#LIKE MOM WE ALL KNOW YOU WANT HIM AS A SON IN LAW UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO LEAVE THAT TO MY BROTHERS

[loud-whistling-yes]

My friends are coming over for a school project including this one dude I'm 80% sure my mom thinks I have a crush on and now I realise how many years of my life are gonna be robbed of me today

[bengiyo]

Be My Favorite: The Evils of Queer Surveillance

I’ve had a chance to calm down a bit, but I need to get this off my soul immediately. Kawi’s mom is engaged in a set of extremely vile and evil acts that we unfortunately have a long history with. In revealing Pisaeng’s relationship with his mother today, this show forces us to reconsider what we know of Pisaeng’s history, and forces us to question the presumptions of safety in our own communities.

Before we get into this, I will be describing her actions as evil. I do not want to contribute to a limited view of the character as inherently evil. I believe this woman is doing what she thinks is best for herself and her son. It’s important that we not fall into fundamentalist reads based in predeterministic assumptions about people’s behaviors. She is engaged in acts that are reprehensible. She likely believes she’s doing them for good reasons, and may have accepted the balance of harm and good on her own.

Normally I would take screenshots and borrow gifs to break up a post like this to make it more digestible, but I’m too upset to take all of that time. I’ll leave the writing about Pisaeng’s personal journey and the romance writing to others this week.

She Manipulated Her Son into the Closet

Pisaeng’s mother uses her positive positioning with her queer employees and lip service to queer issues to appear as an ally. She used that goodwill to convince her son that it would be best for his own reputation to be quiet about his sexuality and to keep her informed about any moves he made in that regard. Pisaeng has already seen through this, but it wasn’t until Kawi confronted him with the reality that he was hiding himself that he felt the need to push himself out more.

This is now the third time Gawin has played a character like this. All of Gawin’s genre characters know who they are and are choosing not to be out because of the inconvenience that others’ perceptions of them bring. It is absolutely heartbreaking to me that Pisaeng was not discovering his queerness in his attraction to Kawi. He was rejecting his closeted programming because of his friendship with Kawi.

It makes me so sad that Pisaeng seems tired and uncomfortable around his mother. He knows the way she operates. She colors right inside of the lines with every action she takes. He gives her a knowing look as she asks seemingly-innocent questions of Kawi. She gives a knowing look when he redirects Kawi into finishing his breakfast. She plays offended when she insinuates that he violated their agreement of being out without informing her.

I hate everything about this, and it only gets worse because she’s weaponized his own community against him.

She is Using Queer People to Spy on Her Son

Some of you may not know about The Lavender Scare or have a strong grasp on the history of law enforcement using members of a community to spy on their own people, but it’s literally how they planned the operation to assassinate Fred Hampton and other leaders. Gay communities were vulnerable to infiltration because when cops threatened enforcement of sodomy laws on white men, they turned on their own communities to avoid losing access to the privileges of whiteness. I say this plainly to show that these tactics are easily transferrable to any marginalized group when its members are isolated.

Pisaeng’s mother reminds Pisaeng that his private life does not belong to him, and that she has already turned his own community against him. She commands extraordinary wealth, which she has leveraged on her queer employees to report when her son is spotted in queer places. She seemed surprised that she was not aware of Kawi, and implies by the comment on his “unique name” that she will absolutely know who he is shortly. Pisaeng feels the threat of all of this, and steers Kawi out of there, but it’s made abundantly clear that he is not safe in queer spaces. Worse, his presence in queer spaces brings the surveillance of the ruling class down upon them immediately. In so many ways she’s made him a threat to his own community.

What’s especially sad about this is that his mother becomes an immediate wedge between Max and Pisaeng. She signals in public in ways that engender support of the queer community. Pisaeng has clearly grown to like Max, and seems to want to build a friendship with him. However, even a queer as apparently-put-together as Max can be fooled by his mom. Pisaeng doesn’t seem mad or disappointed about this; he seems resigned.

Where the Hell Do We Go from Here?

I have no idea. GMMTV went here a little bit with Not Me, and in a different direction with The Eclipse, but I wasn’t expecting them to come for queer-friendly-signaling members of the wealth class. I think they’re walking a careful line by highlighting her political ambitions but not making her a politician already. The insidiousness of the control scheme his mom has deployed against him is legitimately horrifying to me, because she crushed the spirit of her queer son right as he blossomed. I also lived in the closet, but I crushed my own spirit for them.

I know this is a BL, so we’re going to be caught up in the romance and whether or now we like Krist and Gawin together, but please don’t forget about the queerness underpinning these kinds of stories. It is abjectly evil to weaponize members of a community against each other. What is being done to Kawi and the people around him is evil. This cannot stand. She must be stopped.

[harleyification]

I've been in a Batfamily mood again, and now I wanna remake my Moon Knight x Batman crossover AU cause it has been rotting my brain since November and THIS was the only thing I have ever made for it, asjdksajdkla

(Based off of this post)

Some details, to let my Brainrot Out:

Listen, I know we all love adding our favorite characters into the Batfamily because that group ABSOLUTELY needs more trouble and unhinged behavior, but like. This isn't just adding another kid into the family. This is adding Marc, Steven, AND Jake.

Why does every crossover character have to be the youngest addition?? Why Not the OLDEST addition?? Revoke that Eldest Child License from Dick, imagine THIS: Marc would be around three years older than Dick, and while he would be Bruce's second ward, he would throw that shit around like the law. "Well, I'm older, so I get to pick the first character for Mario Party, and screw YOU, *I'M* choosing Peach!" type behavior

Dick: "Well, Bruce adopted me first so I was here before you, I get to play Peach!!"

Bruce is having a hard time figuring out how to go about this

Marc/Steve/Jake all adore Dick and would die for him. Killing is off of the table, unfortunately.

Everyone is supportive of Steven and Jake, treating Marc’s alters with respect! I love the idea of Bruce or Alfred giving them a journal so that they can keep up with which alter did what that day, and Dick giving them different colored bracelets so that they can tell which alter is fronting at the moment. The three of them actually having parental and sibling support, can I get a HELL YEAH!!

Marc/Steven/Jake being adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne after running away from home and not having any upfront memories of how he got to Gotham, but knowing that he doesn’t want to go back to his abusive mom and his negligent dad. Emergency Custody is a hell of a drug!

I have no idea how stuff goes down until Jason gets taken in, so consider this instead: Jake and Jason arguing about the morality of killing. Steven and Jason reading together. Marc and Jason doing competitive training. Think about it. Let the thoughts infest you.

Marc and Jake: "I'm not doing free babysitting!"

Steven: "I will, though!"

Steven and Alfred bonding while cooking and Steve is infodumping about his current research project, doN'T TOUCH ME

Cass joins the family early too, because I say so. And Cass wouldn't need the bracelets to see who is fronting in that moment, she would KNOW, and she will either: pester Marc, love on Steven, or pester Jake.

Cass would adore Steven.

We don't talk about the big explosive Elephant in the Room just yet, nope, so instead consider this: Tim coming in and realizing that Moon Knight really is just Like That. Marc would say, "Another one?? Really??" Steve would say "This one is smart and adds onto my research and just spoke to me for 8 hours straight about arthropods, I have found my new real brother", Jake would say "He's a little stalking freak, I like him already"

Jake and Damian is a brotherly match made in hell. Watch the fuck out.

Just. Just Listen to me...just listen...why wouldn’t a morally grey vigilante by the name of Moon Knight NOT fit the bat motif???

Also, Marc/Steve/Jake would get the Moon Knight powers either as a meta-human with a connection to the Egyptian god, Avatars being able to be chosen at birth, or getting them super early through weird means! I think it'd be neat!

Thank you for listening, I hope I gave you Moon Son brainrot

[pocketramblr]

Ask Game : How about an au in where Manual is a Todoroki (Any type of relative)

oh, you mean like when i said Fuyumi should adopt Manual as her brother? Or when we just made Manual the oldest todoroki sibling here, here, (and then...) here? or the separate fic where he's the oldest sibling and also the personification of water and the water cycle itself? Or the series where Tensei and Masaki are Vampire Fuyumi's scions and they're members of the Todoroki clan?

Just kidding, im sure everyone who saw the family tree reblog knows which one i'll talk about here.

1- Masaki, eldest Todoroki Himura child, does not have the quirk his father wanted. He also did not have an ice quirk useful to the Himura family. But he is the eldest, and an eldest son at that, so he's still trained and included by the family. Growing up though, Masaki knows that he's not quite right, not quite what people wanted of him, and tries hard to overcome it. He trains, a lot. He studies the family tree the Himuara clan is so proud of, and then branches out more, as if that'll earn their approval. (he knows most of the whole chart ehehe)He trains to the point that he doesn't just have the ability to manipulate water, but create it too, as his parents create fire and ice. Unfortunately, he can only do this by drawing on his body's stores, so he ends up out of breath and dehydrated too easily when he tries, and wielding large amounts of water is terrible for finesse. Touya, a bright firecracker of a second son, is trained instead. He hurts himself in training too, but can keep going, unlike Masaki. Masaki eases off, still training, still going to be a hero, but giving his little brother more of a spotlight. He's satisfied with what he has. But his brother and father aren't.

2- Masaki stops caring about training with overwhelming power, and focuses on learning how to move small amounts of water with better grace. He dives into the detective part of the job, even as Enji largely neglects passing this on to Touya. He uses his weird knowledge of his family tree for connections- why does he keep getting invited to such high level meetings, missions, and parties?? oh well, you see, Captain Celebrity's sibling married one of Masaki's mom's siblings, so they're in-laws-in-laws, and Ryukyuu's uncle married another one of CC's siblings, so of course Masaki got an invite. He isn't even bragging about his connections, or using them for ill, he just shows up and if people ask why, he says it so matter of fact that they're like 'oh yeah of course, i mean if Manual were my cousin's cousin's aunt's neighbor i'd invite him too, cmon in man." It's amazing how most heroes are more likely to know how they and Masaki are connected than to be aware of the fact that Masaki is straight up Endeavor's son. He doesn't need to be networking this hard. he's doing it anyway. He likes, after all, to be treated normally. He just has a skewed view of normal- but i mean, so does Fuyumi! they're just different skewed views.

3- Sadly this is not a Tensaki au for the simple reason that on one of Endeavor's parent's side, Masaki is distantly related to the Iidas. Now that would not be a problem for literally anyone else, but Masaki took the advice of "if you know how closely you're related, you're too closely related and applied it to his life, not thinking that most people do not in fact have a full knowledge of all of their relatives up to tenth cousins four times removed, and a partial knowledge up to fifteenth six times removed. Tensei is bemused when Masaki asks him how the crawler vigilante is doing, since they never officially partnered, and even more so when Masaki explains "Oh, no, it's just that he's been mentored by my uncle Oguru, has my grandparent's speed quirk and he's like, sixth cousins with your mother, only three or four times removed, so i thought maybe he might have mentioned it to you. But i hope he's doing alright, seems like a good guy and i know that bee bombing thing last month was rough."

4- Masaki dyes his hair brown to look more normal, and because he feels like his natural pink hair clashes with his costume too much. (Hey wonder if all that sexism in the family maybe impacted his view of it too. He very much disapproves of Touya's actions and words but maybe he doesn't want a girly pink hair color either.) Anyway, he also didn't stay at his father's agency for clear reasons. Once his own agency is set up, Fuyumi asks him if he'd consider taking in Natsuo- because he's completely neglected by their father, mom's in the hospital still, touya's dead, and Fuyumi's busy with school, Enji, and Shoto. Masaki agrees, and Natsuo ends up going into school for logistics with a science minor, still considering med school later.

