his throat. "I don't want this to end." Eddie said as he put the towel in the hamper and laid down besides as I laid on my stomach.

"We can still continue to do this." I said to him.

"I mean, I don't want us just to be friends with benefits."

"What are you saying Eddie?" My heart felt like it is going to beat out of my chest.

"Wanna go on a date with me?" He looked nervous.

"Of course Eddie." I didn't even have to think as I have been waiting for this moment for years.

"We can have a breakfast date." I said, excited as this is actually happening.

"Only us could do all this sex stuff and then go on an actual date." He said, shaking his head.

"Well, that is how we are Eddie, that is how we are."

♣︎

Black (18+)

[lokirulzart]

WILD WEST AU!!!!

You ever notice that when fools do a western AU, they cheap out on the horses or ignore them entirely??? WELL NOT HERE, FOLKS. ONLY THE HIGHEST QUALITY HORSE CONTENT. BECAUSE I LOVE Y’ALL AND ALSO HORSES.

Frank has a snooty Appaloosa because he’s fancy, but also appaloosas are reliable trail horses, so that means he can go bug collecting without worrying much. His insect collection is the envy of all the rich collectors in the whole county.

Wally ended up with a chestnut Arabian mare, because Wally is too small for a bigger horse and I just think it’s funny. HANG ON THERE, PARDNER!! SHE’S A WILD ONE!!! Luckily, Wally is usually unaware of his own horse acting up, and the mare ends up tiring herself out just because Wally simply doesn’t even notice her… he’s too busy spacing out. But he’s one of the best Bronco Busters around thanks to her!

Hunter/trapper/fur trader Barnaby has himself a lovely Shire mare with a sweet and patient disposition. She has no trouble carrying whatever Barnaby has hunted as well as big ol’ Barnaby himself… but he still feels bad about making her work, so he only ever hunts what he needs to in order to get by.

Julie and her mustang are BOTH wild. Julie had the chance to tame her, but instead she just fed off of her spirited energy and now the two of them just tear around being crazy together, getting into trouble, rolling in the dust… Julie wouldn’t have it any other way.

What better steed for a Pony Express postal worker than a sure footed mule?! Seriously, mules are the mountain goats of the equine world. Eddie’s mule might not be as fast of a sprinter as some horses, but this animal can trek over ANY terrain, ensuring that all of the mail gets delivered on time. They have yet to miss a single delivery.

(Snake oil) Salesman Howdy Pillar has a general store in town as WELL as a covered wagon to travel around, ensuring that everyone gets the best deals on their pork ‘n’ beans, biscuits, tobacco, and tonics. You want it? Howdy’s GOT it… and his team of 3 dapple gray Connemara ponies, and one brown one, will make sure that you can get it… also the tallest character having the smallest horses makes me giggle.

Poppy doesn’t have a rideable horse yet, which is perhaps for the best. She spends a lot of time at Howdy’s general store or riding in his wagon. She is his best customer. But she has recently come by a thoroughbred foal that she is now raising from a bottle. So perhaps one day very soon Poppy will have her own tall and elegant steed to carry her around… let’s just hope he’s not too fast for her.

Sally is a performer at the local saloon by night and helps out with cleaning during the day… she knows NOTHING about horses… but one night, after all the local drunks went home, a poor American Paint got left behind. Nobody came back to claim the animal, so Sally boards him at the local ranch and visits often. She hopes one day to learn how to ride him, but it’s slow going. She is, after all, a singer and actress first.

AND THEN HOME THE SALOON!! YOU DIDN’T THINK I’D FORGET HOME, DID YOU?? He has a small stable in the back and a second floor, where Wally lives! Wally gets to spend all his free time hanging out, meeting up with his friends, and drinking all the apple juice he wants! (Just don’t tell him it’s apple juice, he’ll get confused. He thinks he’s just drinking whiskey like everyone else. It’s easier this way.) Also Home is the only saloon that can kick out belligerent drunk people itself!

Also Bonus OCs, Luna O’Hare the bilingual cartographer (created by @m0stlygh0st) and Simon, my boy, the ranch hand! Luna has an Andalusian that she likes to dress up, braid it’s mane, and stick flowers in it-… as snacks for later. They’re also grazing buddies and Luna can often be found eating the horse feed because it’s so similar to rabbit food. Simon has a gelding Quarter Horse with golden retriever energy and not a single braincell to his name. Poor Simon… but at least his horse loves him.

YEEHAW!!!! 🤠

[sugaimhome]

next door again - jjk

pairing: yandere jk (though not so yandere anymore) x female reader

genre: smut, angst

18+

words: 1.8k

warnings: thigh riding, he's possessive, a bit yandere, he doesn't stop praising her. not much more than that tbh, don't want to spoil it but he cums too.

summary: jungkook doesn't like it when he sees you with taehyung, doesn't like it when taehyung won't step back. that's how you end up here, riding his thigh to prove who you belong to.

a/n: when i read this back i wasn't as proud of it as i hoped i would be... but i still love it lolol and i really love this couple. a special thanks to @zetaares who suggested thigh riding and deserves all the love in the world ty.

main fic

hardly proof read and not beta read ):

Monday had dragged on. After changing your weekend to spend time with Jungkook all you wanted to do was spend today with him as well, but one thought of those poor children with a substitute teacher… you had worked hard for this job and you weren't about to sacrifice it for some man. Even if that man was really good at sex. And was smoking hot. 

It's the end of the day, you're in the carpark waving goodbye to one of your students when two things happen simultaneously.

Taehyung places his hand on your shoulder.

Jungkook pulls up on his bike.

The thing is, you're still preoccupied with the first to really pick up on the second so as you turn to Taehyung, you begin the speech you'd had in your head since lunch. He'd sat next to you in the staffroom and failed to give you any room, his knee pressing against yours.

"Taehyung, I appreciate you as a boss but-" 

He still has a grip on your shoulder. You feel so uncomfortable. "But I really need some personal space" He tries pulling you closer by the shoulder. He's cornered you because he knows you won't make a scene with all of the children watching. 

He doesn't give up and he's looking at you as if he might-

"She said she needed her personal space." Jungkook's beside you, and you're grateful because there was no way you could have escaped that by yourself. You realise he has his hand on your waist only when he's pulling you closer to him and away from Taehyung. You don't consider what it looks like for a tattooed, pierced, sexy, motorcycle man to pull you close to him. Five year olds would never forget this. Neither would Taehyung, the look on his face. "And who are you?" Taehyung asks him.

"Her boyfriend, who is also a boxer, so don't try this again," he leans down and kisses your forehead. The action has you weak in the knees. You knew that he was only calling you his girlfriend to get Taehyung off your back but it was hot nonetheless. It sounded right. He holds your hand, pulling you away from the scene.

"Do you actually box?" you ask him as he pulls you away, a smile breaks out on his face.

"I'm a county champion" He's got that cocky smile on his face that you'd accustomed yourself too. 

"No way?" you exclaim, letting him hand you your helmet. 

"That idiot is still looking at us." He says, glancing at Taehyung. The area is pretty empty of children, a couple of mums hang about by the entrance, but they aren't paying much attention, and their children are running about mindlessly on the grass banks. "If there weren't children here." Jungkook turns and looks at you, his eyes wide and angry. "I would fuck you over this bike so he knows who you belong to."

"Oh" is all you can manage, heat rushing to your core. There's a part of you that would really like that, but you cringe at how weird and dirty it was so you climb onto the back of the bike behind him, snuggling into his back and gripping him tight. Jungkook revs the bike as he exits the car park. What a scene. You loved it. Taehyung would never bother with you again. Brilliant.

Your mind is clear of thoughts as Jungkook drives through the backstreets, he’s still careful when you’re on the bike with him, your confidence has risen, gripping him around his waist, pressing your whole body to his to keep stable. The helmet restricts the wind from running through your hair and you desperately wish it would, the bike gives you a feeling of freedom. It takes you half the time it would if you were to drive, Jungkook could easily skip the rush-hour traffic.  When you’re home, you climb off his bike and head to his house on instinct. You had practically moved in this weekend, and you had no intention of leaving any time soon. The second you walk in the door, you slip off your shoes and hang your coat up on the hooks, Jungkook walks past you, straight towards the living room where he sits on the sofa with his arms crossed and legs open wide. 

“What's wrong Koo” you ask him, and he huffs.

“Nothing” he mumbles, looking away from you.

“Hey” you say, concerned you’d done something wrong.

“Does that man always irritate you?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I am used to it.” you reassure him, unsure why jungkook's opinion on you and Taehyung even bothers you. It wasn’t as if you were dating.

Jungkook looks at you, then to his lap and you think he’s about to gesture for you to sit there, so you make your way over to him. Though he stops you before you can sit down, playing with the button of your trousers, when he goes to pull them down, you let him, watching as his eyes widen at the lacy lingerie you’d put on this morning, just for him. He spends a moment just looking at you before pulling them down and holding you as you step out of them. “So beautiful. All for me,” he tells you, and you blush. 

