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stargirlsmooch · 2 years

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my sweet omega

alpha!ari levinson x fem!reader

when ari finds you sad and shaken up, he does everything within his power to defend his girl. that's just before he marks you as his beloved mate. smut + fluff + a little angst (not because of ari). 18+ 2.7k words.

The smooth summer rays brushed gently against your skin as you walked the lines of the cropland, picking out the cucumbers and peppers that looked ripe enough, not being able to help yourself from biting into a particularly juicy one. This harvest was particularly large, with more omegas joining the pack and more pups being born, there were more mouths to feed, and that meant more plants to be grown.

The pack farm had been your family’s responsibility for 6 generations, every vegetable and fruit that the community would ever need was growing here, underneath your feet. Your parents were lovingly training you to be the next one in the line of succession: teaching you how to correctly gather the crops, how to ensure they grew to their full potential and how to keep them safe over the winter months.

You lived a very isolated life on your farm, with it being a mile from the pack village, you didn’t tend to bump into many other people, liking the silence and serenity that the open meadows provided. Of course, sometimes Alpha Joe and his son, Ari, would come to visit- they liked to ensure that everything was as best it could be for their little society.

Joe was a very peaceful and merciful leader, always offering you help when he found you in the field or carrying the crops that were too heavy for you back up to your house to be cleaned. Then you and the future Alpha would stand over the basin for hours, scrubbing potatoes and chatting about anything and everything.

Ari was a sweet Alpha, just like his father- a gentle giant. You remember the times in high school when a comment from one of the betas would pull so violently at your heartstrings that you would leave the cafeteria a crying mess, only for him to find you and hold you tight, soothing you in a way only an Alpha could.

The pair of you had been close since you could remember. Joe would bring him around the farm every weekend to help your family- whether it was fixing the gutters on your house, adding insulation to the barn, or helping you herd the cows- Ari was always there.

Now that the two of you were in your 20s, you thought that your friendship might’ve started to dwindle, especially with all the new responsibilities that Ari was taking on: he was gearing up to become the new Alpha in a few years. But that couldn't be further from the truth- the more stressed Ari became, the more times he had to visit the farm to let off some steam. He wasn’t able to explain the calmness that he felt when he was here, you right next to him, just walking the fields together.

You hadn’t noticed him come up behind you as you bent over to pick a perfect cucumber, jumping and dropping your shears and basket of veg as two large hands grabbed your waist.

“Hi, y/n.”

“Oh my God. Ari don’t do that!” You shouted, throwing the vegetable in your hand at his head, which he caught. Huffing exasperatedly at all the crops strewn across the floor, you sat down in the dirt and began gently placing them back in the basket.

“Sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said, sinking onto his knees to help you clean up. Ari had come over to see you, after a particularly aggressive meeting with a neighbouring alpha, he needed a touch of your sweetness to lighten his mood again. Now, he was kicking himself for putting a frown on your beautiful face.

Slowly, your scowl morphed into an expression of pure sadness, as the overwhelming sorrow from the morning overcame you again, triggered by Ari. He tipped your head up towards him, his finger underneath your chin and his eyes filled with confusion.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He whispered, taking a seat on the ground next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders as your head slumped against his chest.

Your morning had been filled with gloom since the moment it began- you woke up in heat (which for you, being an unmated omega, was just an uncomfortable experience filled with stomach cramps, back ache and an unwarranted need to be close to an alpha), you tripped over on the way to the barn and cut open your knees, and when you walked into the barn, you found your favourite cow mauled to death.

“It’s not you, Ari.” You started, taking a brief break to try and keep the tears at bay, “just having a bad day.”

“Why, sweetie? Tell me what’s going on.” Ari said as he resorted to picking you up and setting you in his lap, where you immediately snuggled into his warmth, your omega instincts overriding your logical thoughts. You inhaled his heady masculine fragrance, letting it calm every inch of your body until you were melting into his lap.

“Well, first of all, I’m in heat…” You whispered, not letting the embarrassment seep into your words as you admitted it.

Ari just chuckled at that, the brief sounds shaking your body as he said, “I can tell, sweet girl.”

Your sugary scent had been driving him crazy since the moment he saw you, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

“Anyway… and then I hurt my knees, and…” You couldn’t say it out loud, it hurt too much. People would probably think you were over reacting- it was just a cow. But Daisy had been a friend when you didn’t have any. When you were a little girl, you used to sit next to her in the meadow when she was grazing and tell her all your deepest darkest secrets- and now she wasn’t here anymore, your comfort taken with her.

“What is it?”

“Daisy…” You sobbed, leaning into Ari further and hiding your face in his neck. He could feel the tears leaking through his shirt and onto his skin.

“What happened to Daisy, y/n?” He asked quietly, rubbing his hand up and down your spine, dispelling more of his potent alpha scent to try and keep you calm. He could physically hear your heart breaking in your chest as you cried, it shattering into tiny fragmented pieces as he held you as close as possible.

“Someone broke into the barn… and now she’s gone, Ari.”

Your pain-filled whimpers escalated until that’s all Ari could hear amongst the surrounding greenery, and all he could do was sit there and stew in his fury. Who the fuck had the balls to do this to his sweet girl?

The alpha in him lifted its head, menacingly bearing its teeth as the anger began simmering under the surface. Ari took a deep breath, keeping the rage at arms length as he slipped his hand into your hair, held the back of your head sweetly, and told you what he wanted you to do.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. You’re gonna go upstairs, get into bed, and try and sleep off your heat, whilst I go and found out who did this to Daisy.” He ordered, slowly making his way to his feet and placing you down on yours. Once you were safely stood up, Ari delicately took your face in his hands, giving you a brief kiss on the forehead.

“No, Ari… I need to finish my harvest. Momma won’t be happy if I don’t.”

“I’ll talk to your mom, sweetheart. Now, go up to your room.”

“Ari, seriously, I have to…” You stopped speaking when you felt the shift in the air and saw the expression on Ari’s face.

“Daddy is telling you to do something, sweet girl, that means you do it.”

Never had you had a reaction so strong, your insticnts immediately dragging you towards your house in submission, wanting nothing more than to obey his commands. You whispered a quiet “Yes, Daddy” as you strolled back up to the house, watching Ari take off walking in the other direction, towards the barn.

Once you had made it to your bedroom, luckily without crossing paths with your mother, you stripped down to your underwear and climbed between your sheets, your head peeking out of the top as you let a well-needed slumber take over you.

Ari was deep in a cycle of outrage when he reached the pack house, where the alpha family and its betas lived, slamming the door wide open and making his way into the back yard, where all the male betas were sat gathered around with beers in their hands, enjoying the sun.

As soon as Ari stepped out onto the back deck, all eyes turned on him, they could feel his violent irritation rolling off of him in waves. Ari was only interested in one beta, who he was gonna rip to shreds for making his girl cry.

“Stand up.” He ordered, his eyes trained on Brock, watching him get to his feet shakily, fear plain on his face. When Ari had opened the door of that barn, Rumlow’s scent had been the first thing to hit his senses, smacking him in the face like a punch.

It made complete sense that Rumlow would’ve been the one to do this to you, having had it out for you ever since you had said no to holding his hand in kindergarten: playing pranks on you in elementary school eventually turned into him spraying evil comments at you every day, having you run back to Ari for protection.

So to continue his reign of terror over you, he took your most beloved thing away from you in the most damaging display of aggression Ari had ever seen. Ari’s own heart broke at the imagination of you opening the barn door and seeing your precious pet like that, all bloodied.

The future Alpha was able to overlook Brock’s treatment of you a few years ago, when his mind was preoccupied with more pressing personal responsibilities and his feelings for you weren’t as powerful, but now, you were his responsibility and his love. When Ari made his way back to you later, he had every intention of making you his, mating and marking you like he was meant to.

“What is it, Alpha?” Brock asked quietly, setting his beer down in the cupholder of his chair and standing up straight. Ari couldn’t help the wicked smirk that graced his face, the excitement for the fight building up inside him.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

When you woke up a few hours later, your heat was hammering through your body full force, revitalising every cell in your body until you couldn’t help yourself from squeezing your thighs together, trying to dispel some of the pain.

Ari… where are you?

Just as you were about to reach over to your bedside drawer, grab your phone, and call him, your bathroom door opened and the Alpha stepped out, a towel slung around his hips as he brushed his long hair out his face. His tanned muscles were on full display, making you whimper and tip your head back at the sight of them and the water droplets running across them.

He showered without me?

“Daddy’s right here, sweet girl.” He said as he knelt on the edge of your bed, his towel hardly covering what you needed. The worry on your face made his heart beat patter faster inside his ribcage- you missed your Daddy so much.

“Where have you been, Daddy?” You asked, sitting up against your headboard, your duvet pulled up to cover your bare chest. Ari shook his head at your question, gently lifting the covers away from you.

“That’s not important right now, honey. Let’s get you through this heat first.”

Ari dropped his towel, revealing himself to you. His thick, long cock standing proudly in front of you as you got up onto your knees, dropping the covers the rest of the way so you were sat there in nothing put your pink cotton panties.

“Yes, please.” You said quietly, crawling forwards until you were sat at the edge of the bed, your legs hanging over. Ari stalked forward, grabbing the underside of your knees and opening them until he was standing between them. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs whilst he leant forward to kiss you cheek tenderly, his cock laying against your stomach, mapping out the path it would take inside of you.

“Let’s get these off first, sweet omega.” He said, ripping your panties from your body and kissing your nipples simultaneously. You whimpered at the presence of pleasure, feeling your heat gradually subside.