5- "hey uh pocket is dabi not touya here" well that chart was made before the reveal. by not a whole lot of time lol. So, MASAKI doesn't think Dabi is Touya. After all, Touya is Dead. and Dead People do not attack school camps and set trees on fire. Dabi is, therefore, infinitely more likely to actually be Masaki's half uncle- he's pretty sure there are other kids on the fire side of the family, and it gives him a reason for hating Endeavor and his kids so much. Masaki stands by this even as his other siblings start cottoning on to the true identity of the arsonist. He's too normal to believe Dabi could possibly be Touya. After Jakku, he gets a call from Tensei like "hey man, i just heard about the news and i'm so sorry, you know you helped me a lot with my brother and family mess so i'll help you with your brother and-" and Masaki goes "OH THANK YOU i know other things like Eraserhead cutting off his own leg are more important, but i cannot believe my uncle would steal my dead brother's identity like that, with that awful dance-" and Tensei is like 'ah, right.' and just... lets him rant a bit to feel better, before he sniffs and goes 'its actually touya, isn't it.'

[flowerandblood]

I have a problem in my private life and I don't really know what to do about it. If you want, read what I wrote below and express your opinion whether I am being oversensitive and what you would do in my place.

My husband's mother is a psychotherapist who tends to analyze her family - unfortunately, because it is very unhealthy and unprofessional. On the one hand, she treats her sons (my husband and his younger brother) as geniuses (which they are), her most beloved, best boys, sometimes referring to them as if they were still five years old.

On the other hand, she convinces my husband that his devotion to church affairs comes from his problems, that he denies his need to go to a psychologist in favor of talking to a priest (bullshit).

My husband told me that she interfered a lot in his private life, with whom, where and why, to such an extent that he did not want to tell her for a long time that he was with me so that she would not bother him, he also hid my letters from her under his bed .

And finally I showed up. When I first came to their house, she welcomed me like a queen, baked me a cake, praised my beauty and intelligence, told me how much my husband and I fit together, how glad she was that we met.

It was nice until a year later when my husband proposed to me and announced that he didn't want to wait long to get married - I had no objections either, but it was his decision to hurry. My husband's mother wanted a big wedding, but I did the opposite. Then my little hell began.

When I was in my city and my husband was in my house, his mother told him that I was manipulating him, that he was making a mistake by wanting to marry me so soon (she got married early and they separated from my husband father because they couldn't be together withstand).

My husband was devastated, but he stood by me, saying that it was our wedding and our comfort was the most important. It ended with the wedding being exactly as we wanted, but my husband's mother personally organized a grand reception.

There had been tension between us since then, but it seemed to be getting better. I tried to help her, be nice to her, simply treat her as if she were my second mother (even though neither I nor my husband call our in-laws 'mom' or 'dad').

My mother treats my husband as if she just magically had a second child. She is strict and demanding, but she also always thinks about him, what he says and what he needs is important to her, she would like to see him as often as possible and is sad when he doesn't come to their place for coffee with me.

In the case of my husband's mother, I always feel like the third wheel there. When I confided in her about my fear of pregnancy and of the baby turning out sick, she then used it against me during another conversation and said - after you confided in me all your phobias, I already knew that I would never have a grandchild.

Which was like a slap in the face because that's when we started trying for a baby and it turned out that I had hormonal problems.

I told her this and she felt ashamed, but the milk had already spilled. She couldn't understand how my husband and I could not want to go everywhere together, give each other so much space, she said that I was denying things, that I was behaving like an amazon and trying to prove something to everyone.

Of course, she said all this when my husband was not around.

When he came back in the evening after a party with friends and found me in bed crying, I told him everything. That I told her that I didn't want to have an uninvited therapist, but a second mother and I was sorry that I would never be her third child in her eyes.

He said that what she was doing was because she was jealous, that she knew that I was the first in his eyes now and that she couldn't come to terms with it.

But is it my problem?

Since that conversation, she has calmed down a bit, because I told her some bitter words of truth, but I will never trust her again, I thank God that she lives so far from us. I get stressed thinking about when I have to go there (like next week, because it's a holiday in our country and there will be days off).

I just try to be nice, not to express my opinions or interfere in the discussion, but if I do something that she thinks I could do differently, she still blames me and bothers me. This is my little hell (and then she has the nerve to say she's an awesome mother-in-law).

I'm sorry, I had to share this with someone, my husband knows it very well and is trying to protect me from her, but he can't be with me 24 hours a day, and she's his mother.

We wondered if he should talk to her about it, but we're sure in her head she'll explain to herself that I manipulated him and I'm turning him against her because she's not doing anything wrong.

[its-moopoint]

We saw who were the people at the funeral. No question about T holding his son than C holding him with T next to her. We saw C and her younger brother sitting together in the same row with their mom and sisters. No son in law with them. All of them were in the second row. But, OL shippers have crossed the line of decency and sanity a long time ago to still be shocked by the lies they tell their followers. They are psychotic.

Anonymous asked:

I have some questions about the funeral pics. I haven't seen the footage myself but Ive heard that Tony was there holding the baby. Was he there with the baby? If so, wouldn't the baby want to reach for his real parents ?

odessa-2

Please refer to my previous recent post of Kevin v Sam pics. Tony was not holding a baby. In fact I do not think he was present at all. He was subsequently photoshopped into that train wreck of a photoshop 'funeral pap shot'. Kevin was the black masked bandit holding a baby. They cleverly played some musical chairs in the church in an attempt to bamboozle. It only worked on some.

They had to quickly come up with a game plan for Mr Balfe's sudden and unexpected demise and the panicked foray resulted in the ultimate revelation of the truth. We got the proof we were all finally looking for under very unfortunate and tragic circumstances.

As for the baby and to who he belonged to. I feel that it's irrelevant at this point. Sam was clearly in attendance not only merely attending his 'costar's' father's funeral, but sitting right next to her, embracing her and and comforting her mother. Whether the baby was theirs and being held by uncle Kev, or whether it was a nephew of Cait's doesn't matter.

If you watched the stream carefully, it was evident that SC did turn around to face the baby and look at him. It was also clear that Sam was very familiar with another little boy who went up to the alter. So familiar in fact that when he turned his head sideways to show us his big ol forehead (purposely imo), we saw that he was authoritatively directing the young lad and instructing him what to do. That raised my antennae. Sam even stood up. We see you Captain .

It was such an explosion of truth and such a threat to their almost 10 year whopper of a lie some serious damage control was pencilled in. Hence why they dragged out McGoul for the 40 day memorial service and vanished Sammy boy.

balfeheughanmm

i really don't like having t’s face on my blog. if you scroll down you will see that i am telling the truth. lately this has been happening because of the issues we have been talking about here, but never before. my blog is about sc.

sometimes, to talk about a truth (or a lie), we need photos to better explain the narrative. THIS IS THE POST! this explains so much, guys. as i said before, Sam Holand Heughan was there so comfortably. so we see that no lie lasts forever. we all already know the truth. some still don't want to see.

and about the paternity of these children? for god’s sake! i can't believe a narrative in which she is actually married to t and has a real child with him and cheats on him with s. that's crazy. INSANE.

the only truth i believe is: s is the father of one or more children. they are a couple. a family. and the truth about this family came out at a funeral. so sad. actually everything about this is so sad and has become increasingly sad for me. i think that's why people leave the fandom. i start to understand them. and YES, they know that we know. when will they stop?

mariaae

Reblog for the truth!

jclovely

Death has a sting, in this case TRUTH was revealed. Hope SC will stop lying. It causes destruction and more destruction. We do not wish it to them, that is why we warn them. STOP TRUTH SETS YOU FREE.

citrinesun

There was much discussion at the time about the blond child C is holding. I’m not saying that’s not her child, but this pic of the child on the right does look suspiciously similar. The baby on the right is William, Prince of Wales at at the same age, more or less.

auburncurlslass

Wigs that can be purchased off the internet. Sam was wearing a wig to hide the fact that he had recently gotten hair implants. The shortness of his hair is evidence that plugs were removed and inserted into the frontal crown of his skull. To have this procedure done, the person's hair must be nearly buzzed to the scalp. Sam wore the wig to disguise his recent procedure. The number receipt is the shape of Sam's large forehead. There's no doubt it is Sam Heughan next to Caitriona. As for those Las Vegas photos...it's called AI and/or latergrams. Remember, he's an actor...all the tools of the trade are at his disposal.

Anonymous

Was t at the funeral ?

odessa-2

Not from what I could see.

2truthsandalie5

Agree!

I read blah blah blah rubbish blah blah blah. And it all sumps up in one thought: if they are able to manipulate and lie about stuff we are all are seeing happen live imagine the fanfic they've written over the years and share as canon that never took place.

[sketchfanda]

Kirishima's Mystique:Breakin' the Law!!

Now you may all know of course of a particular, peculiar series of events involving Izuku, Bakugo and Todoroki during their internship with Endeavour in America. But while all this is going on, here is what Kirishima had happening on his end of things. Well at least in this wild, lewd little story of ours as we come to a modest but cozy little suburban neighbourhood in Hollywood, California. Where our sturdy hero in training found himself helping out with a local federal police detective by the name of Laura Reed, who was quite frankly a goddamn bombshell!!

The woman was a dusky chocolate skinned work of art that had what could only be called an unreal combination of a pornstar's bombshell curves and the muscle tone definition of a fitness queen. You'd hardly think or believe this woman was a single mom but she was also one seriously fierce, focused and determined woman of the law. Laura you see was a woman on a mission and that mission was part of how and why our sturdy hero's internship saw him assigned here. It was in regards to the house just next door of this one and who resided it in it, one woman in particular.

in this house resided the infamous and Notorious Herron family originally hailing from a namesake county in some small middle of nowhere Oregon town called Coxville. No that’s not a joke and neither was the reputation of this family. And I’m not talking to the obvious quirk all the women seemed to share that quite frankly made them all turn out an develop into toned, curvy size queen slut bimbo bombshells!! But were it up to Laura, well that’d be the least problematic issue she’d charge them with.

For as long as anyone can remembers the Herron family ran the various trades in weed, ecstasy, molly, pills and bootleg/ knock off merchandise in the entire county within Coxville. To most upstanding residents they were just a family of trouble makers who've had more run ins with the law and destroyed more marriages/ relationships then anyone can count. But Laura knew better than anyone the truth which was why that sting operation should’ve been a lot more successful. Unfortunately they’d only succeeded in rounding up the men in the family, the women were a different story, Especislly the target of her ire, Veronica Herron.

Okay so sure she was pretty much going over the top brass’ heads trying to build up a case against the Herrons but damnit she wanted justice and she was going to get results!! Okay sure she rounded up some hero intern into helping her out saying it’d be great field experience but what she read about Kirishima in terms of his quirk and what he could provide for her stakeout made him essential in her eyes. He seemed a reliable guy and besides which not like she could trust her hormonal son to help out. He’d be weak against the temptation of those human skinned succubi and speaking of which…

Laura:”Alright Red, phase 1 will be observation, I want to know everything that happens at that pool party, there is no way that the Herron family went legit.”*As the milf cop informed her recruit, handing him a set of binoculars as he had him sitting down, facing the window which gave him a view of the Herron girls’ backyard. Mineta would give his very hair balls to be where Eijiro was right now, to see paradise before him. The backyard pool swarming with two baker’s dozen worth of swimsuit clad babes, sweimming and tanning. It was a wet dream made reality.*

Kirishima:*blushing as red as his hair, even with how his love life was? He could only handle seeing so much sexiness.* “Uhm yes ma’am, okay ma’am…”*he nervously quipped in reply, trying not seem nervous. It didn’t help Laura was in a swimsuit herself, a simple but effective gold coloured two piece that did wonders sowing off her amazing body.*

Laura:*seemingly unaware of the affect she was having in the sturdy hero in training, her luscious skin glistening in the sunlight as she gazed out at the window with absolute contempt.*”Veronica Herron mayve rolled the top brass but not me!! I’ll buiold a case against them myself and you’re going to help me do it. That sex addict milf will face justice for her constant depravity!” *Something told Kirishima this might’ve been a personal vendetta on the fed’s part, not that he’d say it to her face. Her sexy, exotic work of art of a face.*

Kirishima:”Sex addict milf..constant depravity…got it…”*He coup nly repeat hose keywords and who could blame him. He had this woman acting as his superior giving him a slight case of jungle fever and she was telling him to spy on a house full of walking talking pornstar blue prints. It’s a wonder he hadn’t popped a stiffy already, there was no doubt Mina and Maya were going to want details. Red eyes glued to her backside as she was picking up a towel, her muscles flexing snd her milk chocolate booty jiggling hypnotically.*

Laura:”I’ll be laying out in the front yard to eavesdrop. Fsce-down so I won’t be recognized. Now, help me put in some lotion.”*That made Kirishima’s arousal skyrocket faster than it already was. He had to wonder if the federal officer wasn’t doing this on purpose. But he knew he had to oblige her as he accepted an offered bottle of tanning lotion. This was going to be awkward to say the least.*

It was a tense situation at least for Kirishima as he coated and rubbed tanning oil lotion onto the police woman. Making her all slick, sleek and glistening from head to toe on her milk chocolates toned hottie body. If she was feeling the least bit of eroticism from this then she was really good at hiding it. The sturdy chivalrous stud could only hope to do just as ell and not get branded a pervert.

