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gallavichthings · 1 year ago

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Writer's Spotlight - Rita

This interview is long overdue and has been long in the making! I'm super pleased and excited to finally present a friend and my right arm on this blog, Rita aka @sickness-health-all-that-shit aka whatyouandihave on AO3, author of Lifeline, Possiblities, Short&sweet and several other fics, and some great gifs too!

R: I grew up in a small-ish town, dreaming about going to university, finding a job I loved, and living on my own with a cat as my companion. I'd say my 13-year-old self would be pretty happy with how my life turned out! I've always been into tv shows and films, plus languages and literature (that's what I mainly studied at uni) and I've managed to find a job that combines those things, which is the absolute dream! I translate and adapt lines into Italian so that dubbing actors can replace the original dialogues of movies, tv shows, documentaries and the like. Besides reading and writing and watching shows, I love travelling, enjoying good food and spending time with my family.

GT: Oh, that's a great job! It looks like you're living your dream, and I'm very happy for you! I assume you must watch all kinds of shows for your job, but what do you watch in your leisure time?

R: Yeah, for work I've had to watch plenty of children's cartoons, anime and lots of unscripted programs like reality television, cooking competitions and things like that. All stuff I would not watch in my spare time 😁 Some of my favourite shows are Btvs, Doctor Who, Breaking Bad, The Office, Outlander, Derry Girls, Peaky Blinders, Dexter and Shameless. I also watch a lot of British comedy panel shows (Taskmaster, QI, Big fat quiz of the year etc) and stand up comedy.

GT: Oh, some of my favorites on this list! Do you read/write fics for these other fandoms as well?

R: Nope! I actually came to fanfic pretty late, despite all the years spent lurking in fandom spaces. I only really started reading fics about 4 years ago, and that was after the Ian and Mickey prison reunion, having binged the first 8 seasons of Shameless a few months before that. I had read a couple fics for other fandoms over the years, but I honestly wasn't that interested. I was content with just rewatching the shows I loved and maybe making up my own headcanons, but nothing more. I guess you could say Ian and Mickey have made a fanfiction convert out of me!

GT: What was it about them that you think made you want to write your own fics, especially coming into the fandom late, as you said yourself, when there were already a lot of fics written.

R: Honestly, it just looked like so much fun to play around with them and all the themes you could explore through their story. When I first started reading fics, it opened so many avenues in my mind (I was so convinced I wouldn't be into AUs at first. Wrong!) and I was also reading tons of meta that had been posted on Tumblr over the years, which I had a lot of thoughts about. I think part of it was about needing a creative outlet at that point. I hadn't really written fiction before, and definitely not in English, but I think I'd always wanted to try and write stories. Building a world and creating characters from scratch would have been way too daunting, but playing around with my Ian and Mickey 'dolls' was instant, cathartic fun. There's just so much potential there, so much history and emotional depth to these characters and their love story that keep me coming back to them over and over.

GT: Do you tend to write more from Ian's or Mikey's pov?

R: I alternate a lot depending on the vibe of fic, but I guess maybe Ian's? The longest multichapter I have up is almost entirely written in Ian's pov, and one fic I'm writing at the moment that's gonna be longer than my usual is also from his pov. I have a lot of fun with Mickey's, but I really love exploring Ian's inner world in depth.

GT: What do you consider your forte when writing fic, the thing that comes to you more easily? And what do you struggle with sometimes?

R: I love writing dialogue the most, and I think I'm pretty good at making it sound in character for them and nailing their voice. I definitely struggle with descriptions and maybe pacing. I'd love to write a slow burn but I don't think they're for me. I get too impatient lol

GT: What kind of fics do you write the most?

R: I mostly write one-shots, but hope to work on more multichapters in the future. I've also posted a series of short ficlets. Lots of fluff, some angst, though always with a happy or at least hopeful ending. Maybe someday I'll try my hand at some smut? Who knows. A lot of my fics tend to be either canon compliant fill-ins that expand on canon scenes or different first meeting AUs, especially meet-uglies. I also like including Mandy and exploring her friendship with Ian and sibling relationship with Mickey. I love writing banter and sprinkling in humour in my fics.

GT: I'm a huge sucker for meet-uglies! Which of your fics are you the proudest of?

R: Oh, the one I'm most proud of has got to be The stranger in my brother's bed. It was my first stab at a multi-chapter, my first AU and a chance to play around with different POVs and an unfolding plot. It's also still my most popular fic to date. It's very sweet and fluffy and warm. When it comes to one-shots my favourite I've written is probably Unexpected, a dialog-heavy meet-ugly with lots of banter and flirting. And then there's Caught me by surprise, my second attempt at a multi-chapter that's still currently a WIP. I do hope to finish those last two chapters someday, but I'm proud of it all the same. It's the longest thing I've written and I got to have fun with tropes like Fake dating, Secret relationship and Bed sharing.

GT: Are there any tropes or ideas you haven't had a chance to explore yet but you'd like to someday?

R: I'd like to write some fill-ins for the early seasons, especially exploring Mickey's pov. Of course a lot of amazing fics like that exist already, but it'd be a chance to expand on my headcanons and do some interesting character studies. Other than that, I have a few ideas for plot-heavy stories that sometimes I think might be too ambitious for me but also can't get out of my head. If I ever write them, they may feature tropes such as Childhood friends, Soulmate AU, Private investigator AU, and even a Genie AU, though fantasy is definitely not my go-to genre. I'd also love to write an angsty Enemies to lovers or a classic Roommates AU. And maybe some canon divergent stuff.

GT: Where do you get inspiration from?

R: Movies and tv shows I watch, stories I read or random posts I see on Tumblr are all potential sources of inspiration for me. Sometimes I'll get particularly obsessed with a line a character said in canon or a certain scene and a story just forms in my head around it. And when all else fails, I go looking for a prompt that speaks to me to get things going.

GT:What about motivation? Do you force yourself to take time to write or do you wait for motivation to strike randomly?

R: I'm still trying to find a balance that works when it comes to motivation, to be honest. I've gone many months waiting for motivation to strike, and getting more and more frustrated and disappointed the longer I waited in vain for it to come. Other times I'll try to force it, but end up convincing myself I have lost any ability to write I once had 😅 I definitely work better with some sort of deadline and 'peer pressure'. That's why I'm trying to participate in as many fandom events as I can at the moment. I struggle with anxiety, so I used to think it would be too stressful for me, but I need some structure in order to be productive. And sometimes it is a matter of getting yourself to write a little bit (almost) every day, just to move things along and keep the momentum going.

GT: What's your writing process like?

R: If it's something long or plot heavy I'll prepare a bit of an outline first, but I'm not generally big on outlines. When I go to write, I'm usually sitting on my bed or couch with my laptop. I tried having music on or ambient sounds, but honestly I work better in silence. I think of the scene I want to describe and the thoughts and feelings I want to convey and watch it as a film in my head, hearing the characters voice the dialogue. Then I put it all into words, if they behave that day and just come to me 😁 I first do a rough draft, trying not to edit too much as I go but just keeping going until I reach either the end of the story (in the case of a short-ish one-shot) or a good stopping point. Then once it's done I start editing, filling in details I left out, double checking things online and making various changes until I'm reasonably satisfied with it. At that point I'll send it over to my beta reader.

GT: Do you write about other characters or ships as well? If not, would you someday?

R: No, not really. Even if I include other Shameless characters, the focus is always on Ian and Mickey and their relationship. And I don't think I'll ever write about anyone else. I have a bit of a one-track mind when it comes to ships and fandoms. I can only really focus on one at a time, and even if I love lots of other shows and media, I don't feel the need to create for them, or be all that involved. I think that, beyond my fascination with Ian and Mickey as characters and as my all-time favourite ship, this fandom space and the community I share this passion with has a lot to do with my continued participation in it. I don't think I'd be still writing and posting fic if it wasn't for all the wonderful people that create and enjoy fanworks about Ian and Mickey alongside me. They're a huge part of what inspires me and motivates me to keep creating.

GT: Definitely. It's incredible to me how much the fandom has grown and changed, while still being welcoming.

What about OCs, do you have any? Do you create them based on real people or just whatever you need them for?

