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crymeariveronceagain · 2 years

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Ah this is awkward. Um.

You're like, gray aroace right? I'm pretty sure I'm fully aroace (as in has never had a crush sexually or romantically) and idk if I wil at some point but whatever.

Anyway, so like, I was talking w my friend - and like, I have two people I really consider 'friends', who I'd always like... kind of imagined spending my life with ig? Like not romantically, but in a 'you're my best friend and how can I ever stop caring about you' way. And so my friend was talking about how they really want to find love and get married and like...

My other friend also talks about finding a gf and all that and basically the point is they both talk about how they're so scared they'll never find 'love' and 'move on'. And the thing that terrifies me is they're like moving on from when, other than familialy, our platonic relationships were ig most important? Like, they will never value these bonds as much as I do. They'll leave me behind for romantic partners and I'm so scared I'll have to force myself into loving someone that way just so I don't get left behind. It's hard enough with my parents, and I'm so scared of losing them, but I'm going to because I'll never matter as much to them as they do to me.

I think that was the moment it really clicked for me 'I'm different' and I don't know what to do.

Hi darling!!!!

First of all, I don't identify as any manner of ace or aro. They're not comfortable terms to me, and it's taken me a long while to get to a place where I can actually, like. Write that? I used to identify as ace, but I don't anymore. Primarily because it became such a huge anxiety trigger for me. And, honestly, it still kind of is. The entire question of my sexuality makes me feel like throwing up, a little. Not mad about it or anything, and not offended either(you can assume whatever you want about me) but, anyways. I love you <3

So, like. I'd like to start off with saying a couple things.

First and foremost, your perception of friendships is completely normal, actually. So many people today, and I mean this honestly, have a disordered perception of the value of relationships. So often they set friendships on back burner, and instead focus on romantic relationships. And, actually. I'll tell you why.

Friendships are so, so, so valuable.

With any luck, any person can find a lover. In fact, most people without much work can swipe right a few times and get everything they want out of that situation.

But a friendship? A real, whole, true one?

Stars, you're lucky if you get one in your whole life.

There is something beautiful, soul-quenchingly holy and wonderful about true friendships, about kindred spirits. There is something so endlessly pure about loving a person not even for some kind of romantic pursuit, but just for the hell of it. For the hell of loving. For the hell of living. For the hell of understanding, for the hell of breathing, for the hell of sharing. There's something so infinitely beautiful, and there's something scary.

Because true friendship doesn't ask for anything but companionship and patience, for the mutual care of someone. That's all it wants, and that's its end. That's the goal of friendship. Mutual care. Patience. Companionship.

Romance asks for more than that.

But true friendship is one of the most pure loves.

The ancient Greeks called it Philia.

C. S. Lewis said, about it, in his book The Four Loves(100% recommend you read this at some point.) "“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”

That's a beautiful, amazing thing right there. It's like philosophy, it's like art. It's brilliant. It's lovely.

Now, all that to say, that if friendship is like art, you are not different or new to value it as you do. It means you have a natural predilection, maybe, to value it as you do, just as some people are naturally disposed to art or philosophy, or even to romance.

On to the specifics about your friends. If your friends don't value you like you value them, they're kind of crappy friends.

Because even a desire for a relationship should not change the love they have for you. Even being in a relationship should not decrease their care for you.

It took me a while to learn this, and in fact it's through the love of my best friend that I have learned this. I had friends, when I was in high school, who abandoned me, repeatedly, for each other. They treated me like I was disposable. Like my existence didn't matter. I'd have died for them. They wouldn't have died for me.

But then, I met the girl I'd call my "bosom friend--an intimate friend, you know--a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my innermost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it's possible?"(Anne Of Green Gables, by L. M. Montgomery)

She's in a relationship, set to be married, actually, now.

But the thing is, I have never once questioned her love for me. I've never once had to. She's never made me feel like I didn't matter to her. I even brought it up, once. That I would always expect to be second to her husband-to-be, and she said we weren't on the same playing field, so to speak. I don't remember exactly what she said, but it's settled, deeply in my soul. It was something along the lines of, He's my boyfriend, but you're my best friend. It made me cry, nearly.

She's my best friend, and she values me like I value her.

So, I've got to tell you.

If they do not love you like you love them.

They're not the people you want to line your dreams up with.

Believe me. If you believe nothing else I say, believe me on this.

You want people who love you just as fiercely as you love them.

They should value the bond as much as you do. Don't settle for less. Find friends who will fight and die for you. If they won't, you can do better. Find friends who are willing to love you. Find friends who want you in their futures.

Really, dearest, this has very little to do with sexuality.

Ik it sounds dumb, because why wouldn't it?

But this is about friendship. It's about this stupid world we live in refusing to place emphasis on friendship. Stars, compare it to art! How would you feel if people went "Art is kind of stupid, we don't need it to live, so there's very little point to maintaining it or making more or making the stuff that sticks in your ribs and makes breathing hard." Like, that's what society has said about friendship!

It's been so greatly reduced, so greatly destroyed, so corrupted by the media and by hook up culture and by the concept even that friendship doesn't matter unless you're gonna date eventually.

Literally, what the heck is up with that?

It's so stupid and pointless you don't understand.

We live in a world that destroys and degrades friendship on an altar of romance.

My best friend's brother once heard her tell me she loved me and he called us gay. That's how estranged we are from a world that respects friendship. Brothers crack jokes that burn and make you wonder if you're doing something wrong by expressing something so simple as love.