“Need your cock, Daddy. Pretty please.” Begging worked wonders with Ari. You had learnt over the years that all you had to do was say please for your Alpha to be at your beck and call.

“Sweetheart, you know Daddy can’t say no to you.” He whispered against you lips, having sucked on your breasts so intensely that adorable little bruises were forming around them, marring the skin and igniting a fierce want inside him.

He needed to mark you.

You laid back amongst the sheets, Ari’s hands holding your hips, opening them up more and dragging you to the edge of the bed. He stayed standing as he dragged the tip of his cock through your pussy, spitting on your slick folds and watching it mix with your own cream. The pretty white liquid covered almost every inch of your little pussy, giving him a taste of what it could look like when it’s covered and leaking his own cum.

“Look at this, baby. This all for me?” Ari dragged a finger through your wetness, before replacing is with his cock again and slipping the tip inside slowly, causing you to whimper.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He eased himself in, watching your pussy wrap around him, the cream gathering at his base once his cock was fully stuffed inside. “Fuck, you feel so good, my precious girl.”

You couldn’t string your words together, with the feeling of being split open sending bursts of pleasure through you, there was no way you could find the strength to talk. It felt like his cock was steadily fucking every rational thought out of your brain until all you could do was clench around him, extracting more pleasure from the experience.

“That’s it, omega. Fuck, look at you going dumb on Daddy’s cock…” He said as he picked up his pace, slamming his cock into your sloppy hole, “you don’t have to worry about a thing, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you.”

It creeped up on you, white hot pleasure burning through your tummy as he fucked you, pulling out every once in a while to spit on your pussy some more, hightening the wet sounds of him thrusting in and out.

“Daddy… I’m close.” Whimpering, you held onto his shoulders, your nails piercing his skin with little crescent moons as you said, “Mark me.”

Ari didn’t need any convincing, he had been wanting you to be his for years, dreaming of making you as his mate. The orgasm rushed out of you as his kanines punctured the skin of your neck, covering your Alpha’s cock and balls with your juices. Ari came with you, emptying himself inside you, painting your soaking walls.

The two of you came down from the high together, Ari pulling out gently and watching his thick cum leak out of your tight hole, whilst you took deep breaths and got used to the heavy weight on your neck- the mark of your mate.

Ari cleaned up your ruined pussy, being careful with the strokes of the flannel he had gotten from the bathroom, before laying you down in bed, your head resting on his chest like earlier this morning. You kissed the skin there, relishing in the knowledge that you owned every inch of it now, as he did yours.

“You’re all mine now, my sweet omega.”

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fluff #ari levinson smut #ari levinson #ari levinson x y/n

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clairewriteshaikyuuxreader · 2 years

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His kid asks him to stay away (Oikawa, Atsumu)

Inspired by two scenes from Gilmore Girls.

Part of the AU: His best friend's wife (Osamu's side)

Oikawa is surprised but beaming when he finds his daughter standing outside his hotel suite. "Hey, princess!" He envelopes Yuma (悠真) in a tight hug, which she reluctantly returns.

"I'm sorry I didn't call–"

Tooru shakes his head, squeezing her shoulders. "Nonsense. You're always welcome here. Hey, I made that corned beef that you like. The one with potatoes? I can heat them up right now. Come inside."

"No, that's okay. Listen, dad..." She takes a step back, pulling herself away from his arms. "Mom has a boyfriend."

Tooru blinks. "Oh."

"It's Uncle Iwa."

He inhales sharply. "Yeah, I...I heard."

Japan's team had a plethora of colorful characters, and the more noisy members liked to talk online and post photos of their unknowing teammates, coaches, and trainers. One particular trainer had many candid photos of him and Oikawa's ex wife in the background. You were never active in social media, so Tooru shamefully relied on his daughter's posts to see how you were doing. Her posts were always the same: friends, school, you and her together. You two were like the happier, healthier version of the Gilmore Girls. And there was no other man in your life as far as he can tell.

Everything was fine until last month.

Last month was your first birthday after the divorce. Tooru was in Argentina and could only send a polite greeting and of course, you only sent a simple 'thank you.'

The same time, his daughter uploaded two photos: one was of you two, and the other was of you and his best friend, sitting awfully close to each other.

He remembered that day like it was yesterday. After seeing Iwaizumi so close to you with the faintest red in his face, he had to know, he had to ask.

Three rings before the trainer picked up.

"What the hell, Trashykawa–"

"Are you seeing my wife?"

"..."

Tooru didn't even need an answer. The silence spoke for itself. But he wanted to hear what his friend had to say.

"Oikawa..."

"Please, Iwa-chan. Tell me the truth," he whispers. Iwaizumi had to have known how much Tooru still loves you, how much he wants to turn back time and fix everything. He had to know, because Tooru cried to him the night he signed the papers.

On the other side of the line, Iwaizumi inhales. Then he says, "She's not your wife anymore."

Tooru hung up. He was glad that Japan was an ocean away, because he would've driven straight to Iwaizumi's house and beat him up.

"Dad?" his daughter calls out to him.

"Sorry, sweetie, daddy spaced out for a bit."

His daughter examines his face, her own expression hesitant but determined. She sticks her hands into her coat pocket and speaks up again: "I want you to stay away from them."

Time stills and Tooru feels sick. "You...what?"

"Dad, I love you but...but you hurt mom."

"Honey, I– "

"And it doesn't matter if you mean to or not, you just do. You just do. And before you start, you should know that mom never speaks bad about you, well, not in front of me anyway--"

Tooru should be proud. Even at this moment his sweet Yuma retains his and your snarkiness. But right now he just wants to throw up.

"My point," she continues, "is that I'm not here because mom says you're the devil."

"I know. Your mom isn't like that."

"So then you know that she doesn't deserve getting clobbered."

"... I do."

"She deserves to be happy, dad, and Uncle Iwa makes her happy. I know that you must be mad and hurt but I'm begging you to please let them be."

Tooru can't bring himself to open his mouth as his daughter brushes back her hair, trying to hold back her tears. "I'm still gonna visit you and you can visit me. You can get angry at them and me but don't do anything because... because you should see how mom smiles now."

He understands. Looking back at it now, he couldn't recall the last time you smile so genuinely when you were with him.

His little girl, acting not so little anymore, rubs her face. "Anyway, that's all I got to say. It was nice seeing you."

"Wait–"

"I still have to meet up with my friends."

"At least let me drive–"

"This isn't Argentina, dad," she points out.

He doesn't have a car here. "Right."

She gives him a pitying look but only mutters out a "bye" before leaving.

Tooru silently opens the door to his hotel room.

He heats up the leftover corned beef from last night and sets down his plate on the table, settling in front of the TV.

But he doesn't eat or even listen to the news.

He cradles his head between his hands.

His only daughter, his sweet, little princess who should be free of troubles, came here just to tell him to stay away.

"Dammit." He swallows the lump in his throat as he fiddles with the ring he refuses to take off. "I'm pathetic."

You didn’t ask much. You always supported Atsumu, always defended him from your family when your parents accused him of abandoning you, always made excuses and did everything–everything to keep your relationship happy.

You loved your job and if someone were to go back in time and ask you if you would sacrifice your career for a guy, you’d throw your head back and guffaw, because the idea was insane. But then you met Atsumu, and he wasn’t just some guy. He was the guy. He was sweet and funny and supportive. He adored his mother, he had a good relationship with his brother. He was passionate and he shone brighter than anyone.

And you loved how much he loved volleyball.

So you didn’t ask for much.

You didn’t complain when he had to leave you alone when he was off to Argentina or China for weeks and months.

You didn’t whine when he couldn’t accompany you to family reunions and weddings of close friends.

It was your idea to quit your job the moment the test came out positive.

Sure, you loved your job–love your job–but Atsumu was your whole world. You never thought you’d have someone like him in your life and you were determined to be happy with him and the bundle of joy you two made.

Your son was born healthy. Hiroyuki (ヒロユキ), you decided to name him. Atsumu was there and he showed off the little runt to the doctor who delivered, to the nurses who helped, and your family members waiting outside.

You didn’t expect yourself to end up the way you did, but everything was fine.

Your boys were healthy.

Your husband was doing great. Every week there was always a shower of praise for your genius setter.

Your son grew up nothing like his dad though: while Atsumu was brash and loud-mouthed, his son was a quiet and polite boy who hated conflict; while Atsumu lived for volleyball, his son hated getting dirty and sweaty and preferred academics.

You and Atsumu still wanted him to be healthy though, so you encouraged him to exercise and pursue other hobbies.

Your son only begrudgingly agreed to get you both to shut up.

Everything was great.

You were great. You were content.

But then you saw it, a single message from an unknown number on your husband’s phone.

“I had an amazing night. Call me when you’re in the city.”

Your shining world crumbled in an instant.

You couldn’t remember what you did next. You vaguely recall smashing the device into a mirror and locking yourself in the guest bedroom.

The next six months were a blur, too.

You froze out your husband though you didn’t tell your son the truth, only telling him that mommy and daddy just couldn’t be with each other anymore. Some people were appalled that you wanted to get a divorce. “Because so what if he cheated?” They had asked. “Think of your son.”

You did think of your son. Ever since you discovered you were pregnant with him, you always thought of your son.

The divorce was for his sake as much as yours, because you had no guarantee that you wouldn’t end up murdering his father if you stayed next to him.

So you bought a different house in the next city, got your old job back, and got divorced. Shared custody.

The whole ordeal felt unreal. Every day, you felt like you would float out to space, but you had Hiroyuki, who liked to tug on your pants and remind you: “I’m here, mama.”