R: I only occasionally create OCs for specific purposes, though most often I try to cast other Shameless characters in the roles I need if possible. I had fun with Mr. Binckley in my most recent fic for GGE, The Ghost of Christmas Fuck You, and last year, again for GGE, I created two OC children for How I met your dad. I don't see myself using them for other fics in the future, though I really admire writers who can create fully fleshed out OCs and have them recur in more than one of their stories.

GT: What about reading fics, what makes you choose something to read (and what would make you give up on reading something)?

R: I usually trust authors I already know and love, and who tend to write the sort of fics I go for anyway. But I'll give any story a chance if the premise sounds intriguing. So a good summary will draw me in, for sure. I love any kind of meet-cute or meet-ugly, and enemies or friends-to-lovers. I'll read fluff, smut or angst depending on my mood, but always with a happy ending. I like any sort of AU, but I steer away from fantasy in general, and prefer things set in the present day (though I do enjoy science fiction as a genre so space, time travel, etc. might attract me to a fic). I don't read a/b/o, mpreg or mcd. I'll give up on reading something if it's just a wall of text or riddled (and I do mean riddled) with typos. Also if I feel that something is written way too out of character to the point where I barely recognise them as Ian and Mickey.

GT: Can you name some of those authors you already know and love?

R: Sure! @goodkwuestion, @beckyharvey29, @damnnmilkovich, @gallavichy, @jellovich, devovitsuasartes and @crazynadine are some of my all-time favourites.

GT: What about some favorite fics?

R: You can bite me by Shamelessquestions, all comes down to you by BeckyHarvey29, Bad Date by @thevioletjones, the Southside Forever series by proval, You make me feel human by Dragona, Two of your earth minutes by @the-rat-wins, So Sleeping fucking Beauty, right? by @cjmarlowe, sideways by @whaticameherefor, Maintenance by devovitsuasartes, Love is a ballfield by and_i_take_it. There are many others, but these are some of the ones that have really stayed with me.

GT: Do you ever reread fics?

R: Oh yeah, I've definitely reread some of the ones above. I've been in a reading slump for a long while now though, which is why the fics I've mentioned are almost all older ones, and a lot of those writers aren't active anymore. There are so many amazing new authors writing brilliant fics at the moment, but often I end up just reading snippets of their work or their drabbles on Tumblr, so that's why I haven't mentioned them here. I've got so many incredible fics to catch up on! But brains are weird like that, you know?

GT: Oh, I totally get that! What about your own, do you reread those?

R: Not often. I tend to publish something and then not look at it again, focusing on the next project instead. There's a little bit of a cringey feeling for me when I think about rereading my own fics, but then when I do happen to read a bit of one I'm like 'Hey. This is good, actually. I do not remember writing this, but wow. Good job, me.' 😆

GT: You make gifs too, right? Have you ever made a gifset for a fic, yours or someone else's?

R: Yep! I've made a single gif for my most recent fic, The Ghost of Christmas Fuck You, and also for an older one, Ready to do this. I really want to make gifs/graphics for my fics more often in the future, actually. And I once made a gifset inspired by a quote from Cooperative gameplay by grayola.

GT: Do you make moodboards or playlists when planning a fic?

R: Hmm not really. I sometimes look up images to help me visualise a particular scene, but it's not a regular habit of mine.

GT: Let's talk about Shameless. You said you binged the first 8 seasons? That must have been a wild ride.

R: Haha oh, yeah. I remember watching the first 5 seasons in just one week, then slowing down considerably for s6 and s7, and I think season 8 took me a full month to get through. At that point s9 was a couple of months away, and I alternated between a faint hope for some kind of reunion between Ian and Mickey and just bitter disappointment for the state of the show such as it was at that stage. I absolutely died when the prison reunion happened. I watched that scene on a loop for days, and when I came back up for air I went looking for all the fics I could find. Especially ones set in prison or detailing their life after prison, since I was so convinced they were off the show for good. But of course that's not how it went. What a wild ride indeed! Those days were so crazy for me lol

GT: How did it feel to come into such a large, albeit somewhat asleep at the time, fandom?

R: It was weird because I wasn't on Tumblr at the time. I'd had a blog before but then left for a few years and once I got into Shameless I didn't immediately come back to it. I looked up news about the show on Reddit of all places. Then around the time I started reading fic, I found a little blog called gallavichthings ❤️ where I caught up on all the meta that had been written over the years (and gifsets and art and everything else). I only made my new blog when s10 was about to start, right around the time I posted my first fic on AO3. And at that point the fandom was being revived by I&M being on the show again and by the news that they'd be getting married by the end of season 10. It was my first real experience of being active in a fandom like this, so it was pretty wild for me. It was definitely not as nice and chill as it is nowadays, that's for sure.

GT: Awn, I'm glad to be part of your Gallavich journey.

Are you able to select a favorite season, seeing as you saw them kind of all together?

R: Oof the earlier seasons are all so special in their own ways. But when I got to season 4, the grip this show had on me had reached the highest levels. Despite Ian being gone for so much of it, or maybe because of it, since his absence was so deeply felt and instrumental for us to see sides of Mickey we hadn't seen before. I'm a sucker for some good pining. And then the second half of the season was such a rollercoaster of emotions... Ugh. Plus it was also an amazing season for the other characters (Fiona especially, who I love so much). So dark and intense, and it felt like a more 'adult' season than previous ones. It just hurt so good.

GT: What's your favorite episode overall?

R: It's hard to choose a favourite, but I think ep 4x11, Emily.

GT: Oh, that's a fantastic one! What about a favorite scene?

R: Maybe the s5 dugouts scene in 5x10. The way it's filmed, the lighting, the music, the rawness of the emotions... it hurts like hell to watch them hurt each other, but then there's that sense of release, and of new hope when they're finally on the same page again and happy... and then it gets taken away from them, because we can't have nice things. But that scene is such a little gem, and it never fails to make me feel all the feels.

GT: If you could go back and change only one thing about the show, what would you change?

R: The quality drop in the later seasons? lol. Honestly, as happy as I am that we got to see Ian and Mickey get married and be husbands, the show was just unrecognisable by the end. So I'd have it end sooner. Have the s7 finale be the final episode of the show, but with a happy ending for Ian and Mickey, obviously.

GT: Speaking of, what did you think of the ending?

R: I wish I could say I was satisfied with it, but yeah, no. It was way too open ended, I only liked where they left things for Ian and Mickey, and I should count myself lucky for that, really. The parallels they tried to do with the pilot and season 1 mostly fell flat for me, but then, like I said, the show was a shadow of its former self by that point. There was too little left to enjoy for me. I don't think I would've watched s10 and 11 at all if it wasn't for Ian and Mickey.

GT: How do you headcanon Ian and Mickey's life together after the ending?

R: I think they live in that apartment for a couple years, then get a house closer to where they grew up. They keep in touch with family and spend holidays with the other Gallaghers. They get a pet or two, and eventually adopt or foster kids, a few years down the line. Mickey takes over the security business, while Ian finds a way to use his medical training again to help the community. They'll be happy, safe and in love for the rest of their lives. ❤️

The happily ever after they deserve.

GT: Well, that's it from me. Thank you so much for your time! Now leave a message to those reading this.

R: This was great, thank you! And thanks to everyone in this little corner of the Internet. Whether you create or simply enjoy creations and support them, you are a vital part of something really special. Thank you for being on this ride with me, and here's to another year full of ideas, events, collaborations, and lots and lots of fun!

#Gallavich #Ian x Mickey #Shameless #Shameless US #Gallavich fanfiction #Ian Gallagher #Mickey Milkovich #Writer's Spotlight #sickness-health-all-that-shit #mod post

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lovepmd · 4 months ago

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Even if Multi!Hero was abnormally healthy, they would probably have to take medicine as a fairly young Pokemon in the physical sense. Except some common medicines can make animals or even kids loopy. So here are a few things they’ve said across the adventure while on medication.

Rescue:

“Oh. These are some of the good drugs.”

“Weird. I thought the copium would run out by now, not get stronger.”

“P. [Partner]. Hey, [Partner]… Do you ever wonder if Alakazam worries about teleporting another Pokémon? Cause you have to worry organs and bones and nerve stuff? And he’s just casually bending space to go somewhere.”

