#literally shakes him around like a bean bag

[tabbyrocks]

I really like this face he makes whenever he gets serious

he gets puppy dog eyes and its so,,, so silly,,,,

[buckyalpine]

Spicy Snacks

Bucky x reader, Steve 

Warnings: 2 high super soldiers who get into your stash of spicy snacks, fluffff 

“Dear god” 

You weren’t sure what it was you were going to walk into when you heard a ruckus in the kitchen but it was everything but this. Literally anything. The last time you’d seen such a mess was when Peter thought it’d be a good idea to babysit Morgan alone. Even that was salvageable. You should’ve known how bad it would be, given the trail of crumbs you followed from your drawer to the kitchen, but still. 

This was something else...

There were snacks strewn about left, right and center. Bags of chips and candy littering every inch of the counter tops. 

But what truly topped it all were the two massive super soldiers sitting cross cross apple sauce on top of the kitchen island, giggling like school children with their hands, literally in the cookie jar. 

“Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Steve sang to himself while stuffing a chocolate chip one into his mouth, practically swallowing it whole. 

“Steve stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Bucky snickered, taking the jar for himself and scarfing them down two at a time. 

“Who me?”

“Yes you!”

“Not me!”

“Then who?” 

“What are you two idiots doing” Your voice broke them away from their nursery rhyme, staring at your boyfriend first before turning to his bestfriend, the both of them trying to hide the jar behind their backs. 

“Nothing’ y/n” Steve gave you a dopey grin, his baby blue eyes glazed like donuts, snickering at his bestfriend attempting to stab an apple juice box with the straw.

“S’too hard!!” Bucky whined, sticking his tongue out in concentration, eyes wide, trying to get his straw in to no avail, looking back up to you for help. He gave you his most innocent puppy pout hoping you’d help him, sticking his hands out for you to take his juice. 

“Bucky get down” You huffed, trying to hide your smile when he clambered down like an admonished child with his head hung. You rolled your eyes, pushing the straw and giving it back to him, shaking your head at the grin he gave you, whispering a shy thank you. 

“Ooooooo you like herrrrrr” Steve howled, now kicking his feet, letting them hang off the counter while Bucky blushed, peeking at you through his lashes. “BUCKY HAS A CRUSH” 

“Nooooo” He drawled out, taking a long sip from his juice box. 

“We’ve been dating for 2 years you dork” You watched his cheeks redden more, which only made him more adorable but you weren’t sure how much more nonsense was going to ensue when the both of them were higher than kites. 

“She’s my girlfriend” Bucky giggled at the last word, now struggling with a new box while Steve’s eyes lit up, a classic God awful captain America plan had bean to manifest itself. He slipped off the counter, the effects of the gummies and whatever else he’d swallowed had knocked his agility off its rockers; he moved with the grace of a donkey. 

“Where are you going” you stopped him before he could sneak off, your boyfriend looking equally guilty. 

“Noooowhere” Steve shrugged but you gave him a pointed look while Bucky flailed his hands, hoping to silently communicate they were not about to do something idiotic. 

“Sit down. Finish your snacks and then you both need to go take a nap” You felt like you were talking to toddlers, not bothering to add they had to clean their mess because you were sure that would only end in more chaos. 

“But we were gonna go flying with Sam’s wings!” 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this” You muttered to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose before speaking again, “No. You can’t just go take Sam’s wings and go flying. Now finish your juice boxes and go to bed” 

“NOOOO” Steve jumped onto Bucky, wrapping his long legs around his waist, holding onto him like a massive koala, giving you his best puppy eyes, matching his equally ridiculous best friend. “WE DON’T WANNA GO TO BED” 

“Boys....”

“Please???” Bucky pouted effortlessly holding the captain up while your face scrunched up, mentally face palming yourself.

“No. No, you cannot go flying! You’ll end up hurting yourself or breaking the wings or- for fucks sake what are you doing?!” You gawked; Steve and Bucky had stopped listening many moons ago. They were back to rummaging for food, a stray sour patch kid falling to the floor. 

“5 second rule” Bucky shrugged, bending over to pick it up, not seeing the smirk that crossed his bestfriends face. 

“Chubby dumpling” Steve whispered, giving Bucky’s ass a poke, making him yelp. Bucky stared at him like a deer in headlights while Steve cackled to himself, tossing back another packet of nerds into his mouth. You were to engrossed at the scene in front of you to notice Tony walk in, his face equally perplexed at yours. 

“What it God’s name” Tony stared at the chaos that was taking place with you in the middle, “Do I even want to ask?”

“They got into my stash of....snacks...” You smirked while Tony cocked an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. 

“Snacks, y/n? Really?”

“...Spicy snacks”

“Who would’ve thought this would be their downfall” He mused beside you “Oh-I think clothes are coming off-oh fuck” Tony ducked while Steve's shirt flew above his head, eyes growing wide when a pair of jeans followed.

“It’s so hot!!” Steve huffed, star fishing on the cool tile floor, arms and legs splayed out to the sides. “Soooo hottttt, n’I’m sleepy now” He yawned, stretching out like a cat before closing his eyes, a sugar crash sneaking up on them.  

“Okay, someone call for this ones bromantic partner to figure this out” Tony covered his eyes while calling for Sam, hoping to get Steve into some clothes before hauling him back to his room. “Y/n, I’m assuming you got terminator covered?” 

“Yeah, I- Oh no” you were met with your boyfriends Henley, followed by his joggers, landing on your head, squealing when you found yourself hanging off his shoulder seconds later. 

“Buck, where are we going?!” He mumbled something while making his way to the elevator in just his boxer briefs. 

“S’nap time” he mumbled sleepily, trudging with you to the bedroom and plopping down on top of you, using your chest as a pillow. “wan cuddles” 

“Mhm, then you get cuddles, baby boy” you giggled, carding your fingers through his hair, unable to stop smiling from how ridiculously adorable he was. He let out a content sigh, softly snoring moments later. You bit you lip to keep your laughs down, hearing the commotion outside your room in the hallway. 

“Steve, you need to put on pants”

“Pants are for the WEAK”

“No-Steve NO!-don’t take off your-for fucks sake” 

“THIS IS AMERICAS ASS”

“That’s America’s cock and balls” 

“Please, for the love of God, go to your room” 

“I’M GOING TO MAKE A TIKTOK” 

“Steve no”

“Steve yes”

“STEVE” 

“What’s the live feature” 

*Sounds of Steve shrieking and then a thump with continued muffled pouting*

“You’re never eating spicy anything again” 

[onlydijah]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ BAD HABIT ❪ INTERLUDE ❫

𝜗𝜚 CATCH IT! — dislike to lovers, both are still in high school, no warnings i think

𝜗𝜚 WORDS FROM ME! — hi i wrote this at like 3 am so my apologies if its not good😭 idk if im gonna continue this but if i do i it’ll be a 4-parter!! plot was inspired by some book i read i lwk forgot the title (😓😓)

𓂃 ִֶָ𐀔 — word count, 1.3K

THE MOTONOUS BUZZING of the pasty white fluorescent lights vibrated throughout the sterile, lifeless room as an older, chubby man paced around the spacious area. “I don’t even know what our game plan is here ken. I… ugh.” he spoke, feebly.

The younger teenager shrunk deeper in his seat, reverting back to his signature manspread. He looked around unsteadily, praying he didn’t accidentally meet his coach’s disappointed eye and let out a laugh.

As the dull melody of clicking footsteps and clock chimes continued, a million and one thoughts swirled through each other’s heads. While one was more focused on what he would eat for dinner tonight, another grappled with the fact that his star baseball player was as good as gone.

“Do you have anything? anything to say for yourself?” The frustrated man exhaled as he plopped down on his worn office chair, the wheels scooting it back a little upon his impact. “13 violations is absolutely crazy young man, your mom ever tell you ‘if you dont have anything nice to say, hold your tongue?’ god, we’re lucky the committee let you off easy the other 12 times, but I fear they’ve realized the way you act out on the pitch far outweighs any positives your talent grants you.”

The implication of career ending consequences in his coach’s outburst made the boy stand straight in his seat, “Huh? waddyamean, I would say my teasing adds charm.”

“Right… right! How about we go through some of your charming encounters, shall we?” The elder kissed his teeth as his hands rustled their way through the stacks of papers on his desk.

“That actually isn’t necessary!” Kenji responded suddenly with a nervous chuckle and uncomfortable grin, lunging across the desk in an attempt to stop his coach from reading his rather… vulgar jibes.

“No no, I think it's very necessary actually,” his coach remarked, raising his hand high to prevent the boy from reaching his documents. The younger boy fell face flat on the desk, choosing to just lay his head there as the man in front of him listed off the many crude actions he had been reported for.

“Are you kidding me? What does his face shape have to do with you throwing a beanball at his head?!”

“Ummmm.. so it was throwing me off the whole game so i had to like— even out his proportions.. ya’know?” Kenji answered sparingly, contorting his fingers and emphasizing each word he responded with so as to get his point across. “That’s not a valid reason and you know that.” his coach rebutted, shaking his head with distaste.

He loosened his grip and the pamphlet dropped with a loud “thud”. Raking his hands through his graying, jet black hair he began, “Listen, I'm gonna try and find a way to get you out of this— but there's no guarantee they won't find a way to terminate your scholarship. Ill have an answer for you by tomorrow.”

“Ouff.” The younger male let out a heavy exhale. “That bad?” he cringed.

“That bad.”

The rest of that day was ruined for Ken as his only hope of starting a successful baseball career was entirely in his nimble-minded coach’s hands. Easy to guess he didn't have much faith in him.

He roamed aimlessly around the massive halls of his school, taking note of every detail that the scattered decor offered. The curve of the walls when he was about to enter the gym, how the lights dimmed when he got close to the designated faculty/staff areas, and the navy blue bean bags littered across the library that helped transform the original cold, uninviting room into a welcoming space for all.

He admired how many windows the academy had, leading beautiful, warm natural light to pour from literally everywhere. He found comfort and belonging in the school as he strode, the expectation of being kicked out heavy on his shoulders only strengthened his love for the establishment.

Eyes lightly stinging from unpoured tears caused him to clench his eyes and shake his head frantically— his soft locks swinging across his face before he pushed them back into their place.

“Hello? Kenj.”

“Huh? Oh. Hi [name].”

“What?” She shrugged apathetically. “I didn't mean to ruin your main character moment but I needed your half of the history assignment like— yesterday.” she deadpanned, moving her hands around frantically.

“That wasnt due until Thursday!” Kenji negated, turning towards the girl. The height difference was quite intimidating from an outside perspective, but nevertheless the girl continued to argue.

“Are you actually illiterate? Like is there anything up there?” she pointed to his skull. “PLEASE let me know because if not I will gladly sign you up for the reading comprehension classes my little cousin takes.” she scoffed aggressively, turning the lightweight ring she had on her finger excessively.

“I’m alright, thank you.” Kenji sassed, pulling out his phone to “check his syllabus”. A couple beats of silence passed before he pressed his lips into a thin line and smiled.

“Oh my god.”

“I'm not stupid. Here.” He spat as he opened his backpack and lightly shoved a manilla folder into the girl's chest. “You're so irritating, like— why get me worked up in the first place?!” she pushed him back lightly. “You're evil. I can’t even—“ she rambled, unconsciously letting Kenji push her into the direction of the cafeteria. “See, this is entertaining!” He gushed, opening the cafeteria door and letting go of the girls backpack. “Bye friend!” he cheesed, turning back around to look for his clique— wherever they were.

The cafeteria was bright and energetic today, students laughing and arguing supplied audio for the usually silent enclosure; the clicking and clacking of plates and trays held a soothing melody for the ears of everybody there to enjoy while they worked and ate.

“Ohhhmygod that's crazy. He can't just do that can he?” Nia murmured as students bustled by their table to meet their friends. “Its not his fault, i'm here on scholarship so technically the school can revoke it whenever they want.” Kenji clarified.