You would laugh and give him the tightest hug every time. You wished you didn’t cry so much every time though. You wanted to be stronger for both of you.

And you were strong enough.

With your baby and your job back, you became too busy to even think about your cheating ex.

Fast forward years later and it’s now your baby’s middle school graduation.

“You’re now a man!”

“Stop it, mom.”

“Whatever happened to ‘mama’?”

“Mom.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You kissed his cheek. “Your dad should be here soon.”

“It’s okay, I’m not a kid anymore, you don’t have to lie.”

You gently flicked his forehead. “I made sure to tell him.”

He blinked. “You did?”

“I did.”

“When…when did you tell him?”

“Last week–”

“You didn’t have to tell him.”

“He’s still your dad.”

“Yeah, my dad,” he bitterly repeats. Although the lawyers agreed on shared custody, the man was rarely around. When it was Atsumu’s turn to take care of Hiroyuki, he was almost never at home and the people who took care of the kid were either his mom or his brother. Truth be told, Hiroyuki didn’t care. How could he possibly forget the many days he caught his mom trying desperately to hide her sadness and the many nights she sobbed in her bedroom when she thought her son was asleep? Children weren’t idiots. And Hiroyuki never bought into the idea that kids needed a mother and a father either. Why would he? He grew up with only his mother being there for him, so why would he need his father now?

“I would’ve called him myself if you really wanted him here,” he says.

“It’s not about me wanting him here, it’s about him having to want to be here, and he should be here. It’s his only son’s graduation.”

“Middle school graduation. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“It’s a celebration in mediocrity.”

“That’s a lot coming from the valedictorian and…” You fall quiet.

“What’s wrong?” He turns to follow your line of sight.

He exhales when he sees his sperm-donor walking into the auditorium, dressed in a clean polo shirt and some woman hanging off his elbow.

His Uncle Samu’s right: the man’s an idiot.

“Hey, mom, could you get me a soda?”

“Huh?” You snap out of your trance.

“I’m kinda thirsty.”

You try to protest but quickly quiet down before giving your son a sad smile and walking towards the cafeteria.

Hiroyuki inherited his father’s height so it only took a few strides before he caught up to the man and his plus one.

“Hi dad.”

Atsumu grins at his son. “There he is, the man of the hour. Happy graduation, kid!”

Hiroyuki bites his lip. He hates how oblivious this guy is. He hates how he could smile like this and bring this woman with him like nothing’s wrong and that everything is okay.

He doesn’t say anything else and an awkwardness falls between the three of them.

Atsumu clears his throat and gestures towards his date. “Have you met–”

“–no.” Hiroyuki shuts him down. “Dad, can we talk? Alone.”

The woman looks peeved and makes a face, like she’s expecting Atsumu to get mad on her behalf, but the volleyball player only shrugs and pulls his arm away from her. “Sure thing.”

The two guys walk to a corner in the room, away from prying eyes.

“Hey, I got you some cash but it kinda feels like it’s not enough, so do you have anything you want for today?”

Without hesitation, Hiroyuki speaks up: “Stay away from mom.”

Atsumu’s head swerves and he is forced to look straight into the clear, unyielding eyes of his only son.

There is a pause.

Atsumu lets out a nervous chuckle. “I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you say that you want me to stay away from your mom.”

“You heard right.” Hiroyuki crosses his arms. “Dad, I know what you’re trying to do.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Bringing that woman here? I know you’re trying to make mom jealous.”

“That’s ridiculous! First of all, that woman is named Ochaco.”

“What’s her last name?”

“...”

“Dad, just stop. That’s the best thing you can give me.”

“Son–”

“I know you still love her.” Hiroyuki knows how the man looks at you, because it’s the same look you had whenever you heard his name or saw him on the news. He hates that you’re still in love with your ex, because those feelings blinded you from realizing how his Uncle Samu looks at you; Samu who helped you move, Samu who packed your things into boxes because you couldn’t bear a second longer in Atsumu’s house, Samu who made sure you and Hiro were always fed, Samu who could comfort you in ways Hiro couldn’t because you didn’t want to look weak in front of your boy. “But you can’t be together, not anymore, so please just stop these stupid games and go back.”

“What?”

“I have mom, I have Uncle Samu, they’re all I need.”

“Hiro–”

The speakers blared with feedback before the emcee called for all graduates to find their seats.

“I have to go. Bye, dad.”

Atsumu wants to pull back his son, to talk with him, but seeing his little boy walking confidently away from him broke his heart.

He bites his lip.

He really did f*** up.

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love-kurdt · 8 months

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Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 6

word count: 604

warning: homophobia

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

December 15, 1987

Dear Will,

I walked into my house after spending the night at your place, and the first thing my dad asked me was, “You and Jane get back together yet?” And I explained to him, once a-motherfucking-gain, that no, Jane and I are not getting back together, and that we mutually agreed that we’re better off as friends. Then he remarked something along the lines of why I’m always at the Byers-Hopper house, if not to see my Sweetie Pie, and I had to keep my composure for long enough to tell him, “I was hanging out with Will, dad.”

He laughed in a way that was so mean, Will. It was cruel, mocking, and slightly angry. I ran upstairs and had to look at your art until I felt better. But his laugh was still there, in my head. It’s like he knows about me, even when I haven’t explicitly told him. And he never gives up an opportunity to ridicule me, regardless of if I’m rumored to be, or actually , gay.

It got worse over dinner, when my mom asked me about how my time at your house was. She phrased it as “How did last night go at Will’s?” Not Jane’s. That made me so fucking happy for some reason. My mom is so kind without even trying to be. I genuinely have no idea why she and my dad are still married– they’re, like, polar opposites, and not in the good way where opposites attract. But I told her we had a nice time, and she smiled, and told me she was glad before going back to her sweet potato casserole. I’ll bring some the next time we hang out, I know you love it.

Anyway, back to my dad. He snorted, as if spending time with my best friend was the funniest fucking thing to ever happen in the history of the Wheeler family. I wracked my brain to try and figure out what was such a huge joke to him, but he continued on, saying, “I swear, kid, it’s like he’s your little boyfriend or something.” Then I snapped. You won’t be proud of me for this, because I yelled and stuff, but I hope you’ll at least see me as brave after I tell you this.

I turned to my dad with a wild look in my eyes (probably), and said some shit like, “Yeah, me and my boyfriend, Will Byers, had such a great time last night! We stared longingly into each others’ eyes for hours , then we cuddled, then we kissed, and then we got each other off ! It was so hot, Dad. Truly. I wish you could’ve seen –”

But then my dad roared at me to go to my room, which shut me up, thankfully . I don’t know what would have happened if I let my mouth keep running. I most likely would've outed myself. I didn’t, though, so I decided to get out of there before my dad changed his mind. I ran up the stairs and locked my door and now I’m sitting here at my desk, writing this letter that you’ll never read. I know what I said was a lot. I mean, it was pretty vulgar. Plus, it's never actually happened, and it never will happen. So I'm sorry about that.

Bottom line, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to come out to my parents. At least, not to my dad. He wouldn’t let me out of that conversation with my heart still beating.

Here’s to being in the closet for life, I guess.

Love,

Mike

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#byler #byler fanfic #byler fic #byler tumblr #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #stranger things fic #will x mike #mike x will

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aheckinmess · 3 months

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Laundry Night in Gotham

(Part 1 of Bashful Beginnings with Bengal.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Bruce Wayne, Batman, Gotham City, Original Child Character(s), Original Female Character(s), Gotham is Gotham, Child Reader is Just Doing Her Best, Canon Divergence, A Little Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne is the Ray of Sunshine We Deserve, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Bruce Helps a Child, Child Gets Lost, I Love Bruce Because He's a Sweetheart, Bruce Knows ASL, Quiet Child OC, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Family Fluff, This is the Introduction to a Whole AU My Friends and I Have Been Writing, Protective Bruce Wayne

Word Count: 1,537 words

Summary: Bengal is a young child who likes talking with sign language more than words, and her mother never lets her go out in Gotham at night. So what happens when they're at the laundromat and Bengal gets lost in the ever-darkening streets of Gotham?

Author's Note: My friends and I have written a whole fanfic and this is part of my character's backstory. I had to share because it's just too cute.

“Oh my sweet Tiiiiiigerlily!” Bengal heard the call of her mother through the garden, but she was remiss to leave. Plants were easier to interact with than people. Plants didn’t force you to say anything you didn’t want to. Plants didn’t laugh at you just because you talked more with sign language than actual words.

Plants didn’t say mean things to you just because you twitched sometimes when you were thinking really hard.

Mommy taught her about growing plants. Mommy helped her plant cucumbers that were flowered so pretty in the warm spring air. Mommy said most plants flower to show they’re mature, and laughed when Bengal asked her why humans don’t do that.

Now, Bengal toddled through their vast garden and tucked behind the vibrant leaves sprouting from a planter of potatoes. The scent of lavender wafted over and helped soothe her breathing. Maybe if I don’t answer, she’ll give me a few more minutes. She thought, laying back to look up at the clouds.

Her mind drifted back to the tall lady in the grocery store, how she’d frowned when looking at her mommy. “What does she have? Is she okay?” That had been enough to rattle Bengal from her daydreams and get her to stop twitching. Though Bengal was too young to understand exactly what was said, she gathered enough context to look down with bright red cheeks.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh…I’m sorry. She…well, I thought she was having seizures.” Peeking out behind her hair, Bengal could see the lady looked sad, but her face was a little different. It had the look Bengal frequently gave her mother when she knew she said something she wasn’t supposed to.