He looks up at you, as if to check you were okay. “Want you to ride my thigh.” Your eyes go wide, shocked at his want to please you. “Want you to leave a mark on my grey joggers.”

You shudder, your nipples hardening and heat rushing to your core as he spoke. You nod, and he grabs your waist to pull you towards his thigh. Your skin against the soft fabric of his joggers, and the hard muscles of his thighs underneath, makes you want to collapse, but he kisses you, still gripping onto your waist to keep in control of your body. With your lips pressed against one anothers, you bite and nip at his skin, desperate for him to let you move. When he pulls away you pout, “Jungkook please” you beg him, he smiles.

“What do you want, Love” Jungkook teases, as if he hadn’t been the one to suggest this.

“Wanna ride your thigh” you whisper, looking away from him as you speak.

“You do huh” he taunts, you're hot all over from the embarrassment of it. You hum anyways.

“Good girl,” he lets go of your waist, sitting back and resting his hands behind his head, relaxed as you slowly grind yourself against him. Trying not to moan, trying not to give him that satisfaction, because damn you’d never done anything like this before and it felt so good. He watches your cunt as it glides against his bottoms, hoping to get a glimpse of the wetness you’d leave there. 

“Do I feel good Y/N?” he asks, still watching as you rut against him. 

“Always feel so good Jungkook” you reply, letting a small moan fall past your lips in the process. Only causing Jungkook to smirk in response. You could tell he liked getting you off. “Do you like making me cum jungkook?”

“I do, could watch you cum every minute of every day.” he reaches forward, grabbing hold of your hips and helping you move on his thigh. The weight he applies onto your hips only increases the friction of your clit rubbing against his thigh. You shift your knee, grinding it against his clothed dick everytime you move forward on his thigh. “Fuck” he says, hissing though his teeth. From your mouth falls a constant chant of “oh my god, oh my god jungkook” in a repetitive circle. 

“This is going to make me cum in my boxers” he tells you, throwing his head back in pleasure, though quickly correcting himself when he realises he couldn’t see you with his eyes on the ceiling. You quickly make it your main priority to rub your knee against his confined cock, angry against the confinements of his boxers and joggers. 

The two of you are a moaning mess, receiving pleasure from each other in the weirdest way. You had never done anything so wonderful in your life. The warmth and firmness of Jungkook under you, the way your bare knee brushed his clothed dick.

“Jungkook-” you try to warn him, but you can’t speak, out of breath from the effort and pleasure of it.

“I’m close too” he mumbles, his ears red underneath his shaggy hair. “You’re so hot, so sexy for me.” 

You whine. “So good for me, my good girl.” the imprints of his nails will surely be embedded into your skin for days.

He’s just rambling because he's close to orgasm, but his words only make your release closer and closer. “Jungkook please” you say, though you don’t know what you’re begging him for.

“Damn it, I am cumming” he says, his hands still helping you grind against him. He throws his head back, and your orgasm hits when you see the dark patch of his cum stain the inside of his joggers. You sudder, hardly able to hold yourself up on his leg, you collapse forward, almost feeling like the world has paused for this moment where your mind goes blank of everything but complete bliss and satisfaction. It pauses for you and Jungkook, who runs circles on your waist with his thumb as you come down from your high. It feels like stepping off a rollercoaster, when your heart is still viciously beating. 

You’re breathing in sync with Jungkook until you both return to normal. Suddenly feeling one of your thighs cramping you sit up and use Jungkook's shoulder as an anchor to stand up. He hisses, cursing under his breath.

“Y/N, take my phone” 

You do, standing up on wobbling legs. “Take a picture of me from my stomach downwards”

At first you weren’t sure why, but once you took a few steps back you could see. His left thigh, where you had been grinding against him, was stained a darker grey due to your wetness, and his crotch is wet from his cum. He looked like some kind of sex god. You snap a picture, wobbling back to him and passing him back his phone.

“Might send this to your creep of a boss so he knows you’re mine.”

mini taglist:

@hoseokgrecns @chimmisbae @kkhope @hoseok666 @crazyforbangtan

ty all <3

[sea-stone]

Finally, after ages, it arrives. This is the first entry to a setting of stories I am dubbing "A Durkmuir County Tale" about a modernish day, light fantasy world of paranormal creatures and humans living in tentative harmony out in an American inspired rural country county. I hope you all enjoy, please let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Note: Part one is SFW with mild horny tension, but the following one is very explicit and will contain a list of touched on topics.

Thank you to my fellow monster lovers for inspiring me to finally share my work. I have listed a few below, and to @monstersflashlight for being a betta reader!

@bucketsofmonsters

@momolady

@dragonsholygrail

@cheesomancer

@aftermidnightspecial

@moonshine-nightlight

@snowkissedmonsters

@flowerbetweenfangs

Caught by Moonlight - Part One

Can't Run Forever

Your heart dropped as soon as you heard that pop on the front driver’s side, and heard the familiar 'fuddudduddudd'  of an accursed flat tire. You groaned. And cursed.  And exclaimed bitterly “Fine, then. Whatever!!” as you decided the only best place to pull over was on the same dirt road you had driven for over 10 miles on already. You flicked on the hazards, and took some slow, strained deep breaths with your forehead pressed against the top of your wheel. It was past Midnight; you were alone. Hardly anyone drove this road outside of your neighbors, and it was a Sunday night so they were all asleep. No one would find you until at least sunrise. You checked your phone, and groaned because of course, it’s at 2% battery with no signal. Because of course you forgot to replace your broken car charger. You smeared frustrated fears from your eyes, and resolved to sit in the bed of your old Tacoma and wait instead of moping inside the cab.

A cruel memory of a similar situation a few months back had warned you to replace all your tires rather than drive on the spare. But who had money to spend on that shit? At least it was a summer night, and the full moon hung near directly above you. You could see for nearly 50 miles around you, into the empty grassland many people called No Man’s Land. It was supposedly government land, but no one bothered with it. Even the Sheriff's Deputies rarely patrolled it. On a fun night, you would have been able to trek on foot to a campfire session some Old Hippies from the City would host. But it was a Sunday, in a small Christian area, so there was nobody but Gaia’s Wilderness to keep you company. Even though the air felt like it was about 70 degrees, you shivered with the thin, oversized overshirt and a tank top. You wrapped your arms tightly around your chest as you sat cross legged on your tailgate, rocking slightly. You blankly stared ahead of you, back down the road, with the mountains to the back of you. Had you planned for it, it would have been a great place to camp; but no, you had nothing to work with. You never planned anything, and that bad habit bit you in the ass every time it could.

You probably looked like an abandoned dog on the side of the road, and hopefully pitiful enough to help out. You tried playing temptress to men and monsters alike, but that proved too successful, too dangerous. When you closed your eyes, especially when you felt so alone and isolated, you could still see his fierce green eyes. If you weren’t careful, if you let yourself remember Anad, it ached with need shortly followed waves of guilt and shame. It hurt how much you wanted him, and you battled the regret of cutting him from your life every day. Even after the phone calls stopped, after you deleted his last text, you couldn’t bring yourself to crawl back to him after leaving him with no answer of why you left in the first place. One of the main reasons you have been having a shitty couple of weeks was that you realized your mistake too late. By the time you realized you were haunted by regret, he stopped trying to reach you. Now here you were, in the same spot you were before he met him: with no one but your own cruel thoughts to keep you company. 

You lifted your face that had been buried in your arms, suprised to the sound of a car heading towards you. It was odd, but a welcomed sight to see an very unlikely sight of a Deputy Sheriff SUV round the bend a few miles down the road. You slid off the tail hitch and closed it, and you had to shield your eyes as the SUV pulled up about 20 feet behind you. You squinted, trying to see who it was behind the driver’s seat. When they hesitated to come out, you took a few steps closer. Finally, they turned their vehicle off first, and then their lights, which allowed you to see a looming shape exit the vehicle. Normally, you could tell just by the height of the officer who it was, but you didn’t recall anyone with that hulking silhouette before on the team. You shook your head, blinking repeatedly to get your eyes to adjust, and when they did you saw his remarkable green eyes flash from your truck’s hazard lights. He slowly walked towards you, and you backed yourself up against the trailer hitch, your heart pounding. He only got close enough to where you could see him clearly, and it was a feast for your eyes. 

Anad, who normally wore garish silk pants and nothing else when you saw him at the clubs you both frequented, wore the typical sandy button up, khaki pants, and cowboy boots that any human would. The clothes strained against his bulk, and the top  buttons had gone missing or were removed permanently. Your eyes followed the transition of his orange striped fur into the white stripes that came down from the neck to his exquisite collar bone and the top of his enormous pecs. If it wasn't so tense, you would be drooling, but kept your mouth pressed tightly closed. Your knees would have buckled if you hadn’t already braced against the cold metal of your truck, reminding you that this wasn’t just a weird fever dream. “Ah-Anad,” you stumbled to speak, but words failed you as your mouth dried up. You saw it too: the both of you were straining to breathe normally. His eyes betrayed the mixture of desire and pain that his otherwise steely expression failed to express, and he couldn’t control how his tail flicked back and forth, almost in aggressive irritation. “I don’t understand. How are you here right now?” You managed to say with a shaky breath. 