“That bites man, im sorry.” she sympathized, shoving 3 sticks of strawberry pocky in her mouth. “S’okay. Coach Hayashi will find a way out for me. He always has.” he tried to reason, arms cradling his pounding head.

Nia dropped her pocky and rolled her eyes. “Now you're just lying through your teeth.” she chuckled. “Whatever.” Ken huffed, grimacing as his headache got worse.

“OVER MY DEAD BODY.” The younger woman fussed, slamming the door. “Cmon, [name] its not such a bad thing!” her counselor eargly hooted, “You’ll only be doing it for a week— max. And… well, you dont really have much of a choice anyway.”

The student exaggeratedly flopped onto the cream colored bean bag, glancing back at the colorful walls of Mrs.Aoki’s room. “Theres nobody else up for it?” she sighed grabbing a multicolored throw pillow; hugging it close against her chest, “I’ll take literally anybody else.”

“Im afraid not.” her words echoed around the lively expanse, bouncing around the colorful furniture and across the motivational poster spreads on the walls. “Be grateful he’s even up for this. Listen— the only person who can strain this arrangement even more now is you. So if you want to ruin your chances of ever getting into a good university, go ahead.”

The veiled wisdom hidden between the statement of the older woman became loud and clear against the young girls ear. “Your right.” she conceded. “Ill be there tomorrow.”

“Thats the spirit!” Aoki rejoiced, offering her pupil a soft smile.

© @onlydijah on tumblr. DO NOT copy, translate, or claim any of my works as yours. thank you! 💘

masterlist

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

THE TRADER’S DAUGHTER - cooper “the ghoul” howard x female!oc — PART 2

EDIT: FOLLOW @bonafideyapper FOR FUTURE PARTS!

warnings(?): allusions to bisexual!cooper towards the end; bad grammar/bad writing/bad formatting; (I was intoxicated while I wrote a lot of this); bad depiction of a southern accent (I’m literally from the south); incorrect fallout lore; overall warning for general fallout violence; Daisy is 4/5 here; dbf!cooper

part 1

During Josiah’s time roaming the aftermath of the fallout for the benefit of the vault, he became an important part of forming strong relationships between the vault and outsiders. Under his guidance, the vault had a successful trade relationship that spanned over much of the old territory.

Daisy has very distant memories of the vault, mostly just an old television set that played movies that she could vaguely make out. To her, life didn’t really begin until she woke up on an old couch being watched over by an old woman that owned a shop in the small town. Shortly after their arrival, her father established himself as a trader of chems and other invaluable items, creating a permanent place in the town after a few months.

cooper was a frequent customer at Josiah’s. He’d gotten him a place to take refuge in after escaping the vault with his daughter, after reaching out to an old female friend of his. she owed him a favor for him saving her ass from some raiders, and then for cheatin’ on him with the same fuckin’ raider.

Coop would develop a soft spot for the trader’s daughter. He’d known from the moment he met her that she’d be a firecracker someday. the first time they had met, the little girl was no taller than a bean sprout, and she was hidden behind her father’s legs. she had been playing with a handmade doll behind the counter when cooper walked through the door, greeting his old acquaintance with a big smile.

“Josiah, you son of a bitch. How’re you settlin’ in?” the ghoul drawled easily, reaching out to shake the man’s hand in a faux-professional manner before pulling him forward to greet him.

The brown eyed girl looked up in curiousity at the sound of the bell on the door, immediately getting up to hide behind Josiah’s legs. she had never seen anything like him before, the skin of his face stretched tight and scarred in various spots from decades of radiation exposure (and probably some chem abuse, but whatever, it kept him from going feral). The vest he wore under a long overcoat was buttoned neatly despite his otherwise disheveled appearance, and there was a once-fancy faded blue shirt peeking out from the under the vest. Something in her little brain recognized the pattern of faded gold, she thought she had seen it in one of the many tv-screened dreams she would have each night.

The ghoul set his bag of various meats (totally not just a whole bunch of ass jerky, he saved that for himself whenever he got the chance) and other supplies down on the low countertop between them and tipped his hat to the little girl, offering her a yellowed smile, “howdy, li’l lady. you must be that flower your daddy’s always talkin’ about.”

Josiah looked down at his kid and forced the young girl into full view of the ghoul. He wasn’t raising no pussy, he had to expose Daisy to everything the wasteland had to offer. And, despite his appearance, Cooper had a larger than life aura to him even after all of the damage he had sustained through the years. The father was sure his kid would adapt to the ghoul.

“Introduce yourself, Daze. Coop don’t bite.” He formed a joke and looked over at the ghoul, “Unless you misbehave, then he might eat you right up.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cooper. My name is Daisy.” She said in a polite little voice, still working on looking up at the cowboy. She wasn’t afraid of him, she just had some nerves was all. Getting used to the new scenery around her was gonna take some time at her young age, but she’d be a natural in no time. Whole town would gonna be in love with her by the time she turns 6.

“pleasure to meet you, little Daisy. you can just call me coop, no need to be ‘fraid of me. i’m the best bounty hunter this side o’ the wasteland, one of the good guys.” coop says the final line with a easy lie, his eyes flashing up to Josiah who had seen the internal conflict he faced in the time he had known the ghoul. He sure as hell wasn’t one of the good guys, but he could be for the few people he cared about in his big age.

“Now, why don’t you go run along an’ let the grown folks talk alone?” Cooper reached down and patted the top of Daisy’s head, watching her run along to the back office.

Josiah pulled a case out from under a shelf and counted out the vials of chems that he owed the ghoul in exchange for the supplies he brought, giving him a couple extra for a cheaper price because he liked the guy.

“You did a good job there, Joe. She’s gonna be a little killer some day, I can tell she’s got your survival instinct already. Between the two of us, she’s bound to learn at least two useful fuckin’ skills.” Cooper leaned over the counter a bit and took the box from his old (lover) friend. Josiah nodded in agreement and looked back towards the door for a moment, “Thank you, Cooper. I’m serious, I owe you more than just a couple extra vials.”

Cooper shook his head and lightened the mood, “Us cowpokes gotta stick together up here, you’ll learn that soon enough, Vaultie. Don’t you worry about her, you know I keep my word.” As soon as Josiah had successfully gotten his sleeping daughter out of the vault, he had made his oldest wasteland acquaintance promise, swear even, to protect the young girl in case anything were to end up happening to the old vault dweller. Cooper had always been a man of his word, no matter how badly the effects of radiation and the fucked up immortality would change him.

a/n: okay!! welcome to the end of chapter 2, definitely leaning towards cooper being (canonically?) bisexual & again definitely some kind of gay tendencies between the old buddies. But anyways, maybe I’ll flesh THAT out if anyone’s interested.

a/n 2: also considering accepting requests for cooper stuff outside of Daisy’s story, gonna try my hand at 2nd person POV writing. if you have something you wanna see me try to flesh out then feel free to message me/send me an ask ❤️

taglist: @savanahc @one-of-thewalkingdead @silverose365 @neverendingdumptser

[hana-no-seiiki]

RECREATIONAL

THIRD PART TO FEROZEVE SERIES : [PREVIOUS] [MASTERLIST] [NEXT?]

YANDERE POP IDOL! OC x MANAGER! READER x YANDERE ROCKSTAR SMUT

tw/cw: reader uses gn pronouns but has a dicc, unprotected seggs, unrealistic seggs, anal seggs. switch! reader, switch! eve, gong! feroze. dub/non con.

status: unedited.

thank you hubby @moyazaika for letting me use your son again, and for the voters that picked this fic (🤰🏻) in the emoji poll.

By pressing the Keep Reading button you are confirming that you’re 18 and above + consent to seeing dark / sexual content.

“Mx. Ma-na-ger~ !” Eve drawled as he glomped you from behind. Despite not hearing what he had to say or do aside from assaulting you with hugs, you were already dreading the next moments of your life.

“Eve, no.” You tried slipping away but are unfortunately unable to defeat hours of dance routines and gyms sessions Eve had to go through as a part of his training and work.

“But Mx. Ma ↗ na ↘ ger ↗ ! ! ! ” His pitch fluctuated as you had resorted to shaking him off instead.

“Eve, I already told you that I’m busy.”

And then he pouted.

You see, when an idol like the Jisoo Han pouts it is almost as if the entire universe has ended. It’s like the feeling you’d get when every puppy or god forbid every kitten dies. The feeling of utter sadness so insurmountable you almost crumble to your knees.

Eve had the power to create smiles and laughter across the globe, but he also had the power to completely destroy any semblance of happiness from a person. You knew that power very well.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperately attempting not to cringe or cry from his actions.“Fine. I’ll be free next evening. Don’t. Bother. Rosy.”

You thought he’d be satisfied with your answer but he only pouts even harder.

You sighed. This absolute man-child. “. . . Soo.”

He immediately flicks back to his cheery self. A boyish grin on his face as he separated himself from you and skipped away. “Okay~! I’ll see ya soon.”

That was way too easy. Oh god. What could that demon be thinking of?

As soon as he left, another one of your man-children came into your office. Groaning, he plopped himself atop one of your bean bag chairs.

Feroze doesn’t utter a word, and you could tell that his hangover had been a pain to deal with. Usually he’d already be all over you. It sort of reminded you of how he was during your early days with him. Still, he made the effort to show up despite the massive migraine he should be feeling right now.

“I—“ You started, but you are unable to finish your words as he’d already beat you to the chase.

“I love you, really love you, but if your next words are I told you so. Just don’t.”

Darn, he knew you too well. Time to take a different approach to asserting your correctness.

“Well you know what they say—“

“I’m going out to eat.” He seemingly teleported in front of you, flicking your forehead. And then, he was out. Just poof. Disappeared.

You stared at the hangover medicine you prepared for him located in the drawer of your desk, and humphed, “. . .He didn’t even let me finish.”

There are many stages of love in Urdu and Arab world. Attraction, love and even death, but infatuation; عشق (ishq) was what Feroze identified with. Literally speaking it just meant love. Symbolically however, it meant so, so much more.

It was both all of love in itself and a stage of it. It was above the notion of logic or sense. Just as how he felt with you.

❝

Ishq Nazuk-Mizaj Hai Behad (Love has a delicate disposition)

Aql Ka Bojh Utha Nahin Sakta (It cannot bear burden of logic)

❞

As an Urdu poet Akbar Allahabadi would say.

Feroze’s entire existence revolved around yours. He breathed for you, he’d die for you. The biggest regret in his life was how he didn’t meet you sooner, didn’t treat you the way you were supposed to sooner.

Feroze wasn’t actually mad or even annoyed by your words earlier. He could never, ever have such feelings towards you. He just needed an excuse to follow Eve. As to why he didn’t just do that? Well he had to see your face that morning to cleanse himself, of course. One look at you per day and all the negative energy in his life seemed to just fade away.

“Mr. Khan! How’s the hangover?” Speaking of negative energy.

Eve and him had been bonding quite well over the past few weeks. It was a miracle in itself. Despite the former’s overt interest in Feroze’s manager, he found the boy too cute to be murdered in his sleep. He had this ‘baby-ghorl’ aura about him that Feroze couldn’t help but be amused with. The rockstar could see why this idol had so many fans.

Eve approached him, his usually sparkly grin covered by the dark mask his disguise included. Promotional material for their collab had already been released to the public and has thus put them in the spotlight once more. Trying to go to that bar last night was already hell in the first place, meeting in a cafe where anyone could see them? That was just a wish for death.

Eve slid a small glass bottle that looked a lot like those syrups they marketed for younger kids. Or poison, one or the other.

Without a word, Feroze downed the liquid. And then immediately regretted his decision, hacking at the taste of it all, “What did you just give to me?”