“She has an overactive imagination. It makes her twitch sometimes.” Mommy had smiled, but her voice sounded angry, like when she talked about Daddy.

Bengal had never met her dad. Mommy told her that he left but it wasn’t her fault…but it still kind of felt like her fault. Sometimes when she’d go outside, she’d pray to God that He would bring him back. Sometimes she prayed that He would keep him far far away from them.

“Tigerlily, there you are.” Mommy’s voice trickled in her ears and she was suddenly lifted in strong arms. Bengal watched her mother pick up a basket of carrots before readjusting her. “What am I going to do with you, my little tiger?”

Buy me more video games . Bengal giggled as she signed the words.

“You don’t feel like talking out loud to Mommy today?”

Bengal shook her head, feeling tired and worn out from the grocery store.

“That’s okay, honey. I know we just went to the grocery store a few hours ago, but I need you to come with me to the laundromat, okay? Your babysitter canceled.”

No Rosie? Bengal frowned. Rosie was the best! Rosie read to her. As many books as she wanted! And sometimes she’d play video games with her.

“No, sweetie. Rosie has the flu. Now, come on. Let’s go get some clothes washed.” Mommy winked at her before passing through the threshold from the backyard and into the house. When Bengal was set down, she ran over to her favorite pink shoes. “Good girl. It’s just a short walk. Let’s hurry so we get finished before dark.”

Mommy didn’t let Bengal go anywhere in Gotham alone during the day. But even her mom wouldn’t walk in Gotham at night. She said more bad people came out at night. More bad people who were not safe.

Bengal was scared of the dark, but she wasn’t scared of the night. Because night time was when The Batman came out to save everyone in trouble.

. . . . .

Mommy started shaking her leg in the chair and glancing out the window whenever the sun went down. She started squeezing her sleeves when the shadows spread over the streets.

Bengal wondered if she had to go potty, but she didn’t seem to be in a hurry. And whenever the laundry was done, her mom stopped moving quite as much. She pulled Bengal along with the fresh, clean clothes and out into the darkening city.

They made it to the crosswalk when Bengal saw someone with glowing lights on the street corner. She wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t mean to get separated from her mother, but suddenly she was alone in a big crowd where a bunch of cold eyes glanced at her and kept walking.

Her throat got tight as she started to sniffle. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she started moving and trying to find a police officer. What did Mommy tell me? I’m sposed to stay still but I don’t see her! Where am I supposed to go? Do I just walk home? I just want Mommy…

She started running. She needed to find a safe spot. There were so many people. Too many people. Bengal didn’t look at anybody. She found the nearest empty bench and hid beside it, starting to cry. Her body shook as she tried looking through teary eyes to find her mom. But everyone looked the same and she couldn’t find her mother’s face in the crowded darkness.

I’m never going to see my mommy again and then someone is going to hurt me or someone is going to hurt her and–

“Excuse me, sweetheart, are you lost?” A kind voice startled her and she retreated further into the side of the bench. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

People scared Bengal so much. She couldn’t find her voice as she looked up at the tall man. He seems nice though. He looks nice, too. He’s got a pretty blue tie.

“Hey, can you breathe with me, sweetie?” His voice softened as he bent down to Bengal’s level.

She nodded her head and followed his lead through some shuddering breaths. The world stopped spinning quite so much. Her shaky hands weren’t quite so shaky anymore.

“There you go, good job.” He encouraged, giving her the prettiest smile she’d ever seen. “Now, do you need help getting home?”

Again, she nodded.

“Okay. Where do you live?”

Bengal wiped her eyes and started signing. 99 Oakland Drive.

Oh. Are words hard for you? That’s okay. I know ASL too. He signed back, making Bengal gape up at him. Follow me. I’ll keep you safe. He extended his hand but Bengal merely held up her arms and looked at him with a plea. The stranger hoisted her up in his arms and began carrying her across the dark streets of Gotham.

The darker the city got, the more Bengal flinched and startled at every sound she heard. Finally, the crash of a trash can lid made her speak.

“I-I d-don’t like…th-the dark.” She whispered.

“The dark is scary for a lot of people.” The nice man said, patting her back. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“D-Do you think…Th-The Batman…gets scared?” She swallowed, her little body twitching when she heard an angry dog barking down an alley.

He chuckled.

“I think The Batman gets scared more than people think he does. For sure.”

“What…” This information was new for Bengal. If The Batman gets scared and still saves people…maybe I can do stuff even though I’m scared too. “What do you think he does…when he’s scared?”

“Hmm, that’s a good question.” He said, looking both ways before crossing another street. Bengal knew this area well enough to know her house was getting closer. They were almost there. “I think The Batman faces his fears so he can help others. Because he knows that it’s okay to be scared so long as he doesn’t let it get in the way of his life.”

Bengal opened her mouth to ask another question when she saw them. Red and blue lights outside Mommy’s house. And Mommy! She stood talking to two men in police clothes while the nice man held Bengal in the shadows.

“That’s her. That’s my mommy!” She exclaimed happily, before suddenly being put down.

“This is as far as I take you, okay? You go on ahead. I’ll watch you. But it might be a big fiasco if I take you over there. I’m glad to have met you, little one.” He started pushing her toward the lamplight.

“But…you helped me.” Bengal stepped back toward him, scared of making even that small trek in the darkness. “Why can’t you come with me?”

“You’ll understand when you’re older, if you remember this.” Another smile from him gave her courage. “But don’t forget to be brave, okay? You can do it. Now go on.”

Bengal took a few steps away from him, stopped, and then rushed back to crush the man’s legs in a tight, appreciative hug. She looked up at him and signed one phrase. Thank you.

Then she took off for her mother.

“Mommy! Mommy!” She barreled into her legs and breathed in her scent and finally finally everything felt like it would be okay.

“Oh, Bengal! This is her, officers. Oh, my darling!” Mommy was crying, and Mommy never cried. Bengal was sure she’d explode with as tight as Mommy squeezed her!

But she didn't mind.

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bunbeeplays · 3 months

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The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 104 - Sweet Moments (and Potato)

Let's kick this new day off with a maternity photoshoot!

When they get home, Xander seems a little nervous.

Xander: So, uh, don't be mad, but I made an impulse purchase and it looks like it just got dropped off.

Ophelia: Xander, what did you do?

Xander: I got you a push present! You'll like him, I promise.

Ophelia: Uh, him?

The man of the hour strolls through the front door.

Xander: Meet Sweet Potato!

Ophelia: Oh. My. Watcher!

She immediately picks him up and loves on him.

Ophelia: Oh, he's perfect!

Xander: You'd say that about any cat.

Ophelia: Still. Thank you, sweetie!

Xander focuses on some yardwork while keeping an eye on Gemma and Marshmallow so Ophelia can bond with their new pet.

As Ophelia takes a late day nap, she officially hits her third trimester. One day closer to meeting her little one.

Ophelia wakes up right before it's time to put Gemma to bed.

Ophelia: Good night, sweetie. Maybe your baby sister will be here tomorrow. Isn't that exciting?

Gemma: 😴

Later, Xander realizes something.

Xander: We still don't have a name.

Ophelia: Oh yeah. Well, I came up with Gemma's name. I think it's only fair you get the honors this time.

Xander: Really? Well, I was looking at some names earlier…

Xander: The name Lucia stuck out to me.

Ophelia: Lucia… That's pretty. We can call her Lucy for short.

Xander: Or Lulu.

Ophelia: XANDER! We are not calling this child Lulu Lemon!

Xander: Why not?

Ophelia: That's TOO silly!

Xander: I think it's cute!

Ophelia: That doesn't mean it isn't also silly!

Xander: Admit it, you like it.

Ophelia: No I don't!

Xander: Then why are you laughing?

Ophelia: Because you're ridiculous!

Xander goes to talk to Ophelia's belly. He rubs gently as he questions the growing life as if it can answer him.

Xander: YOU like it, don't you, baby girl?

Ophelia: Hey! Don't turn her against me! She kind of needs me.

Xander: Don't listen to Mommy, Lulu, she's being silly.

The baby kicks and Xander beams.

Xander: She kicked! That means she likes it!

Ophelia: No it doesn't! She kicks every twenty minutes. You just got lucky.

Xander: Nope, Lulu has spoken!

Ophelia: I like Lucia, but we are not calling her Lulu!

Xander crouches down so he can talk to the baby on a more personal level.

Xander: Don't worry, Lulu, Mommy will come around.

Ophelia: No she won't!

Xander: Just know no matter what you're called, we love you so, so much, okay?

Ophelia smiles as Xander places a gentle kiss onto her baby bump. He may be a goober, but he's an amazing dad to Gemma, and she knows he'll be just as amazing with Lulu- I mean Lucia.

Sweet Potato and Marshmallow are ambivalent to each other, so that's probably the best outcome we could have gotten. They've both got the lazy trait, so I think hating each other would take too much effort.

They still sleep in different cat trees that night though.

It's a new day and Ophelia's ready to pop! Gemma still needs breakfast though, so she spends the morning with her little girl while she's still an only child.

I've tried all the baby food with her but she's so unsure about almost everything. At least applesauce is a winner!

Xander: We're going to need to get a second high chair for Lulu.

Ophelia: I think we can wait until Lul- LUCIA can sit up.

Xander: Ah, you said Lulu! You heard that, right Gemmy?

Gemma: 😗

Ophelia's feeling inspired, so she works on writing another song for the band. She's about to have her hands full in a few days, so she wants to work while the creativity is flowing and she doesn't have two little ones on her hands.