He broke out of pensive trance, and he anxiously ran his hands over his face and back over his head as he broke eye contact. “I followed you from work,” he admitted, through gritted teeth. “I guessed when you pulled over that it was because your spare finally wore through like your other tires. I went ahead and called Arturo’s Tow and Pull, but they can't get out till morning at the earliest to tow your car. There was a bad accident on Highway 8, so all the trucks got sent to help out that way about an hour ago.” You frowned, and you looked up at him utterly confused. “We can either wait out here for them to come, or I can drive you home. It’s your choice.” He continued to figet with his hands, frowning as he thought about what to say next. “When I hadn't heard from you, I thought you were busy. But after a week, I was almost convinced you got bored of me.” He sighed, and folded his arms. Goddess, it was so distracting as his muscles flexed in his arms, threatening to tear through his clothes. He continued, his tone switching between frustration and dejection.

“When I didn't see you at the clubs anymore, I grew concerned. Maybe you were just done with Monsters, but I talked with the other Deputies, and they said you weren't seeing anyone new. I was getting desperate.” Anad cautiously approached you again. When you didn’t move, he walked until he was within inches of you, and boxed you in by gripping the top of the trailer hitch on either side of you. You tried to hold back how much you liked that stance. The only thing keeping your hands off him was just how pained he looked and how much that hurt your soul to see. “I just - I need to know. I’m not going to let you go until you talk to me,” he spoke softly, lower, trying to hide his pleading tone. “I just want to know why you ghosted me,” he lowered his face lower to better hold your gaze, searching your eyes for the answer. You could even see his whiskers twitch, anxiously trying to read you. You could barely breathe, your heart screamed in your ears.

The tears you had beaten back finally broke through, slowly streaming down your cheeks. “I'm scared,” you hardly spoke louder than a whisper, and you felt his breath hitch. The metal under his grip creaked as he tried to hide how those words hurt him. He let one of his hands go slack beside you, grazing your shoulder and arm. He looked away then, over your shoulder, a face painted with dejection.

“What did I do wrong? Please, you got to tell me,” he pleaded. “I thought we were good, more than good even.” He tapped your hand with the back of his, and you vainly grabbed his hand with yours. He looked down and rearranged his to envelop your whole hand and wrist, seeing as it so comically dwarfed yours.

“It was too good,” you told him, your voice breaking under strained control. He pulled his face back enough to better look at you, utterly confused. “Everything was great; you’re amazing.” You cast a glance down at your enclosed hand as his grip tightened. “It wasn’t supposed to get serious. It was just supposed to be just sex.” His eyes bore in the skull, but you just couldn’t meet his gaze yet.

“But it wasn’t,” he acknowledged and he gently kissed the top of your head. Your cheeks warmed at his tenderness, and your heart fluttered as he sniffed your hair fondly.

“Why do you have to be so perfect,” you whined, and fell forward into his chest. He wrapped his other arm around your shoulders into a tight embrace. Even his tail curled around your leg sweetly. “How could I fall so hard without knowing anything about you,” you sobbed. “I didn’t know what to do, so I just ran.” You wrapped your arms as best you could around him, and let his warmth, his scent wash over you. Anad smelled like your favorite incense smoke, a calming yet arousing spiced scent that didn’t seem real. It always calmed you and equally stirred lecherous thoughts in your mind. In that moment, it was the most welcomed feeling after realizing how lonely you were without him.

He didn't speak again as he let you sob into his chest. You both did your best to cradle each other, despite the obvious height and size difference, in hopes to alleviate the strain in both of your hearts. 

Some time must have passed as he finally loosened his hold and brought your face up to his, both of his hands cupping your cheeks delicately. “I should get you home,” he told you, fondness showered down from his eyes. You smiled with a sniffle and nodded, leaning into him while he strokes your cheeks for a moment before letting you go. Reflexively, you reached for his face, and gave him a delicate kiss. It was meant to be purely romantic, but you felt heat bloom in both of your bodies again as he deepened the kiss, allowing you to feel his fangs on your tongue before he broke away.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” he implied hungrily, but added with a calmed tone. “I still have more questions.” 

“I do as well,” you replied and winked at him, and you both walked over to his car, a new spring in your step. 

[slippinmickeys]

The Unseelie Court (9/16)

Scully sat in her car with the key still in the ignition, though she’d cut the engine when she pulled into her parking spot. Anxiety sat low in her gut like a weighted ball of putty. She felt other things too, including a listlessness that was hard to overcome. 

She’d left the office at the end of the day after a long afternoon of silence with occasional bursts of Mulder asking if she was okay, if she wanted to talk. With a request for space thrown over her shoulder, she’d hustled out of the office without meeting his eye and was now sitting in the small garage of her building dreading facing the emptiness and quiet of her apartment where she’d have nothing but time and space to think. 

As she reached for the car door handle, her phone rang. 

Expecting Mulder, she looked at the display with surprise and apprehension. It was a call from Adrian County. She clicked on with a truncated, if professional greeting. 

“Agent Scully, hi. This is Deputy Avery down in Adrian County.”

“What can I do for you, Deputy?” She tipped herself out of her car and slung her bag over her shoulder, tilting the phone to her ear as she approached the elevator and pressed the call button. 

“I wanted to let you know,” Avery said. “We’re closing the Daly Carmichael case.”

“That’s surprising,” she said. There was a crackle of static as she stepped through the elevator doors. 

“With no definitive cause of death, there’s not really any evidence of a crime.”

“I know basic labs didn’t show anything, but I’m still waiting on the full toxicology blood work from Richmond.”

“I mentioned that. I also brought up some of the more…” he paused, searching for the right words. “Well, the weird shit you and I saw at the Carmichael Estate. Despite all that, the Sheriff is shutting the investigation down. I don’t think I’m the only one involved that thinks that’s the wrong call, but it isn’t mine to make. Anyway. I wanted to let you know.”

The beige of the hallway outside her apartment went gray and back to beige with the flickering of an overhead light. 

“I appreciate that, Deputy.” Any other day, she might have put up a fight. 

“And listen,” she could hear the rustle of clothing through the line as the deputy likely moved his phone to his other ear. “If you’re ever back in Adrian County…or even if you’re not…call me. I’d like to pick your brain and…I don’t know, maybe take you out some time.”

So, not all the way gay then, Scully thought vaguely, pulling out her key ring. It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked out by a local after a field investigation. 

“I’m afraid my life doesn’t seem to be conducive to relationships at present, Deputy Avery,” she said, thinking of Mulder. 

“Ah,” Avery said, and she could hear his grin through the phone line, “can’t blame a guy for trying.” 

Scully hung up and opened her door, stepped through into the empty silence. 

***

Mulder lay drowsily on the couch still dressed in his work clothes, unable to face the prospect of spending a night in sheets that still smelled like Scully without her in them. Though he had removed his jacket and tie, he didn’t have the energy to do much more than kick off his shoes when he got home. 

He was determined to respect the boundaries she’d hastily set when she left the office, though he half-hoped his phone would ring. He was still considering what to order for dinner when a wave of exhaustion swept over him. Rather than fight it, he let his eyelids meet, drifting off to sleep being a better option than sitting around worrying about Scully worrying.

Almost immediately, he found himself in the glade again—the fairy hollow from the beach—fully aware that he was dreaming. In front of him was the willow tree with the broken crown slashed into its bark, but there was someone on the other side of the tree—a presence he could feel but couldn’t see. At his feet were a small pile of coins, wild faces on front and back. 

He took a step to walk around the tree, but then so did the person on the other side. And then he caught a whiff of her scent.

“Scully?” he called out.

Another step, and this time he caught a glimpse of her before she took another step around the tree, away from him. 

“Scully, wait.” 

One more step and suddenly from his other side, she was there, directly before him. She wore not a stitch of clothing, though on her head sat a crooked tiara. Her eyes, when she raised them to meet his, were two different colors. 

He woke up with a start, a burning pain on his chest once again that he wondered vaguely about until he heard the knocking on his door. The sensation had faded by the time he had tripped over to it and fully roused to consciousness. 

Scully stood in the hallway, still in her own work clothes, looking vaguely nauseous.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes flitting briefly down to hers, ensuring himself they were both still Sargasso blue. 

“Can we talk?” she said, and he nodded, lifting his arm so she could walk under it. 

A talk. The dream had filled him with unease, but now he was downright edgy. He’d been girding his loins for this moment from the first time she’d invited him to her bed, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. It didn’t mean he was going to make it easy.

She took a few steps into the room, but didn’t attempt to sit or get comfortable, instead choosing to hover, eyeing him like she didn’t want him to get too close. Like if he got close, she couldn’t do what she was about to do. 

He’d already had an argument with her in his head about how they were grown ups and how it wasn’t like they’d tripped and fallen into each other. They’d chosen to start sleeping together, soberly, perhaps not without reservations, but without pretense. He was fully prepared to tell her that he wanted this, wanted more than this if she did, but that he’d take whatever his pathetic heart could get. 