“A hangover cure. Those usually don’t taste good no matter what country I go to. I knew you were a lightweight but I barely got to drink before you —“ Eve halted his bullying as soon as he saw the deathly glare Feroze threw at him.“Fine~ Fine! I’m sure Mx. Manager already made fun of your situation.”

Feroze turned his hazel eyes to the bottle.

“You spiked my drink, didn’t you?”

Eve doesn’t freeze up, he doesn’t even flinch, not a sign of guilt could be found on him. Feroze wouldn’t be surprised if the ravenette actually didn’t feel a hint of remorse for what he did. He acknowledges the boy’s fearless attitude. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, you spiked my drink didn’t you? Last night. I saw you put it in, but decided you could have a little fun with your ex-manager.” He emphasized your current status, that being out of Eve’s employment and in his. “So, did you?”

Eve twirled a lock of his bangs, avoiding eye contact. His ears had turned completely red. The usual glow about him somewhat dissipated. “Not enough.”

Feroze who was much less careful about his reputation and actions took Eve’s hand in his and held it, tightly. His callused fingers contrasted greatly to Eve’s soft, moisturized hands. “Well, we can’t have our Soo here feeling unsatisfied do we?” He massaged each finger vigorously while simultaneously keeping it as still as possible.

“What’s the catch? You wouldn’t just give away the love of your life away. Would you?”

“No. You’re right. I would never. But the benefits outweigh the negatives. I believe this collaboration of ours will help everyone in the long run.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

You loved schedules and planning. It was everything to you. It’s why you worked as a manager for all these years. The intricacies of time management gave you a rush you could not explain. Perhaps this emotion was akin to what Feroze confessed to feeling about you. Though you heavily doubted it was that close.

You weren’t the type to beat up people if they didn’t follow you or your beloved schedule.

Were you?

In any case, as appointed, you arrived at Eve’s and Feroze’s shared studio. Perfectly on time.

“So, what did you want me for?”

“Well, I was recording this track. I already have Mr. Khan’s vocals and mine I just need . . .”

You had the knack to read Eve’s mind before he even spoke. It was why he adored you so much. Studying him was just a part of the job in your case. Despite his almost angelic demeanor, he felt more like the child you had to babysit rather than a proper partner.

“No way. I can’t sing.” You waved your hands in protest. You can barely hold a regular note for too long, how were you able to keep up with those trained singers the company usually hired for these things? You were meant to be in the backstage, not the center or anywhere near there.

Eve easily shoved you in the recording booth, “That’s why I’m here silly. To help you, now get in the booth.”

“Eve—“ You mouthed, trying your best to get out. But the exit had already been locked. Damn, how was he so fast?

And it’s official. The idol had you trapped. So easily as well. He should have done this ages ago. “Soo.” Your voice barely came out, anxiety hindering its proper passage. This wasn’t going to actually be a recording session was it?

His right hand then grabbed your outer thigh. You flinched, you thrash around, but he doesn’t stop.“Soo, I can’t do this with you — gah —“

“But why not~? Aren’t you a good little manager? You’ll do this for me won’t you?” He unbuttoned your pants, slowly pulling them down. Savoring the reveal of your precious [s/c] skin. While his scarlet eyes were firmly glued to your face, his left hand wandered to your clothed cock. Three fingers pressed against it, moving up and down gently.

“Mmf — For your information, I’m only obliged to follow Feroze’s —“ He stopped.

His appendages leave your side in a second. You were utterly disappointed in yourself as you realized you already missed his skin making contact with your body.

“Soo?”

He stood still for seconds until his fingers twitched.

After which, he laughed.

“HAHAHAHAHA! You think you were ever someone else’s? You’re mine, [Y/N]. Mine.”

It unnerved you. Not how maniacal his words or his guffawing, no, it was how genuine it felt in comparison to his usual one. In fact you were so caught up with his breakdown that you couldn’t even protest as he carried you in his arms, shoving lube up your little asshole and making you face the wall.

You hadn’t even realized his own penis was not covered anymore.

Everything just hits you when he thrusted in. Filling you with one slide.“Now make music for me, hm?”

Despite the microphone being a little too far from you, you were positive it could pick up the moan you just made.

It was like you felt everything, pain and pleasure mixed inside you and you couldn’t tell if you were enjoying this sick act or completely hated it. But one thing was for sure, you do nothing to stop him. Completely consumed by the feeling of his dick rearranging your organs.

“Louder, baby.” He picked up the pace, before shortly cumming inside you without warning. A reminder of his status as a virgin despite his personality. It doesn’t take long for him to get going again. “I wanted to be inside you for so long. I want to stay inside you forever.”

As Eve started speeding up, a mop of red hair entered your vision, “Rosy—“

You expected anger, you expected a murder you’d have to somehow cover up. But all your current client does was grab Eve by the shoulders.

“Ease up there, Soo.”

Eve’s horrifically ‘calm’ expression switches back into his playful once he faced Khan. You didn’t even know how much fear was pumping within your veins until he calmed down (at least outwardly) “C’mon. I know even you wouldn’t be able to resist this little hole.”

Were they . . . in this together? No they couldn’t be. They were just so different.

If only you knew how alike they were.

The limited space in the booth didn’t really feel good to the three of you upon Feroze’s words “Scooch over.” Eve had to back up while he was still inside you, allowing the other man to squeeze in.

Feroze grabbed your chin with one hand making you look to his face. “Look at me, meri jaan. My ishq.” and your cock with the other, tenderly stroking your member. “I love you alright? More than anything else in this world.”

“Then —“

“Let you go? Not a chance in hell.” He chuckled, increasing the pace of his handjob.

If you thought that Eve using you was too much, it was nigh impossible to imagine the stimulation you were currently receiving. “Sh- sto . . hah — p. Please.”

“Don’t break them yet, I haven’t even came.” You could however imagine the pout on Eve’s face. His thrusts stuttering from its once regular rhythm.

“Ssh. We’re doing this to record their pretty voice aren’t we?”

“Stop! Wh - hah - what about Soo’s reputation?”

Eve would use those words to blame you for his future breakdowns later on, your show of concern making his dick even harder than it already. But for now he could only express this feeling of gratitude by pushing it in deeper. “I’m a solo act now baby. It’s fine~”

“F-Fuhuck, I’m — “ He came inside you the second time, making your slick hole even wetter and causing you to cum all over Feroze’s hands.

“My turn.” The older man yanked you away. Eve’s semen dripped down to your thighs and legs as he’d separated from you.

“Hey!” He protested. But if there was one person who was more swole than Eve it was Feroze. The man putting him in a slightly bended position; looking away, and you in between the two singers.

“Hold on to his waist, meri jaan.”

You do as your told, feeling Feroze align your dick to Eve’s hole. Wait- he was completely dry how would he-

The answer was that Eve would take you no matter what. It did not feel great to either one of you, the only lubrication that existed was your previous ejaculation, and part of you knew that Feroze intended that. “Mmf—!” Mostly because he doesn’t take any time to warn you before he also inserts himself but in you. “I haven’t done something like this in ages . . . but nothing could compare to this”

Feroze helps you into a rhythm that ensured that you were either completely inside Eve or him inside you at every moment. Overstimulating you once more. When it came for his turn to thrust however, he put so much power that often times it would move you forwards and go a bit to deep.

“Shit! You’re doing that on purpose!”

“Not my fault you’re too excited to put a lil lube in!”

“I- I - think I’m — ! “ You closed your eyes, feeling your second release. A high you’ve never once reached before. A kind of high that ruins others as you’d find yourself chasing it.

But you knew, you knew it’d be impossible without these two men aiding you in that climb.

Feroze was right behind you as you reached the top. Thick, hot ropes of cum spill all over inside of you.

The three of you took deep breaths, but it was only a short respite for what would be a long, long, night. “We’re not done yet. I only came once.”

“The hell—“

Feroze turned you to face him, positioning you atop Eve’s back. His handsome face looked stunning even underneath the dim lighting.

You did not know if his following question was directed towards you or ravenette, “You won’t mind this, won’t you?” Just that his cock had already been enveloped by Eve’s canal.

“Mr. Khannnn, you could have let me lube up.” The idol complained between moans.

“You took them no problem but not me?”

“You’re different! And bigger! Ah, fuck!”

“You deserve a little punishment for spiking my drink. Besides their cum should be more than enough.”

“He did what?!”

“Ack—!”

“Take it, کنجر (kanjr)”

Feroze cackled at your worried face and Eve’s pain, pounding into him without a care in the world. His sadism really knew no bounds.

You three ended up staying the studio all night. Your hole and cock being used up for all its worth.

The album ended up being a massive hit. The title track, the one with your ‘vocals’ ended up breaking records and staying at the top of charts for months.

Comments on the song largely talking about how realistic the sensual sounds of sex in the background was. Completely unaware that it was the two famous singers making love to you.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

fun fact: i was rocking out to mlp music while writing this lol (that and my cousin watching van helsing in the background, very very loudly)

[sopiao]

i’ve had writers block for the longest fuckn time and i just thought if an idea that i think is cute :3 (i wrote this with the 141 + könig)

So, imagine having glasses, and losing them during a mission or breaking them in your sleep. So, now you have to go throughout the day, week, month, however long it takes to get fixed with out them.

Constantly squinting and having a permanent confused face when you can’t see the board that Price is mapping out the plan for the next mission.

“What happened to yer glasses?” Soap leans a little to the side, still trying to look like he’s still paying attention, he’s been thinking whether Price is bald or not for the past 20 minutes.

“They broke” You shrug, acting like you don’t really need it that much, but right now you could be declared legally blind with how much your vision sucks right now.

“What— How?” Facing you now, not caring whether he looks like he cares about the briefing or not.

“I.. br-mmm” You mumble, too embarrassed to tell him how it broke.

“Huh?”

“I bro-mmmm, sleep”

“Wut?”

“I broke it in my sleep” Everyone gets up now that Price’s done. Mumbling quietly so no one else hears, although now you brought more attention to yourself with how Soap can barely contain his snickering.

“I can try to fix em for you” He follows you to your barracks where you pull them out of a drawer. Literally snapped in half, one lense has a crack across it, and one of the arms is broken off. It’s all in three pieces.

Soap is literally shaking, clenching his fist as he tries not to burst out laughing. Literally his vision goes as blurry as yours as he tries not to let any of his tears slip.

“H— H—How.. did this.. happen?” He gets cut off every time by his own wheezing, having to suck in to keep himself together. Looking at how broken your glasses are, it’s like you were twisting like an alligator in your sleep.

—

“What, the fuck, are you doing?” Ghost walks into your room to see you face down in a book, at first he through you passed out asleep until he saw you move your face across the page to see the next sentence.

“I don’t have my glasses” Seeing your 3 pieces of glasses by your desk, he has to take a deep breath to compose himself and shut the door to keep himself from laughing in front of you.

—

“WHAT THE FUCK” You yell, storming into the common room for the fifth time, more pissed this time as you stomp around, looking around, under, and in everything you can.

Huffing as you finally give up and sit on the couch next to Gaz and Soao who’s slouched on a bean bag. Seeing your obvious outburst, Gaz sets down his comic book on his lap.

“You okay, buddy?” He asked, laying his arm behind you on the edge of the couch. Trying to console you like a child.

“I lost my notebook again, I wasted an hour of my free time trying to look for it” You slink in further into the couch, arms crossed, blowing a piece of hair out of your face that still ends up landing on your nose.

“Oh..” Gaz said, looking between you and the very obvious bright red notebook on the table that’s literally right in front of you.

“I- I’m sure it’ll turn up” He shrugs, not knowing whether he should point it out or just let you figure it out.

“You think it’s just gonna show up out of the blue—“ You sit up, immediately cutting yourself off.

“WHAT THE—“ (hopefully y’all got the reference)

—

Ghost and Price both perk up and look at you when you knock and poke your head through the crack of the door.

“Have you guys seen König anywhere?” They both look at you, each other, then at König who’s literally right behind you. He’s holding a finger to his lips, to tell them to not tell you. They look back at each other then shake their head at you.