I still tell her I love her. I call her beautiful. Lovely. She does the same for me.

We lift each other up, point each other towards where we want to go.

And there is so much hope for our futures in our lives. I'm going to be in her wedding next summer. I want to meet her husband. I want her to meet my future spouse, whoever they are. I want to meet her kids. I want her to meet mine. I want to go to movies with her. I want to eat dinner in her house. I want to meet up for a glass of wine and sit as grandmothers on the same front porch and talk like there's an endless life before us.

My friend wants the same things.

Look.

Darling, dearest anon.

If your friends want to move on from your friendship, they're not the kind of people you want as friends.

Because you deserve to be valued as you value others.

That's just a fact of human existence.

And if these friends want to move on, to step out into the world and leave you behind, to cast aside your friendship for romance, pretend like that's some sort of mutually exclusive relationship, pretend, for even a moment like love is some sort of finite resource, and that they're willing to cast you off like you don't matter in exchange for it.

Not only are they wrong, it's highkey cruel of them.

If they're thinking the friendship is limited, that it's conditional, that it's doomed, or that it's fading, or whatever kind of hula hoops they're jumping through in their heads, that's what it's going to be, because they're striking a self-fulfilling prophecy.

It has nothing to do with you.

You honestly sound like you're the normal, functioning person here.

They sound like they're the ones who are different.

Sure, a point could be argued, I suppose, that in this culture an emphasis on friendship and a platonic love of others is different.

Sure. You could say that you're different because you want to be loved and valued in return. That you love intensely and deeply.

But stars.

Lovely, most beloved anon.

Find new friends.

Ditch these people. I know it's gonna hurt. Friendship breakups hurt more than heartbreaks(I've experienced both, I can attest to this) but if they're not going to love you as you deserve. You are worthy of so much more than this hovering feeling of impending doom. You're worth more than listening to them talk about the romance they want to leave you behind for. You're worth endlessly more than them underappreciating and undervaluing your friendship.

Just walk away.

It's not worth it to love like that. It's unrequited. It's undervalued.

There's a best friend out there for you, I'm sure of it.

Someone who will value you just as much as you value them.

And maybe it will take a while to find them. Maybe you'll have to go through more friendships that aren't valuable enough to the other party.

Who cares.

True friendship exists. True filial love exists. You can find it.

The world probably feels really small, right now. It is not small.

The world is huge. It is full of people.

And you don't need a lot of people. That's another lie.

All you need is one good friend. All you need is one. And you'll be okay.

I never thought I would make friends who actually loved me. And then, I did.

So if a wreck like me can find legitimate friends who love and value me as much as I love and value them, you'll have no problems, dearest.

There are people out there waiting.

There are friendships in the world that you can make.

These two people are not the only two you get.

I swear it to you.

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dollycas · 3 months

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The Snow Job (Century Cottage Cozy Mysteries) by Dianne Ascroft #CharacterInterview / #Giveaway - Great Escapes Book Tour @DianneAscroft