But internally the detective wasn’t as stoic as she seemed on the outside. Secretly biting her lip sensually as her nerves tingled from the sensation of Kirishima’s lotion soaked hands working away as they grazed and touched the most intimate places. Which she insisted he be as thorough as possible, leaving nothing done from her thick thighs to her twin meatbuns. Part of her fines it wasn’t right having tricked Kirishima into this stakeout operation but she felt he’d be ideal for what she needed of him, as long as she ensured e wouldn’t fail against the temptations of Herron charms.

Once she felt her recruit had done the deed as thoroughly as possible, she let him be to spy and be her eyes while she went to lay out in the front yard. Far as the neighbourhood knew, especially those lusty bimbos, she was some hot single mom just soaking up some sun. Listening in best she can to pick out any possible leads or proof Veronica had some less than noble intentions. Far as she could assume, they had to still be in business and planning to muscle in on a rival cartel, having overheard remarks about Veronica and her sister Jane never being ones to share and always in competition with one another

For her that was all she needed to have Kirishima begun his parts in the next steps of the Stakeout. Deciding to forgo picking up her radio to give him the heads up she was on her way back into the house, instead looking to tell him directly in person. Admittedly she also wanted him to scratch her itch, his touch earlier with that lotion really got her going. Having been so tempted to have him caress her more intimately, erotically, go further than just oil her up as she made her way upstairs and suddenly barged in through the door.

Laura:”Unit 2!! Stand to attention!!”*she spoke firmly and loudly, making Kirishima gasp and stumble as he dropped his binoculars and did as told. Looking nervous as Laura narrowed her eyes at him to look down at the groin area of his shorts. Just as she thought, her intervention was a must here. Who knows what hedonistic sights he saw.*

Kirishima:”Ma’am! Yes,I swear I wasn’t up to no good!! Didn’t see anything noteworthy ma’am!!”*the chivalrous hero swore truthfully as he mentally berated himself. He knew he was pitching a major tent in his shorts, how could he not? At least one of those Herron girls was walking around naked! Silently gulping as the detective woman made her way over, face inches from his as she swore a no nonsense expression.*

Laura:”I heard enough to know my instincts were right, those deviants are up to Something and it’s up to you to be infiltrate that house and find whatever evidence we need. But first things first…we need to build up your will power and resistance against whatever temptation they send your way. A teenage boy like you is prey for those harpies…”*Before Kirishima could inquire what she meant, she suddenly cupped his face and kissed him. Lips locking with his a he found her tongue invade his mouth, tracing his sharp teeth before coercing his own to reply in kind. The detective moaning into the French kiss she initiated before she suddenly broke it, a saliva strand trailing between them. As she then nudged him to fall back flat in the bed behind them.*

Kirishima:”Detectie Reed, ma’am what the hell?!”*Before he could ask any further, he felt his jaw drop as his eyes bugged out at the sight before him. As Laura began us stripping herself of her swimsuit, her bikini top undone and tossed aside as she ditched her thong to follow. Standing in all her milk chocolate naked glory as she made her way towards him with a sensual determination. Gasping as she grabbed the waistband of his shorts, boxers and all as his cock stood up like the spring of a jack in the box popping out.*

Laura:*biting her lip erotically, the sight and smell of that shaft hitting her hard as she felt her pussy drool and quiver. Grasping that length and girth as she began stroking it.*"You listen and you listen well and good mister hero. When dealing with these depraved bitches, they will tempt and seduce you therefore I'm taking it on myself to buildup your resistance and stamina. When i'm through with you, you're gonna have more willpower than a whole platoon!! So we're not leaving this room until I know you're capable of handling a Herron at her sluttiest.."*with that said, the lusty detective began to kiss and lick his Riot stick, the warmth of her mouth surreal as she tasted his essence. Latching her luscious lips around the tip as she began to suck and blow, her dry spell being hit with a sudden storm of desire.*

Kirishima:*grit his sharp teeth intensely as the thirsty milf detective proceeded to give stunning fellatio. The serious intensity of her eyes making such a contrast with her pornographic act of fellatio.* "Ma'am, if that's what you want from me in this mission, you got it!!"*the sturdy stud quipped, grasping her distinct hair firmly in his grasp as he began to pump and buck his hips. Making her widen her eyes in surprise as the young hero in training showed he was certainly no virgin and he sure as hell knew his way with a woman sexually.*

Far as Kirishima knew, this was definitely not like any intenrship he'd been expecting but being a woman of the law, it's not like Laura had any reason to bullshit. Admittedly of course, it'd been a while since he'd gotten any intimacy especially with Mina and Maya since this stateside internship program began and between Laura and that poolparty of erotic delights? The second this milf cop got naked and started sucking him off, his brain had flipped to full primal mode. Facefucking her deep and hard as she deepthroated him with passionate ecstasy, as she rubbed slit in response to those smooth heavy balls smacking her chin.

It was certainly pornographic in nature but if anything, what was going on between the hero in training and the sexy police detective made porn stars look tame. As the Herron girls overheard and eavesdropped on the noise of their animalistic mating, curious to what sort of donkey dicked stud was so good to make a woman scream like that. The bimbos unaware as Laura guided Kirishima into levelling up his sexual experience to ensure he would be capable of surviving and handling a Herron at her horniest. Yes he would be a weapon of mass seduction that would bring the downfall of those size queen sluts, she thought with lewd pride.

Such ideas and what not flowed through her erotic hazed brain as she laid atop her young charge in a 69 position. Bobbing her head on his cock as she quivered and moaned at his hands massaging and squeezing her ass. Stroking what she didn't fit in her mouth with her plump, milk chocolate tits as she soaked his cock with her drool while he probed her sloppy, wet pussy with his tongue. She hadn't felt such enjoyment from foreplay since her honeymoon or the night her son had been conceived.

Laura:"Yes!! Yes!! Yes!! Just like that!! Fuck me deep and hard like you want to rearrange my guts with your dick!! Don't make a love to a Herron!! Fuck them, destroy them!!"*The secretly thirsty milf cheered and goaded as Kirishima fucked in a spooning position. The chivalrous stud holding and hooking one of her legs at a 90 degree angle as he pumped his jackhammering dick into her eager pussy. Their sculpted bodies glistening with sweat and the lotion still staining Laura's body with slickness. Which provided extra lubrication to boot.*

Kirishima:"Ma'ma, you're so tight...can't stop..fucking you!!" *Not that she wanted him to,as he gave it to her doggy style, his powerful pelvis smacking against her glorious dusky skinned booty as those cheeks clapped and jiggled with every impact. His balls smacking her clit as he held onto one of her hips while the other hand reached out to grab and squeeze one of her swaying, bouncing titties. The walls and ceiling of the bedroom echoing with their passionate mating as skin smacked skin and the bedsheets became soaked with their sweat and juices. And the police detective couldn't get enough of it!!*

Laura:"AAahhn, fuck fuck!! Don't stop, even if it feels like your cock and balls will fall off!! Yeah, look 'em in the eyes like you're doing with me right now!! Doing this as you cum inside them will really wear 'em down!! Fuck and rut any and everytime like you want nothing more than to put your babies into them!! Make me have to go on maternity leave you sex machine!!" *The horny cop hollered and moaned with wanton abandon as as she hugged her arms around Kirishima's board powerful shoulders. Her young studly intern plowing her in a mating press as the bed creaked and shook, her legs draped around his arms as he pushed her body's flexibilities to its limits. Shamelessly panting with desire as she couldn't help but gaze into those blood red eyes as her heroic intern shattered her sense of professionalism. Part of her was really rather liking the idea of getting knocked up by him when this gig was all said and done.*

Kirishima:"PLUS!! ULTRA!!"*The chivalrous stud howled his school's motto and mantra as he continued to fuck Laura fast, deep and hard. Rocking her world as he performed a standing fuck, her arms and legs draped and wrapped around his waist and shoulders as he held her ass in his powerful grasp. Making her bounce and ride on his shaft as their tongues danced in a sloppy open air kiss as a puddle of their juices grew on the floor. Before Laura found herself in a full nelson hold as the pair continued to fuck well into dusk as they lost track of time.*

The pool party had long since finished but the federal police detective and her heroic intern charge were still going at it, much to the former's delight. It helped Kirishima was really making the use of his little trick of focusing a percentage of his quirk on his cock, which really extended the fun. And were they damn well loud!! Some of the Herron girls next door couldn't help but continue to eavesdrop, the audio erotic voyeurism making their imaginations run wild.

Whoever that lucky lady next door was, they couldn't help but wonder what the stud with her was like. Was he black,white or whatever? And was his cock at least more than 9 inches? All they knew for certain was that they were going to have some very pleasant dreams tonight, and Laura was going to be feeling deliciously sticky and sore in the morning.

To be continued...in Kirishima's Herron House Hassles!!

[crinkled-emotions]

“Can you please come and get me?”

hi would i be able to request this for bradley and amelia? i loved every interaction you’ve written between them!!

I'm in the mood for *festive* one shots, so here's one where Amelia has to go to her dad's for Christmas and she promptly decides it's a bit shit.

For the sake of this one shot- her dad is still in San Diego. Amelia isn't particularly fond of him but there's nothing she can do to get out of it. Well, so she thought.

There’s some hand-wavey stuff but y’know. Hand wave and get over it.

My dad thought the scene this gif is from was the funniest thing ever. I think he may have back snorted in the cinema lmao.

"I don't understand; why do I have to spend Christmas with him?"

"We've been having this argument since you were eight, Amelia, and I remind you every year; it's the custody agreement. I can't do anything about it; if I try and tell him no, I could- I could lose you."

Amelia frowned, watching her mother fuss around the bar.

"I don't want to spend it with him, mom! I want to spend it with you and Mav and Bradley!"

"Honey, I don't think Bradley's even coming. He's talking about deployment, Pete is heartbroken about it."

"Mom," Amelia insisted. Penny held up a finger, searching for a bottle of some particular alcohol.

"I already told you. It's the law, sweetheart. There's nothing I can do about it, he'll be here at 3pm at the 23rd."

Amelia tossed her book down, climbing off the chair at the deck to walk out toward the ocean. She took a seat on the sand and buried her head against her knees, huffing. She reached for her phone, frowning at the text from her dad that said he couldn't wait to see her.

That was a lie if she'd ever heard one.

-

Sure enough, Amelia's dad showed up at 3:15pm on the 23rd, jumping out of the car with a million apologies. Amelia sent her mom one last begging look, before turning and giving Maverick a hug. He caught her, frowning.

"Hey, kid, why the long face? I know it blows, but maybe you could-"

"-please don't make me go, Mav."