So it was something of a surprise when she walked forward and pressed herself into him, her arms wrapping around him and holding him tight. After only a moment, his arms came around her, too. 

“Is this…are we…talking?” 

“No,” she said, her voice muffled from where she was pressed into him. “I thought I needed you to talk me out of this…feeling I have right now, but I think I just need you to hold me.”

He squeezed her more tightly and rubbed his hand over the soft material of her blouse, his fingers skimming over her piano key ribs. “I can do that.”

After a minute, she pulled back to look in his eyes. “Thank you,” she said, and shook her head like she was fighting off a sneeze. “God, this day has been…”

She stepped away from him, a restless energy radiating off of her. Finally she looked at him, really looked at him. 

“Mulder, you look like you have indigestion.” 

“This day has been weird for me too,” he said defensively, thinking of his search for information on Aeon Greene, the whole thing with Skinner’s assistant, his dream. “And honestly, I thought you were about to break up with me.” 

“I didn’t realize we were going steady.”

“You know what I mean. Stop being prickly.”

“I’m sorry,” she said graciously. “Today with Arlene was…Jesus Christ, so embarrassing. I wanted to sink through the floor the whole afternoon. But I realized tonight after a not-great dream that I’m so sick of being… I know what people say. About us. But after years of living and projecting virtuous hauteur, who actually gives a damn if they’re right? I half think we should just declare our relationship to Skinner and let him sort it out. It’s not like you’re my superior.”

“You had a dream?” he said, a tumbleweed of intrigue cartwheeling through his mind.

“I just told you I want to come out to our boss and you’re asking about my dream?”

“I am, yeah.”

“I fell asleep on the couch,” she shrugged, misunderstanding what he was asking.

“Tell me about what happened in it,” he said, remembering his own dream; the tree, the tiara. Eyes that were hers but weren’t.

“I was in the grove,” she said. “The one from the Carmichael Estate, I think. You were there too, but you were hiding from me.” A chill ran up Mulder’s spine. “When you finally showed yourself to me, you had this symbol burned into your chest, like a…like a brand,” she went on. “And your eyes. They were heterochromatic, like our victim’s. It was…unsettling.”

“If you think that was unsettling…” Mulder said, fixing her with a look. “I had the same dream.”

“What?” 

“Tonight. Just now. I had fallen asleep on the couch.”

Scully took a few more steps into his apartment. 

“There were a few minor differences, but…same dream.” Mulder rubbed his hand over his chest where he’d felt the burning sensation. 

“It’s not unusual to have dreams of a similar nature when you spend a lot of time with someone,” she started, “especially when we were just—”

She was trying rationalize the supernatural. Of course she was.

“Scully, I swear to God—”

She stopped talking and gave him a long look, and then wilted with apprehensive capitulation. 

“But fairies? Really?” She was practically whining, but he was so elated not to have to fight her, he gave an inch.

“Some kind of hibernian or Celtic-based magic at the very least.”

She slouched and shuffled over to his couch, suddenly exhausted. He was tempted to join her, maybe rub her feet, offer up a massage that could lead to something more, but he was suddenly wired. The symbol on the tree, the broken crown, intrigued him. 

He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. She looked depleted. Emotionally done in. 

“I’m going to hop on the computer for a while,” he said, reaching up and grabbing the Aztec blanket, laying it over her lap. “Why don’t you, you know, pretend not to sleep.”

“Mulder, they closed the case,” she said, slumping back against the pillows.

He straightened, his energy flagging a little. 

“They what?” 

“Adrian County. They closed the case. Deputy Avery called me this evening.” Her eyes were droopy. 

He considered this for a moment. “Well, we could open a new one. Make it federal.”

Scully looked skeptical, but didn’t put up a fight, and he smiled at her one more time then slid into his desk chair and fired up his computer. 

[sugarpopss]

Late Call

We're back Lee girlies I'm back on my corrupt sheriff shit. This so SO inspired by the lore for Lee and his post divorce with Flo girlypop written in the chat by yours truly and @bucknastysbabe and also I've had this google doc just...open in my tabs for ages. Here's the post for the dead motel I took the Plaza Lodge from.

fem!reader

Lee rarely responded to late night calls himself. One of the perks of being the sheriff-he got to go home at 7:30 and leave all of the idiots underneath him to deal with noise complaints and bar fights. Even if all Lee did with his free evenings was park his ass on the sofa and fill up with TV dinners and sodapop and packaged cookies, watch ‘I’ve Got a Secret’ and tug on his cock-it was still better than responding to hillbillies domestic disputes. 

It wasn’t uncommon to get calls from the apartment block his sister Sandy lived in, either. About ten years ago-when Lee had been a fresh-faced deputy with a wife and a plan and pants that fit-the building had been a motor lodge. Not a particularly nice one, but a functioning motor lodge nonetheless. The place hadn’t really started going downhill until they’d converted it into apartments. What did anyone expect? The rent was cheap, the building itself ill-maintained, and several of the residents seemed determined to make their units a welcoming home for all manner of pests. 

Units like Sandys. Christ, it made Lees eye twitch just thinking about the mess of her place. However much of the mess was his sisters and how much of it was the fault of her stinking pig of a husband was still up in the air. All of that to say-Lee wasn’t usually perturbed by calls from the apartment block. They were rarely a big deal. 

Despite knowing all of that-save the bits about Lee stuffing his face and jerking it to Bess Myerson-Willis still felt the need to call Lee up at nearly 11 o’ clock at night. Lee had been tempted to just not pick up the phone, but, well…he was the sheriff. He had certain responsibilities. Even if just hearing a voice from the station while he was at home made him want to groan. 

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to bother you so late, Lee-” 

Really, everyone was meant to be calling him ‘Sheriff Bodecker’, but Lee wasn’t going to fight that battle at 11 at night. 

“You got a reason for buggin’ me like this? I don’t wanna spend my night chattin’ with you.” Maybe Lee was a little grumpy about being shaken out of his post-orgasm food coma. Maybe Lee was a little grumpy most of the time. 

“It’s just that a call came in from the Plaza Lodge, and I know that your sister lives down there , so I thought-” 

Lee didn’t even let the dispatcher finish. He was already annoyed that he’d had to haul himself up to answer the phone, and the movement had made the fullness of his stomach shift from ‘pleasantly full’ to ‘tight and queasy.. “I don’t need to go down there every time someone hears a goddamn bump. It’s a shithole. People call the police. Handle it.” 

“I know that, Lee, it’s just…” Willis was trying hard to justify the call. Pissing Lee off usually meant spending a shift out patrolling the county line, looking at skinny cattle and rusted out cars. “Well, the caller reported gunshots, and they said a woman was gettin’ all worked up and hysterical, so I thought maybe you’d want to know about it.” 

Alright, that did make a little knot of anxiety form in Lees chest. As tangled up and messy as his relationship with Sandy was, she was still his baby sister. If something was awfully wrong, he oughta be there. A sick, shameful part him-though not really that shameful-hoped that fucker Carl had finally put his hands on her; slapped her around or pushed her down the outdoor stairs. Something that wouldn’t hurt Sandy too badly, but would still let Lee finally get the son-of-a-bitch in handcuffs. Or even better-gunshots, agitated woman-Sandy had just snapped and shot Carl. Now that would be something worth getting up to see. 

With that in mind, Lee hung up on Willis while he was still talking and set to getting dressed and moving, and if he grabbed two Pepsis to drink on the way, that was his business. It was late, he needed the sugar to perk him up. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Lee pulled up to what used to be the Plaza Motor Lodge, he was greeted with both disappointment and relief. There was only one cruiser in the parking lot, and the whole place was pretty quiet; just a couple of people standing out on their porches, smoking or sipping from chipped mugs, trying to look like they weren’t attempting to nose in on their neighbors. That at least ruled out Carl having gotten a bullet in his ugly forehead.  Considering that Sandys apartment was one of the dark ones, the bastard was likely actually warm and cozy in his bed-which Lee had no doubt was riddled with bed bugs. What a shame. 

The door to a ground floor unit was open, however, so that was likely where the problem was. He could’ve just gone home right then. But he was already there, and unexplained gunshots were pretty unusual in Meade. People out in the holler loved to fire shots off at all hours of the night for reasons only Jesus knew, but Lee liked to think that the center of the county was a little more civilized. 

He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, but didn’t wait to be invited in-just did it to let the people inside know he was there. Deputy Howser was sat on the sofa, a notepad balanced on his knee. The other person-presumably the apartments tennant-was pacing the short distance between the front door and the kitchenette. Agitated? Definitely. Hysterical? Yet to be seen. 

“Sheriff Bodecker!” Howser didn’t stand to greet him, but did pat the spot on the sofa next to himself. “You’re gonna want to hear this, Sheriff. Pretty lady’s got a real story for you, huh?” 

The apartments tenant paused in her pacing to whirl on Howser like a jungle cat. “How about you try taking me fucking seriously?!” 

Lee sort of thought steam was going to start coming out of her ears. 

“I’m not the one shooting at ghosts, miss.” Howser said, raising his hands in mock surrender. 