“Damn.. Thanks anyway” Standing in the hallway with your hands on you hips as you bite on your bottom lip.

He’s been following you for the last 15 minutes doing this. You asked Soap about him when you were in the kitchen, König was standing beside you. Following you around the base the entire time you searched for him.

Asking newer recruits where he was, they played along as well. Too intimidating by the man behind you to deny his request to keep quiet.

—

“Here. I fixed it for you” Price hands you a cloth which had your glasses wrapped in. It made your heart warm that he took time out of his work to fix it for you.

Unwrapping the white handkerchief. Your glasses are being held together by white medical tape. Surprisingly sturdy. Putting them on your face, you feel reborn now that you can actually see.

“These actually suck. But thank you” Smiling up at him, thankful that he actually did something to help. You started doing little favors for him for a couple weeks to try and repay him :3

[michaelasworlds-blog]

Hey Hey!

Today I wanted to share a Human AU that I’ve been thinking about writing (well I’m gonna write it lol) It’s about my OC (Bean) and Vox (Vaughn), it’s set in the 1930s and goes until 1950 (when Vox dies). I’ve written the beginning. Everything you see is literally a WIP, so it’s all under construction (it may change over time) See how ya like it! 😊

Summary: In 1930, Beatrice is a young biracial girl who knew from the start that she wasn’t destined to succeed. However she meets Vaughn, a radio host trying to make it to television, this is her opportunity to make it; to have fame and fortune…