"I would love for you to stay, and I think it would brighten your mom's world, but unfortunately it's the law that you stay with your father. I'll come and get you on the 26th, okay? Nice and early, we can get waffles and a shake on the drive home."

When Amelia glanced at him, she saw the look of a man familiar with the routine.

"Bradley didn't like going to his grandparents', think it freaked him out, y'know, all the ghosts. They loved him, adored him, but I think he reminded them of their son a little too much."

Amelia knew then and there that he got it from both perspectives.

"Can I call you and mom later today?" She asked. Maverick nodded.

"Of course, kiddo. Look, you have to promise me something, for your mom's sake."

She hummed.

"I need you to be good for your dad. You don't have to be best buddies with him, but please just be civil. Okay?"

"Fine. Bye, Mav."

"See you later, kiddo."

She separated from him and walked straight past her biological parents, climbing into her dad's car and slamming the door shut behind her. Her mom moved away from her dad, leaning into Maverick who had a hand on her back for comfort. Finally, her dad got into the car.

"Hey, sweetie. Are you excited?"

"Sure."

He glanced at her via the rearview mirror, frowning.

"Amelia-"

"-dad."

He got the gist. Shutting his mouth, he started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

-

"I hate that she has to do this, but he won't give it up. I've asked him every year if he would swap, because she's miserable, but he refuses. Says because I get to have her full time, he gets to pick the holidays he has her."

"Surely your lawyer has something to say about it? We've both seen the way she looked at us when she got into the car."

Pete and Penny were sitting on the couch, sipping coffee together as they stared blankly at the tree in the room.

"How long do you think it'll take her to break loose this year?" Pete mused. Penny elbowed him, sighing.

"I think if she breaks out again, he's going to take me back to court. Sue for full custody."

"He wouldn't... would he?"

"He would; trust me."

Penny finished off her mug, reaching for Pete's empty one too.

"Have you heard from Bradley?"

"Yeah, deployment isn't until January. I offered for him to stop by on Christmas Day for dinner and he sounded down for it. He did mention something about him and Phoenix going on a roadtrip but that's not until a couple days after Christmas."

"Are you two going to be okay?"

"Are you and Amelia?"

Pete and Penny exchanged looks, Pete clearing his throat.

"Okay, new plan. We go to the Hard Deck Christmas Eve, dinner Christmas Day, and I'll pick Amelia up at some ungodly hour on the 26th so she's here when you wake up."

"Pete, you don't have to do that-"

"-I do, and I will. She's your little girl."

-

“Amelia, uh, when we get home... there’s going to be someone else there too.”

“Oh, are Grandma and Grandpa coming to Christmas too?”

“Uh, no. It’s... they’re really special to me and I would love for you to meet them.”

Amelia crossed her arms.

“Your girlfriend? Is that girlfriend four or five?”

“Amelia...”

“No, I’m tired of this, I thought it was just going to be us-”

“-she’s bringing my daughter. Our- our daughter.”

Amelia’s throat went dry. Suddenly, she wanted out.

“Pull over.”

“What? Amelia-”

“-pull over. Right now.”

Her father pulled into a fuel station and Amelia yanked her backpack from the seat beside her, hoisting it over her shoulder and stalking into the nearest bathroom. She knew she couldn’t call her mom, or Mav, but there was one person who was left on her ICE list.

“Bradley?”

-

“Nice one, Roos!”

Rooster spiked the ball up and Bob sent it flying over the volleyball net with ease, the pair high-fiving. Phoenix ducked under the net and threw herself into Bob’s arms, tackling him to the ground. Rooster laughed, letting her wrestle against Bob as she refused to admit defeat to the game. Hangman, on Phoenix’s team, grinned as he too watched Bob howl in laughter. They’d never seen him like that but they were thoroughly enjoying it.

“Hey, Roo! Your phone’s ringing!” Fanboy called from where he was stretched out on a lounge chair. Rooster frowned, jogging over to grab it. He saw the caller ID and he immediately felt a pit of dread.

“Amelia? What’s going on?”

“Bradley?”

“I’m here. I thought you were heading to your dad’s for Christmas?”

“Can you please come and get me?”

Rooster glanced at his team, then reached for his t-shirt.

“Where are you? Can you send me your location?”

“I’m- I’m hiding in the bathroom, at a gas station... I don’t want to go, Bradley, please don’t make me- I don’t want to-”

“-okay, okay breathe. Are you hurt, are you in trouble?”

“No, but- he’s... he’s got a new wife, and- and a new baby...”

“Ah, shit, Amelia, I’m sorry. That’s gotta be rough. I’m on my way, I’ll call your mom-”

Rooster heard Amelia gasp.

“You cannot call mom,” she begged, “she’s gonna lose custody of me because I keep running from my dad’s!”

“What are you talking about? If anything, I’d be giving full custody to your mom, clearly you’re not comfortable spending time with your- hey, Nix, I gotta go pick up Amelia. I’ll call you later!”

Rooster waved at Phoenix, still on the phone as he shoved his shoes on and began to jog back up the beach to his Bronco.

-

Amelia locked the stall and crouched on top of the toilet, holding her backpack to her chest. She could hear Bradley on the road, and then her father’s voice at the entrance to the ladies’ room.

“Amelia, you can’t hide from this.”

“I’m not going! You can’t make me!”

“It’s the law, Amelia! You will go-”

“-no! No, I won’t! You can drag me kicking and screaming out of this bathroom and I will run to the nearest police station! I’m not doing this!”

“Amelia!” Her father scolded, but Amelia remained in the bathroom, clutching her phone and her backpack.

“Bradley-”

“-I’m coming kid, hold tight. I’m, uh, maybe five minutes... wait, I’m pulling in now.”

“Amelia, can you please just come out so we can talk about this?” Her father pleaded.

“Bradley...”

“I’m coming,” Bradley said. She could hear the familiar rumble of the Bronco outside, then her father walking away.

“Are you Amelia’s father?”

“Who the hell are- wait a minute. Are you Nick Bradshaw’s kid?”

“Bradley Bradshaw, I think we met when I was a teenager.”

“What are you doing here?”

Amelia bolted from the bathroom, legging it to where she could hear her brother talking to her dad. Bradley caught her gaze and she tilted her head to the Bronco.

“Look, it’s none of my business, but your daughter called me and I’m going to take her to the police station in San Diego, because it’s the right thing to do. You and the cops can sort it out from there.”

“Bradley-”

“-and for future reference, if you have news like a new daughter, I would probably call before the baby’s born.”

Amelia watched him come over to the Bronco. Her father stood in his dust, lost and a little ticked.

-

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Driving on the back roads toward the station, Bradley finally broached the subject. Amelia had sniffled and stifled her sobs for the last ten minutes, using all the napkins in the glovebox.

“Talk about what?” She whispered.

“The fact you hate going to your dad’s, and you apparently have for years according to Mav.”

“He’s just- um. He... he only wants me on Christmas because it hurts mom, and I’ve known that for years, but for some reason... this year, I just- I had enough, and then he told me about his daughter, and-”

“-and you couldn’t pretend everything was okay,” Bradley mused. Amelia watched his moustache twitch and she winced.

“You called my mom, didn’t you?”

“I had to. Your dad could have reported it as a kidnapping, considering technically I’m a third party on your mom’s side.”

“You didn’t- I asked you to come.”

“Amelia, you’re a kid.”

Bradley was firm, brows set as he pulled into the police station. When he pulled off his sunglasses, Amelia could see the way his eyes were just a little damp.

“Look, Amelia, uh- I went through some shit when I was a kid too, and I get where you’re coming from, but the law is the law and your dad has custody for Christmas.”

“It’s stupid.”

Amelia crossed her arms over her chest and Bradley sighed.

“C’mon, let’s go tell the cops. They might not be able to change it, but they can make a note that this is not the first time you’ve left your dad’s. Especially at this time of year.”

-

(6 months later)

“Amelia, when it comes to the holidays, who would you prefer to stay with?”

Amelia snapped to attention, looking up at the judge.

“I would prefer to stay with my mom, Penny Benjamin, ma’am. I don’t feel my father and I have a relationship at all since he left when I was eight.”

“Okay, thank you.”

The judge was quiet for a moment, Amelia grasping her mom’s hand under the table. Glancing over her shoulder she could see Pete and Bradley waiting, both nodding at her with subtle thumbs up. Finally, the judge cleared her throat.

“I think it would be in Amelia’s best interests for her to remain with her mother full time. If her father would like to see her, he must give her mother twenty-four hours notice and Ms Benjamin has the right to refuse.”

Amelia’s jaw dropped and she turned to her mother, throwing her arms around her. Penny caught her, sighing in relief.

“I love you,” Amelia whispered into the hug, Penny tightening her hold.

“I love you too.”

“Oh man, I am so glad that worked out. I think your statement helped, Mav.”

Pete and Bradley appeared from the back, Pete giving Penny a gentle kiss. Amelia hugged them both, refusing to watch her father walk out of the family court room.

She was suddenly very excited for next Christmas.

[maddrmatt]

The Gift From Beyond (SoKai Week 2022)

New to this fanfic? Click here to properly begin!

Greetings readers and fellow SoKai fans!  Thanks again for coming back for the next instalment.

I hope you have your tissues handy because, like I said, you may end up crying after reading this one.

Regardless of that, enjoy!

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 6: A Hurt Worth Having

Radiant Garden

As she laid her head on her father’s shoulder with her eyes squeezed shut, Kairi soaked up all the warmth and love she could from his embrace.  From the smile on her face, she was wishing it would never end.

“Kairi?” she heard her grandmother’s voice ask.

The Princess of Heart opened her eyes. She saw her grandmother, mother and husband approaching. They all had somber expressions on their faces.

“It’s time,” said Lillie.

Kairi’s face fell.  Grant released her from his embrace, and she saw that he was wearing a similar expression like the others.

Kairi then walked over to her grandmother until she was right in front of her.  She sniffled as tears, ones of sadness this time, fell from her eyes.  

“I can’t do it, Grandma!  I don’t want you, Mom and Dad to go!” she cried.

Summer cupped her daughter’s cheek and wiped away some tears.  “We know, darling.  We know.”

“Trust us, there’s nothing more we’d wish for than to stay and be a part of yours and Sora’s lives.  But we all know that isn’t possible,” said Grant.

“Our time in this world expired long ago.  We have to go back to where we belong now. And you and Sora need to move forward with your own lives now,” said Lillie.

Kairi sniffed.  “It’s just so unfair!”

Lillie took her granddaughter’s hands into her own. “That it is, my child.  But life seldom is, and it is unfortunate that our family has had to learn that hard lesson many times over.”

Sora hung his head.  ‘How very true that is.  Kairi and her family are such wonderful people.  It’s not right that they’ve had go through so much hardship.’

Then Sora smiled at his wife.  “But life isn’t always unfair as well.  Besides how we always came back to one another even when it seemed impossible, Kai, look at what’s happened here tonight.”

“Your husband’s right, Kairi.  While the place we came from was a paradise, it wasn’t easy not knowing what truly became of you.  But that will no longer be the case after tonight,” said Lillie.

“Yes.  We would’ve had to wait for you to join us someday, which hopefully won’t be for a very long time.  Instead, we got this amazing opportunity be a family again, no matter how brief it was,” said Grant.

“When we go back, we’ll have joy in our hearts because we got to know so much about you.  We learned what kind of person you grew up to be, everything about your life before, the good and the bad, the man you gave your heart to, and what you plan to do for your future.  Knowing all that will outweigh any pain we feel from being separated from you again,” said Summer.

Kairi looked around at all the smiling faces from her family.  Finally, in spite of all the tears still coming from her eyes, she smiled herself and held open her arms.

“Who’s up for one more family hug?” she asked causing everyone to laugh.