“Sometimes. I have dreams where I’m in the team base’s place. I’m just buried up to my head and forced to keep wide smiling. And my head’s hollow. I keep having that dream… Pokemon need to scrape their feet before coming into the base. It must taste all the dirt.”

“Gengar knew what he was doing having a Gardevoir for a partner.”

“Did the Pokémon who originally start naming Orbs ever get them mixed up?”

“No wonder Rayquaza was a pain in the ass. Their ass makes up fifty percent of their body.”

Explorers:

“Did Treasure Town exist before the Marowak Dojo’s mystery dungeons or did they exits before those opened up?”

“Sunflora. I swear I thought you had eyes, cause Sunkern’s have them. But somedays. I don’t know where to look when talking to you.”

“Who hurt you, Chatot?”

“It’s weird. I skipped the messy marriage and divorce stage to become a parent. And hopefully I’ll avoid any custody battles.”

“I don’t know if Wigglytuff always knows what’s going on, but he tends to have fun doing it. Does the fact he rarely ever explore nowadays make him feel sad? Or at least bother him?”

“Someone had to have carved Sharpedo Bluff.”

Gates:

“The urge to skin Scraggy crosses my mind every so often—“ “What the hell, you’s talkin’ about?!” “I’m DISCUSSING peeling off your extra skin pants thing so you have to regrow it! This is a private conversation, you heathen!”

(Multi!Hero becomes very eloquent and unfiltered when on a medicine high.)

“How do the Timburrs’ know the difference when someone’s talking talking about them and when talking about timber wood?”

“Part of me wants to tie Esmolga into a kite set up during a thunderstorm. Would he like being struck by lighting or would he prefer the winds?”

“I wonder if it’s possible to create artificial V-Waves. I mean, Victini can already change the day’s effect if you pay him enough.”

“If Pokemon keep sneaking into Paradise to peep at Virizion, I going to start letting her hunt them for sport. Or fine them with trespassing. Both work.”

“I think if Munna were to appear in Paradise, right at this point in time… I was smack her.”

Super:

“[Partner]. I miss my kids. Manaphy’s the most famous one, but I miss the rest. I wonder how they’re doing these days.“

“A lot of Pokémon think I’m God. At best, I’m a demi-god through fighting all the Gods (Legendaries) as a mortal. Sheer merit there.”

“Arceus knew Grass Types were too strong because they can self heal. So they gave them five weaknesses.”

“I didn’t ask questions when we travel to five continents everyday to meet Pokemon. I should have really asked questions. How. How does Lapras always get us there and back to Lively Town every day???”

“I’ve purposely exploded a lot of stuff for the heck of it.

“If Dark Matter had simply stoned every single Legendary when they were asleep, it might’ve won.”

oh my GOD

#ask #anon #rescueteam spoilers #gti spoilers #psmd spoilers

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woahjo · 11 months ago

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tbh i'm also really curious about what all your answers might be to all those questions in the ask game if that's okay with you 😆 you have a very interesting and nice perspective (as i also see in your writing) that i am curious and want to know about your thoughts through those asks if that's fine :) (you don't have to if you think it's too much!)

this is SO SWEET!! i don't mind answering them at all!!! i'll try and do most of them, but im gonna pick my fav questions from the list <33 and ill put them below the cut. im so flattered actually that u wanna hear my answers to them what if i blushed...

What did you dream about last night?

OH FUCK i forgot i had this dream until i got halfway through the questions but last night i had a dream that i was at work but i was falling asleep during it. like could not keep my eyes open,.. and my manager messaged me on teams and she was like "we can see you doing nothing" but for some reason i just could not wake myself up. and then when i DID wake myself up in the dream i was like "bro something is wrong why does it feel like im still asleep. wake up!" and then i woke up and realized i was just dreaming. it scared me 😭

What is your favorite color?

i like yellow and orange!!!! but lately i have been on a bit of a light blue kick since this summer!!

Do you feel more connected to the moon or the sun?

this one is cute!! i think i feel more connected to the sun. i'm more comfortable during the day and tend to be in a better mood. plus i really like the way it feels on my skin <3

Have you ever wished on a shooting star?

a few times!!! i've seen some on the rare occasion i went camping, but i never really remember my wish long enough to know if it came true or not lol

What do you enjoy daydreaming about most?

god this is going to sound so corny but lately my fav daydream has been imagining that im winning my first emmy for an animated tv show. idk i just imagine the way it would feel to have my work and dreams recognized, getting to thank my parents and team and shit. corny corny i know but i love imagining it.

Do you believe in guardian angels?

i do, but in a nonreligious way! i won't go too deep into it, but i've had many dreams / experiences that preceded major life events that i can't explain otherwise. even without it, it's nice to think that there is something out there looking out for us. kinda like the universe has us in mind.

What is something (or someone) you’re in love with?

this one is hard!! i haven't been in romantic love with a person ever i don't think (mutually at least), but i am in love with my friends. i really truly believe i met them for a reason and i think i'm the luckiest person because they're in my life. i have so much love for them that i genuinely don't know what to do with it. my other love... and i say it so frequently... is writing and storytelling. it's the greatest love of my life, i know it.

What’s your ideal summer aesthetic?

linen clothes and dresses and flowy shorts and humidity and laying on the floor outside. unheated swimming pools, music from a speaker or the tv, friends laying out on towels. exploring cities and sweating and driving to the beach on a whim and sitting on the porch eating lunch. roadtrips along the coast with the windows down. yeah <3

Talk about something exciting or good that happened to you this year.

maybe not this year, but this summer, i spent a month traveling japan with one of my best friends.

Where do you feel most at home?

with my friends!!! always always always with my friends

What is something you own that is important to you? What makes it so important?

writing and creating things and making art!! i genuinely can't stop myself from doing it. i write and make things with the same urgency and feeling as eating or drinking water. i do it before i sleep and when i wake up and even just in my head constantly. it's corny, but it's a part of me and i genuinely can't live without it.

Do you believe dreams have meanings or are they completely random?

i've had some WILD dreams that absolutely have meaning. some of my dreams are totally random, but i think a lot of them are symbolic of things or feelings i'm experiencing. i had one that was so long and frightening and weirdly poetic that there's no way it couldn't have meant something. haven't quite figured it out yet tho LOL

Do you believe in love at first sight?

nope! i've definitely written about love at first sight, but i think that to really LOVE someone, you have to know them. that's one of the best parts about love.

What’s the sweetest thing someone has done for you?

i've spoken about it before but when my dad had a brain bleed in may and was rushed for emergency surgery, my friends (and housemates at the time) emailed all of my professors for me, packed a lunch, packed my car with blankets and tissues, sat with me while i packed a bag with clothes, and drove me six hours one way so that i could be at home with my family. he ended up going into surgery while i was on the drive back home and the housemate driving me held my hand for hours while i waited for news that he was out. i'd never felt more held and loved than i did then and they are some of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me to this day.

What’s your zodiac sign? Do you think you fit the general characteristics of that sign?

i'm a taurus (with a leo moon and leo rising)!! and i absolutely think i fit the characteristics LOL

Are you more of a hopeless romantic or realist?

mmmm i'm not sure! i'd say hopeless romantic if i had to pick one, but not to the point that i don't know how the real world works. i don't like big gestures though, so im not sure if maybe that disqualifies me LOL. i just like the idea of eventually being known and loved for it.

What’s a song that gives off good vibes anytime you listen to it?

hold in, hold on by kid bloom!!!

Have you ever written a love letter?

nope!!!

Name a book you don’t mind reading over and over.

heaven by mieko kawakami. i could read it 800 times and never be sick of it. the lilith's brood trilogy is a close second, though i've only read it once so we'll have to test it. but i LOVE that series.

What do you do to feel at peace?

i write or draw!!! that's typically my first instinct when i need some quiet or some callie time. i feel very calm when i create.

#cal care package #i exlcuded a few questions but i think i answered most of them!!!!#thanks for asking anon!! im really glad you did !!#it was fun to answer these #ask games

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e17omm · 1 month ago

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Alright Natlan Act 5. Lets see if they can keep the momentum from Act 4 going (though that story quest for Mauvika has me concerned...)