Lee stepped farther into the room. For all of the shit he’d done as sheriff, he was pretty good at the actual minutiae of police work. He’d defused more fights and talked down more angry and panicked people than he could count. 

“Take it easy, sweetheart.” He said in his best ‘everything is okay, miss’ voice. “I know you-”

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart!”

The woman had whipped her head to him the moment it left his mouth. There were mascara tear tracks streaking her cheeks, but she didn’t look sad or scared, just pissed to hell. 

She kept going. 

“If one of y’all would just listen to me for one goddamn minute I could explain!” 

Lee sighed and sat down on the sofa. The deputy nudged him, smirking, and Lee realized that the idiot was going to be extraordinarily unhelpful in sorting this out. 

“Get out of here.” Lee told him. Howser didn’t even question it, likely glad to have one more thing cut from his night shift. Back to the station to sit around and drink burnt coffee with his finger up his ass, most likely. 

Once the deputy had gotten his skinny ass out of there, Lee leaned forward, elbows on his knees-ignoring how that position made his gut roll against his belt. He had bigger fish to fry. 

“Listen, miss.” He began. “I can see you’re pretty worked up, that’s no good. How about you take a breath n’ sit down n’ tell me what’s going on. I hear you were shooting at something?”

She held back for a few moments, then seemed to accept that Lee was the best she was going to get and sat down. With the woman on one end of the sofa and Lee on the other, she told the sheriff what had happened. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She wasn’t shooting at ghosts. Lee had figured as much from the start, but it was nice to have confirmation. What she had been shooting at-or rather, what she had shot at, as there had, in reality, only been one bullet fired-was a man. According to her, a man she worked with in one of the shabby little offices in the center of town had been following her home for a couple of days. She had looked through the front window and seen his car lingering in the parking lot, pulling up in front of her unit then pulling out again and looping the lot. So she’d gone into the mostly empty parking lot and fired once, just to scare him. “Just so he knew I had a gun.” she’d said. 

Lee scrubbed a hand over his face when she finished the story. Some men just didn’t know how to handle rejection. Not including Lee, of course. Why, he’d never been rejected by a woman! Not that he was pursuing many these days, after the whole mess of the divorce with Flo, but still. 

“I’m not gonna arrest you for being scared.” He said. He wasn’t. If he had really wanted to, he probably could’ve gotten her for disturbing the peace or unlawfully discharging a firearm, but he didn’t really want to. He’d let worse things slide than a pretty young woman taking her safety into her own hands. 

“What if I had someone stop by here on patrol tomorrow night? Stick around the parking lot for a bit, make sure no one who shouldn't be there is hanging around.” 

She looked away from him, worked her hands in her lap. A lot of the furious indignation in her had faded away, replaced by exhaustion and anxiety. 

“What about tonight?” She asked. 

A reasonable question, but one that had Lee sighing and falling back against the couch cushions. “Jesus Christ, miss.” 

What about that night? Sure, Lee could call Howser back up and have him watch for a bit, but the dumbass would probably just upset the lady again. And Lee was already there-now that he had been up and moving for a bit, the queasiness from earlier had pretty much abated. He wasn’t even feeling particularly tired. 

“I’ll stay for a while.” 

“Really?” She didn’t demure or simper about the big strong sheriff not needing to waste his time on a little thing like her-although it would’ve done wonders for his ego. She just raised her eyebrows, a bit bewildered but pretty accepting. 

Lee nodded, then pushed off his knees and stood. Sure, he’d stick around for a bit. He could finish the half a Pepsi sitting in his cruiser and make sure no one sketchy was hanging around. Well, as far as it pertained to this lady and her problem-if they went and hauled out every creep and scumbag from the Plaza Lodge Apartments they’d have half the tenants, Sandy and her no-good cradle snatcher of a husband included. 

“I’m already here. God knows there’s enough to keep an eye on around here.” 

That got a smile out of her, albeit a small one. If he had been about ten years younger, didn’t have an ex-wife with some truly awful stories about him, and his belt wasn’t biting into his lower belly something awful, Lee would’ve been thinking she was real pretty when she smiled. Even when she’d been snapping at Deputy Howser like a rabid dog, she wasn’t bad looking-just upset. 

“I…I really appreciate that, Sheriff Bodecker.” 

Oh, if Lee didn’t just love the sound of that! ‘Sheriff Bodecker’ said with respect like that was music to his ears. If only everyone referred to him like that, instead of ‘Lee’ this and ‘Lee’ that. 

“ ‘S no trouble. I’m used to late nights.” 

Lee didn’t even know he was trying to impress her until it came out of his mouth. It was a bit juvenile, sure, but the little smile didn’t drop from her face. And he was being truthful! Lee was used to late nights-it was just that he was usually meeting with Leroy or carrying out some of that chickenshit bastards pseudo-mafia business. Lee’s preference was to have his belly full, balls empty and ass in bed by 10pm. 

She cocked her head a little, which made her modern bubble hairstyle bob. Flo had wanted to get a haircut like that a couple of years ago, when it just started to show up in the fashion magazines that filtered in from Cincinnati, and Lee had told her that it would make her look like a bobblehead. By far not the worst thing he’d said to Flo, but it still wasn’t great-especially considering how  cute he was finding the same look on this lady. 

She just looked at Lee for a moment, apparently weighing his offer in her mind, then glanced towards the apartments little kitchenette. 

“I could make you a cup of coffee, if you’d like. Or, um, I have some leftover spaghetti, if you’re gonna be around…” 

“That’s alright. I’ll be right out there in the cruiser, stick around for a while and make sure your jackass doesn’t show back up.” Lee hooked a thumb back towards the front door, still standing open against the cool night air. 

“Okay.” She didn’t offer again. The lack of persistence in her offer stung Lees ego, just a little bit. It’d been a bit since a woman who didn’t reek like the sweat and stale beer had paid him more attention than an eye-fucking. Losing Flo really had tarnished his reputation, goddamn her and her suited-up lawyer with his fancy office in Dayton. If he’d really wanted to put up a fight, he could’ve accused Flo of sleeping with the bastard. She almost certainly hadn’t been, but it would’ve made the whole process a bit more inconvenient for her. Maybe that was a petty sort of win to want. Maybe Lee was the sort of man who wanted those wins anyway. 

And that was the end of it. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By around 1:45, Lee was dozing off in his cruiser. He’d finished off his room temperature Pepsi, smoked a cigarette, hummed the earworm theme song from 'Name That Tune' and smoked another cigarette. He’d opened and closed the glove box at least six times, contemplating the Chunky bar stowed in there. 

All while keeping an eye on the other cars in the parking lot, seeing if anyone was going to try to cause trouble. He doubted that the idiot who had been bothering little miss thing was going to show back up that night, but that didn’t mean other horseplay wouldn’t happen-though depending on what it was, Lee would have to let it go anyway. The girls down at the Tecumseh and a couple of illegal substances all fell under the umbrella of ‘things Lee let slide for cold hard cash’. 

The door of miss things unit opened up, light spilling out for just a moment. If Lee had turned his headlights on he could’ve gotten a look at what she was holding, but he also probably would’ve spooked her into dropping it. It didn’t matter anyway, because she came right up to his drivers side window. He’d left it rolled down after the first cigarette. It was a nice night for May. 

She offered him a steaming mug with a cartoon cardinal painted on it. The aroma of coffee hit him instantly-good, fresh coffee, not like the shit at the station that comes out burnt then sits in the pot for hours. 

“It’s been a bit. I figured you’d take me up on this, now.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Lee responded, taking the mug. Their hands didn’t touch, though to be fair, the only person who did much touching on Lee those days was himself. 

The coffee was strong and sweet, just how Lee liked it. So she could at least make a good cup of coffee, and really…wasn’t at all bad looking with the tear tracks washed off her face. No Bess Myerson, but that was a high bar. She was plenty attractive for a town like Meade-and a man like Lee. 

A lot of things could be good enough for a man like Lee.

[pahtoosh]

In one of your lates work lee said she is a brat.. can I request something based on this?

Like when she gets upset that HE her DADDY called her something mean . How does he earn her trust and forgiveness back? 🥺

airhead

[image ID: a gif of lee bodecker frowning by tumblr user UnEarthlyDust. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~1200 words

warnings: name-calling, lee gets very mad in this, apologies and tears with one reallyyy long hug. gets a little preachy at the end which i normally don’t vibe with but it felt appropriate for this au

a/n: i cannot even BEGIN to tell you how excited i was when i read this request! i tried writing it immediately but the story got away from me several times🤭 anyway today i managed to stay on track! woo! thank you so much, lovely anon. i hope you like this one🫶

pairing: lee bodecker x gn!little!reader

summary: lee takes his frustrations out on you and accidentally calls you something mean

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“And look! Now Bingo Bunny has a hat to match his brown pants.”

“That’s nice, sweetheart-“

“Oh! I forgot his brown glasses too!” You ran back to your room to pick up yet another tiny accessory to show Lee. Ever since he got home an hour ago, you were running back and forth between his office and your room to show him your new treasures. Each toy had a story that reminded you of another toy which also had a story that connected to a totally different toy.