Then Lillie wrapped her arms around Kairi tightly. Summer then came in from the side and embraced Kairi by her side.  Grant then held all three of them in his arms just like they did earlier.

Then Grant looked over to Sora.  He was smiling at the sight of familial love in front of him.

Raising his arm away from the embrace, Grant beckoned to Sora. Realizing what he was being asked to do, the Hero of the Keyblade walked over to them.  He then wrapped his arms around his wife’s other side while Grant placed his arm on his back.

“I love all of you so much!  Mommy, Daddy, Grandma, Sora!” exclaimed Kairi.

“And we love you too, Kairi,” said Lillie.

Grant looked down at his son-in-law.  “And that goes for you too, Sora.”

“Although we only had this short time together, we couldn’t love you any more than if you were our own son,” said Summer.

“Or grandson.  We could never have imagined a better man to be our Kairi’s husband,” said Lillie.

Sora chuckled.  “Thank you, Grant, Summer, Lillie.”

Grant laughed.  “Please, Sora.  Call me Dad.”

“And Mom,” added Summer.

“And Grandma,” added Lillie.

Sora laughed himself.  “All right, Dad, Mom, Grandma,” he said flashing one of his trademark smiles.

The family stayed in each other’s embrace.  After a short while, they came undone.

“All right.  It’s time to call Joshua,” said Lillie.

Sora looked skyward.  He was about to call out to the Composer when he felt something touch his shoulder.  He turned to see Kairi with her hand on his shoulder.

“Let me do it, Sora.”

Sora gave to a nod to his wife.  The Princess of Heart then gazed up into the sky.

“Joshua!  You can come now!  My family is ready to go!”

A few moments passed.  For some strange reason, Joshua hadn’t shown up yet.  All of them looked around for any sign of the Composer.  But there was nothing at all to their confusion.

“Where could he be?” asked Grant.

“Maybe he wants to make sure we actually mean it after the near false alarm last time,” said Sora.

“Joshua!” Kairi called skyward.

“I am here,” said the Composer’s voice from behind.

They all turned in the direction of the voice and saw its owner leaning against the same wall with his arms were folded as he had been earlier. But this time, Joshua’s face didn’t have his usual smug expression.  This time, he looked almost remorseful.

Sora had an idea of why he was wearing that expression. ‘I guess he’s not looking forward to what he’s come to do.  Although he has to do it, what he’s doing is essentially tearing a family apart and no one ever wants to be a part of that.’

Joshua approached the group.  “I trust you all had a very pleasant visit.”

“We did and we’ll treasure it always, thanks to you, Joshua,” said Summer.

Joshua then looked to Sora with a small smile on his face. “Well, since Sora did me a great service for me in the past, I knew I needed to do something very special for his and Kairi’s wedding day.”

“I did something for you, Joshua?” asked Sora.

“Yes, Sora. Do you not recall?” Joshua asked causing Sora to shake his head.

Joshua then turned to the others.  “In the Realm of Sleep, my friends were given the mission of destroying a Nightmare.  Failure would have meant erasure for them.  Unfortunately, it escaped Traverse Town before they could succeed.  But Sora, who had befriended them, pursued the Nightmare to another Sleeping World and destroyed it himself.  By doing that, he gave them more time to survive until I could restore their world and bring them home.”

Sora then realized what Joshua meant.  “Oh right!  I did do that!  I had completely forgot about it because, after destroying that Nightmare, I ended up in trouble with Xehanort’s Organization.  Well, I’m certainly glad that I helped like that.”

“So, I guess, in a way, Sora is also to thank for us being able to come here tonight,” said Summer.

“That’s true,” said Grant.

“In that case, thank you, Sora.  Not just for all you’ve done for Kairi, but for setting events in motion that made this visit possible,” said Lillie.

“You’re all very welcome,” said Sora.

Kairi went over to her husband’s side and took his hand, intertwining their fingers.  ‘It never ceases to amaze me how much Sora’s selflessness always seems to come back in many good ways,’ she thought as she smiled at him with boundless affection.

“So, are you all ready to return?” asked the Composer.

Kairi’s family nodded.  “We are,” said Grant.

Grant then took his mother’s left hand with his right one and then he took his wife’s right with his left.  Though there was a hint of sadness in their eyes, they still wore their smiles.

Joshua moved until he was in a position to the side of Kairi’s family.  He then raised his right hand with the palm facing them.  The hand then began to shine with a glowing light and the auras around Kairi’s family started to glow brighter.

Tears started to well up in Kairi’s eyes again.  But through it all, she held onto a smile on her face.

“Kairi, Sora, we wish you well for all you do in the future. As leaders of the Infinite Union. As owners of your future business. As parents to any children you might have.  But most of all, as a husband and wife whose love is greater than any force in all the worlds,” said Grant.

“Thanks, Daddy!” called Kairi.

“There will come a time when we will be all together, and nothing will ever separate us again.  But until then, we’ll always pray that the two of you will live a long and full life together where the happy moments will always outweigh the bad ones. So, always continue to keep your promises to each other and the bonds your hearts share will never be broken,” said Summer.

“We will, Mom!” called Sora.

“Kairi?” asked Lillie.

“Yes, Grandma?”

“Care to hear one last bit of advice from your grandmother?” Lillie asked causing her granddaughter to nod in response.

Lillie then raised her free hand and pointed toward Kairi’s chest, specifically where her heart was.  “Always hold those you love, both who are with you and who are not, within your heart.  That is the one place you will never truly lose them.”

Kairi looked at her grandmother.  She then looked over to Sora who gave an encouraging nod and smile to her.  Then she recalled what she once told Sora long ago when they were in Traverse Town’s Secret Waterway before he left for Hollow Bastion.

‘Don’t ever forget.  Wherever you go, I’m always with you.’

Her words may have been different from her grandmother’s. But the message behind them was the same.

“I will, Grandma.  Thank you.  Goodbye!” Kairi called.

“Goodbye!” Sora chimed in.

“Goodbye to both of you!” called Summer.

“Until we meet again someday!” called Grant.

“And never forget, we love you both dearly,” said Lillie.

“We love you too,” said Kairi.

The auras around Kairi’s family soon overtook them until they glowed so much that Sora and Kairi had to shield their eyes with their hands. After the light died down, the newlyweds lowered their hands and saw that all that remained of Kairi’s family were three glowing balls of light.

The balls of light then began to rise into the sky.  The sight reminded Sora of the time he witnessed Master Eraqus and Master Xehanort do the same as they passed on years earlier. But now, unlike the mixed feelings he felt at that time, he felt only sorrow to watch them leave the world of the living forever.

“Goodbye,” Kairi said quietly as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Sora and Kairi never took their eyes off the balls of light. They continued to watch them until they had risen so high, they could not be seen anymore.

Sora then looked to his wife.  “Kai?”

The tears were flowing harder now from Kairi.  With a mournful sob, she threw herself into Sora’s arms and continued to cry against him.

“It’s okay, Kairi.  Let it all out,” he assured her as he stroked her comfortingly.

Joshua watched the sight of the bride crying in her groom’s arms.  A regretful look came to his face.

“Kairi, if my gift has upset you so much, then I am truly…” began Joshua.

“No, Joshua,” Kairi interrupted without turning to face him from her place in Sora’s arms.  “You have nothing to be sorry about.  What you did tonight, I will never forget, and I will always be grateful for it.  Thank you.”

Joshua gave a small smile.  “Well, in that case, you’re very welcome, Kairi.”

The Composer then looked to Sora.  “Well, Sora, this where we part.  Give my regards to Riku, Neku and the others.”

“I will.  Will we ever see you again?” Sora asked.

Joshua gave his usual smug grin.  “Maybe we will.  Maybe we won’t.  Who can really say?  But right now, you just take care of that wife of yours and see that she takes care of you.  Be seeing you!”

Suddenly, a pair of white wings erupted out of Joshua’s back.  Following the path that Kairi’s family took, he rose up into the sky. Sora’s eyes followed him until he was completely out of sight.

Now that it was just the two of them again, Sora then turned his attention to his wife who was still sobbing.  “That’s it, Kairi.  Cry as much as you want.  There’s nothing wrong with the way you’re feeling right now.”

“My heart is aching, Sora.  It hurts so much to know that this night, I got my grandmother back and got to meet my birth parents for the first time, only to have to lose them all over again,” said Kairi between sobs.

Then Sora felt Kairi smile against his shoulder.  “But it’s a hurt worth having.  I wouldn’t be feeling this way if I didn’t know how much they loved me and how much I love them.”

Sora smiled.  “That’s right, Kai.  Heartaches are never easy to bear.  But one good thing about them is that they’re a sure sign that you genuinely have a heart.”

The Hero of the Keyblade then backed away so he could tilt the chin of his wife up so he could look into her eyes.  “And you want to know another good thing about a heartache?”

“What is it?” asked Kairi.

“As long as you have someone who cares about you, you never have to carry it alone,” said Sora with one of those smiles Kairi loved so much.

Kairi smiled back before returning to resting her head on Sora’s shoulder.  “That’s very true.  And it always makes me so happy knowing that you’re here to help me through times like these.  Sora, thank you.  I love you.”

“And I love you, Kairi.  Always have.  Always will.”

Sora continued to hold Kairi in his arms.  The Princess of Heart still had many tears to shed over the departure of her birth family.  But in the comforting arms of her beloved Hero of the Keyblade, the loss and the pain would be so much easier to bear.

________________________________________________________________

Notes from the Mad Doctor:

Told you it was going to be a tearjerker.  Fortunately, I hope that last sweet exchange between Sora and Kairi mitigates a little.

I had Kairi’s grandmother’s last advice in my head for a long time before writing this.  It was only until I started writing that I realized how the message of it is similar to what Kairi told Sora after giving him her lucky charm.  Thus, I had Kairi observe that in story.

I give my thanks to whoever reads this chapter.

I also give my special thanks to @fandomchanger​​ for liking the previous chapters as well as @sokaiweek for reblogging the previous chapters.

Comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated!  I know this seems like a good spot to end it now.  But I have one more chapter before we can officially call this story concluded so stay tuned!

________________________________________________________________

Onto the next chapter!

[novumtimes]

My son keeps bringing his freeloader girlfriend to events uninvited

DEAR ABBY: My son is a sophomore in college. He has been dating a girl he met at school for almost a year. Her family no longer speaks to her for reasons I don’t know. I have included her in our family holidays, but she later tells my son that she thinks I don’t like her.  It causes problems for me when I visit him at school, which is often because it’s my alma mater. When I’m there, she attends all dinners and family events whether she’s invited or not, and I am expected to pay for her as well. My son has invited her to our house without my permission, and I do not want her to come. How do I tell him I don’t want her here without causing major problems in my relationship with him? — OPPOSED MOM IN OHIO DEAR MOM: Teach your son good manners by telling him you don’t want anyone joining you for every family event and dinner without first being asked to include her. As much as he may like the girl, she is not (yet) a family member. Be sure to point out that you do not dislike her, but this is a formality you would like observed. The two of them are not a package deal. P.S. The fact that her family doesn’t talk to her is a red flag that should not be ignored. Broach that subject with your son now. DEAR ABBY: I’m concerned that my son-in-law is emotionally abusing my daughter. She was always a bit shy but was able to stand up for herself.  Recently, we were driving to a new destination and she was using Google Maps. It said we had arrived at our destination, but we couldn’t see it. After backtracking, her husband was able to find it. He then berated my daughter for “being unprepared and not knowing where it was”! No one had been there before, and we were following an effective app. She apologized to him.  I wanted to say something, but when I have in the past, she became upset with me. I see her confidence ebbing away. She needs to stand up to him. There have been many more instances. How can I help her return to being the strong and confident woman she was? I don’t think counseling would work. She doesn’t recognize what is happening to her. — MOM WHO SEES IT IN CALIFORNIA DEAR MOM: Talk to your daughter privately. Explain that you are worried about her because she’s no longer the person she once was. Give her examples of her husband’s verbal abuse that you have observed and ask if she thinks she really deserved it. Offer to (quietly) pay for her to talk with a licensed counselor if she would be willing. Then cross your fingers that she will accept your offer and act on it without spilling the beans to her husband. DEAR ABBY: Unfortunately, I was involved in a traffic accident. (The other party was found liable.) After the crash, the other driver was bleeding and had gashes. I experienced a couple broken ribs. Would it be OK to contact the other driver to see how he is? He was so polite to me at the accident scene. I really feel like he was a nice person. — BROKEN IN NORTH CAROLINA DEAR BROKEN: I know you mean well. However, before contacting this nice person, you would be wise to discuss it with an attorney to make sure there will be no legal ramifications you might later regret. Dear Abby is written by Abigail Van Buren, also known as Jeanne Phillips, and was founded by her mother, Pauline Phillips. Contact Dear Abby at http://www.DearAbby.com or P.O. Box 69440, Los Angeles, CA 90069. Source link via The Novum Times