But what price will she pay?

~~~~~~

🚨TRIGGER WARNING: RACISM, HOMOPHOBIA, UNDERAGE MARRIAGE!🚨

Baton Rouge, Louisiana 1930

Vaughn Anderson was a man of many talents, and he was happy to share these talents with his friends and family, at least as long as they had something to give in return.

Thats why when his “friend”, Donahue “Donnie” Matten asked him for help he got on the next train to Louisiana. Vaughn had hoped whatever he wanted was worth it, Louisiana was hotter than Hell; he hadn’t been here since he was being interviewed at WWL; the only crappy radio station they had. The host, some four eyed bastard, tried embarrassing him on the air. He refused to come back, but Tommy, his publicist, convinced him it was a bad idea.

“There he is!” Donnie stepped out of the car.

Vaughn flashed him a fake smile, if he could describe Donnie in one word it’d be “irresponsible”. He was a talented pianist, was from old money and known by everyone in the North then he just disappeared, this is the first time he’s seen him in 17 years.

“Shake a leg Bea!” He yelled behind him.

A young girl came up behind him, she wore a light blue dress that with white gloves and heels to compliment it; the young lady struggled to keep her hat on her head. Her skin was what Vaughn was focused on, it was very tanned; almost a light brown, maybe a little lighter than a paper bag but she was definitely brown. “Sorry papa,” she took the hat off, revealing coily brown hair that reached her shoulders.

“Donnie, finally,” Vaughn laughed, shaking his hand.

“Hope the trip wasn’t too rough,” Donnie pat him on the back. Was he not gonna mention the brown elephant in the room?

“Well I had to ride next to a man that smelled like he showered in booze, I had to sit in this dirty stuffy train station for almost an hour, and I’m back here in this country hick place; so all in all..it was fantastic,” He wore a grin on his face, but his voice was full of sarcasm. “Please get to what you need, I’m a very busy man.”

“Right! This..” Donnie pushes the girl forward. “This is Beatrice.”

“Hello sir, pleasure to meet you,” she smiled.

Vaughn nodded in her direction, “She just got back from boarding school a month ago, she’s great at singing, painting and the violin-“ Donnie was interrupted by Vaughn pulling him to the side.

“What are you doing?” He asked him.

“I have the slightest idea,” Donnie looked smug.

“Just answer this, is she your daughter? Your ACTUAL daughter?” He glanced at Beatrice.

“Quite the looker isn’t she?” He nudged him. Vaughn had to admit Beatrice was beautiful, she didn’t have any blemishes or marks on her face but that could be easily hidden with makeup.

“What is it you want?” Vaughn was done with the run around.

“I want you to take my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

This made Vaughn laugh, “Do you know how illegal that is?! It’s more illegal than her existence!”

“Oh you would know about illegal huh? With your little community that you keep deep in woods, you tell the listeners it’s charity for the the homeless but we all what goes on, it’s also the reason that you’ve NEVER had a woman in your life; you’re some kind of fairy,” Donnie looked him up and down smirking.

Vaughn groaned, Tommy told him about everything; if there were rumors about him being a homosexual, he’d know.

He didn’t have a problem with…Beatrice’s people, some of his followers were of color; they were very resourceful people in nature but not in public. “Say I did marry her? Would there be something in it for me?”

“Vaughn on Air could happen a lot faster, I could talk to my father and he could talk to some people,” Donnie was smug, he had been waiting for something like this; Vaughn Anderson finally needed his help and he finally had something useful to give.

“And..who is this someone?” Vaughn raised an eyebrow.

“Sonny Rogers, that’s who,” Donnie responded.

Vaughn’s eyes widened, Sonny Rogers? THE Sonny Rogers?! He was able to make a star out of anyone, not that Vaughn wasn’t a star but this could be big, bigger than “Vaughn on Air”! He cleared his throat keeping his composure, “Well I have to talk with Tommy but you have a deal.”

“Excellent!” Both the men shook hands before returning to Beatrice, who was in her own little world. “Bea! Come on girl!” Donnie ordered.

She hurried over to him, standing in front of Vaughn. He looked down at her, a smile forming across face, “Enchanté ma chérie.” He kissed her hand, making her blush.

Translation: Pleased to meet you my dear.

Beatrice seemed frozen, just staring at him; “Bonjour,” she managed to say quietly.

Vaughn laughed, “No need to be nervous doll face, I’m just pulling your leg!” Beatrice also laughed.

“I’m going back to the house Bea, don’t cause any trouble; you listen to Mr. Anderson!” Donnie laughed, walking back to his car before driving off.

The two watched the car leave, Vaughn turned to the young lady; “I’m melting out here, how bout we hit the nearest ice cream parlor for some ice cream?”

Beatrice nodded, smiling with excitement, “We can take the trolley into town!” She took his hand practically dragging him to the nearest trolley.

Vaughn listened to the girl yap on and on about nothing, all he could think about was how she was the key to his success, and he was the key to hers. Which means,

She wasn’t going anywhere.

(Tags: @man--eater @artemis1214 @nkirukaj @mythosandthemorbid ) Just tagging ppl I haven’t lol

[foxgloveinspace]

Spoonie Neil headcanons (pt. 1/?)

Hey I decided to write this, and probably won’t be updating this headcanon series, sorry guys!! (You have to be logged into ao3 to read it)

It all starts when Abby jokingly says ‘and remember, the normal amount of pain is no pain’ as they get ready to start a game. He rolls his eyes at first, but then that night when he really thinks about it he starts to wonder to himself

Is the pain I remember having constantly from a life on the run and then a life of constant practice?

He takes a couple nights off of extra practice, making Kevin pissed at him, and Andrew silently concerned, but him pulling back in day practice as well has most of the team on edge for the week it keeps up.

On that Saturday he walks into Abby’s office and sits on her table, and looks her right in the eye and says ‘I have pain all the time. I have been in constant pain since I was a kid. I don’t know if it’s something my dad did, or if I’ve always been like this.’

She’s concerned. Duh.

They do some tests come up with 🤷🏼 it’s pain.

She asks Neil if she should tell coach or if she should, and he says he’ll take care of it.

He doesn’t.

He doesn't tell anyone and starts practicing hard again.

Except that now that he knows about it, it's harder to ignore.

The constant ache in his left hip and ankle that are just barely there, the way his fingers hurt after it gets cold, when he feels it down to his bones.

It's all harder to push to the back of his brain now.

Kevin notices first. (Andrew knows something is up, he just figures Neil will now tell him about it....) He notices Neil rubbing his left knee in the hall once, when he thinks he's alone in between classes.

He corners Neil before night practice, Andrew already in the goal, and them putting on their gear.

'you pushed yourself too hard, your injured, you don't play while injured' lecture.

'it's not an injury.' 'I saw you rubbing your knee, and limping. Stop Lying to Me'.

He ends up shouting it, 'Im always in pain'. He's so loud even Andrew stops what he's doing (swinging his racket around, practicing sick af spins).

They all stand there. not saying anything, Neil's panting even though he doesn't even feel out of breath.

'what.' Kevin says it in an icy voice.

'im always in pain, I have chronic pain, I don't know why, but I hurt all the time.'

Kevin is quiet. and then he says, Neil's worst nightmare, 'we're not practicing tonight.'

Neil hasn't shed tears since he was a kid, since before his mom knocked it out of him (literally), but he's close in that moment, taking off his gloves and throwing them on the ground/at Kevin, and stomping back into the lockers.

Kevin doesn't even say anything, just picks them up and Andrew walks out after them, having come close enough to the door to hear the conversation.

When they get back to the room, Neil just wants to be alone. But instead Kevin follows after him, and pushes him down on one of the bean bags.

'stay'

Neil's leg hurts too much to really argue, but he sits there stewing.

Andrew is staring at him fron across the room, he's sitting on his desk, and Neil looks at him, but he can sort of read Andrew's expression, and he doesn't like it, so he looks at the black tv screen.

the microwave goes off, and Neil almost jumps. he almost does again when the door to it is slammed shut.

Kevin comes back in the room, holding a heat pack.

He walks over to Neil, and drops down to his knees in front of him, 'which knee?'

Neil shakes his head, and presses his hand to his hip, and Kevin lays the heat pack over Neil's side, and Neil makes a quizical sort of noise, but then he sighs as it starts to ease the pain a little.

Kevin hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickers toward Andrew's direction for a second, before he sighs, and reaches up to ruffle Neil's hair.

'I'll teach you how to take care of it better, ok?'

Neil sighs, but nods, his hands curling in the front of his hoodie.

'We'll try ice for your knee, hows that sound?'

Neil just nods again.

he dozes to the sound of Kevin and Andrew discussing compression leggings.

they get them overnight shipped.

Kevin places both hands on Neil shoulders and stands him in front of Coach until Neil finally tells him.

'Yeah, so. Me and Abby figured out I have chronic pain.'

Coach nods, 'ok. That why you where late this morning?'

Neil cringes, 'no, Kevin got me weird leggings that seem to help.'

Coach pauses his watching of the rest of the team, and turns too look at Neil, 'when did you and Abby figure this out again?'

Neil, finally getting fidgety, 'uhh, last month.'

Coach pinches the bridge of his nose, 'ok, dipshit, I'll work on changing your routine now.'

the tension melts out of Neil's shoulders. Kevin sighs. David looks frustrated, 'did you think I was gonna bench you?'

Neil doesn't do anything, but Kevin nods his head.

David sighs, 'get back to practice idiots.'

[codyrhodey]

Wrestling is stupid.

cody rhodes x gender neutral reader fic!

no smut, fluff and teasing, au

———————————————————

“drew can you and your stupid ass friend shut the fuck up!” you yelled from your room at your brother. “you’re literally 20 years old and still watching grown men fight eachother half naked”

He didn’t answer and didn’t quiet down either.

You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed pulling your door open hastily.

“These basement walls are made of literal fucking paper” you started as you walked toward your brother and his friend. “i don’t want to hear you giggling like little girls over-“

you stopped making eye contact with your brothers blue eyed friend. Your mouth immediately went dry, now unsure of what to say and the silence filled the air and the tension was palpable as neither of you looked away.

Until, “you’re one to talk” drew piped up pausing the match that was on the tv, “did i not walk in on you watching twilight the other day?” he laughed to himself getting up off couch.

The tension was sliced with a rusty saw.

“twilight is a beautiful love story, better than titanic, better than romeo and juliet” you went off. “but incredibly besides the point. And now i have a new issue.”

“hmm?” drew asked shuffling stuff around in the mini fridge, before finally pulling out a baja blast.

“who dis?” you asked pointing at the blue eyed boy who was flipping through a star wars comic book.

“oh, that’s joe” he responded and the boy chuckled.

“joe mama” the blue eyed boy mumbled in between giggles.

You rolled your eyes, “okay so another one of your virgin friends got it.” you nodded to yourself turning to walk away.

“‘m cody!” the blue eyed boy piped up. “i went along with the joke because i thought you were kidding, ya know asking who i am”

“have you ever been in this house before?” you questioned, he shook his head in response.

“then why, on gods green beautiful earth, would i know? hmm?”

Cody finally put down his comic looking up at you from his spot on a bean bag. “I-“ Drew cut him off.

“They genuinely don’t know who you are codes, they have never watched wrestling with me a day in their life.” Drew spoke plopping back down and opening his soda.

“Untrue, i watched that one um match where the big guy in all black like killed the dude with the mask on his face” You retorted, “but other than that he’s right. Don’t tell me you’re a wrestling lover too.”

The two of them started giggling both shaking their heads.

“i guess you could call me a wrestling lover” cody said in a mocking tone.

You just shrugged no longer interested in the conversation.

You began to walk away and Drew pressed play on the tv again.

“Dude i said to turn that shit down,” you turned around now facing them again.

“AND STILL YOUR INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION, CODY RHODES” The tv blared.

You stood there, staring, eyes darting between the screen and your brothers friend.

“Like i said, could call me a wrestling lover.” Cody said turning to look at you, a stupid smile on his face.

—————————————————————

It had been a month since the first time you saw cody, and if it wasn’t a Thursday or Friday he was usually over.

You hated it at first because the two of them never shut up about wrestling, constantly keeping a match on the TV, playing way too loud.

But as time went on you found yourself sneaking out into the living room more and more. Standing behind the 2 boys, making fun of whatever was on the screen and asking cody way too many questions about what it was like.

“So like do you know who wins before you go into it? If yes do you know like a month beforehand or like 2 hours before? or do they tell you right before you go out?”

Cody laughed and shrugged, “it all depends things change all of the time. storylines aren’t always linear, ya know?”

You nodded stuffing your face with popcorn. “Doesn’t this shit like hurt?”

“No darling, it feels amazing” He said causing drew to laugh.

“Oh cool fun, i show the slightest bit of interest and suddenly it’s the bully y/n show” you waved your hands in the air in an over dramatic fashion.

Drew groaned getting up from his spot, “gonna go pick up some pizzas, you coming codes?” he asked grabbing his keys off the hook.

Cody’s eyes quickly darted between you and drew, “m no, i think i’m gonna stay, gotta answer this one’s question.”

“Suit yourself” drew shrugged pulling on his hoodie and running up the stairs.

“GET BREADSTICKS!” You yelled up at him, only hearing a faint “go fuck your self” in response.

You and cody sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, and again a strange tension filled the air.

“So” cody cleared his throat breaking the never ending silence, “what other questions do you have?”

You shrugged, tapping your chin in a comedic way, “do the ‘submissions’ actually like hurt? i know it’s a dumb question, but i feel like there has to be a way to do that stuff without it feeling like you’re actually gonna die”

He just smirked at you, “if you’re wrestling the right person it won’t hurt.” he stopped adjusting in his seat, “i can show you.” he stood up, motioning for you to stand up as well.

You squinted your eyes at him, slowing standing up, “people know i’m down here, if i die they’re gonna know it’s you and-“

“I’m a professional” He cut you off, cracking his fingers, “and i’d never dream of hurting you.”

He made eye contact with you, he looked so soft and you somehow knew you could trust him.

You nodded, “okay what do i do?”

He stepped toward you, keeping eye contact, “okay um turn around so your back is facing me”

You nodded again doing as you were told.

“You trust me?” He asked softly.

“Mhm! now do it before i regret this”

“okay okay,” he put his hands up in defense. “Alright so this is a sleeper hold”

He wrapped his left arm around your neck pulling your body against his.

“You can feel that there’s a little pressure but not enough for it to actually hurt you. It’s all in the acting.” He spoke slowly, “see now if i take my other hand and grab my arm, i can make it look like i’m straining to hold you,” He did so, “and then you’d struggle and wiggle and try and get out”