Xander uses that time to bond with Gemma. They're going to be busy with the new baby and he doesn't want her to feel neglected.

Gemma definitely enjoys babbling at Daddy. He's a great listener!

Xander brings Gemma inside to work on standing when he hears a guitar slam to the ground.

Xander: You okay Lemon Cake?

Ophelia stumbles into the room, moaning and groaning.

Ophelia: Xander, call Hilary and tell her we're dropping Gemma off. The baby's coming!

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #The Sims 4 Legacy #The Lemon Legacy #TS4 #The Sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 #generation 1 #ophelia #xander #gemma #marshmallow #sweet potato

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snwusberry · 2 years

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「 misbehave 」

pairing: san x reader

genre: angst (i think...)

warning(s): toxic relationship, suggestive themes, language

note: this is not written to glorify or romanticize toxic relationships nor do i associate this character with san in any way.

THIS IS FICTION SO THE PERSONALITY OF THE CHARACTER WILL NOT MIRROR THAT OF THE ACTUAL PERSON.

| y/n |

fucked up is one way do describe what's going on. my friend even said i lost my damn mind and i agree but whats the fun in being cautious anyway? i mean sure my emotions are just messed up now but its too late to change anything now so what's the point?

"you did not just schedule a d*ck appointment in my presence. i just know you didn't." my friend, claire, comments loudly as she was munching on some nasty ass sweet potato fries.

"no i didn't you moron. we're just going to talk." i answered her makimg her give me a judgemental look before scoffing.

she knows. we both do.

"sweetie, your little talks always end up in fights then you somehow end up in each other's bed. can't you see that man is a walking red flag?"

that's one thing she's not right about. san isn't the big bad wolf my friends and family paint him as. he's sweet, mindful, caring. when we're together, we both just bring out the worst in each other.

"don't you have your own problems to handle with blaise?" i asked her trying to shift the topic onto her and her own bad decisions. all i hear is the sound of the leaves on the trees rustling in the soft wind. "you see? you have no space to talk."

"yeah, yeah okay. but don't come to me crying again." she sulks in her seat and continues eating.

"look. i've gotta go now. i'll see you later okay?"

"be careful, okay."

i nod and stand up to leave.

i take my keys and drive to the place i've sworn so many times not to go to, yet i always find myself at the same place each time.

i knock on the door and wait a while. i hear footsteps approach and the door opens revealing the one and only choi san. i sigh and look at him, try to gather myself and my words.

i've rehearsed what i wanted to say on my way here and i'm determined to tell him exactly what i want to. but then again, how many times has this happened? i should know its no use.

"can i come in?" i ask and he says nothing. he just moves aside fo me to enter.

i walk in and sit down as he closes the door. he comes and sits down on the sofa opposite the one i'm on but he doesn't say anything.

its radio silence. the only sound coming from the radio softly playing music. i look at the table where he has his laptop set up with a few papers messily put next to it.

i remember back to when he would have late nights chasing deadlines and i'd be there with him with my own assignments to complete.

although we'd both have our own wrok to do, we'd still goof around and be each other's company. i miss those days.

"are you not gonna say anything?" i asked him, not daring to look at him.

"what do you want me to say?" he asked, leaning back in the sofa.

"you invited me here. i thought you had something to tell me."

"i do. its just... i don't know..."

"then let me say something." i tell him and he looks at me. i immediately freeze up.

he really doesn't know the power he holds does he?

"i wanna go back to the old us."

i wanna punch myself in the face. that's not what i came here to say.

"you know thats impossible right? we've done too much damage, theres no way to fix this." he states bluntly. maybe a little too blunt.

"how would you know?"

"y/n how wouldn't i? everyone can see it, it's about time you open your eyes to see it too."

i can already feel the tears threatening to spill. i know all this already, i was just never ready to accept it, i guess now is the time.

i look down, shutting my eyes in attempt to regain my composure.

"i see it. i see it a little too clearly but why not try?"

"because we're too far gone! yes we still love each other but it's damaged and there's no amount of fixing that can be done to get it back to how it once was!" he tells me, raising his voice.

i hate it. i hate it so much how he's gone from only speaking to me in such a soft voice, never even attempting to raise his voice at me, to that being one of the only ways he talks to me.

"you're right." i take a breath, wiping the tears that have fallen. "it is tainted. i want all this to end. i dont want us to keep hurting each other like this. i really do want it to end but that would mean we'd have to end this relationship and i don't want to let it go. i don't wanna lose you."

this is far from where i wanted this to go. i'm not supposed to be be crying, i was supposed to end it and i was supposed to me out that door with my remaining dignity yet that's not the case.

hell, is it ever?

"that's the thing. i don't wanna lose you either. i love you more than anything but everytime we try to speak we just end up fighting. it's taken a toll on us. it's not healthy."

"it's not like I want us to fight." i mumble, lowering my head.

"I don't want us to either but you just get on my nerves sometimes." he reveals, getting closer to me. my breath catches in my throat and i look up at him. my teary eyes meeting his troubled ones. "don't look at me like that. you do it on purpose don't you?" he sat right next to me.

not this again. anything but this. it's not too late. i can still stop this. i just need to say the word.

"admit it baby." he softly speaks, taking my hand in his. his hand enveloping mine perfectly.

i look at our connected hands and sigh, letting more tears fall. i can't do it.

"i love it when we misbehave."

"you're so fucked up." he said to me. his face dangerously close to mine.

he's too close now. i can't back out when he looks at me like that.

"we both are."

"and you say we can fix this when this is how you think?" he said with a sick smile on his face.

i should hate this, but i can't.

"why are you making seem like i'm the only one who feels this way?" i finally get a grip and move away, taking my hand out of his hold and i stand up. san, i need to leave."

i grab my keys and make my way to the door. before i can even reach tor the handle, he speaks up

"you'll be back tonight anyway." he said walking me out. "it was nice talking to you."

i say nothing and walk to my car not looking back.

i get in my car and look at the door where hes standing witg an unreadable expression.

not this time choi san.

once i get home, i see claire already there, watching my wife and kids.

"what are you doing here?" i ask and she turns to me.

"you know i don't have disney plus. so im here. hey can you refill my soda?"

"no."

i go to my room to get into more comfortable clothes, wiping my makeup off before walking back to the living room.

"i'm assuming you finally made the right decision seeing you didn't take long." she breaks the silence and her words take me back to what could've been.

"yeah. i have to put myself first."

"i'm proud of you."

i smile at ger and stand up to get myself a drink when claire walks into the kitchen.

"look, something came up and i gotta run. don't continue watching without me alright?"

i nod and she runs off. now i'm left alone with my thoughts. bad combo.

"you do it on purpose, don't you?"

his closeness, the look in his eyes, his voice. i need to get it out of my head.

i can't be alone, i'll make another bad decision.

i pick up my phone and dial my sister's number.

"hello?"

"tanya, can i come over?" i ask her

"uhhh... sure."

"okay, thanks. i'll see you later."

i hang up and get my stuff to leave. i get in my car and drive down the falimiar roads.

once i arrive, i walk to the front door and knock, waiting for the door to open.

"i told you you'd come back. come inside."

i sigh, walking into the house.

#choi san #san #san imagines #san scenarios #choi san imagines #choi san scenarios #ateez san #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez

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crowisinthetrash · 2 years

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this one is for my twst oc simps, as this is x reader content !

General Romantic Headcanons + Azrael, Erlik, Gothel

mentions: @jades-mushroom @ultimatehope213 (if you want to be tagged for this stuff lmk)

tw: none as this is pretty much pure fluff ^^

Azrael:

this guy will carry you like a sack of potatos anywhere and everywhere

you gonna have to hear some of his bad jokes

but yet again you have his flirty ass

he definitely could get jealous easily but only if a person is making you uncomfortable by hitting on you

thus being carried away by a sack of potatoes

touch his ears, do it. he will lean into your touch like a cat. also give chin scratches too. he will purr

he will let you play with hair. use it to your adventage, he will let you

he knows what makes you smile, laugh and blush. he definitely enjoys teasing you when he gets the chance

the pet/nicknames given to you by him are: baby, babe, cutie, my princess/prince/majesty and sweetheart

you guys going to swim together

very cuddly btw, so lots of cuddles here

remember when I said he knows how to mske you blush? well, there is pda in this relationship (unless extremely uncomfy with it) and it is usually to fluster you

would let you take shirts and hoodies, tigers are territorial so his scent on you makes him happy

love language is physical touch and quality time

Erlik:

he is/tries to be a gentleman for you. opening doors, carrying stuff for you, pushing your chair in for you, etc

he may look so stoic, cold and mean on the outside but he is such a softie for you

hand holding, cheek kisses, back hand kisses, etc. though he would be so blushy about it

nicknames/pet names he calls you: darling, honey, my seashell and treasure

speaking of seashells, my guy has a seashell collection, which you have him rambling about it and seashells in general to you. he would just light up and he's extremely happy to tell you about it

though he says you are better than his collection entirely

there is some PDA in here but it is usually hand holding, back hand kisses and cheek kisses

please do shower him in kisses he will just get all flustered. also in shark form, go ahead and touch his fins, he will enjoy that a lot

love languages are acts of service, physical touch and gift giving. he woukd give you a seashell that reminded him of you

Gothel:

He loves giving you eskimo and butterfly kisses. also kissing the bridge of your nose

literally a malewife

y'all prolly already seem like a domestic married couple in a way

you both make food together, bet. also would be the type to playfully get food on your face which starts a playful and small food fight

then would hold your chin to make you look at him and get food off your face, like it and say that it tastes sweet like you this making you blush

nicknames/pet names he will give you: sweetie, pumpkin, my butterfly, rosebud

since Gothel can sing very well, he'd use his voice to calm you down, maybe even sing you to sleep. and if you can sing too, you two would do little duets together

as a way to calm you down, would simg you a comfort song of yours

PDA is minimal but would still hold your hand

Gothel is the type to accidentally flirt but also subtly flirt if that makes sense

Love languages are also quality time, acts of service and physical touch

#twisted wonderland ocs #oc: azrael #oc: erlik #oc: gothel #oc x reader #crow writes #crow's ocs

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tsuki-sennin · 1 year

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It's fuckin' COOKIN'! Now that Tsubasa's properly been introduced, let's spend another episode getting to know him.