[the-firebird69]

Elton John - Levon

And Elton John and there are two of them one of them is Tommy Allen the other is Mac Daddy but the one who wrote the song is the first one no it's Mac Daddy and yeah he's the first Elton John and his son copied all the songs and his act stole his act and my daddy is still there. Old enough oddly enough it is a heads up to the max and it tells them about it also the songs about levon and he is the father of someone he calls Jesus and he is next door and he is blowing hot air balloons for his people and he's next door to Ken after repair shop and he hands them the balloons and just sold them they're selling them and they're going down and making tunnels and they know about the macs. This is a big rat just like the one against Justin and they're telling on him they telling on Trump

It is true they are seeing this they are saying it and he's singing it and he's also saying later on it's Ken saying that I'm Jesus in both cases the family business thrives

Zues

I know what family business he's talking about a spy business and that's what the accuses of all the time and he is ratting and it's because we're saying to just leave it on unfortunately Trump is actually doing that and it seems that he may have sold the companies to the max who might be using his people as slaves to keep the economy going so they have stuff for their ships and they are tormenting the s*** out of us not leaving us alone for a second and having people harass us and we don't know what they're freaking problem is so I'm saying this the guys are going to go ahead and leave and that's Trump and son and they're saying it we're getting out of here and they're going to go west and they're going to try and invade the Midwest and my son-in-law says I don't think they're going to try that that much I could be wrong and also they get something that's not bad but out there they're going to start testing and see if they can get anything and see if they get what they want and have them try and send equipment and stuff and if not if they try and see what it is even if they find out they can say they're going to do that but before they're sending factory goods to them but still they want the company's back and so on and I understand what you're saying so it's going like that and I think you're right with a second set it says it in the song and God is dead and they're talking about Trump and they want to run it on you and all that stuff I really didn't want to kidnap you from there cuz it's near the stupid canal stuff like that I can hear but really it's a long-term plan and it's in writing and people are finding it and you're just a really good kid I have never seen anybody do this to them and what you said is my family is gone my race is gone almost I don't see many of them I can't tell who aren't Carmen is and he said to me you look funny like a Mac and I saw him looking around all the time and he's trying for a high sign and used to talk to George quite a bit and his dad and his mom any figured it out I'm kind of alone so I'm here and I'm his only friend almost and he says keep up the high hopes Ken and he talks like that I feel better then I feel really bad because that's how we talk but he said we're not gone completely we're entombed and these people who seem like our enemies are probably going to try and help get them out once they figure it out and the code is started and he said that up to the code is started and we really need to help and he needs to help a little he says because I don't know it but you guys really need to help and teach them how to see it so we're going to do that and verify they said they're having a hard time in the tunnels and to verify who the hell they're fighting you're still fighting nights in White satin I said you run over a whole crap a lot of them and then you check and then you make it so they can't use them and you take the robotic brains and you try and use it against them and they're saying that's nice but it will prove it and I'll give you a command of it and that's the way I say things too

Ken

Olympus

[mwcowan]

Returned, A Good Normal

Chapter 3: Bangkok, Baby!

I got that backwards, it should be Baby, Bangkok! Though far away from the Philippines, the biggest event of this trip, and of many trips, happened last week – with the birth of Lachlan Rex Cowan-Harris. Georgia and I are finally grandparents! A bouncing boy at 9 lbs. 11 oz., Lachlan is the son of my son Danny and his partner Ben, with no small amount of help from surrogate mom Kaila. Here are the boys enjoying a sunny day at Crissy Field.

Although Danny and Ben live in Sydney, Australia, they wanted Lachlan to be born in the U.S. and were luckily able to connect with Kaila in Sacramento, where Lachlan was born. We’d expected Lachlan on the 17th as Kaila was scheduled to be induced that day, but a baby boom in the maternity ward caused a one-day delay. Throughout the day we were keeping up with progress though a WhatsApp group that Danny and Ben set up. As the big event was getting close we happened to be visiting the most sacred Buddhist temple in Thailand, Wat Phra Si Rattana Satsadaram (Temple of the Emerald Buddha), which is part of Phra Borom Maha Ratcha Wang (the Grand Palace) in Bangkok. We thought it would be appropriate to ask Buddha to help Lachlan enter this world in health and peace, and right when we got out of the temple we got the good news! Maybe that simple prayer had something to do with it. You never know, but it can’t hurt.

So why were we sitting in a temple in Bangok, or even in Thailand, in the first place? Side-stepping Philippine immigration laws. Normally when we travel to the Philippines, Georgia and I come together, and I receive a one-year spousal visa. This time, if you remember, Georgia came over right after Thanksgiving but I didn’t come until just before Christmas. Entering on my own I can only get a 30-day tourist visa. It’s easy enough to have that extended by going to the immigration department in Manila and filling out the necessary paperwork. Or, we could just leave the country and come back. Which one sounds like more fun? Since Bangkok was already on our to-do list, and airfares were cheap, off we went.

Totally unplanned though, was that our friends Noel and Michelle had set up a vacation in Bangkok, starting earlier but extending through the dates we'd be there, to celebrate Noel’s daughter’s 30th birthday. Though we had different plans for our visits, we decided we'd hook up at least one evening for dinner and drinks. Well, we did hook up, but not as we’d expected. The day before we left, Georgia got a call from Michelle, telling us that Noel was in the ICU there. Noel has a chronic medical condition that unfortunately flared up badly and put him in the hospital. We arrived in Bangkok the next evening, checked into our hotel, and immediately got into a taxi for the hospital. Thankfully Noel was much better, out of the ICU and into a regular room. But since we’d planned to have dinner and drinks, Michelle still took us out. To a 7-11 for beers and snacks, but it counts!

With Noel doing better, Georgia and I stuck with our plans for the next day, hiring a guide and driver to show us the best of Bangkok in one day. We started by touring the Grand Palace, a 60-acre compound which has been the home of Thailand’s King since Rama I in the late 1700’s. Every King since then (the current King is Rama X) has made his mark on the beautiful temples, shrines, residences, and grounds. It really defies description, to me every bit as overwhelming as I felt touring Angkor Wat a few years ago. Nearly every inch of every structure and statue is decorated with a mosaic of semi-precious stones, or inlaid mother-of-pearl, or covered in gold leaf. Disney’s most creative minds couldn’t come up with this.

The King's actual Palace. Nice digs!

Finishing up with the Palace in the early afternoon we were famished. Our guide was pleased when we let her know we preferred street food over restaurants. Bangkok, all of Thailand's cities actually, is famous for inexpensive and delicious street food. She led us to an area not too far from the Palace where we browsed many choices – we lunched on Pad Thai and a few more great dishes whose names I can’t remember.

After lunch we drove to Wat Phra Chetuphon Wimon Mangkhalaram Rajwaramahawihan (luckily for tourists they shorten the name to Wat Pho), or the Temple of the Reclining Buddha. This is the third-largest reclining Buddha in the world, at 46 meters (151') long. Yes, it’s fully covered with gold leaf, except for the bottoms of it’s feet which are inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

The bottom of the Buddha's feet. Yes, it's sideways because he's laying on his side.

Since it was the day before the Chinese New Year weekend, we had to go to Chinatown! This was pretty crazy as you’d expect, with everyone and every store and stall getting ready for the weekend.

The food market was enormous, with endless varieties of both ingredients and prepared dishes. Not much that I could recognize though.

After Chinatown our guide was nice enough to drive us by the hospital so we could check on Noel; happily he was in the process of being released. No partying for him though, so we went back on tour. By now, it was getting towards dinnertime, so we went to Talat Phlu a night market with literally hundreds of food vendors.

We wandered around, sampled a few things. The fried dumplings below, with a soft rice flour center and crunchy garlic and chive crust were delicious! Georgia wants to learn how to make these. I hope she succeeds!

Dinner was from another vendor, with tables nearby where we could sit. Delicious again, although I don’t remember any of the Thai names for the dishes. My favorite was a spicy dish of sauteed morning glory (which I'm familiar with as kangkong in the Philippines) which grows on the river’s edge. Here we are with our guide Moo, and our driver Egg. Just like in the Philippines, everyone here goes by a nickname, which in Thailand is good since we’d never be able to pronounce their real names.

[A note about the dress - it was a hot & humid day, even though mid-winter. However, the temples, shrines, etc. we visited require respectful dress to enter, meaning no shorts, bare shoulders, etc. Our clothing felt completely stuck to us by the end of the day!]

The next day we were on our own, and engaged in the second most popular activity in Bangkok, shopping! At least Georgia did, and I tagged along. Georgia wanted to go to an area where they specialize in local woodcraft as décor, utensils, furniture, etc. We took a free water taxi from our hotel (located right beside the Chao Phraya River which winds through Bangkok) to a Bangkok SkyTrain station, and took the train. Inexpensive and easily manageable.

We found our way to the indoor/outdoor mall, which indeed had the items we were looking for, and a whole lot more! We’ve been looking for accent chairs for our living room and found some we really liked. Unfortunately they were already fairly expensive, and then we looked into having them shipped from Thailand to the Philippines… let’s just say this is currently on hold until we can resolve the shipping issue.

We finally made our way back to the hotel, and enjoyed a nice riverside dinner. After breakfast the next morning, it was off to the airport and back to Manila, where I got my 1-year visa. Mission accomplished!

[reasonably-worried]

Up until I was in junior high school, I thought everybody hated their family. In the second grade, I wrote a paper about how I hated my sister. I didn’t have the worst childhood. I have some happy memories and my family went on a camping vacation every summer. My life was luckier than many when it came to the necessities.

But god was I a depressed kid. I hated my siblings and I especially hated my mom. My siblings tortured me. I’m the fourth of five kids but my little brother was adopted so he got special treatment. Every time my second older brother would make me cry from incessant teasing, I would get in trouble for yelling at him and being upset. It was somehow my fault for reacting. That’s when I learned I wasn’t allowed to show emotions other than happiness.

At church, all the older people used to tell me how lucky I was to have such good parents. Yeah, the parents that could barely handle me coming out as queer. The parents who preached so much homophobia, I still deal with it over a decade after realizing I’m queer. Even going near a church makes me anxious now.

Lately I’ve been reading a lot of AITA Reddit posts and I’ve really resonated with the stories of people getting screwed over by their families and then being told they’re the assholes for being upset. And then a week ago I reached the last straw with my siblings. We live more than 12 hours away from each other (mostly) and rarely see or talk to each other. But they’ve got kids and I wanted to know my nieces and nephews. But when I reached out to my sister in law about FaceTiming, my brother said he needed to protect his children from strangers and me and him were strangers. So I decided I was done trying. This was just the end for me. I’ve tried so hard to be a good person and open and loving. And they just shit on me. And I’m tired of it.