Which you started doing catching cody off guard.

“wow wow wow” he quickly said losing his balance, falling back onto the bean bag, taking you with him.

“I’m so so sorry y/n” He blurted out adjusting his grip on you so he wasn’t still choking you out, “are you okay?”

You turned to look at him, gazing into his eyes, “yea, yea ‘m fine” you mumbled out, not looking away.

The two of you stayed there, you on top of him, both so entranced in each others presence.

“I um” you started beginning to stand up.

Before you could finish, he pulled you back down onto him.

“you are incredibly mesmerizing” he whispered, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you watched him glance down at your lips and then back up to your eyes again.

“you gonna kiss me or what mr. intercontinental champion?” you sassed at him.

he chuckled pulling you down further, pressing his lips against yours.

It was a soft kiss, like one you see in movies, where the 2 main characters are standing in the rain under a street light. Like when there’s fireworks going off for some weird reason even though it’s raining.

You pulled away from him, “cody rhodes, you are dashing”

he rolled his eyes pulling you into kiss him again.

“PIZZAS HERE BITCHES!”

[sunnyie-eve]

8 | Island of idiots

Series: Odds Together

Paring: Ryan Dunn x OFC Margera!

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

| MASTERLIST |

~

"I'm not taking part in this." I watch the guys get things together to strand our parents on a island.

"But you are going on the boat ride because they will know if you stay home." Bam tells me as they shove food in the bag.

After the boat ride we all get off on the island to look around. Dad ends up having to pee so the guys leave. "They plan on leaving us here right?" Mom asks me.

"I'm not part of it so don't get mad at me." I put my hands up. "I will not be dragged down with his plan." I say walking away because I didn't want to be near my dad when he pees.

I join the guys and start to realize the worst thing ever leaving the three alone especially after hearing dad shout for Don Vito. "No, no, no." I rush past the guys confusing them.

"Really mom!" I shout that she left me here with the guys.

"Why do you seem upset?" Bam asks so I point out at the boat.

"You know what. I know you were gonna do it to us so we're gonna do it to you instead. Sorry Anna but you walked away before I could call you back." She shouts to us making the guys get annoyed.

"Why me?" I throw my head back whining.

"It's not that bad." Raab tells me.

"I'm stuck on a island with you asses!" I shout at him as I sit down and just watch them do whatever waiting for stuff.

"You know putting the whole can of bean on the fire is not a smart idea right." I look at Ryan who didn't care.

When he went to went to get them with a stick he hits it making the can explode shocking everyone. "I told you, you idiot!" I shout at him.

"Ryan! Why?" I complain watching him throw the cake in the fire.

"Who burned the cake?" Rake asks seeing it in the fire.

"This prick." I slap Ryan's hat off him.

"Hey!" He picks it up to put it back on.

"You're wasting food! And I would like something to eat because you guys are eating everything so quickly when you aren't wasting food." I explain running my hand through my hair.

"Have a bag of chips I called dibs on." He goes over getting it then hands it to me. "Also here. I notice your hair is bugging you." He puts his sunglasses on me and push them up so I could just them as a headband.

"Thank you." I go sit down to eat while they go watch Glomb build.

When it gets finished and all they guys skate and watch as I sit alone slowly falling asleep but keep waking up when they get too loud. More time passes and it starts to rain so we had no shelter to keep us covered.

"Glomb, why don't you use wood for shelter now? You guys had your fun with it." I walk over to him holding myself getting slightly chill away from the fire.

"Good thing there's someone smart out here with us." He pats my shoulder calling some to go help him.

Most of us just watch Glomb and Dunn try to build the hut for all of us. "Dunn, you have it in the fire." I watch him.

"Dunn, you're leaning it in the fire." Raab says next so Ryan mocks us walking off. When we see him come back with the fire extinguisher Dico, Raab, and I jump up to move. And he gets yelled at for almost putting out the fire.

We see Don Vito show up saying he was there to save us but Bam says we don't want to be saved. "I'd like to go." I say as he said whoever wants to who with him can go.

"We're accepting the challenge." Bam tells him but I shake my head.

We all get in the hut but Vito ended up taking my seat so I had nowhere to sit anymore. "Anna, just come sit here." Dico motions between him and Ryan on the long lawn chair.

I stare at it not seeming enough room so Ryan crosses his leg for me to sit down. Dico passes me a beer while they play cards drinking. As a little bit of time passes Dico and Bam switch spots and the guys start to fart around literally. I zip my jacket all the way up and pull it over my head to get away from the air.

"This is the last call the boats leaving." Vito gets up to leave and I try to get up but Ryan wraps his arms around me to keep me with them.

"You guys suck ass." I whine not fighting just leaning back on his chest.

"Are you not gonna move?" He laughs putting the cards aside and drinks.

"No. If I'm stuck here you're my fucking pillow for tonight." I say so he carefully moves me to sit sideways. Both of my legs were over his right thigh while my butt sat between his legs.

"We should get some sleep. No funny business you two." Bam says eyeing Dunn and Dico with me.

"Only thing on my mind is sleep." Dico tells him as I cuddle into Ryan falling asleep.

At a random point in the middle of the night, well according to Ryan's watch it was 3am, I wake up uncomfortable. I carefully lean out of Ryan's chest and forward to remove the can in his hand.

"Come back." He mumbles making me look at him. "You were keeping me warm." He weakly puts his arms out pulling me back into his chest.

"I was uncomfortable." I whisper to him so he helps me stretch out more without waking up Dico.

"How about now?" He asks holding me close to his chest. My left arm wraps across his chest before I just nod my head closing my eyes falling back to sleep.

The next morning I wake up before any of the guys do. I get up carefully and walk around the island to stretch my legs and find a spot to pee. "Just had to go wake me up second, huh?" Ryan shows up.

"I tried my best not to. Did you wake up any of the others? I wanted to find a spot to pee with you guys asleep." I tell him.

"I woke Bam up. Who probably woke up the rest but I'll be your look out. So go pee." He says so I rush off to pee then go back to him.

"Thank you." I yawn.

"When we get back you're taking a nap aren't you?" He laughs.

"In my nice comfy bed, yes." I yawn again as we walk back to the hut. "What are you doing?" I ask seeing them break apart the hut.

"Burning it." Bam tells us so I sit down to watch them do whatever for the next three hours.

Soon we only had a few more minutes till our 24 hours were up. "Shouldn't mom technically be here already so when it's time we can just get on the boat?" I ask Bam next to Ryan and I.

"We have five minutes left." Ryan looks at his watch so I lean back to look so he shows me.

"I hate this woman so much more now for leaving me here with you guys longer." I prop my arms up on Ryan's knees using them as a arm rest.

"I'm telling you she didn't arrange anything to come get us. She plans on leaving us here so much longer." Ryan says messing with my hair as we sit and wait.

"She wouldn't do that to me...right?" I look at Bam then back at Ryan.

"Well she left you here with us so... I would say yes." Ryan pats the top of my head making me whine.

"Ape, where are you?" Bam calls our mom since she's way late. "Who the hell is coming to get us? We're like an hour over do and we did your stupid little thing." He tells her. "You didn't arrange anything?" He looks over at Ryan and me.

"Told you." Ryan tells him so I whine laying my head back on him.

"Ha, rad. Thanks. Dude, you're so screwed. Do you expect there to be no consequences. Just wait. Wait till the six o'clock news. Watch the six o'clock news. I'm telling you watch it." He says then she hands up.

Glomb said he was going to build us a boat but I keep quiet not saying he could have used wood from the hut to help him with it.

I kinda wish they didn't burn the hurt because I would have loved to stay out of the rain. "Ah!" I see Raab's eyes as he finally gets up. "That's really bad, Raab." I walk closer to him to see his eyes puffy from the fire extinguisher.

"They're fucking burning." He brings his hands towards his eyes.

"No, don't touch them." I grab his hands stopping him. "You'll irritate them more. And I know is staying out here all night didn't help that."

"Looks who's finally awake." Bam shows up then laughs seeing Raad.

"Not, funny. Where's Dunn?" Raab asks so Bam points in the direction. "Look at my eyes you jerk off. Look what you did to me dude. The fire extinguisher. I'm not kidding look at this. Their burning like hell." Raab goes up to him and Rake.

Soon Glomb shows up with a boat and I just wanted to get home to take a shower and put in clean clothes. "Raab, stop touching your eyes." I slap his hands away.

The moment we get home I run to my room to get clean clothes and jump into the shower. After that I lay down on my bed letting out a relaxed sigh. "Hey, you wanna sit and wait for mom? Her reaction is going to be great." Bam walks into my room.

"Sure." I get up going outside with him and the guys to sit and wait.

"Ape's on her way home right now and I don't bet she's pissed, I know she's pissed." Bam tells the camera.

"She flew around that corner." I laugh as she shows up.

"I've never seen her drive so fast." Ryan adds laughing.

"What an asshole. I don't even know who I'm more mad at." She walks over to us.

"Yeah. You're mad at me?! You left us out there. You didn't even leave us anything. I had to call my own connections." He tells her and they bicker back and forth.

"How could you let them make me think the house exploded?" Our mom crosses her arms at me.

"How could you leave me with all of them?! And over 24 hours at that." I add.

"Again you walked away before I could tell you let's leave them." She says again.

"I'm gonna go take a nap in my nice comfortable bed. No one bug me." I laugh running to the house.

[nctsplug02]

Can you please make [11:19pm] part 2?

Like playboy jock!jaehyun gets jealous and pissed because another boy keeps pining over nerdy!yn since no one knows about their secret.

I love jealousy and possessiveness🤭🤭🚩

[2;27pm]

genre: fluff and suggestive

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, cat-calling, assault, harassment, jaehyun and the guy get into a fight.

jaehyun had ran to the convenience store for just a few minutes which left you alone— with a guy who wouldn’t stop harassing you.

you sigh, seeing the cartoon of milk sitting on your desk— chocolate milk. it was gungjoo again. you knew it, especially with him near your desk, smirking to himself with his friends gathering around him.

you walk over to your desk, setting your backpack down and picking up the carton. you shake it and you walk over to gungjoo who pushes himself off the desk with his arms crossed.

“here,” you say holding the cartoon out to him. “i don’t want it.” he pouts a little. “why not? it’s chocolate— your favorite.”

“no, it’s not. with how obsessed you are over me— you’d know that it’s actually strawberry.” he tuts, reaching forward to grab your chin but you jump back.

“talking back? very naughty of you.” you sneer, turning around on your heel and finding another girl in class. “here, this is from gungjoo— there was a note but he lost it in his backpack. it said that he thinks you’re cute.” you wink, turning away from the girl who squealed with her friends.

you sit in your seat, plopping your airpods in and taking out your notebook to take unfinished notes from your last class.

you glare up when feeling your airpods being pulled out. “aw, cmon, sweetheart. don’t be such a bitch. i’ll get you strawberry milk tomorrow.” gungjoo says into your ear.

“gungjoo—!”

“give it back to her, shitface.” a voice says making everyone look towards the person.

your boyfriend— secret boyfriend.

“or what? what’re you gonna do? kick my ass in front of everyone— god, im so scared.” gungjoo chuckles, sitting up.

“do it while i’m asking nicely.” gungjoo backs up towards his friends and snickers with them. “aren’t i just so scared.” gungjoo crosses his arms.

“don’t make this so difficult, joo.” a voice says from behind jaehyun. “oh, shut up.” he sneers, rolling his eyes. “and you wonder why you can’t find a girlfriend— disrespectful.” gungjoo brings his attention back to jaehyun and scoffs.

“i can literally pull everyone in this school. and including your precious little bean— y/n.” gungjoo smirks, pointing to you.

“hey— what’s your deal with her, anyway?” jaehyun looks down at you and gulps. “nothing. just being a decent human.” you look down, chewing on your bottom lip.

“just hand it over you dickwad.” gungjoo sighs, tossing the pod to jaehyun. “fine. pretty boy always gets his way, huh.” he giggles with his friends.

jaehyun hands pod to you. “thank you.” you thank him, taking the pod and sticking it back in your ear.

“mess with her again and i’ll kill you.” jaehyun says, walking away and leaving the bag of snacks on your desk— they were meant for you anyway.

in a fast reflex, jaehyun swipes his hand away as soon as his locker is slammed shut.

“ah, such a beautiful day, hm? a beautiful sunny day for a nice date with y/n. a small picnic together with a heart shaped cake.” gungjoo sighs, and side eyes jaehyun.

“then after, i’ll take her to my place and i’ll fuck her over and over and over until all she can say is my name.” jaehyun grits his teeth.

the way gungjoo used your name in a disgusting manner and a disgusting way.

“don’t speak over her name like that.” gungjoo scoffs.

“or what?” gungjoo smirks. “i know what’s going on between you and y/n.”

jaehyun chews the inside of his cheek and inhales slowly through his nose. “remember what you promised.” a little voice inside his head reminds him.

jaehyun clears his throat and turns to walk away. “aww, the jung jaehyun is scared of me? i cant wait to tell everyone what a bitch you are.” jaehyun shakes his head while gripping tightly onto his backpack. “yeah, walk away pussy. y/n won’t be home tonight because she’ll be in my bed—!” gungjoo falls onto the ground as a punch is swung at him.

“dude, the fuck—?” another punch. jaehyun heaves and pulls away. “i warned you.” gungjo stumbles up and lunges at jaehyun who throws another punch.

the two start going at it making students and teachers gather. “enough! enough!” a teacher yells as they attempt to pull the two bloodied boys apart. “enough! that is enough!” the principle yells as two security pulls them apart and looks at them both.

“my office. now.” the principle walks away. everyone cleared a small pathway for them to leave.

jaehyun was smirking as he was escorted away. until he sees you. with glossy eyes and your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you attempt to hold your tears back.

you get home and immediately, you’re welcomed into arms. you bury your face into his chest with a sigh. “you promised.” you say and he nods. “i know i did, baby. i know and i’m so sorry.” his arms tighten around you.

he taps your thigh and you jump. he clutches you and brings you to the kitchen and then sits you on the counter. you pull away with sad eyes. your tears seeping through his gray hoodie.

“you promised.” you repeat. jaehyun thins his lips and pulls you by your nape so your face is buried in his chest again. you push away with an angry sniffle. “you said you wouldn’t fight anymore, jae. you said you wouldn’t and you did.”

“and i’m sorry, babe. but you don’t understand why i fought him.” his shakes his hands in frustration. “tell me. i’m all ears. just please.. tell me.” he bites his lip and pats your thighs.

“he was saying disgusting stuff about you. how you’re gonna leave me for him. and how he’s gonna sleep with you.. sexually.” you sigh, grabbing his hands and putting them on your cheeks.