What sorta things make Cure Wing tick? And moreover, how's our girl Mashiro doing?

All this and more on Delicious Party- I mean, Hirogaru Sky~!

Spoilers, I guess...

-Pretty Holic Stationery! ...very shiny and pink.

-I love how vague Mashiro is with her writing, but she conveys so much just with text.

-Oh sweetie...

-He joined in on the jump~!

-Foofd...

-Party time, party time! Everybody feeling fine cause it's party time!

-Oh to be a little birdie...

-"You guys don't need to spend all that effort on me."

-There you go, you get it now! Let me tell you lad, it's not every day you get welcomed into a friend group of girls so easily.

-The prep is part of the party, Sora-chan!

-Yakitai! With rainbow jururira on the side!

-BIRD MILF!?

-We gotta try! ...oh god, the kitchen's really gonna fuck me up.

-Yakitai~!

-Fish Cake...

-Taiyaki!

-Puni flour, puni beans...

-Recreate an ancient Skyland delicacy!

-Time to try~!

-Can't nom while being started at!

Tsubasa: Y'know it's not quite the yakitai my mom makes, but I have to admit our Pretty Cure-style is pretty good! Thank you for putting in so much effort, how about we relax for the rest of the-

Mashiro/Sora: We must discover the secrets of the magical dessert fish.

-Let's go!

-Going on a world tour of desset

-This is some Wii Sports-ass music. (And I do mean that as a compliment)

-I didn't think so many varieties of this one specific dessert existed!

-...er, that is, taiyaki.

-This is such a sweet episode. ...pun intended.

-Oh goddamn, Onigiri. We ate so fucking many of those last year

-Thank you,

-Tsubasa-kun?

-Oh....

-Yeah,

-Roasted Sweet Potatoes!

-Fuck, I love sweet potatoes...

"SHADDAP! WE'RE HAVING A CUTE MOMENT HERE! ...anyways, please continue Tsubasa-kun :)"

-Sora is so based.

-Not a very good disguise, Kabaton.

-OH FUCK THEY TOOK THE POTAT

-I think it's quite neat that Wing fits in so well with the girls' aesthetics, that's cute

-"Yam those fuckers into the stratosphere!"

-Boy Son Go!

-"Potato!"

-That was very necessary, thank you.

-Yoooo, Prism!

-Good on you lass.

-Hey now, she's got range and fighting spirit!

-Hell yeah!

-Holy shit, she lit that nuke to death.

-I suppose Wing doesn't get in on the team finisher yet.

-That's alright, this is Prism's moment <3

-Small potats

-Mashiron :)

-Party Time! Part 2! Sora's got the right idea!

-Oh man... that's a ton of sweetness all in one place...

-:)

-STAR JUMPSCARE

-Very Twincool of you to join us today, Hikaru-chan.

-"I am not just 'BOY'! >:("

-Ageha, at last! You and your... fucking Hummer. No, I will not stop making fun of her taste in cars, glad you asked.

-Anyways, I think I'm done for the day.

#Hop! Step! Jump! Hero Gals Dream of the Everlasting Sky!#precure #hirogaru sky pretty cure #hirogaru sky precure #hirogaru sky spoilers #pretty cure

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xocowilde · 1 year

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More about Steddie + Johnny's relationship 🦇🍦🧷

Because I can and it's eating my brain

Mostly from Johnny and his mom (Caroline)

When their relationship is finally official, after finding the three of them are happy together & Eddie realized he actually really likes Johnny, they don't know if they should tell the others

Except, Johnny. He is the first one in spilling it out. He tells it the next day to his mom, the most important person on his life.

He arrives with more energy than he normally have, jumping and smiling. Caroline has to stop preparing dinner to look what's the new adventures of her son.

"Do you remember that Steve guy I told you about? And Eddie Munson?"

"That last one was the metal guy? On the news?"

Of course, how not to know him. But she smiles, because he is happy talking about how much he likes them, how fun is being with Eddie and how much Steve seems to care about both of them. And Caroline is happy about this, but still alert because the last time he got so excited about a relationship (not at this lever tho) finished in a very bad one where she had to help Johnny keep going and go away from bad people. She knew, as well, this Steve and that Eddie helped as well.

And she is cautious when Johnny ask her if they could go for dinner next weekend because "they need to taste your mash potatoes and peach pie." It is the second time he asks to invite their boyfriends, the first time was on middle school in his first relationship.

She is as nervous and worried now, because that means these two guys are another level. If they break Johnny's heart, he isn't going to be like last time but worse

And she does the best mashed potatoes and bakes the best peach pie. When Johnny tells her they want to bring something she just replies with "some ice cream and lot of stomach"

When the day arrives, she is ready with some nice clothes and warm food. The doorbell sounds like birds and she opens the main door because Johnny is still on his bedroom getting ready. Always a bit late.

She smiled when the door opens and finds two guys quite surprised. Maybe it is because she is black and has the whitest boy in town, or maybe because is the mother of their boyfriend. But they smile and are happy to be received with a big hug and the best of the smells from the kitchen and the house itself. What would you expect from the owner of the flower shop?

The dinner goes well, Steve and Eddie seem surprised by how easily Johnny talks about them both being his partners. He talks about Eddie's pronoun and Caroline just nods and smiles at this. She talks about Johnny's hobbies and old stories that would make him feel embarrassed and the other two laugh about it. They seem to enjoy the talk, the place, how Johnny holds the hand of Eddie, and how lets the other hand play with Steve's hair from time to time. It seems so normal and natural. And the two of them are enjoying it.

Steve helps with the dishes while Eddie and Johnny decide to prepare the dessert; peach pie with ice cream.

"I hope vanilla is ok." Eddie says as Johnny is the one who serves the ice cream on top. "Does Steve has to teach you?"

"Ah yeah, I forgot he was a professional ice cream server."

"Anyway, I want two scoops." Eddie says as he licks the knife he used to cut the pie

"Oh, this kid knows." Caroline laughs. "I want two as well, sweetie."

They are surprised she was at the door just looking at them with a smile. Because she was there to find out how Steve was washing the dishes and helping them with whatever, how would Eddie tickle Johnny's side and bite his shoulder and just make him laugh. How Steve gave him the scoop in hand and kissed Johnny's cheek before keeping going with the dishes.

All those little details, how Johnny seemed happier than a month before. That's what matters, and the important question.

They finish dessert and Steve asks if is ok to smoke there. She seems serious now.

"My house has few rules, sweet boy. And one of them is not smoking. That's why this kid has some table and chairs outside."

"Cant I take it?" Eddie stands up, with his half coffee and the piece of pie that Johnny will not finish.

She smiles and lets them go, Johnny being the last one as he takes the cigarettes and the matches. The way Caroline looks at him and smiles makes him know what she wants to say.

"They are very good, don't you think so?" Johnny jokes. "Very handsome and pretty."

"Yes, they are." She held his face in her hands in a gentle manner. "Are they really good?" he nods without a smile. "Are you happy?"

"So far... no, you know?" He smiles finally. "I think I will be happy with them. Don't worry, Mom."

"Oh, too late." she laughs, pinching his cheek. "Go with your boyfriends. Sorry, your boyfriend and partner. I will be upstairs."

Johnny nodes kissing her cheek before going outside to the backyard.

#pretty punk metal ship #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie x johnny #stranger things OC #at this point johnny is an oc lets be real

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prompt-master · 2 years

Text

Submitted by @dtgvxg

Coolio.

Context:Rex is part of a project involving university age students. Transferred from Corvus Academy, he's in as the Ultimate Security Contractor alongside his friends. And he's also 90% robotics and a living weapon. Also, he and tsumugi are technically from an alternate timeline and older than they look, but that is a whole new can of worms.

Makoto: Rex...

Rex: I can tell by the tone of your voice that you are disappointed. Alas, I must further disappoint you by affirming how little I give a fuck.

(+)

Miu, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.

Rex: I will short out the language center of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

(+)

Rex: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

(+)

Rex: I have the sharpest memory here -name one time I forgot something.

Junko: You left me, Mukuro, and Moogs in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago.

Rex: I did that on purpose, try again.

(+)

Tsumugi: Why aren’t you sleeping?

Rex: I’m too busy plotting your murder to sleep, Tsumugi.

Tsumugi: *not buying it*

Rex: ...The nightmares.

Tsumugi: *wrapping their arms around Rex* Awwww, sweetie-

(+)

[After breaking into a research facility taking the successful product of the New Dawn Project]

Hajime, pacing his living room:so…she's like us?

Rex, currently raiding Hajime's kitchen: if by 'like us', you mean a result of heavy human experimentation and are currently filled with forty metric tons of circuitry, machinery, and synthetics, then yes.

Hajime: Okay, cool. So, you basically want me to-

Rex, in the middle of making a club sandwich:-keep an eye on her until there's a secure enough place to put her. You know, babysitting. You've probably done that.