The Snow Job (Century Cottage Cozy Mysteries) by Dianne Ascroft It is my pleasure to welcome Lois Stone from Dianne Ascroft's Century Cottage Cozy Mystery Series. Welcome Lois, please tell us a little bit about yourself. Hello, there. I’m Lois Stone. I guess you could call me middle-aged - I’m under 55 but not by much. As a librarian, I love books and I work part-time at our town library. It’s strange to refer to it as ‘our town’ as I only moved from the big city of Toronto to Fenwater last summer – just over six months ago. I bought a beautiful grey stone ‘century cottage’ and I share it with my two calico cats, Ribbons and Raggs. My husband, James, died just over three years ago and, although I’m making an effort to move on with my life, I still miss him. I live a fairly quiet life. I enjoy reading and going for walks. I’m also a keen baker. I’ll make anything with apple and cinnamon in the recipe and I also love trying out new muffin recipes. What makes you laugh? My good friend Marge makes me laugh. She’s the exact opposite of me: outspoken and extroverted. I never know what she’ll do or say next so I have to be on my toes to keep up with her. Are you afraid of anything? When my friend Marge drags me into investigating crimes, I’m afraid of lots of things. I’m afraid of getting caught when we snoop into places where we shouldn’t be. I’m afraid the criminals we run into are not very nice guys and we’ll get hurt. And I’m also afraid I’ll let down my partner Bruce. I promised him that I wouldn’t get involved in any more criminal investigations but I can’t seem to keep that promise. I’m doing my best but you just don’t know how persistent my friend Marge can be. Do you have a special talent or gift? I’m not sure that I do. I often think that everyone around me is more competent at everything than me. You wouldn’t believe the situations I’ve needed to be rescued from when Marge and I were investigating crimes. But, I am one of the few people who can see Beldie, the resident ghost in my historical stone house. Beldie is a goat who belonged to the original owner of the house. With the help of my friend Marge, I recently figured out why I can see my ghost. I guess having a ghost in your house, especially one as unpredictable as mine, could be a liability but Beldie has come to my rescue more than once so I wouldn’t want to be without her. Besides, those strange goat eyes of hers are kind of cute. Tell us about your family. I guess you could say my family is rather small. I’m a widow and I live on my own with my two calico cats, Ribbons and Raggs. As I mentioned, my husband James died about three years ago. We didn’t have any children. My mother and step-father live a couple of hours away from me in Toronto but I don’t see them too often. My father and I were close when he was alive but my mother isn’t the easiest person to get along with. I started dating my partner Bruce a few months ago and we are getting closer all the time so maybe I should include him as family too. Who is the most important person in your life? I can’t really pin it down to just one person. Marge Kirkwood is my closest friend. She’s the same age as me and she’s from Fenwater. She’s been divorced for years and she returned to her hometown last year to keep an eye on her elderly mother. She’s the archivist at the local museum and we met when we worked together at a Toronto library. We now live a couple of blocks from each other on the same street. She and I have been friends for years, and I guess you could say, we’re unlikely friends as she’s the complete opposite to me. She’s outspoken, confident and extroverted. A real social butterfly and she has introduced me to just about everyone in town. She’s been a great support to me since James died but she also lands me in trouble at times. This mainly happens when she gets us involved in police investigations and we end up in over our heads. As I’ve mentioned, I have a man in my life too. After spending time with Bruce and getting to know him, a friendship grew between us and it gradually developed into more. We’re taking our time as I miss James and am still coming to terms with his death. But I’m really fond of Bruce and am glad we’re together. He’s so softspoken and easy-going. I love being around him. He isn’t one to say much so I don’t always know what he’s thinking, but I trust him. The one subject that he is outspoken about though is my involvement in criminal investigations. He asked me to promise I wouldn’t get involved in any more of them. He worries about the scrapes that Marge and I get into. I know he couldn’t stand it if I got hurt. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t let Marge and I down, and he has stepped in to help us catch criminals a time or two. I think he sees it as saving our necks. What is your most embarrassing moment? I’m not sure what the most embarrassing one was but there was one incident last fall that I’d rather forget. Marge and I were delving into what happened to an historic quilt that went missing and she persuaded me to help her search a seamstress’s shop for it. When an opportunity presented itself, we got the key to the shop from the owner - so we didn’t break into the shop. Mind you, we were snooping and weren’t there for the reason we told her we were. Meanwhile a police officer who was patrolling the main street spotted us in the shop and he thought we had broken in. We had to go down to the police station with him to straighten out the whole thing. I can’t help blushing now every time I meet Constable Riley on the street. What do you do for fun? I’m a keen baker and am always taking a batch of muffins or a cake out of the oven. My friends, especially Bruce, often seem to drop over just when something is ready to eat. I don’t mind. I love spending time with my friends though I do sometimes enjoy a quiet night in with my cats and a good book too. Tell me about your author. Dianne is very like me in many ways and there’s a reason for that. After years of doing detailed historical research for her previous historical fiction series, she decided that our cozy mystery series wouldn’t involve a huge amount of research. So, when she created me, she used some of her own traits, and likes and dislikes to bring me to life. Since she has so much in common with me, we ‘hit it off’ and are great friends. Do you like the way they write you? I like the plots that Dianne dreams up. It's still early days since she released The Snow Job, but she’s already busy sketching the plots for Book 4, and also for a Christmas short story in the series for an anthology which will be released in September and I’m excited about the ideas she has for both these stories. You can’t really blame her though for some of the situations I end up in. That’s mostly Marge’s doing. Dianne would be happy if I solved crimes without putting myself in danger. I have to admit that Marge sometimes scares me silly with the things she drags me into, but I think we’re developing a knack for solving crimes and I couldn’t be happier than when we catch a criminal. So I hope Dianne keeps putting me in the path of mysteries to solve. Thank you, Lois, for visiting today. _____ Keep reading for information about The Snow Job and about the mystery finds herself wrapped up in now. About The Snow Job The Snow Job (Century Cottage Cozy Mysteries) Cozy Mystery 3rd in Series Setting - Fenwater, a fictional small town in the province of Ontario in Canada during the early 1980s. Independently Published (December 13, 2023) Paperback ‏ : ‎ 310 pages ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8871249321 Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CQ3DJL3F A Scottish shindig, a pretty pin, a cold corpse. When a well-liked and respected townsman is murdered on a snowy street in Fenwater, it’s up to Lois Stone to sift through a multitude of motives to find the killer. Middle-aged widow Lois is beginning to feel part of the Fenwater community, and as winter sets in, she is getting ready for the town’s biggest Scottish event, the annual Burns Night supper. But when one of the committee members dies in suspicious circumstances, Lois has more to worry about than the fate of this year’s celebration. She tried unsuccessfully to revive the man and her friend Marge worked with him. So, they want to find his killer even though Lois promised her partner Bruce that she would stay out of police matters. But, what’s the harm in asking a few questions? Such as does someone want to safeguard their inheritance or give their business a boost? Will finding the motive for the murder lead them to the killer or maybe more? And so begins a fortnight of slippery sidewalks, angst about ancestors, capable firemen and cunning firebugs, unreliable records, swirling Scottish music and swinging tartan kilts, calico cats and smouldering spooks set against the backdrop of snow glistening under streetlamps on serene streets, the comfort of ritual in a cold churchyard, the swish of skate blades in crisp night air and the tang of mouthwatering meatloaf in rural Canada in 1984. The Century Cottage Mystery series is mainly set in rural Ontario, Canada during the early 1980s. A tale for fans of Cindy Bell, Leighann Dobbs, Dianne Harman and Kathi Daley. Great Escapes Praise for The Snow Job (Century Cottage Cozy Mysteries) by Dianne Ascroft The setting is wonderfully developed in The Snow Job. There’s something to be said for solving crimes without all the technology of today! This was a fun wintery read! ~Sarah Can't Stop Reading Books The Snow Job is a small-town cozy mystery set in Canada with interesting characters and a murder to solve. But is that the only mystery to uncover? You’ll have to read it to find out! ~Novels Alive The Snow Job by Dianne Ascroft is an easygoing cozy mystery that combines several engaging elements, including Scottish celebrations that this American enjoyed learning about. ~Reading Is My SuperPower About Dianne Ascroft Dianne Ascroft writes the Century Cottage Cozy Mysteries, set in rural Canada, and The Yankee Years historical sagas, set in WWII Northern Ireland. She has a passion for Ireland and Canada, past and present. An ex-pat Canadian, Dianne lives on a small farm with her husband and an assortment of strong-willed animals. Her previous fiction works include An Unbidden Visitor (a tale inspired by Fermanagh’s famous Coonian ghost); Dancing Shadows, Tramping Hooves: A Collection of Short Stories (contemporary tales), and a historical novel, Hitler and Mars Bars, which explores Operation Shamrock, a little known Irish Red Cross humanitarian endeavor. Author Links Website Facebook page Twitter/X Newsletter Purchase Links Books2Read Amazon More Written by Dianne Ascroft TOUR PARTICIPANTS - Please visit all the stops. February 19 – #BRVL Book Review Virginia Lee – SPOTLIGHT February 20 – Maureen's Musings – SPOTLIGHT February 21 – Read Your Writes Book Reviews – CHARACTER INTERVIEW February 22 – Mystery, Thrillers, and Suspense – SPOTLIGHT February 23 – fundinmental – SPOTLIGHT February 23 – Celticlady's Reviews – SPOTLIGHT February 24 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT February 25 – StoreyBook Reviews – AUTHOR GUEST POST February 25 – Cozy Up With Kathy – CHARACTER GUEST POST February 26 – Literary Gold – SPOTLIGHT February 27 – Sarah Can't Stop Reading Books – REVIEW February 28 – Christy's Cozy Corners – AUTHOR INTERVIEW February 28 – Novels Alive – REVIEW February 29 - Reading Is My SuperPower – REVIEW March 1 – Boys' Mom Reads! – SPOTLIGHT March 2 – Ruff Drafts – AUTHOR GUEST POST March 2 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – CHARACTER INTERVIEW March 3 – Sapphyria's Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT a Rafflecopter giveaway Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here to Find Details and Sign Up Today! Want to Book a Tour? Click Here Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent Read the full article