Lee sighed. He’d seen your entire toy collection by now. This little show-and-tell had started with the toys you bought by yourself today and devolved into a near encyclopedia of your entire collection.

Lee wanted to indulge your need for attention, but he needed to make one last phone call before he was officially done with work for today. Lee found he could never truly relax if he knew he had something to do or somewhere to be.

“I got the glasses! Look at Bingo, Daddy!” You held the bunny out and made him do a little dance.

“He’s lookin’ sharp, sugar.” He beckoned you over and leaned a little closer, then began to speak as if he were telling you a secret. You stopped buzzing for a moment to give Lee all of your focus, he knew just how to excite you and get your attention.

“Why don’t cha make a few more outfits for Bingo and do a fashion show for me later, yeah? Spend a long time on ‘em now. Make sure they’re perfect.”

“Okay, Daddy!” You left your daddy’s office once again, unaware that he was just trying to distract you.

Lee took advantage of this moment to swiftly lock his door and make the phone call. The sooner he could get this over with, the sooner he could be a proper daddy to you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

What was supposed to be a ten minute call ended up getting to forty minutes. Lee and Deputy O’Connolly were trying to review the security plan for the county fair, but they kept running into issues. Lee was nearing the end of his rope.

“What kinda idiot put Burke and Smith on entrance security? Those two ain’t nothin’ but trouble. Put ‘em together and add the pretty girls entering the fair into the mix and the line’ll grow ‘till it’s near half a mile!”

“I tell ya, this is the last time I trust anyone else to do shift assignments,” Lee groaned.

The two men continued talking as they made edits to their respective paper copies of the security plan. Then, Lee heard your little hand trying to wiggle open his office door.

“Hold on a second.” Lee covered the receiver and shouted to you, “I’m a bit busy right now!”

You shouted a response, but your voice didn’t project as well as Lee’s and it was muffled by the door.

“I’ll be out later, bunny! Just give me ten more minutes!” Lee thought that was the end of it, but you continued shaking the doorknob and started trying to push the door in.

“For the love of- I’ll call ya back later, Deputy.” Lee hung up the phone and stomped to the door, opening it with a huff.

You were still leaning on the door, but you managed to find your footing after the wood abruptly slipped away from you.

“Oh! Daddy, hi!”

“What is it? Is there a fire?”

“I got Bingo all dressed up! Come look!” You tried pulling Lee’s hand so he’d follow you, but he stayed rooted in his spot.

“Not now, bunny. Daddy’s on a very important phone call.”

“But you said-“

“Well now I’m sayin’ ‘not now’, aren’t I? You know the rules. Ya can’t interrupt Daddy at work unless it’s an emergency and ya sure as hell can’t go around trying to break down every door that stands in your way!”

“I just wanted to show you my Bingo,” you said quietly.

“And I’ll look at him later, but right now I’ve gotta explain to Deputy O’Connolly why I hung up on him ‘cause you’re too much of a damn airhead to know what a locked door means!”

You froze in front of Lee, too stunned to react.

He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. “Shit. Baby, I-“

Before Lee could continue, a whimper made its way out of your mouth, breaking you out of your trance and allowing you to run away.

Your daddy watched as you sped into your room and shut the door. He felt pathetic for taking his anger out on his baby. The sheriff wasn’t used to the feeling of white-hot anger and shame rolled into one. These weren’t the actions of the man he prided himself on being.

Lee took a few deep breaths before trying to open your door. You’d taken a page out of his book and locked it this time. You didn’t usually do this. Even when you were upset, you’d leave it unlocked, not even thinking to keep Lee out.

“Bunny, please open the door. Daddy wants to say somethin’ to ya.” Lee leaned his head on the door.

“Daddy gonna say somefin mean ‘gain!” you sobbed.

“No I’m not, I wanna apologize to ya.” Lee sighed. “I’m gonna get the key to your door okay? I need you to hear this.”

“No! No! Don’t wanna hear anything! Just leave me alone!”

Lee’s heart broke at the realization that he had lost your trust. He was your daddy. He was supposed to love you unconditionally and protect you from people who said mean things: people like him.

A tear slid down Lee’s cheek. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Daddy’s so fuckin’ sorry he said those mean things to ya. You’re not an airhead. You’re my smart, sweet, beautiful baby. I don’t deserve a perfect little thing like ya.”

Lee leaned against the wall. He was willing to wait as long as it took for you to let him in. To his surprise, not a minute later were you bursting through the door and wrapping your arms around him.

“Hey there, bunny. There’s my sweet baby,” Lee cooed.

You were still crying as you clung onto him. Lee continued soothing you with his words and touch.

“I know, I know.”

“Daddy’s so sorry, baby.”

When the last sobs left your body, Lee apologized again. It wasn’t perfect. Lee was never great with words. But it was soft and real. A gentle whisper in your ear while he hugged you so tight that you felt his tummy rumble with each passing syllable.

“I forgive you, Daddy.”

“You don’t have to, bunny. Daddy was awful to ya. Give me some time to make things right.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I forgive you,” you repeated, stubbornly.

Lee was at a loss for words. How could he ever repay your love? He settled for kissing your forehead and lingering for a moment. He thought about how lucky he was to have you and, for the first time in a while, Lee prayed. He prayed to someone, anyone, that he’d be able to make this up to you.

[mylittleredgirl]

HI THIS IS MAYBE TIME SENSITIVE, ITS ABOUT THE RATS. sorry if you already know this but you mentioned tanks, so i just wanted to let you know tanks are not safe for rats! they have really delicate respiratory systems and need the ventilation of a cage. just hoping to catch you before you spend money. again sorry if you already knew. thank you for taking them in!!

thank you anon, i’m sharing with the class as this is good info! if i couldn't find a cage locally and had to order, i was going to borrow a spare long tank from the Reptile Friend, because as temp housing for unfamiliar rats, preventing escape would have been my top priority. but i wouldn't want to keep them in it long-term!

too much time in rat communities will make anyone high-strung tbh. i'm telling you, for every single item designed and sold for pet rats, there is an amateur Rat Expert out there who has made it their personal mission in life to tell you why using that item will Murder Your Rats.

after a long night of searching, i got the “merry manor rat home” from petco, which is small for three rats, but the best option in the county:

for those wondering, the designated Rat Expert for this product will tell you it will Murder Your Rats because their feet can get injured and then infected from wire shelves. i got a thick blanket at goodwill to make machine-washable shelf liners so we'll see how that goes.

pro tip: i first left petco empty handed because this cage was kinda small and too expensive. i sat in the parking lot trying to see if i could order something larger to the store... and the second time i put in a search, it offered me a 50% off flash sale for this cage with in-store pickup. so i bought it on my phone and then walked right back in. i'm much happier buying something mid for $75 than $150.

the petco kid working was adorable. he has 13 rats because they are "the best small pet" (they are!). i didn't see any rats in the store, and he said "we don't carry them at this branch anymore :(" and i wonder in context if they stopped carrying them because he kept taking them all home.

this petco branch DOES carry hairless guinea pigs, which are the funniest looking creatures:

(this is from an image search—i didn't take a pic of the ones in the store because they seemed to have enough problems.)

petco rodent kid told me they need to eat twice as much food as regular guinea pigs because of how much energy they expend keeping warm. i really wonder who looked at a guinea pig and said "these guys don't seem to have enough anxiety. let's breed some without fur."

[chobit92]

John: Um what’s this doing here?

Me: What?

John: There is a dog collar on your bedpost.

Me: What? You’re calling to ask me about a dog collar?

John: Yes. There is a dog collar on your bedpost. The same dog collar that I last saw in Jacob’s bunker.

Me: …

John: What is going on? Confess.

Me: John what are you doing in my bedroom?

John: …

[linmeiwei]

Deconstructing Mr Darcy

My favourite character in all Austen canon is Mr Darcy. Unfortunately, as soon as I say this, everybody is like

Because when I say this people think of this…

And this…

But that’s not why he’s my favourite character.

There is this famous quote by P.D. James in which she argues that Austen's Emma is like a predecessor of the detective novel, in the way that she sprinkles clues as to what's really going on with Frank Churchill.

And ever since, I've been reading Pride and Prejudice differently, because of course she does something similar there too.

Specifically, Austen constructs this elaborate character puzzle with Mr Darcy at its centre. Every time he and Elizabeth clash, throughout the novel, one of the central conflicts sparks up: what is Darcy really like?

Elizabeth’s early interest in him is often interpreted as sexual tension/latent attraction. I’m not saying this isn’t the case (you can argue about this). But what is evident is that her intellectual interest in characters is roused by him. Because, well, he really presents her with a tricky puzzle.

1) The mysterious man at the ball

When Elizabeth and her sisters go to the Assembly Ball at Meryton, remember, they go there to ogle Mr Bingley. He is the rich, handsome bachelor they hope to dance with when they get there.

But then they actually arrive and it’s someone else who has everyone talking. Mr Darcy. He’s the tall, handsome stranger who turns out to be much, much richer than Mr Bingley, and who gets everyone excited.