So this is my goodbye to my siblings. You tortured me. Here are some minor examples that may not seem like much, but after two decades of this bullshit, it gets to be too much. Chris, you stole my comfort clothing when I came home for the holidays, laughed about it, and then got mad when I cried. You aren’t being sarcastic, you’re just being mean. And you don’t get to call me a fag. Sam, you gave me such self esteem issues by calling me fat in a negative way (I was actually very thin and athletic as a teen). You made me feel worthless. It’s only been the last couple years where I’ve learned I am worthy of unconditional love. Jordan, you are the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever known in real life. You made me so mad every day and never got in trouble for it. Teasing me, hitting me, being an all around jerk. You know what you did and I will never forgive you for it. Hayden, we had ups and downs but I thought we related on being outcasts in the family. Yours feels like the biggest betrayal. I hope you don’t pass on your racism and homophobia to your son. Mom, you fucked up. You treated me worse than my siblings and I have no idea why. You told me to just get over my childhood sexual trauma. You never defended me. And dad, well you worked so much I didn’t see you more than a couple hours a day. I don’t hate you because you did put effort in when I did see you. You did yell at my siblings when they made me cry. Yeah you fucked up in other ways, but you tried and that meant a lot.

But it’s not enough. And I doubt there will every be anything any of you could ever say that would make me forgive you for the damage you’ve done. Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll even try. So goodbye guys. I won’t see you later.

[scuttling]

Lavender

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right. Please continue.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I shouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aaron!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It���s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 27, part two

(masterpost) (pinboard) 

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Follow Your Own My Path

Now that the party's over, it's time for the fun part of Lan Qiren's evening: yelling at Lan Wangji. 

The first time I saw thise scene I wondered why Lan Qiren's house suddenly had such tacky decor, but on rewatching I realize they’re still in Lanling, and these are his guest quarters. The Jins apparently go in for stick-on floor tile and wall-mounted floorboard heaters, or at least I assume that’s what’s hiding behind that hideous grate.

Anyway, Lan Qiren starts off sort of reasonable, saying that he didn't punish Lan Wangji for breaking into the library, because he wanted to give him the freedom to decide for himself that he should...think the same way as Lan Qiren. 

Unfortunately, Lan Qiren has always shut down Lan Wangji's attempts to question, argue, or even discuss ideas. So for the past few years, Lan Wangji has had only two people to talk to about life’s mysteries. His brother, whose answer to most things is a gentle "fuck if I know." And his best friend, sexy demonic cultivator Wei Wuxian. Yet Lan Qiren has the nerve to be surprised that Lan Wangji's world view isn't precisely the same as his own.

After listing off Lan Wangji's offenses, Lan Qiren decides to directly compare Lan Wangji with his father and Wei Wuxian with his mother, which is pretty dumb of Lan Qiren. First of all, insulting anyone's mother is risky. Second of all, Lan Wangji's experience of his mother was very positive; her absence was what caused him pain. 

Third of all, as a filial son, he kind of has to defend her when Lan Qiren talks shit about her. I mean, as a filial son in Wuxia/Xianxia fantasy, where the children of villains are frequently torn between being goodness and duty--the duty to be villains like their parents. Lan Qiren needs to watch more Wuxia dramas and he'll understand the tactical error he's making.

(more after the cut!)

Lan Qiren follows up this little back-and-forth with a coughing fit, which doesn't work the way he expects it to. Lan Wangji has figured out his moves and is not falling for it this time.

Look at Lan Wangji refusing to be manipulated by Lan Qiren's fake-ass little health crisis! I'm so proud of him.  If you let yourself get so righteously enraged that you have a coughing fit, that's your own problem, my dude.

Lan Qiren sees Lan Wangji's lack of response, and changes tack and speaks from his heart. But it's the same message as before. Lan Wangji takes his leave and Lan Qiren gets teary eyed and even closes his eyes, Lan Xichen-style. 

Lan Qiren's pain is genuine, but being genuinely hurt by your child choosing his own path is just part of parenting, so this is his problem to deal with, not Lan Wangji's. Both of my parents were sad when I stopped going to church in my early 20′s, but only one of them spent the next 30 years trying to make ME feel bad about it. (stage whisper: Mom)

Settle for Me, Baby

Next we have heterosexual shenanigans. Having lost Mianmian’s companionship and help, Jin Zixuan finally plucks up his courage to go talk to Jiang Yanli. She plans to leave to go to the burial mounds with Jiang Cheng, to talk some sense into Wei Wuxian, or something. Jin Zixuan begs her not to go, for her own safety, and asks her to stay and let him take care of her. 

She agrees, setting aside her previous rule of "we three must always stay together." None of the things that are going to happen from this point onward are Jiang Yanli's fault except getting stabbed in the heart because of running around an active battlefield but if she had gone to the burial grounds, things might have turned out slightly better.

On the flip side, the Burial Mounds have a pretty bad reputation, and might come under attack from other clans at any time; she is choosing safety, not just choosing romance. And it's fine for her to choose either, or both, over her brothers; a woman's life isn't worth less than a man's, despite what fiction, society, and laws tell us. Jiang Yanli’s got a duty to her clan that involves getting married and producing offspring, and she's running out of time to make a good choice. 

We know this because a nearby production assistant tree is dropping petals in front of the camera, like we're in a Yasujirō Ozu film. Jiang Cheng is watching from afar, as shown by a super-long-focus camera shot that does terrifying things to his bone structure (google “focal length face distortion” if you are curious). He sees that he will probably have to cut Wei Wuxian loose in order to ensure his sister's future.

Soul Baking

Over in the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian is hanging out with Wen Ning, who has to be kept covered in a cool place, kind of like a sourdough starter, while he works on repairing his spiritual cognition.  He is wrapped in parchment paper and his face is covered in a lattice just like a nice apple pie. I’m hungry, is what I’m saying. 

This plotline has a lot of good angst in it, and appears to be all about the morality of having zombie friends and being a necromancer and stuff, but really it's a bog-standard coma-patient plot, in which everyone says "he can't hear you" and "unplug him" while one person who loves the patient refuses to let go. They even have a “turn off the machine!” moment in the next episode, when his talismans get removed. 

Wen Qing comes to visit, bringing a sweet potato for Wei Wuxian and engaging in some cute friend-flirting before going to encourage her comatose brother. Wen Qing is relaxed and light with Wei Wuxian in a way she isn’t with really anyone else in her life. On the flip side, she knows Wei Wuxian’s vulnerabilities in a way that no-one else does. I love their friendship. 

Wei Wuxian goes outside to have the iconic radish-planting interaction with A-Yuan. First, though, he has this little moment of being pleased at the general makerspace vibe he and the Wens have created in this shitty environment. 

Wei Wuxian is so good at grabbing crumbs of joy wherever they land, and living fully in any good moments that come his way. 

Then he acts adorable and immature while playing with A-Yuan, showing us that he's still the same person he has always been, despite everything. 

Including still thinking he's too good for manual labor, until Wen Qing threatens him with getting fingerbanged.

Jiang Cheng in the Hizzy

Jiang Cheng heads into the burial mounds, leaving his disciples and their horses behind. When he comes back, the horses will be gone.  Apparently Yiling horses are extra tasty, because nobody seems to ride them more than once.

The disciples can't get past the wards and are worried about him going in alone because it might be dangerous. But Jiang Cheng 1. can take down wards with no problem 2. isn't afraid of Wei Wuxian 3. ain't afraid of no ghost(s).

When he walks into the main settlement area, Wei Wuxian acts happy to see him,

 Wen Qing doesn’t, 

and things just get hideously tense and complicated. 

Wang Zhuocheng is really good in this moment, conveying all Jian Cheng’s hurt and disappointment through an uncharacteristic series of microexpressions. 

Wei Wuxian is talking like things are still fine, saying he will sneak back to Lotus Pier to visit, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't actually believe that.

A-Yuan comes to break up the tension, grabbing onto Jiang Cheng and getting yelled at. 

This doesn't bother A-Yuan one bit, which leads me to believe that his crying at Lan Wangji later is a shameless ploy to get toys and/or a second dad.

Jiang Cheng visibly relaxes, seeing that there aren't any strong cultivators there, but he also betrays his arrogance, feeling that these people aren't worth being concerned about. Wei Wuxian chides him for this, speaking up for the value of the common people, and Jiang Cheng doesn't push it, but changes the topic to Wen Ning. 

Wei Wuxian actually asks why he wants to know about Wen Ning, because Wei Wuxian has brass balls.

Here, Jiang Cheng is on morally firmer ground, because the whole corpse-raising thing is really super questionable.  Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing both know that they have to let him see what’s up, and that it isn't going to go well.

Wen QIng confronts Jiang Cheng and he gives her SUCH a nasty look, which is fair, I guess. She's basically stolen his sect brother, and is letting him become an enemy to all the clans, in order to save her own brother. 

I like this little moment where Wei Wuxian steps from Jiang Cheng’s side to Wen Qing’s side. 

Wen Qing tells them "No arguing when you're inside,” which is hilarious considering it's the Yunmeng bros she's talking to. As she watches them retreating into the cave, we see how powerless she really is now.

Inside the cave, Wei Wuxian makes a big show of keeping Jiang Cheng from stepping on his talismans. 

Isn't paper expensive? Why are these talismans so enormous? Anyway, I think this is a little theater on WWX's part to put Jiang Cheng at ease, giving him an opportunity to yell about a trivial housekeeping problem, because he knows Jiang Cheng isn't going to like what's in the next room.

Jiang Cheng starts off pretty reasonable, asking calmly about the whole resurrection thing, and asking why li’l milquetoast Wen Ning is such a murder machine now. Wei Wuxian explains and says he’s working to bring his consciousness back. 

Jiang Cheng gets pissed at this, because he sees it as more of Wei Wuxian’s unrealistic dreaming--despite years of evidence that Wei Wuxian’s unusual ideas generally do pan out, including the Yin Tiger Seal. 

The conversation turns to the missing piece of Yin metal, and the episode ends with Wei Wuxian asking if Jiang Cheng believes the rumor about Wei Wuxian stealing it. He pretty much already knows the answer to this question. 

[in-ky]

An Old Scent [1] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, age gap, Negan

A/N: yay first fic! this will have four parts! i hope everyone enjoys. this is an au where the apocalypse never happened. 3.2k words

I squinted as I stepped out into the bright Virginian sun. People swarmed all around me, creating the steady hum of airport ambience that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I had just gotten off a four-hour flight home from college and all I wanted to do was shower and curl up in bed. But I couldn't. Oh, no. First I had to endure a fun thirty-minute car ride with my best friend since second grade. I scanned the curb in front of me for her small black car and caught sight of a tall woman waving at me. I grinned and walked forward, tugging along my baggage behind me.

"Ugh, it's so good to see you, Bee." I sighed as I enveloped my friend into a large hug. She let out a laugh and swayed us gently.

"It's good to see you, too," She hummed, rustling my hair "I forgot how short you were." Bee was an alpha; tall, muscular, and very quick to remind me of our differences. Of course, it was in a 'joking with love' kind of way. I was an omega; small, rounded, and very quick to punch her gently in the abdomen.

"I forgot how much of a jerk you are." I quipped, huffing and wheeling my bag to her trunk.

"Oh, come on, babes, don't be like that," Bee laughed, opening the driver side door and waiting for me to walk back to my side. "Now get in, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

---

"How are your heats going?"

"Jesus, that's what you want to start with?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Bee shrugged.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," She clarified, turning out onto the street "I'm just saying, I know they've gotten pretty bad as we've gotten older. Did you try out those tips I sent you?"

"Yea, I did," I said quietly, looking at the trees rushing by on the side of the highway "They worked for a while but..."

"But you need an alpha," Bee sighed, finishing the sentence for me.

"That's the plan for this summer," I agreed "Might finally settle down."

"You know, I'm always here if you need me." She said with a wink. I scoffed at her.

"I'm not that desperate," I laughed, shoving her lightly "Not yet, at least."