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mehrfh · 6 months

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A recent conversation with a friend led to the below thought

In my Life I came across Men of different characters and from different moulds, some of them earned my respect for life. I respected them for their intellect, religiosity or even their personality. But that was my dilemma. I respected them, respect was the last threshold I could have when it came to men. Beyond respect it could not go. In my Heart, a wall stands tall, so tall that I cannot look at any man and say I want to spend my life with you. The most I can feel for a man is respect. It was cool till now. But now I am entering a phase where I would be expected to find someone, or accept someone as my partner. And the worrying part is I don't want to. And it is not in an ‘all Men are bad’ kind of way. There are Men who are kindest, and most generous, and so strong when it comes to their families.

It is more like, ‘all of them are Men at the end’ kind of way. It is a realisation that when it comes to a Woman, a Man is at the end a Man. It is not hate, it is disillusionment. After interacting with lots of people, this was a haunting realisation that ‘at the end they are Men, what am I even trying to do here?’ I don't know why but it was a heartbreaking realisation that a Man can see a Woman only as far as it goes. He cannot, simply, go beyond it.

I do not know why but in my life, I was not able to see Men I admired, I respected as potential companions. And maybe that was my problem. Seeking a Companion among Men is a daunting task, I never even tried, I looked at other people and I got exhausted watching them having to invest so much in this tedious exercise.

There is something in a Man with respect to a non-related woman that is inherently treacherous. Even when Men were more kind and generous, even more intellectually stimulating, I always found an element of treachery lurking in their shadows.

This almost sounds ridiculous. And I do not bear any hatred towards Men, some of the best People I have met were Men of Character and Knowledge. I just do not expect anything from them. And Companionship is all about Expectations. You cannot have Companionship without expectations. I thought it was a phase but my close encounters with the potential interests and me subsequently sabotaging and dismissing them indicates I might have just iron-clad my walls for a long, long time.

I might have an emotional unavailability/disinterest/disillusionment/hyper-critical outlook/cynicism problem. I thought my Romanticism would make me more open to reception of Love. But it has made me entirely disillusioned. It has made me a Cynic of sorts. I called myself a cynic because it sounded cool but now it seems it is who I am.

And the more beautiful part is I have finally made my peace with the fact that Love can only go as far as poetry and this might not be the reality I am keen on turning into poetry. Rest it is Fate!

اور بھی دکھ ہیں زمانے میں محبت کے سوا

راحتیں اور بھی ہیں وصل کی راحت کے سوا

What can we do? Sigh!