Who will he dance with?

Well, nobody because he’s like way too important to deign to notice any of them. He stoops to acknowledge that Jane, literally the most beautiful girl in the county, is somewhat pretty. But her sister is totally beneath his notice.

With this twist upon a twist, the author invites Elizabeth and the reader to abandon their first suspicion that he’s the hero and to consider him a little absurd instead. And this is a comic novel. By that point we have met multiple absurd characters, so we know this is what is to be expected from this story.

2) The cracks

The narrator hints that Darcy enjoys a good gossip with his friends and spends his free time dissecting the many ways in which the local women don’t interest him. Again, absurd, remember? Elizabeth is among the women he judges harshly, but as he sees more and more of her this happens:

So the reader is now invited to some irony which Elizabeth is not privileged to enjoy. But it’s all in service of the comedy, right? Because it’s more delicious for the reader to see the contrast of how much Elizabeth is wrong about what he thinks of her.

You, the reader, have a good chuckle with the author about this, don’t you? But while you’re laughing you’re MISSING A CLUE! And it’s right there: Elizabeth is wrong about Darcy. It’s lampshading the fact that she doesn’t really understand him at all.

3) The real deal

So then we get a little closer to Darcy. Elizabeth stays with him and his friends at Netherfield to nurse her sister. As Darcy continues to admire her, and as she continues to be oblivious, one evening he approaches her and this happens:

Again Elizabeth is wrong about Darcy, but here Austen adds another clue:

So… the guy who has the superpower of turning any normal situation awkward makes this super awkward situation… charming?

And then Austen adds some misdirection by immediately adding:

And we’re focusing on the irony that this guy is more enchanted with her the more she rejects him. And we’re a little amazed at how arrogant this guy is that he doesn’t see how much he is disliked at this moment. Almost as self-important and oblivious as Mr Collins.

And so we don’t see that… he’s nice? And I mean, an arrogant, self-important arse, as Elizabeth thinks of him, wouldn’t be nice at this point. He’d be wounded. He’d make it awkward. Importantly, he’d make it awkward for her.

It’s hard to get out of a situation like this gracefully. But he can. He knows how. He has that ability.

And this works as a bit of foreshadowing too, of course. Dancing and courtship are pretty strongly linked in Austen (and culturally in that era) and so his acceptance of her rejection in this manner lampshades his character as a lover.

But there’s so much more. That time at Netherfield is so rich in character studies, I feel like someone could write several PhD theses on that section of the book alone.

My favourite is the one that happens when Darcy and Elizabeth literally talk about characters. Miss Bingley asserts that Darcy is perfect, has no flaws. Elizabeth is delighted: this is just what she thinks Darcy thinks of himself.

Darcy says: No, I’m plenty flawed, thanks.

Elizabeth is curious now. Go on, oh prideful one, enlighten us mere mortals!

Darcy explains that he’s resentful, that he doesn’t forget or forgive easily.

Elizabeth has to admit that that’s a non-ridiculous answer. She’s disappointed, a little, because what good is that to her, since she wanted to have a good laugh at this expense? But he predicted as much and at the beginning of this conversation challenged her on this to preempt her making a joke of the whole conversation.

He wants to continue to be serious and this happens:

Again, Austen’s sleight of hand: when we first read this, it sounds more like Darcy is just a misanthrope who has a negative and pessimistic attitude towards people. That’s how Elizabeth hears it too.

But he tells us himself: that’s not what he means. Elizabeth (and the reader) is misunderstanding him. And he shows us, right away, by taking her jibe in good humour right then and there.

Multiple times, Elizabeth teases or attacks him, and he’s cheerful about it. He thinks it’s kind of funny. Bingley gets a shot or two in, and Darcy takes that on the chest too.

Austen manages to create this impression of him in the reader’s mind of a guy who is angry and prideful all the time, but when we review his actions, how often is this really true?

4) Darcy through the eyes of others

In many analyses, Elizabeth is blamed for being so easily taken in and so stubbornly mistaken in Darcy, but in all fairness, look at what she has to work with!

So much of what she learns about him is through other people, and so what she knows is filtered by their interests, skewed perspectives and compromised judgements. The fawning of Caroline Bingley and Mr Collins, the hatred of George Wickham, the deference of Mr Bingley, the lack of deference from Colonel Fitzwilliam, the way Charlotte views men, the way Jane always finds good things to say about anybody, her mother’s vulgar prejudice, all of it adds to a picture of absolute confusion. And the worst offender is Darcy himself, of course, because he stubbornly refuses to clarify anything about himself, partly because he can’t and partly because he just won’t.

Darcy’s stay in Hertfordshire culminates in this exchange, at the Netherfield Ball, between Darcy and Elizabeth:

5) Mr Darcy in love

Darcy really is a hard nut to crack, and in large part it’s because he makes himself hard to crack. The baseline here is pretty bad but it gets so much worse the more he loves Elizabeth and the more he is determined to hide from her.

Before, he just doesn’t care what people think of him. But now, he does care and he desperately wants them not to know that he has, annoyingly and embarrassingly, fallen head over heels in love.

Austen strings us along in this confusion until the absolute shock that comes with his proposal. Even though we as readers always knew more than Elizabeth did, and even though both we the readers and Elizabeth had tonnes of evidence and clues about Darcy and his real character, this twist comes as a complete surprise.

And because we, the readers, and Elizabeth, the protagonist, are surprised, we don’t notice another important clue. Darcy is also shocked. Like, we’re all sitting in this scene, aghast, amazed, shocked. We all came to this point following a trail of wrong clues, misdirections, misunderstandings and mistaken assumptions.

But what does this tell us about Darcy? Other than what he finally reveals through his letter, we learn that the entire time he thought Elizabeth:

Knew what she was doing, flirting with and encouraging him

Understood his prevarication

Expected a proposal

The poor man doesn’t come out of this looking good, does he? It makes him look really arrogant, self-important and big-headed. And to an extent, well, it is.

But there’s also another, kinder, reading to all this: that he’s someone who overthinks things.

There’s the conversation in Netherfield with Bingley where he deprecates those who do things rapidly as if it were a virtue. We know from other parts of the novel that he’s a bookish (he prides himself in his library), intellectual (he admires those who read), “clever” (in the narrator’s own words) guy.

Used to responsibility, used to being relied on to guide and advise people, used to solving knotty problems, Darcy approached his problem (loving a girl who is in every way beneath him) in the same way. He deserves a large portion of the smackdown he receives—no argument from me here. It does him good, later, as we all know. But when we revisit the novel, these deeper dimensions of his character become more apparent whenever we come to this moment: that Darcy’s flaws are not just the obvious ones here (pride, arrogance, lack of manners) but also shades of other traits of his.

6) A mystery to the very end

At this point, Austen begins to clear the mist a little. Darcy gets such a blow with Elizabeth’s rejection that our heart does go out to him, and then the letter explains so much, you begin to feel like he’s been wronged with our harsh view of him. We’re brought into his home, and so, slowly, we are shown that, yes, he’s sort of quiet and taciturn, and maybe his people skills aren’t exactly up there, but he’s actually quite nice, at least willing to try to be outwardly more friendly, but in essence he’s a kind person and a responsible landowner. Elizabeth begins to see that he’s rather attractive.

The reader and Elizabeth begin to thaw towards him. And then Lydia runs away, All seems lost. Wickham has been such a wicked force in Darcy’s life, Elizabeth has already tried Darcy to the edge of what any reasonable man would put up with and Elizabeth’s family exposes herself in the worst possible way.

What I love is that Darcy’s true character is always, always most visible through his actions. This mirrors the whole point of the novel of course: that we should pay attention not to impressions, superficialities (words) but to what people really are, and what they actually do (actions). So, Darcy doesn’t say anything, in fact he swears everybody to silence. He just does. He saves Elizabeth’s family in the most warm-hearted, generous and forgiving way possible.

Anyway, I could write books on this subject just because of how much there is to say, and this is but the tip of the iceberg, but I’ll leave off here. I just wanted to explain why I love Mr Darcy, the character, and why you should too. Not as a literary romantic hero, not as a literary crush but as a really interesting, beautifully written, complex character in his own right.

[reysdriver]

Could I ask for a Steve Harrington x Reader, a story based off best friend by Rex Orange County. Friends to lovers, Steve's pov, toothrotting fluff? I've had this stuck on my mind for a while, but I'm not that great of a writer. I really enjoy your work too.

You hang out with your best friend Steve after a bad date — best friend!steve x fem!reader fluff

warnings: nothing :)

words: 0.7k

a/n: I'm not sure if this is what you want but I tried my best to include little references to the song so I hope you like it!

All night, Steve has been watching the phone in his kitchen. He made sure to sit on the recliner instead of the couch, just in case you called and he needed to answer quickly. 

Steve would never admit it to you, but he secretly hoped your date went badly so that you could come over, complain, and spend more time with him. Of course he didn’t want the guy to be really bad, but the sweet spot was just bad enough that you never went on another date with the loser and hopefully you chose to spend that time with your best friend instead. 