Hajime:a few times, but whatever. However, mind if I tell you what confuses me?

Rex, eating his sandwich: Shoot.

Hajime: why me?

Rex, shrugging: Immediate first thought, I guess.

(+)

Rex, to Ruraka: If I bite into this chicken sandwich and it's sweet, I'm skinning you.

(+)

Johnny: Yo, Kaz, do that R2D2 impression.

Kazuichi, taking a breath:wooooooOOOOOO-

(+)

Junko, acting embarrassed: Wow, you’re such a perverted psycho. Why the fuck would you ask me if I like breasts?

Rex, tired as fuck: [whispers angrily] How many times do I have to tell you we’re at KFC, dumbass?! Why are you like this every time we’re here?

(+)

Rex:*hanging out on the roof*

Kazuichi bursting in: Why didn't you tell me your dad had all that ass?

Rex:*silently looks at him*

Kazuichi: Now hear me out…

(+)

Shuichi: How would you like your pancakes?

Komaru: Plain.

Kaede: With sprinkles!

Hajime: Chocolate chips.

Rex: Potatoes.

*Komaru, Kaede, and Hajime look at Rex*

Rex: What? They're good.

(+)

Rex: Life could be worse, Kaede.

Kaede: Life could be a lot better too!

(+)

Makoto: We need a way to lure in new customers.

Junko: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Johnny: Kaede bath water.

Kaede: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

(+)

Hajime: I think you're still suffering from the effects of your party last night.

Johnny: All I drank was Redbull!

Hajime: How many?

Johnny: Eighteen.

(+)

Rex: Who the fuck broke the toaster?

Makoto: It was Kaede.

Komaru: It was Kaede.

Hajime: Kaede broke it.

Kaede:

Kaede: ...yOU PROMISED-

(+)

Miu: I’m the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room.

(+)

Rex: Good morning. As you begin your day, remember that violence is always an option and often the answer.

Shuichi:

Rex:

Shuichi: ...Please, go back to bed.

(+)

Miu, watching Maki and Peko fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt?

Rex, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other.

Miu: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three?

Peko: Rex.

Maki: Rex.

Rex, the literal living war machine: Me.

(+)

Mukuro: I will find us an armored vehicle and some weapons.

Mukuro: If you two can manage to not kill each other while I'm gone.

Rex: Oh, please. We're not children.

*Mukuro leaves*

Rex, casually: ...Eat shit and die.

Tsumugi, also casually: Yes, fuck you.

(+)

Tsumugi, drinking tea: Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this.

Rex, dressed in PJs: Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!!

(+)

Hajime: I can't imagine what Rex is planning. But I can tell you two things. We won't like it and it won't be legal.

(+)

Tsumugi: Wow, Rex, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Rex: We literally slept together yesterday.

Tsumugi: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

(+)

Rex: Go fuck yourself.

Tsumugi, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch.

(+)

Rex: I fell-

Tsumugi: From heaven?

Rex: No, I literally fell-

Tsumug, doing this on purpose: In love with me the moment you saw me?

Rex: MY ARM IS BROKEN!

Tsumugi: Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

Rex:…fuck you.

(+)

Makoto, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Rex: Wassup?

Kaede: Hi!

Shuichi: Hello.

Hajime: Hey.

Makoto: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Komaru: We were out of Doritos.

(+)

Makoto: I think Komaru is in trouble.

Rex: Alright. Struggling to give a fuck, if I’m honest.

(+)

Rex: I know you love them.

Shuichi: I am not in love with Kaede!

Rex, staring at Shuichi, amused: I never said who...

Shuichi: *realizes*

Shuichi: Shit. Well, anyways-

(+)

Kaede: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter a.

Byakuya: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory.

Rex: Fuck you.

(+)

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Kaede: Thanks fam!

Komaru: Oh, really? Cool!

Makoto: *smiles* I love you too.

Hajime: Sounds fake, but okay.

Shuichi: *A flustered mess*

Rex: Big mistake.

(+)

Makoto: The floor is lava!

Kaede: *helps Shuichi onto the counter*

Komaru: *kicks Hajime off the sofa*

Rex: *falls face first onto the floor*

Makoto: ...Are you okay?

Rex, muffled: No.

(+)

Miu: *Kicks Rex's bedroom door down looking panicked*

Rex, tired: The fuck's going on?

Miu: Nobody died!

Rex, now wide awake: What did you do?!

(+)

Leon, to Miu: I cannot relate to your ‘E-Girl’ problems.

(+)

Shuichi, about Maki: She's so terrifying yet so lacking in social skills that the most basic conversation feels like a hostage negotiation situation.

(+)

Miu: I only like three things in this world. Money, Bitches, and the Dewey Decimal System!

(+)

Rex: How did you find me?

Micheal: Oh, I saw a huge explosion and wondered 'now, who could that be?'.

(+)

Miu, currently running on two hours of sleep: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Rex, Done™: Does anyone in this goddamn school ever think before they speak?

(+)

Rex: I don't support the violence. *reveals all implanted weapons* I AM the violence.

(+)

Miaya: You often use humor to deflect your severe trauma.

Rex: Thanks.

Miaya: I didn't say that was a good thing.

Rex: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny.

(+)

[After blowing up a building]

Rex: This is a mistake.

Junko, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh about one day!

Rex: But not today, right?

Junko, still enthusiastic: Oh, no. Today's going to be a mess.

(+)

Kokichi: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside.

Rex:

Rex: Dude, I swear to fuck, if I step outside and all of the goddamn mugs are out on the front lawn...

Kokichi: *Sips coffee from bowl*

(+)

Shuichi: What the fuck? People actually tell their crushes they like them??

Makoto: What the hell do you do?

Shuichi: I die? What kinda question…

(+)

[After Mahiru finds Rex covered in blood and with surrounding corpses]

Rex: Hold on, I can explain.

Mahiru: Really?! Can you now?!

Rex: I can if you give me a minute to think of a convincing lie.

(+)

Fuyuhiko with a gun to Rex's head: What happens if I pull this trigger? Heaven?

Rex: Bold of you to assume either of us'll go to Heaven.

(+)

Rex: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

So, here are the incorrect quotes. Hope you enjoy.

#submission #danganronpa #sdr2 #drv3 #ndrv3 #incorrect quotes #oc #the sweet chicken one got me #altho tbh if ruruka fave me sweet chicken id be down i love sweets #anyway these are charming and i do love me some deadpan humor!#it seems like youre having a lot of fun with the au and thats awesome #i dont really fully get the au and it seems complicated but!! loving the energy #keep up the fun good work

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writer-akihiko · 3 years

Note

Hi, I wanted to request a scenario for the dorm leaders separately where him and S/o are dating. Grim comes running to find him and tell him Crowley was sending S/o back to their world. So the dorm leader goes running into Crowley's office and plead S/o to stay in twisted wonderland, telling them how much they love them and admitting they want to get married when they graduate. S/o agrees to stay, but explains that Crowley only gave the option to go back and Grim just assumed they were leaving.

Dorm Leaders + MC's Chance To Leave

So I have to be honest, this was a little challenging for me since I didn't want to repeat the same scenario, so some scenarios turned out a little more angsty than the others, so please be warned of that

Besides that, I had a lot of fun on the reactions of the Dorm Leaders! Please enjoy! Cut for length

"Hoi! Dorm Leader!!"

A furry cat ran up to the Dorm Leader, in full panic as his swishing tail flickered anxiously.

"Listen here!" Grim pawed at the student's feet, the mention of your name catching his attention. "YN's leaving! You have to go and stop her! I overheard her in Crowley's office!"

"…What?"

Malleus Draconia

He summoned as much magic as he could, transporting him to the principal's door and blasting the door open

"YN…!"

He was truly scared, and his fear translated through his own magic as the whole school felt the earthquakes

The draconic fae hugged you tight, his much larger frame engulfing you completely. "YN, please don't go… I don't know what I'd do without you so please…"

"Wait-"

"No, please let me finish," He said, his finger silencing you. "YN, I love you. I love you my dear, more than you'd possibly know. I want to do so much with you. I want to marry you once I was done with school, and I was hoping to take you to the Valley of Thorns!..."

"My Queen, please consider staying with me."

Despite his desperate grip, you patted his head, giggling at the confession.

"Tsunotarou… I'm not going anywhere."

Crowley coughed, "M-My my… What a passionate proclamation of love…"

Malleus was utterly confused, but all he understood was that you weren't leaving him

You explained the whole situation, although you had to tease your precious fae for overreacting

"Tsunotarou~ Should I prepare my wedding dress now?"

The Prince of the Faes has never blushed harder…

Riddle Rosehearts

He hoped he wasn't too late, as he raced down the halls, abandoning every rule he himself established in the dorms

"YN! You're not allowed to leave me!"

His face reddened with rage and despair, anticipating for the worse as he fell to the ground

He felt the familiar touch of you, as you held his cheek

He reached out to you, confessing his worries

"YN, if you really leave me... I don't think I can handle it anymore. You mean so much to me... If you're leaving me, at least know that I love you to the point I want to have a wedding right after graduation!-"

"R-Riddle... you really want to marry me?" You shied away, hiding your face in your hands

"Of course!" He protested. "You're the only one I'd be on my knees for, so please... don't leave."

You couldn't help but let out a laugh at such a serious moment like this. "Riddle... I never planned to. I turned down Crowley's offer. I'm staying here... with you. So don't cry, Riddle."

He felt like an utter idiot for believing Grim

"O-Of course! I'm... Thank you for staying with me, YN."