: )

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fast-food-fish · 1 year

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pierced through the heart but never killed: being the weird girl

spent christmas alone this year (and subsequently became disillusioned with life) now i’m writing this. tw for depression, loneliness, childhood trauma, bullying kind of.

so it seems midnight’s have become my afternoons. maybe i should actually do something with my time. i could finally start that book i’ve been meaning to write, or work on my screenplay (believe me i know how that sounds). maybe i could watch a show that isn’t sailor moon. or maybe i could just get out of my head long enough to stop thinking everything to death and start doing something about it.

i have these issues, you see. i mean, doesn’t everyone? but when i talk about it with my partner that’s how i describe them, issues, as if calling them that makes them any more manageable. where did all of these ideas come from? is what i’d actually like to know. what affect did it have on me being the weird kid in elementary school? having 2, maybe 3 friends in middle school? having people, friends, hang out at the park literally a block away from your house, without you? when you were supposed to be walking to school with your friends, but they walked ahead of you and then wondered why you were upset. when you’re only in a group for a project because “the teacher said we couldn’t say no.” you get picked last for team sports (last after the kid that everyone hates and the girl who thinks she’s a cat and meows), because you suck, and you’ll always suck at everything. to them you will, and i’m sorry to tell you kid, but you’ll carry those things with you for the rest of your life.

but honestly, why should i expect more? i grew up in an environment where i was essentially made to give all of myself to everyone around me, and expect nothing in return. so why should i expect anything less than nothing when i need it? why is it your fault that i can’t manage my expectations? that after all this time i still expect, actually maybe that’s the wrong word, i still ache and yearn and rip myself open for the chance that someone will do something. someone will make me feel like i’ve come in first place for once in my life. someone will see me, and choose me, and love me, despite everything. and this really isn’t fair, because someone has. my partner chooses me, and loves me and sees me, and it’s my fault that i can’t accept it, or i want more, or i can’t even comprehend what they’re saying to me. because for some reason words aren’t enough, and actions aren’t enough and nothing is enough.

like taylor swift says in the verse i’ve directly referenced in the title of this piece, “sometimes i feel like everybody is a sexy baby, and i’m the monster on the hill, too big to hang out, slowly lurching towards you’re favourite city, pierced through the heart but never killed.” i am the monster on the hill, and i have been for a long, long time. too big to hang out? how about too weird? too desperate? emotional? i want too much attention? i just want your attention. i got broken up with when i was in high school and i ate lunch in my car for 2 months because my “friends” made me feel as though i couldn’t hang out with them anymore. an arrow in the heart. i’ve been ghosted 7 times (some my fault some not), 7 arrows to the heart. i cried once a year in public for every year i was in elementary school. right through the heart. how many more arrows can i take? why won’t any of them kill me?

there is no beauty in this feeling. this bubbling jealousy, catastrophic rage, harrowing all consuming sadness. believe me, i’ve tried to turn into something beautiful, to make it have any meaning in my life, it doesn’t. i’m a tragic character in my own life, forced to relive these memories over and over every time i feel like i’m last place. when you ask me where i am, it’s here. when you ask me why i don’t think i’m enough, it’s because of this. there’s only so long you can be naive before you realize that you’re the common denominator. before you realize that it was too exhausting for everyone else to root for the anti-hero, hell, i’m exhausted.

and i want this to have a happy ending, i want all of the choices to be easy and have no consequences. i want to understand how loved i am by the people who don’t see me as a deranged mess of all my worst moments. i want to say the things without saying them. choose me, it’s easy, it is. but it isn’t, and that’s not even the choice. not every thing that someone does that isn’t spending time with me is a choice not to spend time with me. and just because i have an issue with putting up boundaries, doesn’t mean that you should. instead of saying to myself, well i would do anything for them, why won’t they do the same for me? maybe i should ask myself why it is that i would do anything? why, in this scenario, am i expendable?

and the answer is really quite simple, if i’m expendable i won’t be alone, and if i’m not alone i won’t run out of things to do to keep me from really thinking about these issues, my issues. there’s only so long i can keep procrastinating these thoughts, but if you’re here i don’t have to worry about procrastinating, i just have to think about what will make you happy. because if you’re happy you won’t leave, and if you won’t leave i won’t be alone. if we stay right here and we don’t move, nothing bad will happen, you won’t see all of this, and leave. if we stay here there’s no more arrows in the heart, if we stay here i won’t have to pull them out and heal the wound. but if we stay here i’ll never get better, and this will never be fair, and i will do this again and again and again, and you will feel bad, and i will feel bad for making you feel bad, and it will never end.

maybe it’s time to burn down the schools, metaphorically, maybe it’s time to take a breath in, and a breath out, and realize that nothing can be done about the past anymore. that i bought something a long long time ago, and it’s time to return it.

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punyparkerfics · 2 years

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NWH Peter/Gwen au - I bet there's a lot Peter doesn't realize or think about when it comes to living in his own... Gwen to the rescue!

Here's part one! (it's a 3+1) Thank you for an excuse to write this!

It’s a hot summer day when he sees her for the first time. He spots her from the window by his desk, outside in front of the apartment building. The blonde is talking to a taller blonde, an attractive male near the van they parked. She’s in denim shorts and a baby blue halter top and Peter knows she’s one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen. Peter doesn’t like to compare the ladies in his life, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved. But she’s definitely up there in terms of attraction. He ignores the stirring in his gut by telling himself he’s just been alone for a really long time. Plus, she obviously has a boyfriend.