So when he heard the phone ring in the other room, Steve ran over to answer it as quickly as possible. 

“Casa Harrington.” He answered the phone, then held his breath wishing it was you on the other line. 

“Hey, Stevie.” You answered much to his relief. “We just finished with dinner, so he offered to drive me home and I was wondering if you’d want to come by in like ten minutes or so?”

“He seems like a gentleman; are you sure you don’t want to keep the date going with him?”

You laughed at your best friend on the other line from the payphone you were calling from. “No, Steve. He’s nice and all, I just don’t think we really click. He’s also waiting for me by his car so I think you should answer me because I don’t want to keep him waiting or else he might drive off without me.”

“I would come pick you up if he left you stranded. I’d drive anywhere you needed.”

“Okay, but I don’t need you to drive anywhere, I need you to answer my original question.”

“Nah.”

Your smile dropped at his response. “No?”

“I’ll pick you up from your house and we can go over to mine. Your place is severely lacking in the snack department.”

That was relieving. You were scared you would have to spend the evening after a boring date all alone. 

“Alright, it’s a plan. Bye, Steve.”

“Bye. Tell him to drive safe and get my girl home in one piece!”

The line went dead before you could hear the whole thing, but what you did hear brought a smile back to your face anyway.

The car ride home was awkward and silent, save for the fuzzy radio station your date had on the entire time. The wave you gave him while getting out of his car was maybe even more awkward. Luckily, your knight in shining armour was standing outside of his car parked on the street in front of your yard. 

You practically skipped over to Steve and he opened the passenger side door for you. 

“So he wasn’t all you dreamed he would be?” He asked you. 

With a shake of your head, you got in the car and responded to his rhetorical question. “Nope. I guess I just keep forgetting how boring most guys are. Not you though, of course not.”

“Well, obviously I couldn’t be boring. I have a pool at my house and my parents are never home. We can stay out all night and swim, maybe drink a few beers while you tell me all about how happy you are that I’m here to hang out with you after a bad date.”

“That sounds lovely, Harrington.” You giggled, playing with the dials on his car radio—something he only let you do. “See, this is why every date I’ve been on lately has been so boring and underwhelming.”

“And why’s that?” Steve asked, half-cocky and half-confused. 

“Because my favourite boy has brought my standards all the way up. I’ll never be able to find someone as good as you.”

Steve bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying what he really wanted to say. That you should just date, and put an end to his unrequited crush—the one that you felt as well, he just didn’t know that—because he’d treat you right and you both know it. 

Instead, he chose for the more subtle choice, and made a promise to really ask you out another time. 

“I know you’ll find someone as good as me if you look hard enough.”

[einsatzzz]

[OC] Ninomiya Kurumi - Character Profile

🎀The charming and outgoing fashionista who's obsessed with anything cute! Ninomiya Kurumi!🎀

You can go to this link from our Oniyanagi Wiki site for her full character page!

"You see, I’ve always been a huge fan of cute things!"

Kurumi is one of the two 10th generation bosses of the Oniyanagi yakuza family (alongside her twin, Kana). She is a very energetic and friendly teenager, as well as a skilled martial artist.

Age: 14 Birthday: October 18 Zodiac Sign: ♎︎Libra Height: 158cm Weight: 46kg Gender: ? County of origin: Japan MBTI: ESFP Favorite Fruit: Peach Favorite cake: Peach/Apple/Banana-flavored cakes, Strawberry shortcake, Cheesecake

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PERSONALITY: She has a bad case of cute aggression!

Kurumi has an energetic and outgoing nature that makes it easy for her to make friends and connections. A very prominent obsession that she has is with all things that are cute, broadly ranging from fashion to adorable trinkets. Yes, even cute people are included too.

Despite her carefree demeanor, Kurumi can be surprisingly mature and reflective, often acting as a mediator when there are serious conflicts in her Family and being observant of its overall condition. When someone outside the Family starts becoming too close, she seems to start distancing herself.

SPECIALTY: She has dangerous superhuman strength, please use caution when hugging!

Kurumi inherited an extraordinary muscle constitution that grants her immense strength, enough to effortlessly handle a greatsword that's almost her size. If she is not careful in controlling her strength, she might end up breaking some bones if she gets carried away while hugging a normal person. This inherent characteristic of hers plus her martial arts are a deadly combination.

DAILY LIFE: Despite certain difficulties, she wants to become someone who can live true to herself.

At her new school, there are always various troubles and problems brewing around (may or may not be partly caused by her or her besties), but she always tries her best to help out her friends with a smile! After everything is settled, a nice trip to the shopping district with Kyoko and Haru wipes any remaining exhaustion off. Maybe they could even visit a cafe right after!

RELATIONSHIPS: A new school comes with new friendships!

Reborn: A cute and strong baby! He can be scary sometimes, though.

Tsuna: A cute future mafia boss! My first friend in Namimori too! Don't worry, I'll help you with Kyoko-chan!

Kyoko: She's such a cute girl! I hope we can spend more time together.

Haru: Another cute girl! She even asked me to do a cosplay collaboration project together!

Lambo: Another cute baby! He's just like a little brother to me. I'll take care of you, Lambo-chan!

I-pin: Such a nice cute little baby! Even Yui is fond of her. I'll take care of you too, I-pin-chan!

Bianchi: She's cute, but more than that, she's very cool too! But...You got it wrong Nee-san, my cooking isn't supposed to be poison cooking ueee 🥲

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If you read up to this point, then thank you so much for taking the time to do so! For these character profiles, I'll try to follow the style of the Vongola 77 profiles so that I can have a format to follow and stop myself from going too overboard haha. All information above (and in the wiki right now) only captures her character around the beginning of Daily Life Arc.

Any questions about her or the story is very much appreciated! (Please, the amount of serotonin boost is insane when I get OC asks! Yuipachi-sensei will answer it for you too hehe - I'm IP with an ask rn too ^o^)

When I finish Kana's character sheet, thinking of doing a second batch of outfit sheets for the twins with their non-school uniform outfits. Maybe their "mission" outfit and one set of casual clothes for each of them.

For credits, all Oniyanagi OCs are by me and @amiahoshi! While for the intro audio, Kurumi is voiced by erushaVA and I also got the background music here from MusMus!

Note: I finally un-privated the Oniyanagi wiki. Whenever I'm inactive/on hiatus, this place is my hideout to recharge. Kind of like the "Do it for her" meme, except I'm staring at my OC's page and gallery. Anyway, you'll see me hanging around there when I'm not in socmed, unless IRL reaaalllly decides to suck A LOT lmaoo

[awesomefringey]

Here is a receipt from summer 2021

"I was spending my summer holidays with a few cousins at one of their family bungalows in Ireland. And the outskirts of this county I was in, is known for alot of celebs having their holiday homes.

Two of my cousins are golf enthusiasts and they have a membership in the nearby golf center. Its one of those boujee clubs that has golf but also other amenities. Almost like a leisure club yk. If you are a member, you get free food, drinks, you can use the gym, they even have a spa. Truly heavenly. They give 3 type of memberships: silver, gold and platinum. The names are self explanatory. My brothers had the gold one.

They offered me to join them for my last week there. And i have no interest in golf whatsoever so i just chilled and roamed around while they were golfing. My first two days there went without a hitch. Such a great aura. I enjoyed myself. But the next day, they had closed a section of the golf course where my brothers usually liked to golf. And they were a bit upset about it. They talked to the manager and they were told that a vip member(with platinum membership) was there who specifically asked to close that section for an hour and a half. They then gave my brothers a spot nearby as to not upset them further. I was in the viewers section above just watching my brothers golf, when I glanced towards the closed off area. I was shocked for a sec because I was sure that it was Harry but I was like there is no chance he is here. As the time went on, in the next 10 mins I was sure it was harry. Then this caddie I had become friends with came to the bleacher and I asked him about H and he told me that harry had a booking for for 3 days this week. Has been coming here with some of his friends. I was so star struck but like it also made me so happy and giddy. I observed him for a while and this caddie then told me in all the golf terminology that he was quite a decent golfer.

We returned back the next day, they weren't there. We went there the day after, and harry started golfing when my brothers were almost finishing but that day harry and louis were both on the golf course with 2 other guys who I assume were the same guys louis was chilling with. Louis was looking at Harry golfing. And oh god, it looked so domestic even from afar. At one point louis said something and they all laughed. Harry too laughed with his head thrown back. I watched them for 10-15 mins and I saw harry glance up at Louis like 5 times in that time span. They maybe just hanging out as friends tbh. But just seeing them together made me so happy.

Sorry for such a long receipt, I go too much into details haha. I am submitting this to you and to a few tumblr accs today cause I feel like our fandom needs it right now and its been a while since this happened. Good day!"

Got this in my twitter submissions. Idk how true it is but like thats the case with all the receipts. Hope you're having a good one!

Aww thank you for sharing it with us, Aster. ❤️

Always take these anons with a huge grain of salt, but the image of Harry throwing his head back laughing at Louis made me smile, so I’m not mad.

Edit: Just noticed how they turned from cousins to brothers. 🤦🏼‍♀️