“thank you.” he grins a little. “thank you?” you toss his hands aside and you cup his face. “yes. thank you. thank you for protecting me. for.. beating him up for me. you’re excused.” you pinch his cheeks and he chuckles.

“i love you.” you rub his pink cheeks. “i love you.” he leans in and kisses you passionately. his hands gripping your waist tightly and squeezing you.

you pull away, feeling the strings of saliva detach from both your lips. blood on your tongue that came from his busted lip.

“you looked sexy when punching him.” he laughs. “but scary at the same time. i was so scared for you.” he kisses you again. “look at me, baby. i have three marks on me. here,” he points to his eyebrow. “here,” he points to his nose bridge. “and here.” and points to his bottom lip.

“you have so many boo-boos.” you tut, gently grazing your thumb over his bruised up cuts. “and i’m fine. have you seen gungjo? he’s all busted up.” you softly chuckle.

“you’re so annoying.” you push his face and he scoffs, half laughing. “oh, yeah? let’s take this in the bedroom. hm?” you yelp when being yanked off the counter.

giggling as he tosses you over the shoulder and drags you into the bedroom.

[toomanybandstocare]

{Isolation, Joy Division}

Program: It's never us. Never a friend group. Never a sense of connection. Just them and you in the same room. Billy just happens to catch a glimpse of your lonely self when it's too late to grab onto you. Before you disappear from their lives with no note. No phone call. Nothing.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove & GN! Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Swears, Weed, Mentions of past Billy, Mentions of drinking, Themes/moods of the following: abandonment, isolation, and replacement

Length: 2407w

Doubts Even Here | Camp Upside Down Masterlist

Counselor Notes: I feel so alone on this site and wonder if I should just stop sharing on here.

Do you ever feel like no one would miss you if you disappear?

That the phone lines would stay quiet if you just stopped ringing up your friends to hang out.

Even the cops wouldn’t bother to pick up your missing person’s case if someone cared enough to call it in.

If you were lucky, maybe Dateline would consider airing your mystery for a fleeting second before moving onto a bigger story.

That maybe you should have stayed in the Upside Down. Sealed off from the world and given a pitiful, hero’s wake.

Nancy Wheeler’s apartment looks like the typical twenty-some odd year old’s dream. An open space living room welcomes visitors when the door first opens. To the left of the living room, it merges into the kitchen with only an island countertop filled with soda liters and pizza boxes separating the rooms. Down the small hall to the right, visitors can find the bathroom and know to stay away from the bedroom at the end. 

The whole friend group crams onto shitty sofas from hand me down parents. Holiday lights string across to the ceiling to illuminate all their smiling faces in a warm light. Laughter and out cries from the latest confession shared bubbles over the pristine record spinning in the background. 

“I swear, these monthly hang outs are just for them to feed their egos,” Billy���s leg nudges your shoulder. Looking up from the uncomfortable bean bag chair, you’re met with a bored Billy staring at the main group. An unimpressed expression sits on his face.

“No. It’s nice to catch up, and you know that, Billy. Everyone here is extremely proud of the work you’ve put in and wants to hear how you’re doing,” you reassure him. His words, however, etch every letter into your mind and feed your hungry fears.

“More like, they want to make sure Max is safe, and that I’m not making her lie about weekly therapy. Keep your friends close. Your enemies closer,” he grunts into his cup. Words echoing in your aching head.

“They care,” you whisper. The tight atmosphere wraps around your neck as your hands start to shake.

“Sure, they do,” Billy snorts and looks down at you, “About themselves. None of this is going to matter next year. Or next month. Hell, I’ll be surprised if they remember their pissing competition by morning”.

Blood rushes to your ears, desperately trying to keep out his poisonous words. Your favorite flannel, normally a safety blanket, sits heavy against your skin. It constricts your breathing and pushes back every breath you try to take. His piercing blue eyes hold you captive as you hopelessly stare back at Billy. 

“If it doesn’t add to their social standing, then they won’t give it a second thought,” he says slowly growing quiet. His eyes dart from your flushed face to your heaving chest and land on your trembling hands.”You alright,” Billy asks slowly while kneeling next to you. Biting into his bottom lip, his face scrunches up when met with silence.

Broken phrases and hurtful words while through your head. Pressure builds behind your skull, and it feels like you’re about to burst any minute. So, it is true.

Tears sting your dry eyes when you dare look over at the close knit group. No one seems to notice your lacking presence.

You swallow the lump lodged in your throat as you digest this new truth. You don’t add anything to their social standing.

A strangled breath cuts against your chapped lips when Eddie’s gaze drifts over you to settle on Jonathan’s animated form. They don’t miss you.

A snap cracks next to your ear. You jolt and whip your head to meet Billy’s look of distress. “Sorry, you were saying,” you uncomfortably laugh, “Stuck in my own thoughts, I’m afraid”.

You shift under Billy’s heavy gaze. “Are you alright? You were,” Billy pauses and pursues his lips in thought, trying to choose his words carefully. “It was like I was watching you die,” he darkly confesses.

A smile melts over your anxious expression and pushes back your raging emotions. “Very funny, Billy. Didn’t realize you were into Halloween that much”, you chuckle before lounging in your seat further. The slight hope that it would eat you up tickled your mind.

For the rest of the evening, Billy stays close to your side. Barely letting you out of his sight. An uneasy feeling gnaws at him. It only grows as the night goes on, and you fold into yourself more. As if you didn’t want to take up any space in the apartment you are so warmly welcomed into.

“Hey, do you think something’s wrong with-,” Billy tries to ask Steve at the kitchen island.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Steve waves him off and leans further into Jonathan’s side, “Gets like that sometimes”.

A pang hits Billy’s chest as he focuses on the teetering pair, “What do you mean? This happened before?”

Nancy scoffs as she pushes him to grab a water bottle, “I’m not that surprised you haven’t noticed, but this is pretty a pretty normal occurrence”. She lets Steve pull her into their cuddle, but Nancy keeps her attention on Billy. Her voice softens, “I think it’s just general nerves or anxiety being around groups. Nothing to worry about, and if it was, then we would know”. Nancy sends Billy a reassuring smile before allowing her boys to pull her into their conversation. 

Irritated from his friend’s lack of concern, Billy faces out into the living room once more. Scanning the room, panic creeps up his spine and alarm bells ring in his head when he can’t find you. Without second thought, Billy places his cup on the island and rushes into the living room where Eddie, Robin, and Argyle lazily lounge on the sofa. “Hey, have you seen where-,” Billy hastily tries to grab their attention.

“Billy,” Argyle peers up at him, “I heard you were quite the party animal back in the day. Wanna join the rotation?”

Billy opens his mouth, tired of how everyone seems to forget your existence the minute they all get together, but he freezes. In Argyle’s outstretched hand, a lit joint balances between his slender fingers. A tempting invitation from his past.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” Billy chokes out and takes a step back. His eyes flicker between the joint and Argyle’s confused look. “I, um,” Billy wets his lips, “I don’t smoke anymore. Weed at least. I'm trying to lay off the drinking too, so I Iimit it now”. His heart pounds against his chest and desire leaves him dizzy.

“Wait, really,” Robin pushes off of Eddie’s shoulder, “We thought-”

“Yeah, I know what you all thought, Robin,” a hollow laugh accompanies Billy’s words. A fuzzy haze nips at his consciousness.

“She didn’t mean it like that, Billy,” Eddie sits up ready to step in at the sight of Billy’s haggard appearance. “Trust me, we’re all proud of you, man,” Eddie tries to continue, but clamps his mouth shut when Billy’s eyes cut through him.

“Don’t bullshit me, Munson,” Billy grits out. Running a hand through his hair, Billy takes a few deep breaths. The nipping feeling grows to a painful tingling that stings his skin. “Look,” Billy breathes out, “I know you guys don’t like me. I get it. I’m not holding it against anyone, especially not Max. Just don’t lie to me and say that your proud of the work I’ve put in to be a decent fucking person, when you don’t actually care at all. It’s disgusting, and I honestly thought you were above that, Munson”. The burning sensation scorches his insides.

The room drops silent. Only the distant car engines roaring downtown and the light record skip breaks the thick air.

“Is that really how you think of us,” Eddie asks. His hurt expression renders Billy speechless and slightly guilty. “Billy, man, we-,” Eddie stammers and stands up. Eddie steps over Robin and Argyle’s legs with ease, and he pulls Billy into a hug. 

All the muscles in Billy’s body tense at the touch, and he desperately wants to escape the suffocating proximity. Past habits push Billy to twitch and flinch away, but Eddie pulls him closer. “You’re alright, Billy,” Eddie murmurs, “It’s okay. You’re safe. We do care about you. And, I am so sorry that we made you feel any less. Especially during such a difficult time”.

The scene was touching. Burning the sight into memory, the bitter feeling of resentment breaks your heart. Even Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve joined the living room when voices turned from casual conversation to hurtful truths. They stand just a footstep away from Billy as Robin and Argyle watch from the couch. All of them trying to give Billy the space he needs to process whatever is flying in his mind while still being near. Everyone supports Billy as he starts to let his walls come down.

“We’re all here for you, Billy,” Steve quietly reassures him, “I know I can speak for everyone here that we didn’t mean to exclude you at all”.

“I think we tried to let you ease into the group on your own, but ended up doing the opposite, huh,” Robin shakily rambles. “Trust me when I say this, it feels like the group is complete, you know? Like, you’ve always been around, and now that you’re not a dick, why wouldn’t we want you to be our friend. Other than the past trauma, but we can work past that! You’re working past that!”

Jonathan inserts himself between Robin and Billy, “What I think Robin is trying to get at is that you complete the group. Only people in this room have gone through all the Upside Down bullshit, and we all know that we have each other’s backs. For better or for worse. So, when you’re struggling, we want to be there for you on your terms”.

Standing in the shadowed hallway, tears fall to your cheeks and sting your lips with every word spoken. Who would have thought that Billy Hargrove would be the one to replace you. 

Your feet silently move across the carpeted floor as a chorus of apologies mix with sobs. 

Trembling fingers clutch your jacket from the coat rack when new evening plans begin to form.

Opening the door, you step past the threshold as they fall back into relaxed conversation and loving laughter.

With a sniffle and a click, you close the door. Feet dragging across the old floorboards, your thoughts hammer into your head with each step you take. Even if for a moment, it was nice to feel what it’s like to be cared for.

Walking into the crisp, Autumn night, the wind nips at the tear stains on your face. Side roads create a meltropolan web as your trudge through the city streets. Unknown road signs invite you to join the shadows of the night. Where people disappear and reappear in next week’s newspaper. What if they just wanted to escape the social constraints shackled to their wrists? To break free of the pressure weighing on their psyches as more people pick them clean of their love? Not everyone who goes missing wants to be found.

Rubber soles skid to a stop when your feet fit the cement staircase. With a heavy chest you walk up the stairs to your apartment building. Heart pounding against your rib cage as you insert your key into the scratched door knob. An uneasy sense of farewell washes over you as you walk into the small three bedroom apartment. You kick the door closed as you drop the key into the dish on the entryway side table.

The apartment sits in silence as the ghost of you walks to your place of rest. Not bothering to turn on a light, darkness castes over the near pristine open living room. Posters of rockstars greet you on the left side of the open room as you trudge past Eden’s shut door. Headlights intrude the glisten off the spotless kitchen through the blind’s slates. You move through the motion to get into your room and lay on top of your bed. Sealing yourself off from the world with your thoughts and a tantalizing world map hanging on your wall. Like hell, you would die in Indiana. You weren’t going to let the friends who abandoned you, bury you alive.

Snarling vines of anxiety slither down Billy’s throat and wrap around his lungs. Squeezing the screaming muscles with every second that ticks by. Shaking hands grip the sandy beige telephone closer to his ear in hopes of good news.

“Steve,” Billy rasps, “Have you heard from-”.

“No,” Steve’s panicked voice cuts him off, “Nothing. Literally nothing. No one- fuck, no one has heard anything”. Static muffles his hoarse voice, but Billy senses the same fear instilled in himself from across the line.

Chewing on his bottom lip and curling the telephone cord, Billy’s shoulders sag. “It’s only been a week since we hung out and five days since our last phone call. Maybe they just,” Billy’s haggard breath breaks his voice into wheezes. His knuckles turn white gripping the phone. “Steve, what if the upside-”

“Don’t,” Steve demanding tone cuts through, “It didn’t open up again. Flayer’s gone and never coming back”.

A heavy silence connects the two young men with clips of static stinging their ears as their hearts pound.

“Nancy is already heading to the cop station. Jonathan called Hopper just in case something,” Steve swallows the lump forming in his throat, “Just in case something did come back. But nothing did, Billy. We’re safe. Probably just went on a trip and forgot to tell us or something like that”.

Billy’s knees begin to buckle, and he leans against the cluttered kitchen counter, hanging onto every word Steve shares. His head pounds trying to process what the fuck you were doing. Is this just some game you're playing? Did you actually disappear? “We’re going to bring ‘em home. Right, Stev,” Billy’s brokenly mumbles into the phone.

A long pause shakes Billy to his core.

The metal molding digs into his skin as he holds his breath.

Steve’s voice sounds so small and unsure when it hits Billy’s ears.

“I don’t know, Billy. We’re going to try, but I can’t help but feel like this was planned”.

[selkielane]

HC that Neil wants to cuddle with Andrew while he's reading

So he tries to like sit against his legs but gets bored and just stares at Andrew

And Andrew looks over the pages of his book at Neil and rolls his eyes. But he can't concentrate on his book with Neil staring at him ✨like that✨. So he tells Neil if he wants to cuddle while he's reading Neil needs to read a book too.

But Neil. He has never read a novel in his life. He never had time for books that weren't directly related to his schooling. And he just doesn't even know where to start.

He tries to pick through Andrew's collection of high fantasy novels but he can't get past page 3 in any of them without getting antsy because there is too much world building and the boy is bored.

And Andrew makes it his secret mission to covert Neil into a reader somehow. And the next time Neil finds Andrew reading there is an extra book sitting on the beanbag next to him for Neil.

It's a murder mystery and Neil gets a little further than he did with the fantasy books but only lasts like 10 minutes.