Eighteen months without friends or family really took a toll on Peter, in every way. He spoke less, even his mindless ramblings took place inside his head. His apartment was always quiet and his neighbors appreciated that. The building itself was inhabited by mostly older people. Peter thinks the person closest in age to him still has at least fifteen years on him, so that says as much. Older people don’t want much to do with a kid like Peter, so he puts himself into his work.

Spider-Man took a lot of his time that wasn’t spent working for rent money or teaching himself the curriculum for the classes he’ll never be able to take at MIT.

Maybe she’s moving in, Peter thinks to himself, Or she drives a moving van recreationally.

He’s currently cleaning the oscillating fan he found in the dumpster, splitting his attention between it and the blonde. She’s captivating in a way he doesn’t understand. But again, he’s been alone for too long to know anymore. He thinks back to when he attended Midtown’s graduation as Spider-Man, just to see his friends progress in a way he couldn’t. His classmates had been ecstatic to see the hero, so he couldn’t bring himself to regret going. Even if it makes Peter think about Ned, which makes him think about MJ. He tries to not think about them much anymore. Not if he wants to stay afloat. MJ quit her job at the cafe and she and Ned had moved to Boston early to take summer classes… He wouldn’t see them for a long time.

“Come on,” He hears the taller blonde tell the girl, “Let’s get started, then.”

Peter can hear them through his window, opened to let a breeze through his boiler room of an apartment. He watches them open up the moving van and start unloading it. It reminds him of the time he and May moved into that emergency housing after the blip. How they’d been so graciously helped by Mr. Martinez and his two sons during the moving process. They didn’t have much to their names then, and Peter had enhanced strength but they appreciated the help nonetheless. He wonders if this young couple needs any help, and he knows how unlikely it is for them to get any help from any other occupants in the building.

No, His mind hisses at him, Solidarity is the name of the game, Peter.

He doesn’t consider it again until he hears her, an hour later. Her laugh was something sweet like candy and full of joy.

“Oh my god, Phillip,” She laughs again, and it calls Peter like a siren, “Don’t hurt yourself, please!”

Peter looks out his window again to see her standing beside the van, her hands hiding her laughing lips as she watches her partner miserably fail at moving what looks to be a hot pink couch.

“Well don’t just stand there!” He grunts as he pulls even harder, “Get your ass over here and help me!”

“So bossy,” She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest, “No, I think I’ll supervise for a bit.”

He takes pity on Phillip, even if he’s kind of jealous that he has a super hot girlfriend. Peter sits there at his desk, wiping sweat from his brow as he debates going down and helping them. He knows she lives on the floor above him, he’s heard them using the stairs over the last hour. He also knows the elevator has been broken for at least the entire time he’s lived in the building. Peter’s a superhero, he justifies, he has to help them. So, he sighs and grabs his keys before leaving the apartment, slipping on his ratty tennis shoes.

He takes the stairs two at a time down to the lobby, nodding to the doorman as he exits. He’s an older man named Norman who Peter didn’t see often due to his proclivity for using the window as his front door.

The couple is the first thing he sees when he exits the building. Second is the moving van. She’s still laughing and Phillip is still struggling but now he’s struggling to breathe. It’s pretty hot out and moving a couch on your own would take a lot out of anyone.

“Need some help?” He asks as he approaches. The girl snaps her head to look at him, her face unreadable. Uh oh. Did Peter just make a mistake?

“Nah,” Phillip gasps out, his hands on his knees as he gathers himself, “We’re all good. Thanks, bud.”

“Phillip!” The girl hisses with a glare, “Shut up!”

She then turns back to Peter, her hands coming up to play with her hair.

“Yeah,” She smiles at him, and his heart stutters, “That’d be great, actually.”

Keep it together, Parker, his brain reminds him, Her boyfriend is literally right there.

“I totally had it, Gwen,” Phillip rolls his eyes, “You just need to stop supervising and help me.”

“Why?” Gwen, finally a name, asks with a furrowed brow, “My knight in shining armor just came to rescue me.”

Peter blushes fiercely as she sends a wink his way. He pointedly ignores her and approaches Phillip. Maybe if he gets on the guy’s good side, they can all be friends. Maybe then he’ll deserve some friends.

“Alright,” Phillip says as Peter approaches the van, “I hope you’re stronger than you look.”

“Phillip,” Gwen warns, her arms crossed again, “Be nice.”

“Yes, mom,” He replies sarcastically. Gwen rolls her eyes and watches the two young men.

“You have no idea,” Peter chuckles.

“You live here?” Phillip grunts as he lifts his side of the couch, in awe of how easily Peter was lifting the other.

“Yeah,” Peter replies, at least putting a look of struggle on his face as they maneouver the couch out of the van and onto the sidewalk in front of the building.

“Well thank you, neighbor,” Gwen smiles sweetly at Peter and he feels his blood rush. He’s got to stop looking at her, damn it.

“No problem, neighbor,” He replies meekly, and she has that unreadable expression again. Peter felt his mouth go dry in a second.

“You’ll have to let me thank you properly,” Gwen insists as she chases after Peter and Phillip who are moving the couch into the building with minimal difficulty.

“Once I’m all settled, I’ll bake you something,” Gwen says excitedly, and the look in her eyes told Peter he could never deny this woman anything even if he wanted to, “Like cookies or brownies!”

That’s when Phillip clears his throat, affectively catching Peter’s eye, and shakes his head desperately.

“Don’t,” Phillip mouths, his eyes wide.