Kalim Al-Asim

He dropped everything he was doing, racing to the principal's door

Jamil was the unfortunate soul who had to clean up after him

Kalim didn't want to miss you, he just had so much so say to you

When he burst in the room, Crowley protested the sudden interruption

He was quickly silenced by Kalim throwing a pillow at him

"YN! My beautiful Zahra!" He proclaimed, getting on one knee. "My Zahra, will you marry me?"

"W-What?"

"If you marry me this instance, you'd consider not going back!" He cried, the tears soaking his shirt. "YN, I don't… Don't go… What am I supposed to do?"

You wiped away your lover's tears, kissing them away

"Kalim, I never planned to. I'm staying here with you, my sweet prince, even if I can go back," You said, brushing the ends of his hair

"R-Really?"

You nodded, your cheeks warming at the thought of Kalim's sudden proposal. "Y-Yeah… Did you mean to marry me though?"

"YN, I'd propose to you over and over again if that's what you want."

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul snapped, crushing the contract he was preparing for some student that harassed you the other day

He was in denial at first, but he wasn't about to take any chances

If he had to keep you here by a contract, he'd do so

"Crowley! What is the meaning of this?!"

He protectively pulled you into his arms, stating his purpose. "YN, you are not going back," He turned to you. "You don't know if it works! It could be a scam! You're safer with me-"

"Azul, you're-"

"YN," He faced you, bringing his gloved hand under you chin. "Don't underestimate my love for you. If Crowley… If he didn't step in, I'd propose to you by graduation and I'd bring you the Sea to meet my parents and-"

"Azul, my adorable octopus. I didn't agree to go back," You said, setting your boyfriend straight. "I'm not going anytime soon, not away from you that is."

Most would've expected him to be in tears when hearing you were leaving, but Azul was a sobbing mess hearing that you stayed

"R-Really? YN… Thank you, thank you my Angelfish for staying with me…" He sobbed into your shirt, swaying into the hug

"You shouldn't underestimate my love for you either, my future husband."

Idia Shroud

Idia almost broke the game controller in his hands, his jaw agape at Grim

"Extra… You shouldn't be telling me lies…"

Idia, of course had to set out on a quest to reverse the fate of this story!...

He rushed to the den of the wicked, and there the trickster principal was tempting you to go back!

"YN! Don't fall for his schemes!" He cried, his hair of flames burning brighter than before. "I… I won't let you go back home!"

Ortho, at his side, dutifully restrained the crow from retorting anything as Idia tried to convince you to not leave

"YN… Just say anything and I'll give it to you. Just don't go!!" He said. "Is it because you thought I was hiding something from you? If it's that, I'm willing to show you!"

He rustled a paper out of his jacket, unfurling it to reveal a design of a ring…

"Here!" He presented, at this point quite desperate to keep you here. "I-It's the ring I plan to propose you with! It was supposed to be after my graduation, where you could be next to me all the time…"

You cupped the face of your frantic boyfriend, hushing him

"Idia, sweetie, I agreed to stay even before you came," You explained, telling him that you never planned to leave as well how you appreciated his notion of marriage

Idia pulled you into a tight hug, happy that you never gave up on him

"YN, I'll try to make you as happy as I can!"

Leona Kingscholar

To everyone's surprise, Leona's first instinct wasn't a fit of rage. Instead, the second prince went into a burst of tears with hits frustration

"YN… There's no way she would…"

He had to prove himself wrong. He had to

Otherwise he'd might just break then and there

"YN! Where are you?..."

He almost worried if he were too late

He couldn't explain the bloom of relief that swelled in his chest as he saw you still in this world

He grabbed you by the shoulders, unexpected words spilling from his lips

"YN, did I mean nothing to you? Was I nothing when you showed me love?!" He cried out, his tears flowing freely. "Was… Was I even worth it? Was I?"

He sunk to his knees, as he gave up all hope for you to stay

"I wanted to make you mine… I wanted to marry you and live with just the two of us…" He sobbed, his claws digging into his own skin

"Was I that easy to forget?"

He didn't expect the warmth of your hug comforting him. "No Leona," You said, shedding a few tears yourself. "I could never forget you, which is why I chose to stay. I'm never leaving you, not even for my old life."

"YN… you really scared me, y'know?"

Vil Schoenheit

Vil wanted to crush that cat under his heels for bringing such dreadful news to him

He made his way to the principal's room, voicing his very annoyance the moment he barged in

"Principal! How dare you manipulate my sweet potato!"

He cuddled you in his arms, lulling sweet words into your ears in hopes of driving whatever rubbish you had to hear from Crowley

"My sweet potato, I… Please consider staying with me," He said, his hands ghosting over yours. "I… Just let me give everything to you if that's what you want! You can do anything, I just want you…"

You were about to say something, but Vil thought it was a retort of protest

"I had been planning everything for the moment I propose after graduation! I can't let that bird ruin that!" He cried, trying to hear a word of approval from you. "My… My beloved. Please stay with me."

You nodded, bestowing a kiss on your lover

"Vil, I'm flattered," You admitted. "But I was already planning to stay. I could never consider letting you go."

Vil couldn't stop himself from lifting you up and twirling you around. "Oh, my beloved! You're staying with me!" He repeated over and over again, enjoying the giggles that came from your lips

He set you down, realising your furry companion lied to him

"YN, I really want to crush that furball that tails you…"

"Vil!"

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst azul #twst idia #twst kalim #twst vil #twst leona #twst malleus #twst riddle #twst scenarios #twst wonderland #twst x reader #malleus x reader #riddle x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #leona x reader #kalim x reader #azul x reader

2K notes · View notes

house-of-laminations · 3 years

Note

Here you go, some ‘southern traited’ mc

Calling everyone dear, honey, sweetie, ect-

While you had talked to everyone earlier that day, there was no way you would be remembering all these names yet, but that didn’t particularly matter. “Hey sweet pea, can you pass that dish over here please?”

Levi, who you were staring right at, just about drops said dish. There’s a few side eyes, but Asmo is quick to coo over how cute you are. You give him a polite smile but really you’re just thinking ‘horndog.’

Big meals and comfort food-

You were happy to take up cooking once a week, especially since it meant you got to have a taste of home. You got to have a special order every week for human world food, and you got to try some of your dishes with devildom versions of food.

Often you prepared half of the food the night before, but today you came in to find Beel eating half of a sweet potato casserole, and you felt pissed, “NOW LISTEN HERE YOU APE, I PUT LOTS OF EFFORT INTO FEEDING YOU THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS RESPECT-“ and it went on. Beel was hanging his head in shame by the end, and Lucifer had to come remove him from your kitchen so you could get things done.

Later in the hallway you heard Beel asking someone, “How do humans apologize?” And it did warm your heart a little.

Bless your heart-

Now this phrase can mean a few things-

1. Oh sweetie you sound so dumb right now

2. You’re sick and/or going through a rough time

3. You just did something really nice and helpful.

Mammon is talking about human world things and quite frankly, is talking from his ass. You giggle and say, “Bless your heart honey. It’s actually-“

Lucifer having to work late, so you bring a plate to the study. He looks up at you for just a second, “I’m a bit busy to eat.” And you just shake your head and set the plate down, “Bless your heart sweet pea.. you need to take at least a few minutes to eat, you can burn the oil when there’s none left.”

Physical contact-

Admittedly, it takes you about a month to feel comfortable enough hugging the literal demons you’re living with. However, Satan is helping you with some books, and afterwards you come up and give him a big hug. At first he tries to back away and is kind of confused, but you swat him on the shoulder and pull him into your chest, “Quit that now, I’m just givin ya a hug. Thank you for your help cutie pie.”

He’s so confused at this behavior and almost turns into demon form, but then he realizes.. you aren’t hurting him.. and you’re kinda squishy and nice. He blushes but eventually wraps his hands around you, and you smile, “There you go! You got it.”

The constant and feral sense of recipes and urge to keep them-

Asmo is flipping through a magazine, telling you all about the latest looks. He mumbled about a strawberry smoothie recipe as he flips the page and you just about tackle him, “Hey now wait a second-“ you’re reading the recipe from over his shoulder, and you start tapping him, “cut that out for me, will ya? We should try it.”

He finds it strange you want to cut out a recipe, but since the back of it is just an advertisement, he agrees, with a promise of being the first one to try it when you make it.

Cancelling school at first snow

(Even if it’s a light snow, if any of it sticks we always get at least a 2 hour delay, but usually a cancel for the first day of snow)

When the first bit of snowfall comes around, you squee. The few people in the living room all turn to you, confused. You explain excitedly it’s snowing! No school! And all but run to the kitchen. Lucifer, confused, follows you as he watched you excitedly getting out a large pot and some supplies you had ordered a month ago. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making hot coco! It’s snowing so we probably won’t have school tomorrow and we can stay up late! You should gather your brothers, we can get out the board games and such.”

He wants to correct you.. that the snow won’t get bad enough not to go to school, it’s not even making the ground wet.. but the joy that’s coming off you makes him stop. He makes a quick phone call to Diavolo, and even though they both know it’s not.. bad enough for a snow day.. Diavolo gives the household the day off so that you can have a nice night.

-🥀

AAAAAAAA this is so incredibly sweet 💛 the brothers just like. melting at all the nicknames. rip levi he will be missed.

I know its a southern-ism but I find the idea of saying 'bless your heart' to the demons extremely funny. And a tad angsty. But mostly funny.

#🥀 anon #got me thinking about making a bogan aussie one of these. wont be nearly as wholesome or sweet tho #i love this so much you dont understaaaaaand #obey me #obey me brothers #I talk to a real human

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

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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