Andrew doesn't say anything to Neil about this but boy is determined to find a book Neil can sit still through.

He secretly recruits Renee to help him and she picks our a space opera. It's sitting on the bean bag the next day.

At this point Neil knows something is up but he's happy to keep trying for Andrew. The space opera is a no-go and after like 10 pages he just passes it back to Andrew, silently shaking his head.

When Andrew relays this info to Renee, they're trying to brainstorm a new genre when Allison walks in.

She gets a romance novel out and when Neil sees it he's very suspicious because he can't imagine Andrew picking this out? But ok.

He gets pretty far into the romance, actually, because it's really fast paced and he keeps picturing Andrew as the broody hero. But actually what stops him is there is so much sex? With people that don't even know each other? Like, where is the trust? Why are these people attracted to people they don't even share car keys with? Demisexual Neil cannot relate.

The rest of the Foxes end up getting involved and all give Andrew books to leave for Neil.

Kevin gives him a historical nonfiction that he literally doesn't make it past the synopsis of.

Dan and Matt think he might fair better with superhero comics but Neil thinks they're too unrealistic.

Nicky tries to give him picture books and like... Neil can get through one fine? But it only takes like 5 minutes so this doesn't really solve the problem?

And it's Aaron, who doesn't want to be involved for the longest time, that finally finds something Neil will read. It is an outdated medical text that talks about treatments for different illnesses.

And all of the other Foxes are like,,,, wtf? This, this is the one? How does this hold his attention.

So they start flipping through it when Neil isn't around to try and figure out why this, of all things, is the one book that will keep Neil still for more than 10 minutes at a time.

And that's when they realize that Aaron had crossed out all the outdated information on all the pages and wrote in really sarcastic comments about what would really happen if a patient was treated this way.

[faithfullyscarred]

I would love to have a headcanon type of thing for Eddie, maybe something super fluffy and domestic?

omg yes!! i wrote more for this than usual and i'm doing away with the small text for headcanons <3

join headcanon/blurb night :)

i'm picturing just day to day life with him

going to the store together, eddie being so childish. he would be putting every little thing in the cart, you'd be putting it all back on the shelf. you'd know when he really wanted something because he'd snap his fingers and poke out his tongue. looking at you with wide eyes, "you see this? can't live without it." he would literally be talking about a bag of doritos. he would also do shit like skip around, dance and sing along to the music, run then jump and ride the cart down the aisle. "check it out, babe!" he'd be bouncing towards you, cans in hand, "found the beans, where's my kiss?" because everything would come with a price, the price would always be a kiss.

and cleaning together? dishes, eddie would smack your ass with a towel and flick bubbles at you. laundry, he would hold your underwear up in the air and be giggling to tease. wearing his shirts/boxers around the house during lazy days would make him so much more hands on and his eyes would glued to you practically all day. "you just look so cute in my shit, how'm I supposed to do anything but look at you?"

showering together ! a lot of the time you'd be in the shower first and he would slip in behind you. one hand on your shoulder, the other he's using to slowly trace down your arm. kissing slowly along your neck he would grin, "you look so good soaking in front of me." a laugh would escape your lips, turning to brush his hair off his shoulders and pulling him under the water, "wash your mop, lover boy." washing one another's hair from time to time, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. your back would be turned to him, leaning your head back with a contempt sigh as he scrubbed.

and, as many have said and many are right, he would shake his hair out like a wet dog after the shower, a huge smile on his face. his dangling bangs would be pressed between both of your foreheads, he'd loop a towel around your waist and pull you in, "just so cold now, you've gotta warm me up." he would smother you with kisses, you'd be uncontrollably laughing, "can we at least get some clothes on before you start being ornery again?" he'd smile and scrunch his nose and joke, "we can have so much more fun without though" he'd kiss you again.

join headcanon/blurb night :)

[shmothman]

Judgement | Forgiveness

Part Eleven

Previous Chapters

AO3 Link

Tag List: @veethewriter

Maybe it’s because you’ve been spending so much time in the Alabaster Icelands lately, but the heat of the Cobalt Coastlands is almost unbearable today—there isn’t a cloud in the clear blue sky, and even the breeze off the ocean isn’t enough to keep you from sweating half to death as your Qwilfish fires off another Barb Barrage toward the alpha Buizel you’re battling. You wind up a heavy ball for a catch. 

This is probably how Irida feels all the time, you muse as the pokeball clicks, sending a little plume of smoke into the air. That’s your third catch of the day—the Mantyke and Basculin you caught earlier are stowed safely in your bag. As much time as you’ve spent on Basculegion’s back, you still haven’t completed its pokedex entry; in fact, you’re missing information on a lot of water types. You think Laventon was excited when you told him you’d be out in the Coastlands, rather than the tundra. Maybe you’ll even spot his “legend of the sea” while you’re here.

Or maybe you’ll just stop at the strange rock formation out on the cape for lunch. You’re starving.

The water along the sandbar is crystal clear, and as you walk past the small shoals of Remoraid, you slip off your shoes to feel the sand between your toes. It’s only been about two months since you’ve been to the beach, but somehow, it feels longer. You’ve missed it. Although… even with your feet in the surf, you’re still sweating. 

You let out your Qwilfish into the water, and he swims a happy circle with a cry of his name—and then you let out your newly caught friends as well, because why not. The whole gang deserves a nice lunch break, and you’ve got plenty of berries and bean cakes to go around, even for a large pokemon like your new Buizel.

Basculin, Mantyke, and Qwilfish seem to be happy to chase each other around, and you watch them contentedly as you eat your leftover rice and vegetables; and Buizel sits down beside you, shyly kicking its feet in the surf. 

“Here,” you say, handing it an Oran berry. “Are you hungry?”

It looks at you (nearly eye to eye, it’s well over four feet tall), hesitating, but when you give it a big smile, it finally relents, taking the berry from your hands. 

You’re making strides with its trust already!

Though, when it suddenly goes rigid and alert, the hair stands up on the back of your neck. 

You know the feeling well. Another alpha has spotted you.

Hastily covering your lunch for later, you recall Buizel, Mantyke, and Basculin, leaving your Qwilfish ready for battle, and he zips to your feet, facing his opponent.

An alpha Remoraid.

“I was literally just eating lunch,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Qwilfish, but he gives you a reassuring cry nonetheless, posturing at the Remoraid—larger than usual, but not intimidatingly so. Its speed will be the only problem, most likely. 

“Alright, Qwilfish,” you grin. “Barb barrage, strong style.” 

For an alpha, the Remoraid goes down easily, helped by the fact that Qwilfish’s first barb barrage poisoned it—but when it shakes itself off and swims away, Qwilfish cries triumphantly, beginning to glow. 

It’s evolving! The light around him flares brightly, and you cover your eyes for a moment—but when it fades, the pokemon before you is larger, his poison spines protruding out of the water, enormous poison-tipped needles. 

It cries out its name.

“Overqwil!” You repeat. “You evolved! That’s amazing!”

He swims another circle, faster now despite his larger size, and you marvel at his newfound strength. 

“Come on, buddy,” you grin. “Let’s get you some lunch!”

With the strange rock formation in sight, you bring out the rest of your pokemon once more as you return to your food, giving Overqwil extra berries for his hard work. The shoals of Remoraid no longer seem interested in you—maybe Overqwil’s impressive silhouette has them scared—but that only makes it easier to eat in peace. 

Though, when you’re finished eating, there doesn’t seem to be a Remoraid in sight. Or any other pokemon, for that matter. The ambient cries around you have even slowly gone quiet.

The hairs at the back of your neck prickle again. 

And a single, loud cry echoes over the waves.

---

Volo is sitting outside the hut, whittling something beside the campfire as you descend over the slopes and to the snow-covered ground on Braviary’s back. It’s still morning—and a cold morning at that—and Volo is wearing a full snowy ensemble, hat and gloves included, as he gives you a small wave. You’ve already visited a couple of times since he stopped using his crutches, not just to bring him bags of tea leaves, but to just say hello, and to tell him stories. He always likes to hear your stories.

It’s strange, though. He was always on the move before Mount Coronet, and you never visited him. You just... ran into him. And, now that you think about it, he was probably doing that on purpose, but even during the time when you traveled together, seeking the plates, it wasn’t like you were going to his house. In fact, this might be the first time he’s ever had a permanent place to stay. 

You’ve never asked.

Braviary touches down, wings kicking up snow all around you, and you slide off its back, grinning wildly. Arcanine, lying by the fire next to Volo, gets up as you land, shaking the melted snow from its warm fur and bounding toward you, barking happily.

You can’t stop her from bowling you over into the snow, but you laugh as she licks your face, covering you in drool, her wet fur soaking your coat. 

“Arcanine!” Volo calls, coming to your aid. “Please, you’re all wet!”

At her trainer’s behest, Arcanine backs off, looking rather guilty, and Volo kneels beside you, the long strands of his bangs hanging out of his hat. The look in his eyes betrays his amusement, even as he quickly scans you for injury.

“You alright?” He asks, smiling slightly.

You aren’t sure if it’s the impact from your fall making your head swim ever-so-slightly, or if it’s that gleam of humor in his eyes as he offers you his hand, but you can feel a warmth rising in your cheeks as you accept his help up. He’s still weakened by weeks of bedrest, and his grip isn’t entirely helpful, but you manage to stumble ungracefully to your feet, though you nearly crash into him as you overcompensate for his lack of strength, far too close as you meet him at eye level.

For an interminable moment, you’re stuck, captivated by the gray of his eyes, the feel of his gloved hand in yours, the slight dusting of pink on his cheeks from the cold, the small parting of his lips.

But reality returns to you like a plunge into icy waters, and you step back hastily, clearing your throat. “I’m good,” you say quietly.

Volo opens his mouth, then closes it with a frown, looking away and clearing his own throat.

And, a few steps away, Arcanine suddenly, violently shakes her entire body, spraying the wetness from her fur in every direction and splattering the both of you in dirty, melted snow.

“Augh!” You cry, and Volo splutters in turn.

“Arcanine!”

She sits, barking once, happily, and her tail thumps against the ground.

Whatever that awkward moment was, it’s immediately forgotten as you laugh—both of you—and Volo sighs, beckoning you inside to dry your soaking wet coat.

The hut is warm now, with the small fire burning in the stove. It’s currently being tended to by Lucario, who places more wood on the fire as the pot above it simmers. He gives you a nod as you enter, pretending as if he isn’t looking forward to the gifts of food you always bestow upon him when you visit; but when you pull your bag from your pack and rifle through it for a honey cake, Lucario abandons all pretense, racing to your side. 

When you pull off your coat, Volo takes it for you, hanging it on a peg on the wall by the fire to dry, and you smile gratefully as the warmth of the stove washes over you, chasing off the few hours of chill you endured on Braviary’s back to get here. Volo takes off his own coat, too, wet as it is from Arcanine’s antics, along with his hat and gloves, leaving his hair cowlicked and sticking up at odd angles. 

You stifle a laugh at the sight, and he frowns, patting it down again.

And you ignore the strange compulsion to help him with it, like you did when he was injured.

He’s no longer injured.

Surely, he no longer wants you to help him with it.

Volo putters about, and when you hand him the bag of tea leaves you brought for him, he immediately switches the pot on the stove to a small one, sprinkling in the leaves as the water in it begins to simmer. 

“What have you been up to?” you ask as the tea begins to steep.

Volo smiles wryly. “Oh, the usual,” he says. “Collecting food and firewood. Poking around the ruins next door.”

That raises your eyebrow. “Oh? Froslass is letting you?”

“Only when I bring enough food for her and all of the Snorunt. I think they’ve realized we’re going to be neighbors for a while, and that our relationship can be... mutually beneficial.”

You laugh. “‘Mutually beneficial’ in that they get food and you get a bit of your curiosity sated?”

That slight redness colors his cheeks again. “Yes.”

“I’m not making fun,” you say. “I’m curious about it too. Have you found anything out?”

“Only more signs that point toward what you already told me. There was a tragedy, and Froslass was somehow involved... if only I could find that journal you mentioned.” Volo pours the tea into cups, handing one to you, and you pretend you don’t notice when his fingers brush yours. He takes the other for himself, sitting down on the free stool by the fire and gazing into its depths.

You hum, and blow the steam from the tea’s surface. “Ghost pokemon can get up to some strange things, but I swear it feels like more.”

Volo laughs. “I didn’t think that Hisui’s Hero would be the type to believe in ghosts.”

He hasn’t called you that in... a long time. Not since you found him by the lake. Then, he had said it with so much bitterness; a fond nickname turned foul. But now... there’s no more anger in his voice. 

There’s an awkward pause as you both sip your tea.

And then, you remember why you had been so excited to visit, and nearly spill hot tea in your lap. “Oh!”

Volo looks up, startled by your outburst as you set down your cup and stand, taking one of the pokeballs from your belt.

You grin wide. “You’ll never guess what happened the other day.”

He quirks a brow as you pause, letting the tension build. “You’ve piqued my interest,” he laughs, “please, go on!”

You call forth your pokemon, and it materializes in your arms.

Volo’s jaw drops.

You watch as the gears turn in his mind, from confusion, to dawning understanding, and his eyes are wide as he looks to you.

“Is that...?”

“Meet the legend of the sea, Manaphy. Manaphy, meet Volo.” You hold Manaphy up as it coos.

“Manaphy...” Volo repeats.

“Manaphy!” Manaphy agrees.

Volo looks to you, and back to Manaphy. “It... it looks just like the hieroglyphs! The Legend of the Sea is represented in the hieroglyphs!”

Oh! You hadn’t even thought of the hieroglyphs, but he’s right! One of the hieroglyphs does depict a Manaphy.

“Tell me everything!” Volo pleads, and you haven’t seen his eyes quite so bright in a very long time.

---

In your own bed, later that night, you can’t help but to mull over the events of your day over and over. The image of Volo’s gray eyes just won’t leave your mind, nor will the strange feeling in your stomach that you’ve been trying so hard to leave unnamed. Unnamed is safe. Unnamed is good. 

But the name of it won’t stop creeping forward.

And really, you aren’t sure what you’ll do when it finally refuses to keep itself hidden.

[scuttling]

Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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