“Uh,” Peter takes in a deep breath before answering, “That’d be great, thanks.”

Phillip scoffs and rolls his eyes but Gwen squeals in excitement, so Peter knows he made the right choice.

“Do you have any allergies?” She asks as they ascend the stairs, “Or anything you don’t like?”

“Nope,” Peter shakes his head, “None at all. I’ll eat anything.”

“That’s perfect!” Gwen cheers, “Maybe I can bring you stuff when I make too much. Which is more often than you think.”

Peter looks at her to let her down gently and insist that she doesn’t really owe him anything. But the hopeful look on her owlish blue eyes, the look of trepidation, like she’s expecting to be rejected… He can’t bear it. Especially not with her full lips perked and glossy.

“Yeah,” He nods, because he has to, “Fine by me.”

Again, he knows he made the right move because she jumps to cheer out in glee. He averts his eyes back to Phillip who’s shaking his head in disapproval. Oh shit, he might get his ass beaten. Gwen squeezes past Peter to open the door for them and he feels his heart stop when her bare shoulder makes contact with his. She lets them both into the apartment and guides them to place the sofa in the opposite corner of the bed.

The studio apartment was… pink? Adorning the white walls were pink portraits in pink frames, the pink couch now completes the pink living area. The bed frame was pink and the open box of comforters had pink blankets poking out.

“Nice place,” Peter comments and now it’s Gwen’s turn to blush.

“It’s not ready yet!” Gwen cries in embarrassment, “Once I’m finally moved in completely, then you can say that.”

There it is, singular term again. Once I’m finally moved in… not we’re…Is she moving into this piece of crap apartment building by herself?

Peter also doesn’t comment on the implication that he’ll ever be in the apartment again. He refuses to let his cynicism ruin a potential friendship with who seems to be a good person. He does intend to punish himself for wanting more than a friendship with Gwen, however. But the fact that Phillip isn’t moving in with her complicates things… Or at least it’s supposed to, Peter figures.

“Do you guys need help with anything else?” Peter asks after clearing his throat. He mostly wants to keep his distance from Gwen but he feels her attraction pulling him in. He can’t help but feel terrible about making googly eyes at her in front of Phillip.

“That’s the last of the big stuff,” Gwen answers as she starts going through one of the unloaded boxes in the kitchen, “I think we got it from here.”

“Yeah, we’re all good,” Phillip says to Peter before shaking his hand, “Thanks again…”

“Yeah,” Gwen says, looking at Peter expectantly, “We never got your name.”

“Peter,” He supplies, “Peter Parker.”

“Gwen Stacy,” Gwen smiles with a hand out, Peter shakes it gently. He doesn’t want to hurt her soft hands with his enhanced grip.

“Phillip Stacy,” Phillip chimes in, “If it matters.”

“Wait,” Peter says before he can stop himself, “You guys are…”

“Brother and sister,” Gwen finishes for him before raising a brow at Peter, “You can’t tell?”

“By the way she bosses me around in the way only an annoying big sister could do?” Phillip asks, mirroring Gwen’s expression. Gwen smack’s Phillip’s arm lightly, just hard enough to make him laugh in surprise.

“No,” Peter shakes his head. No, he hadn’t even considered that Gwen and Phillip were related.

Well, that changes everything.

“Well, yeah,” Gwen shrugs before forcing Phillip into a hug, “This is my baby brother.”

“Gross,” Phillip shudders before lightly shoving Gwen off of him, “Get away from me.”

“He’s still an ass, but,” Gwen tells Peter, “I’m stuck with him, so…”

“If anyone’s stuck,” Phillip interjects, “It’s me.”

“You love me,” Gwen rolls her eyes playfully, “You know it.”

“Whatever.”

“Thanks again, Peter,” Gwen turns to the brunet and flashes a stunning smile his way, “You really saved us… and the couch.”

“Happy to help,” He replies with a tight smile, “Let me know if you need anything else.”

With that, Peter turns on his heels and exits the apartment without another word. He hears Phillip say something softly with his enhanced hearing but elects to ignore it. Peter needs to get out of there and back to his own apartment before he makes a bigger fool of himself in front of Gwen.

Okay, there’s no more denying it. He likes her. He likes her an inappropriate amount for having just met her but he can’t even force himself to care. She’s beautiful and kind, that’s enough for him. But he refuses to get her caught up in his web, so to speak. He refuses to put someone else in the line of fire. He’s already lost too much to bear it again.

Peter trudges down to his apartment and lets himself in. He kicks his shoes off, not caring where they land, before flopping onto his bed. He wants to scream into his pillow but decides not to. He’s grateful that it’s his day off from work, those came rarely. Peter thinks he can use the rest of today to lick his wounds and forget all about Gwen Stacy in apartment number 76.

He goes on patrol for a few hours, finally able to punish himself for how he behaved in front of Gwen. Not only was he constantly catching the sight of her soft skin and feminine curves, but he left abruptly. He doesn’t like to bring May into anything, but she’d be so disappointed in the way he behaved today. And for that, he needs to be punished. So maybe he ignores the tingling on the base of his skull to let Petty Criminal of the Week land a few hits. So what? He deserves it.

Peter crawls up the side of his building, completely worn out. He audibly scoffs when it crosses his mind to go on and pass by Gwen’s window. He really needs some friends. He doesn’t have time to obsess over every girl who’s nice to him. He’s Spider-Man, he has other things to worry about. Like his ESU application. Damn, he really should start that already.