Starting off with a 2 day wait. Why? Like, I dont get what this adds. Does Hoyo think anyone would not just use the timeskip feature for this?

JUST LET THE TRAVELER SPEAK PLEASE

Boo let me see what Mauvika was starting to paint. Though everyone still uses stock animation and they have to do awkward camera angles because nobody can hold anything, having a draft of a drawing is too much to ask for I guess.

You know how great it would have been to see Casca ACTUALLY holding a fishing rod? They gave an NPC a 2D picture, why cant Casca get one unique animation for this Archon Quest?

You're telling me the Traveler could barely remember anything of his dream at all when he woke up, but he can remember all details about it at the feast?

I dont get the point from a writing perspective of having everyone say goodbye individually and robotically walk off-screen, but Ajaw in a box made me chuckle for a moment.

Natlan's Archon Quest has NOT been long enough to justify a trip down memory lane.

You can definitely trim the fat on the dialogue in this quest.

There's so much stalling in this quest...

Okay that Ayo scene was good but god damn I got it the last 7 times you said we have to save Natlan and the Night Kingdom!

THEY SAID IT AGAIN. OH MY GOD YES I GOT IT WE NEED TO SAVE THE LEY LINES I GOT IT I GET IT I GOT THE CONCEPT NOW STOP PLEASE.

THIS QUEST STALLS SO MUCH. I NEED TO WAIT ANOTHER 2 DAYS? WHYYYYYYYYY Literally is there anyone that doesnt use the timeskip feature here?

Fucking great. I dont know how to pass the hole with the animal. I try to leap and its not doing anything I cant get past. You have tutorials for everything Hoyo yet they all suck ass.

There is fucking invisible platforms what the actual fuckl.

Yes this moment gets 3 fucking notes. YOU TYPICALLY PUT SOME MARKER FOR INVISIBLE PLATFORMS THAT ARE REQUIRED TO PASS AN AREA.

WELL HOYO, WHERE IS IT??? WHERES THE INVISIBLE PLATFORM REQUIRED TO PASS THIS GAP.

I tried everything. the guide, all buttons on my controller, tried double jumping, nothing worked because there is an INVISIBLE PLATFORM YOU CANT FUCKING SEE. This is just bad level design.

"Follow the guidance" on a straight path.

Place is pretty though.

.....

....

Wow that sucked. A boss that attacks so much you cant dodge them due to the dodge cooldown. A boss where most attacks overshoot you if youre in range to attack it. Its incredibly scripted every step of the way. You cant die. You repeat the exact same thing three times in a row with the same cutscene every time, into the same scripted move.

They didnt even have the balls to kill Mauvika after foreshadowing it and setting it up.

So I just sit there mashing B because I cant die and I cant dodge the boss' attacks and most of them overshoot me because I am in range to hurt the boss. I cant even see half of the boss because its big like every other boss.

So there's no good gameplay, no interesting boss mechanics, you just sit there mashing attack until a cutscene plays.

At this point Hoyo just wished they made Genshin Impact a seasonal anime instead. Im not exagerating here either. I beat the final boss of Natlan by just doing donuts on Mauvika's bike between all the cutscenes.

Im kinda sitting here wondering if this is a gotcha moment.

I kinda dont believe that they would withhold Pyro Traveler for 3 patches and then end Natlan on us eating food at 3 seperate times and then defeating the final Abyss boss in a cutscene.

Imagine if after Everlasting Flames, Kiana had to slowly walk through a crowd of NPC's, take pictures several times with them, awkwardly use a virtual pen to write her name. That's what I just went through.

Fortunately Citlali just rushed up to tell me something important. I hope the world is ending because if this is actually how Natlan ends I wonder if and how Hoyo thinks this is a good story or gameplay.

AAAAYYY Mauvika might still die! The Night Kingdom problem seems to still be here so maybe this is that gotcha moment.

Doesnt excuse the awful bossfight and 6 minutes of walking and taking pictures with NPC's, but you know, quest still isnt over.

( O.O)

Okay. This quest still has a chance to be good. At least half of it, or the last part, idk.

..............

.......

...................................

They fucking killed Capitano instead.

It was a great end for him, dont get me wrong, but I cant fucking fathom that the Ruler of Death went "the curse of immortality must stand, go ahead lol" and let Capitano die.

The actual fuck is the Heavenly Principles up to? People in Teyvat can do whatever the fuck they want!

the setup that when we get to Snezhnaya we will instantly be at war with the Fatui better be a red herring. Its so obvious but makes no sense because we still dont fucking know what their goal is! Rebel against the Heavenly Principles? You can literally do whatever the fuck you want. Destroy Teyvat? Then why did half the Archons willingly give away their Gnosis? Save everyone from the Abyss? Then why the fuck are we fighting the Fatui?

Im literally just playing this due to sunk cost fallacy. "I'm in this deep, might aswell play the next Archon Quest."

Overall this story sucks fucking ass. Nothing has an effect past the current region, everything takes fucking forever to progress. Some things get a drop of story every year like the Abyss Order and our fucking sibling, the Traveler barely has any development or agency as they just follow their sibling's words even after learning that while they aren't from Teyvat, their "sibling" is. And when things that violate the Heavenly Principles happens and the Unknown God does fucking nothing, it makes me wonder why they ever bothered to trap us in Teyvat to begin with, since they clearly prefer to go to bed and ignore all problems.

Individually most regions' Archon Quests are fine. Inazuma's is still missing an entire Act and Fontaine literally only works in isolation because otherwise the solution is just to evacuate everyone to neighboring countries, but that's outside the Fontaine location and thus dont exist.

And the gameplay is simply way too basic and Hoyo doesnt want to change it, which makes the bosses they create not work because the combat system literally isnt made for it.

#genshin impact #i didnt like it #and ive come to accept that im only still playing genshin due to sunk cost fallacy with the story

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promiseiwillwrite · 1 month ago

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Swamp Witch Story Time

Everything past this point is strictly UPG, shit that happened in my brain between asleep and awake. Personal experiences that I had with gods I work with. It is presented here so as to preserve a record for my own use, and no other purpose.

If you've been following along in the archives, you may be aware that I've been dead for two months or so.

I've been schleping around in the otherworlds, trying my damnedest to figure out what to do about making a spiritual body, (which by the way this shit has never been difficult before) with very little direction or success.

Finally, After severalmany attempts, I ended up having a weird dream. I was in a purple jade lotus.

And I say that, because I was standing on the perfectly lavender smoothness of it, and it was the size and affect of a fucking final fantasy boss arena. It had an obelisk in the middle, poking up out of the central structures you tend to find in a lotus flower.

I couldn't really stand well. As has been a theme with my travels recently. I've had great difficulties, and I've been missing limbs, or been paralyzed. or both. Kalok came and tried to help me. But they couldn't take me past a Door made of light. The door made of light led to a place of perfect darkness. And Rath helped me there. To go through a portal that looked like a tv screen static. Lucifer was there, waiting at the door.

And I went inside.

And it was a 4x4 fucking closet.

I was in the goddamn closet. And there was no door.

The symbolism here is not lost on me. Sometimes the otherworlds are VERY direct.

I was upset, to say the least. I bemoaned my choices. I had chosen this. It was Clearly a bad decision given that I want to have a rich life and to thrive and to love myself. Never mind that I've been telling myself that my motivation for the choice was to protect others. It is still choosing a small, constrained, sliver of a life instead of living.

But I am not into Suffering my own bullshit indefinitely once I've got it in my sites. I'm not going to live the whole rest of my life like this. 40 Years is Plenty of being nice and protecting others.

So I did what any trapped animal would, and I climbed up to the light fixture, and tore a hole in the drywall and into the attic space above it. Because Fuck it.

I found a vent out onto the roof, kicked it open and crawled through.

And then the shit started to MOVE.

There was a VERY large roof, covered in white gravel, with a widow's walk on one side. And then the gods came.

There are quite a lot of them invested in my outcomes now, it would seem. They saunter up to me all clad in black like a very hot Korean Boy band, and my body is their concern again. I tell them that I think I need to borrow the Mjolnir, because I think I've figured out what I need to target (there are some frameworks of thought I know have come up in this time of stress that have to be destroyed)

They gathered around me, and they cast an uncrossing. They bade me be unbound from the fear that held me captive. And then Loki placed the Blue Heartfire into me. I felt a lot better after that. A lot more normal.