"Anyone take your interest back in Colorado?"

"Not really," I hummed, tilting my head in consideration. "There was this one guy. We dated for a few months but towards the end he became a total knot-head. He couldn't keep his hands off me. I thought it was cute at first, but after I started to miss a few classes...well, that shit got old pretty quickly." Bee made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, men," She grunted, wrinkling her nose "I'm glad I never went through that phase. I'm perfectly happy with chicks, thank you very much. Much less of a pain in my ass."

"Oh, they're not so bad," I smirked "I think it's just alphas in general." She glared at me momentarily and I stuck my tongue out at her. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. That was always something I loved about Bee. We never had to fill every second with chatter, we could just exist together in the same space and be just as content. She started to hum along to the song that buzzed softly from the radio and my eyes tracked a hawk. Soon enough, we reached our exit and Bee turned the car onto a smaller road, starting the countdown to my arrival home.

"Are you excited to see your dad?" Bee asked, killing the silence.

"Yea, I am," I smiled. We hadn't always had the best of relationships, but the distance that college gave had done wonders for us. A few texts and calls had worked perfectly for us. When he invited me to stay a few weeks during summer I gladly accepted. I wanted to see just how well our relationship had strengthened. Plus I knew he really needed someone.

"How's he doing?" There was genuine concern in Bee's voice. A few months ago, my mom had revealed that she had been having an affair with one of dad's work buddies. She left with him and took my brother down to Georgia.

"I think he's okay. But you know dad, he's not really an emotions guy. He was starting to get some closure but then the divorce papers came in the mail. That really hurt him," I told her, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. "I just don't know how Lori could do that to him, you know? She won't even let Carl up to visit. The new baby's cute, though. Looks just like Shane." Bee hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell him I said hi, alright?"

"Will do." A few more seconds of silence passed. Until we stopped at a light. Bee looked up and spotted a billboard that sported a very familiar, very handsome face.

"Holy shit!" Bee shrieked, slapping my arm.

"Ow, what the hell?" I hissed, grabbing my shoulder. She pointed frantically at the sign.

"That guy! Isn't that, shit- the hell's his name?" Pulling my eyes from my lap, I let them settle on the object of her excitement. All of the color drained from my face. It was an add for a law firm. There was an old geezer posing proudly on the left, and to his right, was the man who haunted my wet dreams for the majority of high school.

"Negan." I gulped.

"Yea, your dad's hot friend you never shut up about." Bee groaned, pressing on the gas and moving us away from the sign. Negan was a lawyer/make-shift-law-professor and baseball coach at the local community college. He had a sort-of contract with my dad's department. Many times I had come home after school to the two of them puzzling out a case on the kitchen table. Negan was an alpha of alphas, something that got my little omega heart (and other things) pumping until I couldn't breath. His humor and dominating persona made me blush a deep crimson color any time I saw him. Sometimes I would spend hours sitting on the stairs just listening to him talk to my dad. His voice was something else. I had gushed to Bee about him countless times during our times at high school. But I hadn't seen him since my graduation party.

"I wonder if you'll see him again," Bee teased, nudging me again to pull me out of my trance of memories. Then, she did a dramatic gasp. "What if he's your mate?" It was my turn to slap her in the shoulder.

"He's older than my dad!" I squealed, burying my now-blushing cheeks in my hands.

"You're an adult I don't think it matters."

"I think he's engaged."

"Just 'cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't scoooore." Bee pulled a face at me and I returned her grimace.

"Whatever, you're lucky we're almost at my house." I huffed, falling back into my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yea, omega? What are you gonna do?" I rolled my eyes as she laughed off my grumpiness. We rolled to a stop in front of my driveway and a leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks so much, Bee, I really appreciate you," I grinned, popping open the door.

"No problem, babes," She winked, unlocking the trunk "But I swear to the gods, you better fucking call me and give me updates on everything, especially if you run into Mr. Hotcakes." I rolled my eyes once more and promised her I would before closing the door. I retrieved my bag and gave her a wave as she drove down the street. When she was out of view, I took a deep breath and turned around, walking up the driveway to the front door.

I knocked heavily on the dark oak door. While I waited for someone to answer, I decided to look around at the home I had left behind about a year ago. My childhood home had changed now and then over the years, but there were still some iconic pieces of memories in the front yard that could never be forgotten. My personal favorite was Eddie the garden gnome. He was a standard gnome: small and stout with a large white beard that led into a pointy red hat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was curved into a smile. However, he was missing a nose. I grinned as I recalled the unfortunate mishap that caused Eddie to become deformed. I was about twelve, and carl was five. He had gotten a kid's baseball from Negan for his birthday and had begged me to teach him how to play, since I was on the local softball team at the time. I relented and set it up in the front yard. Eddie was our outfielder. Eddie didn't have a mitt. Well, he did, but it was his face. Carl absolutely smashed the first pitch I tossed at him and hit poor Eddie right in the face, shattering his round, pink nose into pieces. Carl bursted into tears and I had to promise him that he did not in fact kill our precious protector of our house. Lori ran out frantically and comforted her son before giving me a thorough chewing out for damaging Eddie. We never used the set again. That she knew of, anyways. Negan always let us play in his yard, though. I smiled at the memory, but the clicking of the lock to the door pulled me from my train of thought. The door swung open and I was met with the smiling face of my father.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you made it!" He laughed, pulling me in swiftly and squeezing me tight.

"It's good to see you too, dad." I croaked, letting out a small chuckle. I tapped on his shoulder as a signal for him to let go.

"How was the flight?" He asked as he stepped out to grab my bag. I told him it was good but that the screaming kids had given me a bit of a headache. He gave a small laugh and gestured for me to enter. I thanked him and he rolled my bag in behind me. We exchanged a few words but as soon as I walked through the kitchen into the doorway of the living room I was hit by a wall. Not literally, no, but rather a wall of overwhelming scent. It was a delicious swirl of campfire and whiskey, with a hint of cigarettes and leather. I paused for a moment, my eyes forced closed and my lungs taking a deep breath of the intoxicating air. Colors danced across my eyelids. My whole body was flooded with warmth and my toes tingled. I felt safe and calm, and there was something else; something deep within my stomach that I couldn't quite identify, something I never felt before. My eyes snapped open when I felt my father's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I invited company over while I was waiting for you to arrive," He smiled at me. I got a good look at him then. He looked the same, his hair was a bit longer, a bit greyer. But his eyes were different. They were darker, rounder, rawer. I gave a soft smile and told him it was fine. He guided me into the living room. It was then I realized where that deadly smell was coming from. Or, rather, who it was coming from. "Negan, you remember my girl." In that moment, I held my breath as I scanned Negan. He looked fucking amazing, just as he always had. Perfect dimples guarding a charming smile, all surrounded by a gorgeous salt and pepper beard. His hair was longer than it was when I had left, not slicked back, but it still framed his face perfectly. Negan's body was draped casually over the sectional couch, legs crossed at the ankle on the ottoman. His arms were on the top of the couch and his wrists were dangling. He knew he was hot. That bastard. I suddenly became aware of his eyes raking over my form and I shifted from one foot to the other.

"'course I do, Rick," Negan said, voice silky and deep. I couldn't help but let a small shudder run down my spine. All I wanted to do was kneel down in front of him and curl up at his feet. I forced my inner omega down, shaking the thought from my head. "How could I forget the little slugger?" I cringed inside at the nickname. Especially the use of the word 'little'. I begged that he didn't still see me as the kid down the street. Instead as a grown woman. A grown omega.

"Hi, Negan." I greeted with a small smile, swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Now that I was next to him, his scent was clogging all my senses. I gripped onto the couch and lowered myself onto the cushion, hoping to ground myself. It helped, just barely. My heart was pounding, my instincts telling me to submit to this man in front of me. Why, though? Why now? He had never smelled this good before. No alpha had. Was I getting close to my heat? I did have a stomach ache, but that could be from Negan alone.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's college goin'?" Negan asked, sipping on his drink. He kept eye contact with me the whole time. Rick handed me a glass of soda and I thanked him.

"It's good!" I said after taking a sip, thankful for the hydration in my coarse throat "Towards the end it got a little hectic, but I was able to stay on top of everything, thankfully."

"You're studying film, right?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"That's right," I grinned, crossing my legs to relieve some of the pressure the movement caused to build up in my lower abdomen "You still teaching law?" This caused him to chuckle. Literally music to my ear.

"If that's what you want to fuckin' call it." Negan sighed, falling back to his original position, hands resting in his lap "I talk, the kids kinda listen. I just do it for the coaching job, really. You remember how much I love that damn sport, right?"

"Baseball?" I asked, raising a brow "You mean the only thing you talked about at all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners you were invited to?"

"Touché." Negan grinned. Goddamn that smile. Butterflies erupted in my chest, beating hard against my ribcage, begging to throw myself at his chest and bury myself in him. Rick cleared his throat and smiled at me to get my attention.

"I want to know more about your college experience!" He beamed, rubbing a hand through his beard "Any special alphas you've got your eyes on?" I heard Negan choke slightly on his whiskey. A small bubble of pride rose in my chest. I laughed at his words.

"Dad, I don't think Negan wants to hear about my love life."

"Shit, doll, I don't mind," He grumbled "I don't get to hear any drama now-a-days"

"What do you mean?" I giggled, tilting my head "You argue for a living. Your job is to literally deal with drama."

"Yea, but that's complex drama," He growled, waving his hand dismissively "I wanna hear simple, schoolgirl 'he loves me, he loves me not' kind of bullshit."

"Well sorry to disappoint," I snorted, running a hand through my hair "but no, there's no one I have an eye on." Dad's smile turned into a frown.

"Shame." I heard Negan whisper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was quiet, barely above his breath, and he said it while twirling his whiskey, following the words with a large gulp.

"You really should start looking, dear." Dad said with a sigh "You know it only gets harder as you get older."

"Dad please, I don't..." I cut him off "Listen, I appreciate you trying to understand this stuff, I really do, but I don't really want to talk about it with my father." He looked at me with an understanding smile.

"Sure," He nodded "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, alright." I nodded.

"Well, this sure has been fun, Ricky-boy," Negan grinned, getting to his feet and stretching his arms far above his head. "We do have that big court case in the mornin', though, and I need my shut-eye."

"Big case, eh?" I asked, rising from my seat as well. Dad nodded and excitement sparked in his eyes.

"You should come! It's an open court and I would love for you to see what I do. I know you always wanted to as a kid, but your mom made you wait until you were older. Well, now's the perfect time!" He rambled, grasping my shoulders.

"W-Well, I dunno, I don't want to be a distraction," I stumbled, taken aback by my father's display of enthusiasm. I turned to Negan, as if asking for permission. He just laughed.

"Oh-o, doll, I don't get distracted. Not in there, not anywhere. Don't you worry about a goddamn thing. You should come, Rick seems like he really wants you to."

"Okay, then," I grinned, nodding in commitment "I'll see you there in the morning then." I looked up to Negan and we locked eyes for a brief moment. But in that moment, something within me quivered. He brushed up against me and smirked down at me.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. It was nice to see you. You're lookin' great." It took all my willpower not to let out a whimper as he walked past me, taking his glorious scent with him.

My dad said that he should also get some rest, but that I could stay up as long as I wanted to. I was pretty wiped from my flight so I opted to follow him up the narrow staircase, tugging my bag behind me. I hugged him goodnight and stepped into my room. It hadn't been touched since I left last summer. The forest green bedspread was still perfectly tucked into the mattress and two plump pillows were perched at the head of the bed. My muscles ached for the soft release of sleep. I put my suitcase down by my dresser, taking a moment to smile at some old photos of me and Bee as kids. I showered and brushed my teeth before getting into the comfortable bed. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled softly at the glow-in-the-dark stars shining overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but for some reason, all of my dreams were plagued by the sweet smell, sound, sight, feeling, and taste of Negan.