And then they take me to get the Mjolnir. Don't ever imagine that Thor isn't smart. He figured out what was up pretty quickly, and even though I put on a fairly good show of being normal and making a normal ask, he asked me to promise not to hurt myself. and I couldn't do it. And he got REAL fucking upset, but he let me have the hammer.

I took it back to the rooftop, and the gods stepped into me, and helped me lift the hammer. I called down the lightning. Onto Myself. In and Through Myself, to purge myself of the fears and outmoded frameworks.

And then I thought, "oh, maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all." The spiritual body I was in was SHATTERED by it, as you might expect.

But I did want to take the hammer back to Thor, as promised.

And He called for Immediate assistance when he saw the Actual state of my spiritual body. Lightning cuts through illusions, just so you know.

My shit is like fucking roadkill at this point, by the way. I'm here dripping, looking like I got cut in half by a train, with no skin. This is not going well.

Odin came, and they put me on Sleipnir, and he was fucking panicking, and neither of us could think of a Healer to go to. But I've been thinking of reaching into Catholicism, so Eventually... We went to the Sedlec Ossuary.

He was afraid to come in, but brought me just into the doorway, and laid me on the floor. Hel came out of one wall, and Santa Muerte came out of the other. I told Hel, "I want to Live."

They went immediately into triage mode. They called to the Bone Mother to watch over me. And the Sedlec Ossuary itself came Alive and cradled me as they not so metaphorically Howled in RAGE and flew off on their broomsticks to go get everyone else with a stake in the situation.

The next thing I knew, they were ALL there.

And they were making a body. White cockle shells, and white butterfly wings, Round seed pods and bones and teeth of critters from the forest. Pine needles and flies and insects and moss and stones and earth...

And I watched as the gods cut themselves, or bled from tongues or mouths, and into the body, to fill it with blood. Everyone who knew me. Everyone who cared about my outcomes. Everyone that I had worked with, regardless of how long, and save only a few. and I watched it Gasp a breath and open its eyes.

And then I crawled out of the dying shell I'd been in, across the Sun on the floor, clutching the heartfire, and into the new body. I felt the power of it. And I felt orientation into my actual body... A few things that were wrong that could now be healed, with a little time.

The Ossuary, the Bone Mother asked For Blood offering on the next All Hallows Eve. Hel asked for a white rose. And Santa Muerte asked me to buy and honor a statuette for her.

So, Life from the Dead and the Blood of the Gods. Merry Christmas, critters and creatures. I have work to do.

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radroachrepellent · 6 months ago

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Hihihi, here are some of Cherry’s old gaggle of people she knew: people that visited Coney Island often, had shops at the boardwalk bazaar, locals, maybe had ties to triggerman families, worked the park rides, the options are endless. I would say these 5 were her closest buddies back in the day though, think like high school friend group. Who knows what they’re like now - its been so long. I want Cherry to be messy like real housewives of NY vibes so Electric Eden is fun. All in all, she abandons all of these people for her journey with varying levels of closure. (She left around ages 20-22, she is about 32-36 for context in FO4)

Joe: My idea for Joe is your friendly, classy, neighborly type guy. Except he’s actually pretty cynical just has good charisma to mask it unless you know him. Think of a theatrical kiss ass that will plot behind someone’s back that they just showered in compliments. He needs to have blue eyes too. Thinking about triggerman or someone that takes a lot of control of the areas after Cherry leaves. Oh also Cherry lost her virginity to this guy. Very much a bored and want to try man out thing but still funny. Cherry isn’t good at speaking but her perception is good so she was always kinda worried about this guy.

Helix: Traveler, showed up one day, short filipino individual. Nonbinary. The classic broody and moody. They are a little taller than Cherry and that’s probably one of the first things Cherry says to them. Not particularly nice. It takes a bit but they get close to Cherry. I think people suspect they’ve been together or were a thing before and maybe they were but I dunno complex feelings. Think they could be a for hire hitman on your unpaid debts type person or into private investigation present day. Or dead. Who knows because Cherry doesn’t!

Ramona: Confident, smart, girls-girl. Big dreams. A soothing presence and a creative. Cherry’s girlfriend. Entertainer by dusk, saleswoman by day. Ramona did some entertainment acts at Coney Island with animals, tight ropes, dancing, a whole lot of things. Cherry was easily mesmerized by her and somehow the two hit it off and began dating. Ramona sold other odds and ends like glasses as well. Cherry didn’t say anything to her before dipping permanently but she hopes she made it big but I guess only going to Coney Island would show if that happened….

Noah: Cherry’s bestie! Like actually. The two have similar interests and hung out a lot, dreaming big of projects and life out of Coney Island and the greater Brooklyn area. Lost his eye in a carnival act gone wrong thing. Stupid part time jobs trying to get a few caps. I think if anyone Cherry told him about her plans to leave and may have had help through him. He was the more handy one that could take Cherry’s nonsense speech and create something useable from it. Kinda like Sturges? Personality wise he is funny and extroverted and quite respectful. Had big ideas about enviormental science and the state of the world and wanted to get out to map the enviormental abnormalities. they would journal together hashtag pain.

Emma: A younger more quiet girl that Cherry tried to treat like a younger sibling. She taught her a lot of what she knew. Cherry tried to not force responsibility’s on her but kind of did, almost like a “hmmm i plan to leave better have a replacement” vibe.

#cherry feltman fo4 #cherry feltman #fallout cos #writing

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steele-soulmate · 1 year ago

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Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 558, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby

WORDS: 1124

I chuckled as the babies napped in two laundry baskets, one with washed whites and the second with washed darks. Baby Eve and Baby Jojo in one and Baby Mattie and Baby Teddy in the second, the four were taking their usual midmorning nap. I was at my desk, putting the finishing touches on my autobiography, titled Red Curls and Big Dreams, doing a final read through before sending everything to my publisher. Elizabeth and Katie were directly behind me, working on pinning their drafted pattern pieces to fabric and getting ready to cut around the laid out paper.

“Mommy, I think my sewing scissors need to be sharped!” Elizabeth announced, frowning at the instrument in her hand.

“Oh- here, you can use mine!” I immediately rolled my chair over to where I kept my sewing belt- a tool belt outfitted with sewing essentials. I plucked my fabric scissors from the hammer loop, handing it over to my daughter. “Give me yours- I can sharpen them for you, okay?”

“Okie dokie!” Elizabeth grinned at me before returning to her task, her and her sister giggling as they chattered about some topic that I was not privy to.

Katie and I had both gone out the day before and she had purchased a conical hat for her Raya Halloween costume. She would also be wearing the long traveling cape, which would be lined with fleece and made from wool for ultimate warmth. I also found curly toed boots in a soft brown, which I had ordered for her, knowing that her costume would be used multiple times.

Right now, Elizabeth was cutting out the pattern pieces needed to Aria’s Anna costume. The girls had all decided that the twins would do Anna’s travel ensemble and Elsa’s snow spirit ensemble, both from Frozen 2.

“Every inch of me is trembling, but not from the cold,” I sang in a soft voice. “Something is familiar, like a dream I can reach but not quite hold, I can sense you there, Like a friend I've always known.”

“I'm arriving,” Elizabeth joined in. “And it feels like I am home.”

“I have always been a fortress, cold secrets deep inside,” Katie interjected herself just then. “You have secrets, too, but you don’t have to hide…”

“Show yourself!” The three of us stimulatingly sang in unison.

“We sound really good!” Katie cheered, numbering the pieces with dressmakers chalk.“We do, mo stór, we do!” I agreed.

“Mommy, can you join us in a cover of that song?” Elizabeth demanded to know as I stood up, intending to take a break. “Me on mommy’s harp, Katie on piano and you on violin!”

“Sure, why not?” I giggled. “I’m going to go grab a snack- if you both are planning on joining me, grab the babies.”

Ten minutes later, we all were in the kitchen, where I was placing Nilla Wafers into paper snack boats for a little bite to eat. I handed two boats over to the girls, telling them to mind the babies while I popped out into the backyard to give Baby Tommy and Peter their snacks.

“My love? Baby Tommy?” I called out as I stepped outside into the backyard.

“Mommy!” Baby Tommy yelled, stopping what he was doing to race over for a hug. “Mommy, me and daddy making a fae wee gaden!”

“A fairy garden?” I frowned at him, motioning for him to go inside and wash up before venturing in deeper, curious at to what my husband and son were both working on. “Oh, Peter!”

“Hey there sweetheart!” Peter greeted me, setting his tools down and bounded over to me, wiping his hands on his jeans before taking his snack boat from me. “You mentioned to me once that you always wanted a little fairy garden, and so I decided to make that dream a reality.”

Tears blossomed in my eyes as I struggled to remember when I had told him of my childhood longing.

He leaned in closer to me and quietly murmured, “You told me after the break-in at your apartment on Sweetwater Lane.”

“Oh, did I really?” My heart was swooning at his sweetness and dedication to making me smile. “I do not remember telling you that, my love.”

“Do you want a tour?” he smiled, taking my hand and leaning me over to a little wood bridge, which overlooked a valley of tiny fairy houses, made from what looked like tastefully upcycled trash. “Over there is the market where cleaning supplies and toilet paper can be brought. That right there is the flour mill, and next to it is the bakery. That house right there is where the mayor and her husband and children live. That’s the daycare, elementary school, middle school and high school, those four buildings right there. And right over there is the flower shop. There is the dressmakers shop, and right across from there is the hat maker shop. Right there is the housing community, where all the fae folk live. That there is a playground and right next door is the dog park. Over thereis the pet store and right over there is the stable.”

I smiled as tears blossomed in my eyes at my handsome older husband’s care at making the hidden little part of the backyard.

He was truly a good man. a flawed man at that, but a good man nonetheless.

Mo stór, my dear, Irish Gaelic

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

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lets-talk-spirituality · 1 year ago

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Hi, can I please get a channeled message from the next guy I'm going to be in a relationship with? Intuitively getting that I will meet him near the end of the year. Thank you💫

Interesting, what makes you say that? With my intuition on meeting someone it always feels like this big change is coming and I feel this anxiety and anticipation. But sure, let’s see what comes up!

💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫

Future Romantic Partner, what do you want your future partner to know?

Stop worrying and planning and keeping track, it’s more fun when you let the universe surprise you. Let me showing up being a surprise, divine and I orchestrated this sick ass meet cute, and we can’t tell you (childishly saying that and teasing). Te he. But honestly, when we meet, I’m gonna think you’re so radiant. Just for being who you are, so in the meantime, be the most you you can be. Develop the you that you want to introduce me to. What sort of hobbies do you think we’ll do together? You can always start without me, tutor me ;)

Oh and I like obscure 90s British rock, like angsty stuff, sort of like Bush. So maybe start looking into bands from that era, if you want to. Would give us something to talk about. Maybe you find a new favorite. (I’m seeing them in professional attire so I’m getting like white color work, khakis and like a pink polo, a little worn so nothing too fancy, maybe some sort of management in a trade field, cars, construction, something like that)

Yes! I love building things and learning how things work. I’m really big on kinesthetic learning and using my hands ;) If you know what I mean ;) But anyway, yeah just stress less. I’m just working on my money and myself. You do that too so when we come together it’s Bam! ready to go. (Animated and exited talking here). I can’t wait to meet you! Travel plans. I have so many dreams. You’ll see ;) Keep dreaming (I’m getting summer/fall vibes like hot and warmth, not sure if that’s because it’s that time now or if that’s a significant time somehow but that’s what I’m getting, seeing leaves change and sweating).

Card Pull— Druid Craft Tarot

Spirit, what else do you want anon to know about their next romantic parter?

Two of cups, reversed—“the happy course of a relationship may be temporarily or permanently disrupted. You should perhaps avoid making any decisions yet— love and relationships need to be lived through, whatever direction they take us in”

Immediately I’m feeling like this next partner isn’t your “one” but that doesn’t mean it won’t be a relationship that is good or teaches you a lot. This card, for a lot of people is a soulmate card. So in the reverse it tells me that you are soulmates but not fated to last this lifetime. I’m feeling like your feelings for them may feel intense and you may feel drawn to make impulsive and rash decisions. Like move in together quickly, but I’m getting that this intense feeling is showing you that you have a soul connection and it doesn’t indicate that it’s meant to last. I think you will want to make it last, and would be willing to compromise a lot, but this card is warning against that.

To me, reversed means beware of being swept up too quickly, because the faster you rise the faster it falls. It’s okay to be excited but just be wary as there are elements to this relationship that may ask you to make sacrifices that you can make, the question for you will be whether you want to make those sacrifices and if they are good for your long term goals. Sometimes the lesson is painful to teach us what we really want and I think this next dynamic is gonna show you that by making you choose between various things you think you want so you can uncover what you really want and need.

Songs

^^ Glycerine came up as the Bush song but here’s a Pulp song I heard recently and liked. They’re both 90s British Indie/Alt rock. Maybe those can send you down a rabbit hole.

Hope this enlightens and enlivens you! Would love to know how or if this connects. 💛

#channeled message #future spouse #tarot reading #love tarot reading #tarot

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dejwritesarchived · 3 years ago

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SPOTTED — heir to braun enterprise reiner braun lip-locking with his childhood friend [y/n]. it's about time he finally admitted his feelings for innocent lil [y/n]. any update on when his fiance will be back in town?

— reiner braun x reader ( childhood friends to lovers, virgin!reader, they're like filthy rich in this, flashbacks in italics, cheater!reiner, infidelity, soft!reiner, mating press position, unrequited lovers, mentions of aftercare, reiner make you his toaster strudel lol, not my best work tbh but am proud that i finished it, mentions of anime crossover, minors dni ! )

— theme song: addicted to love, florence & the machine

XOXO, GOSSIP GIRL MASTERLIST.

YOUR WEIGHT SHIFTED FROM ONE FOOT TO ANOTHER AS YOU GLANCED AROUND THE DAZZLING HALL. The cream-colored decorations around the place caused your heart to flutter in your chest. It felt like you were in the most beautiful love dream ever. The sweet scent of vanilla and expensive champagne climbed up your nostrils as you were off in the corner waiting for someone to approach you to cure your boredom. Engagement parties were never your thing.

In the luxury lifestyle you lived, it was all about who would one-up each other for the best engagement gift. In this case, Berholdt won this round with a newly bought Tesla car for the soon-to-be-married couple. You on the other hand were bitter, so you came empty-handed with just your kind words and to eat off their expensive catering menu and even more expensive open bar. You just couldn’t believe your best friend was getting married.

Don’t get me wrong? You were happy for him. But it was supposed to be you. You were the one that was supposed to be sitting in the middle of the table as guests approached you to congratulate you and Reiner. Not her. But you knew you could only blame yourself. Deciding to go travel and do volunteer work fresh out of college. You still remembered the memory of telling Reiner the news as if it was yesterday. Similar to how you were feeling today, it broke Reiner’s heart but you were going to be happy. So who was he to interfere with that?

In the backseat of Reiner’s driver's car, you were leaned back in the back seat with your legs in Reiner’s lip. Your eyes scanning over the website your advisor sent to you earlier this morning. This was the perfect opportunity for you to venture out from your parents' grasp of dictating what they wanted you to do with your life. However, the thought of leaving Reiner caused your heart to crumble in your chest. He was your best friend. And possibly the love of your life.

“So, hypothetically thinking…” You started.

“Oh lord.” Reiner huffed as he glanced up from his cellphone to look at you. “What now?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him before speaking once again, “I want to travel the world after graduating.” You said. “I want to help other people. Might as well use my riches for good other than Chanel bags and red bottoms.” You said with a shrug.

You could read Reiner’s expression, “Did Iwaizumi put this idea in your mind?”

“What? No.” You argued.

“You’ve spent the majority of undergrad talking about taking over your mother’s business. Now you just want to ditch that to travel.” He said.

“And help people. Travel and help people.” You corrected Reiner. “You know, how much I loved doing that no matter if it dealt with the campus or my mother’s business. Volunteer work has always been something huge for me. I expected you to be a little more supportive.”

Reiner’s face burnt in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I overreacted. It’s just we haven’t been apart in years. We’ve been raised together, been through thick and thin.” Reiner found himself explaining.

He fiddled with his fingers before speaking once again, “We‘ve never been apart Y/N.”

You removed your legs off his lap and hugged his side. The scent of Eden-Roc by Dior lingered up your nostrils as you hugged his side. You have always taken note that Reiner wore his heart on his sleeve. He wasn’t afraid to show emotion when it came to you. You’ve witnessed him cry. You witnessed him get angry. You’ve seen it all.

“It will only be a goodbye for now, not forever.” You said.

“Sure, but you have to promise you’ll call me every day,” Reiner said.

Here you were years later sipping on expensive champagne brooding away near the open bar. You were chatting it up with the bartender due to the majority of the people you’ve known at the party being too occupied to even say hello to you. Maybe you should just leave early, and come up with a lie. Tell Reiner that the oysters gave you a stomachache.

“If you’re thinking about using the ‘Reiner, I’m going home. I have a stomachache due to the oysters' excuse’ get it out your head right now.”

When you glanced up from the apple slice that was in your martini glass, there was your best friend. Reiner Braun. The big and beefy heir to his family company.

“Because I know you like an open book. You don’t love her.” You uttered as you leaned against the bar, your eyes darting from watching his fiance mingle with some guests to him.

“Things have changed. We’ve grown up, matured…” Reiner’s voice trails off as he brings his glass of scotch up to his lips. He takes a huge sip before he noticed Annie waving him off. “I should get back to being a good host.”

Before Reiner walked away, you grabbed at the sleeve of the button-down shirt he was wearing. You finished your glass before you’re grabbing a napkin and a pen. With a quickness, you’re scribbling down where you’re staying up until after the wedding. “If you’re having second thoughts and my gut is telling the truth, which I know it is.” You stopped briefly sliding the napkin over to him across the bar.

“Meet me where I’ll be staying until tomorrow. If you’re not having second thoughts, just trash the napkin and you won’t hear from me again.” You bluntly admitted before you stuffed the napkin in his dress pants and walked away.

When you stepped outside, you would wait for the valet person to bring your car around. Even with the thought of being the cause of Reiner and his fiance's downfall, you didn’t feel bad. You felt accomplished. It was better to do it now before the wedding. However, someone would most likely tell you that it would have been better to let him know that you liked him. You had the perfect opportunity. Well, actually there are plenty of opportunities. Of course, you chose the opportunity that could tarnish both of your images.

When your car pulled up, you tipped the driver and got into it. Your phone started ringing and you saw the familiar name flashing up on the Bluetooth screen in your car. “Iwaizumi, what do you want?” You playfully asked.

“Ah, just checking up on my friend after attending the possible love of her life engagement party,” Iwaizumi teased as you could hear the playful banter in his tone.

“Oh brother, here you go again. I’ve told you this when we went backpacking through fucking Spain to stop saying that.” You said.

“Why? It’s true.” Iwaizumi sighed. “At this point, it’s pointless though.”

“No, it’s not.” You said through gritted teeth. You found yourself gripping the steering wheel harshly at those words coming out of his mouth.

“I mean think about it, he’s getting married. The whole world is paying attention to their future wedding like they’re the fuckin’ royals.” Iwaizumi says. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings Y/N.”It’s just he’s had countless times to express how he felt just as much as you. I just don’t want you to have to sit through a wedding that’s breaking your heart.”

Iwaizumi took notice of your silence. “What did you do?” He questioned.

“Nothing.”

“Liar!”

“I may have invited him to my hotel room to talk.”

Now it was Iwaizumi’s turn to be silent. “I—uh, I have to go. Talk to you another time.”

You couldn’t even get your farewells out before hearing the dial tone of the other end. The call ended abruptly and you were forced alone with your thoughts about the situation and the remaining ride to the hotel.

YOUR FINGERS TRACED ALONGSIDE THE FLUFFY WHITE ROBE as you were pressing the buttons on the tv remote. Your eyes were glued to the television as you were attempting to find something to watch. After the engagement party and the quite heated talk with Reiner, you were telling yourself that maybe you should just skip the wedding. Return to your nicely furnished villa in Barcelona where you tried new foods every day and did volunteer work. On the other hand, you wanted to fight for this. You wanted to fight for Reiner.

Yes, it was practically wrong considering that he was engaged. His engagement was also everywhere, you couldn’t particularly avoid it. However, you’ve known him since you were little. You used to bathe with him when you were little kids. You used to spend nights at his house. You laughed at each other posts on that silly Gossip Girl website. You wore his stupid little leatherman jacket when you were cold during one of his football games in high school. Tonight when you looked into his eyes, you didn’t see love or happiness. You saw dread.

You felt nervous though. What if he wouldn’t show? It’ll be too risky to be seen going into someone's hotel room while your fiance was sleeping away the expensive cocktails she drank throughout the day. But you were his best friend. He would do anything for you, right?

The knock on your hotel room door, caused you to jump. Before answering the door, you checked your phone and saw the countless messages and missed calls from Reiner. You didn’t bother to check them, not wanting to crush your soul of if those messages and his phone calls were just him apologizing for not coming over. Claiming that he did love this woman and the wedding was still going on. As Iwaizumi said, that would break your heart.

When you unlocked the door, Reiner was standing in the hall. His buttoned-up shirt buttons were undone showing the white-colored wifebeater. His hair was disheveled as if he ran his hands through it one too many times. He was a panting mess as if he had just been jogging.

“I took the stairs because the person in the elevator didn’t hold the doors.” He huffed as he looked at you.

You were completely lost with words. He showed up. Your mouth was gasped open in shock and the words Reiner was rambling on about were going into one ear and out the other, you could hear your best friend kiss his teeth in annoyance at you dazing out. He’s taking a step forward before his tall stature is hovering over you to place a kiss on your gasped lips. It took you by shock, the taste of the drinks he consumed now imprinted on your tongue as you backed up into the hotel room. The sound of the door forcing shut between you two could be heard as you could feel Reiner’s hands going inside the robe. You melted into his touch when you felt his callous hands rubbing at your bare cunt. Your body backed up slowly until you could feel the edge of a king-sized bed.

Your body fell back with a nudge by Reiner. Your eyes met with his as he was quickly stripping out the layers of clothes he was wearing. Bit by bit you were exposed to Reiner’s bare body. The closest you got to seeing Reiner naked was when you booked a spa day for the two of you after the dreadful season of him playing college football. But tonight, you were seeing it all. His cock sprung out of his boxers tapping at his toned abs. The tip of his cock was decorated with the white liquid of his precum. If you looked closely, you could even see the thick vein that imprinted the side of his shaft.

“Are you sure?” Reiner asked.

You could feel his hands reaching to caress your soft body. “I should be the one asking you that.” You uttered as you looked at him.

You only gain a hum before he’s pushing the white robe off your body. The faint chill that washed over your bare body when you were now fully vulnerable. In the bliss of the moment, you were forced to remember a conversation between you and Reiner when you were just sophomores in college.

You walked side by side down the long walkway after leaving the university’s cafe. Reiner always had this thing where he walked you back to your dorm no matter what. You could be staying late with org meetings, he’ll be waiting right outside the student center for you. You can have an evening class, he would wait for you. Sometimes he even would join your evening study group if that meant being able to make sure you made it to your dorms safely.

The walks across campus were always slow, the both of you enjoying each other company since college was getting busier. With him being on the football team and his rigorous business administration classes and then there’s you with your classes and being a part of SGA. For a split moment, you felt your friendship with him slipping through your fingertips bit by bit. But there he stood outside whatever academic building you were in to be sure you made it to your dorm room safely.

As you were walking, the two of you walked by a girl that you realized was on the cheer squad. You noticed that seductive and flirtatious tint in the woman’s eyes as she eye-fucked Reiner. However, her eyes then noticed you by his side and she added a little more pep into her step. You glanced over at Reiner noticing he was blushing and you only laughed. “Wow, I knew you were popular on campus. But not that popular.” You elbowed his side causing Reiner to rub at the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I’ve only talked to her once or twice. I think she wants to have sex with me…” His voice trails off as the two of you were walking.

“There’s a but isn’t it?” You asked.

You understood that it was college. You let a bunch of young adults live on a huge campus with hardly any parental guidance hormones were going to be through the roof. Due to Reiner’s status on campus, you understood that women were going to be eyeing him constantly. Like any hormonal guy, you knew he would fall for the temptation. However, you were only the best friend. You couldn’t tell him much but to do it safely because his parents would kill him (and you because for some reason you’ll be guilty of not talking him out of it) for getting someone knocked up.

“She’s only pursuing me because she and Eren broke up,” Reiner shrugged. “Therefore, I kinda avoid her at all times. Just so I won’t be in the middle of it. ‘Cause if Eren found out… never mind.” He abruptly stopped shoving his hands into his jacket as he continued to walk.

You knew who Eren was. He also was on the football team and occasionally bugged you when you were doing volunteer work at the campus library. “He would do what Rei?” You questioned.

“He’ll most likely make advances at you,” Reiner quickly admitted as he stopped at the residence hall you resided in.

You let out a chuckle, “You won’t have to worry about that.” You adjusted your tote bag that was on your shoulder.

Reiner looked at you in a confused way. “You’re not understanding—“

You cut him off. “I’m still a virgin and I would never let Eren be my first.” You chuckled. “Iwaizumi that works at the student gym, probably. But Eren Yeager, please Rei. I’m a woman of standards.”

Now it was time for Reiner to chuckle, “Okay. Just stay clear of him. He isn’t shit.”

You shake your head with a laugh, “Goodbye Reiner.” You said as you tugged open the resident hall door.

The memory disappeared in your mind when you felt Reiner’s mouth latch upon your nipple. His tongue swirls around your nipple causing you to moan out his name. Your hands brought him closer to your body, wanting to feel every bit of him. Hips grinding sensually just to feel some form of fiction. “A bit eager? When was the last time someone made you feel good?” Reiner asked as he was leaving a trail of kisses in the middle of your chest.

You felt a heat rush go through your body. Your ears grew hot and sooner your cheeks felt like they were burning due to the embarrassment. “Rei, I’m still a virgin.” You mumbled holding back a soft whimper when you felt that he was back to decorating your smooth skin with kisses.

And now with your faces just inches apart basking in each other’s body warmth, Reiner gave you a bewildered look. As if he couldn’t believe the words that tumbled out of your mouth. However, you watched his face soften before he’s entrapping you into a passionate kiss that caused your body to cool down. He’s pulling apart completely flustered and his face as red as a cherry. “I’ll be gentle and take it slow.”

“Then do it already.” You uttered as your eyes met his and once again your body felt hot.

The moment that you were waiting for. Always telling yourself that you were going to lose your virginity to Reiner or your other guy friend Iwaizumi. Didn’t particularly expect it to be under these circumstances, but you were ready. You remembered during college how your different roommates would gossip about their sex lives and how you had this dilemma where you held onto your virginity so close. Although, for others, it was just a pointless social construct made to have some form of drift between genders. To some, they cherish the thought of being sure to do it with the right person. You hated yourself for being one of those people, especially considering the number of your friends who would tell you that they don’t even talk to the person they lost their virginity to anymore.

The intense feeling of Reiner pushing himself in you cause your body to tense up. He caressed your face forcing you to look at him. Tears tingled your eyelash lines as you looked at him and soon felt the pad of his thumb brush against your cheek, “Just relax. I got you.” He said.

His voice came out like a whisper. Delicate and caring. You exhaled sharply while bringing his body closer. Inch by inch, Reiner is pushing his cock furthermore inside you. Your legs shaking in anticipation with the more of Reiner you were taking. The intense feeling that felt on your lower half felt like you had done a leg workout in the gym. It felt like it was on fire, but soon that fierce feeling was replaced with a feeling of passion. “I’m going to go faster, would you like that?” Reiner questioned.

“Yes.” You stuttered out. “Please.” You begged as you looked up at him.

Reiner’s lips clashed against yours muffling any form of whimpers and moans. Legs hooked under his strong arms as his chest was pressed against yours in a lewd mating press position, Reiner’s hips drove forward. Your head fell back into the fluffiness of the pillow as Reiner’s pace only quicken. The only thing that could be heard was the pornographic sound of heated skin slapping against each other and breathy groans. Your fingernails dug into Reiner’s arms as you could feel his balls slapping at your wet folds with each thrust.

“Fuck,” Reiner uttered under his breath. You could feel the feeling of your legs hooked upon his arms intensify as he rocked forward some more.

Your moans were like music to Reiner’s ears. At this moment it felt like it was only you two in the world. That in this time, this was the both of you confessing your love for each other. That when this was over with, you finally were able to have that happily ever after. It wasn’t anything new that Reiner was having second thoughts about the wedding. With each passing day, the amount of guilt bubbled around in his stomach as he went to expensive dinners with his fiance and attended galas with her. The thought of kissing his fiance and wishing it was his best friend who decided to backpack around the world to help people. The thought of having sex with his fiance when he wanted it to be you moaning and whimpering out his name. He could worry about that later, but at this moment he wanted to make you feel good. Especially given the opportunity of being your first.

Minutes turned to over an hour as Reiner could feel his balls tighten. The fiery feeling of him about to cum and he could tell you were close to the edge also. The way sweat droplets decorated your forehead and your swollen lips from kissing and making out were gasped open. It was a beautiful sight to Reiner. His index and middle finger move in between your sweat-coated body before he’s rubbing at your clit. Your eyes lolled in the back of your head at that action. “Rei, I’m about to—” Your words were cut off at the burst of pleasure you felt in the pit of your stomach.

Your legs quivered under Reiner’s arms as he finally released them from being locked over his. His fingers rubbed at your clit, massaging it slowly and through your breathtaking orgasm.

Followed by your orgasm, it was Reiner next to come down from his high of being buried balls deep inside your cunt. Tugging himself out quickly before his cock begins to spritz out his cum right on your tummy. His weary groans were as beautiful as the sound of the waterfalls you’ve discovered when traveling. Gosh, you couldn’t get the sight of his face while he was cumming out of your head. His face was red as ever, but for some reason, it was his ears that were brightest and most notable.

When he was finally done, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the two of you panting.

“I’ll go run a bath for you and grab a towel. Just don’t—uh move.” Reiner says before he’s placing a quick peck on your forehead and going towards the bathroom.

You let out a sigh of relief as you were laying in the bed. Your legs and lower half aching for a luxury spa and warm bath. Your eyes drifted close once you felt the warm cloth on your stomach. Soon they were fluttering back open when you heard the buzzing of your phone. You grabbed your phone that was on the nightstand. When you saw a message from Iwaizumi with the link to the notorious Gossip Girl post, your eyebrows crinkled together in confusion. You haven’t been mentioned on Gossip Girl since you were in college. Hearing the water in the bathroom getting turned on, you assumed that Reiner was starting a bath. Now it was time for you to press the link.

SPOTTED — Rich Boy Rei makes his way into our favorite girl of the city Y/N hotel room. We thought people talk it out with their partners when they’re having cold feet, not get under another woman. But they do say, best friends are better together than never.

XOXO, Gossip Girl

tags — @serenareiss @festive @chososcums1ut @cirigiri @vixen-the-barista @im-a-killer-queen @poohbea @ashleyandanxiety @sleepy3 @timetoten @whatdidhesayyyy @bokenams @0rang3wax @silversslut @getosbunny @ambersea7 @nekoriots @kookieflvr @atshena @awkwardaardvarkforever @simpfor2bcharacter @goofbye @sofiakistein @letsclocloblr @torapologist @yuujilove @chososcums1ut @imsuchawh0r3 @persephoneismyqueen @ashleyandanxiety @caribbeanwifey19 @vixen-the-barista @indiecursor @harrylovesmc @maboiisuga @stunnababyyabyyy @cirigiri @serenareiss @@aces-high @godist @aasouthteranoswife @hhawkz @thicksimpx @maydayaisha

#reiner braun x reader #reiner braun smut #reiner smut #aot smut #aot x reader #anime smut #anime x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x y/n #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #deja's 4k followers event.

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scuttling · 3 years ago

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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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