#punrparkerfics #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #spider-man fanfiction #gwen stacy fanfiction #sydney sweeney is my gwen stacy

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shruti-bajaj · 2 years

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Untitled Part 1

I was going through some old photographs and came across one of my grandparents. It was probably from 10 years ago. They were standing on the balcony of our old house- with beautiful smiling faces, looking right into the camera. The light was falling on my grandfather’s hair from the back. The hair was completely white, yet he looked young- younger than I remembered him to be. My grandmother had a smile on her face- a kind that I haven’t seen on her in a long time.

My grandfather passed away 3-4 years after this photograph was taken. It’s not like my grandmother doesn’t smile anymore, but I guess, standing next to someone you love, someone who loves you, makes you smile differently. There was a kind of peace and security- a sort of completeness, that radiated from within her.

It makes me wonder, if she smiled so heartily, before she got married to him, and fell in love with him. It also makes me think about how life, the universe, takes away things that it gives you. Like youth. Like loved ones.

Meghan Daum wrote in one of her essays, “Most of us have unconscious disbeliefs about our lives, facts that we accept at face value but that still cause us to gasp just a little when they pass through our minds at certain angles.” Like our own death. Or that of our loved ones. The uncertainty of death is constantly around the corner, throughout our lives, but it becomes more real as we age. After our mid-lives, we tend to accept at face value, that the countdown has begun. Not only can we die at any point in the near future, so can our partners, our parents, or our friends. Yet, the loss of a loved one can shake us, like no other, and nothing can prepare you for what’s to come. We are faced with emotions, that we didn’t know we were capable of feeling.

When daddy, as we all used to fondly call my grandfather, died, my brain managed to bring forth childhood memories, that I had completely forgotten. Until that day, they were probably ordinary moments, which somehow in the finality of his life, became special. Maybe, until that moment, I had never slowed down to look back at my time with him.

In daddy’s final days, I was pre-occupied with the stress of my work and career, and for a long time, all I had felt was frustration and anger. I was unaware that he had not been doing well, even though we lived in the same house, and therefore I was absolutely unprepared for his death. Each of us in the family, dealt with the loss differently. While my sister was haunted with the thoughts of his afterlife, I was enveloped with a strange sense of comfort and love- that was brought about from all the forgotten memories. It was a bit of a relief, to feel something else, other than the anger and frustration caused by work.

We were drowned in grief for months that followed. Every tiny thing reminded us of him. It was difficult to utter his name out loud, without welling up with tears. It was impossible to talk about him without crying. Sometimes, it helped me to listen to his favourite music and cry it out.

I was lucky and blessed to have spent a lot of time with him while growing up. He dropped us to school and picked us up for most of our school lives. My parents were always quite busy bringing up three children, getting us educated and disciplining us. All the fun, love and pampering came from my grandfather. Till date, reminiscing about the summers in my early childhood days, sitting between my grandparents on their bed, having delicious cut fruit while watching TV, with the cool ‘breeze’ of the air conditioner, brings a sense of peace and comfort like no other.

I had hardly spent time with him in his last days, yet when he died, I was sad because I wouldn’t be able to spend time with him anymore, at all. It’s strange how we want everything at our disposal.

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lunarticxenia · 3 years

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Moon Signs Pt. 2

Hi guys here’s part 2 of the moon sign series! After I post this, I’m going to be focusing more on answering your questions, I have a lot to answer. Thanks so much for all the support! Without further ado, here’s Libra through Pisces moons!

🌵Libra Moon: You guys LOVE attention, and you don’t even try to hide it LMAO. One of my good friends is a Libra moon and he literally loves to say outlandish things just to get a reaction from us and to get attention from us if we’re not talking to him enough in a conversation. Libra moons also love relationships and if underdeveloped they may feel incomplete without one. They can also be very dependent on their partner for happiness as well. However, they are romantic and in love with love. They’re also extremely sensitive and are very feminine. Even in men, it gives them a more feminine touch to their personality. They also hold their morals in very high regard. They have their set morals and won’t change them for anything or anyone. They also tend to hate conflict and usually shy away from confrontation. They’re also too nice, WAYYYYYY too nice. You guys need to be more assertive LMAO. They’re also extremely optimistic and if they don’t believe in that particular way they at least try to be optimistic with others. They’re always reminding you the glass is half full. Also, Libra moons are mad clingy. Even with those they’re not dating LMAO. My Libra moon friend whenever I try to leave the FaceTime Call, he’s like “Don’t go... :(”. They just love to be around the ones they love. They’re also in love with beauty, and all things beautiful in the world. They’re lovers of music, art, film, and literature. Libra moons also have a softness in their eyes, I can’t describe it. This girl I used to like has a Libra moon and her eyes were just so soft. They’re also extremely indecisive, they tend to flip flop between who they wanna be and what they wanna do. They also aren’t shy when it comes to compliments, they will compliment TF out of you. They’re the best hype man. They also put others before themselves a lot, and can be very shy upon first meeting them. However once they feel comfortable around you they open up. One last thing, I feel like they tend to like anyone who’s nice to them...don’t attack me. LMAO.

🌵Scorpio Moon: I feel like Scorpio moons have about ten different playlists relating to their emotions and still won’t open up to anyone about how they feel. Scorpio moons I feel have such intense emotions that they just don’t deal with them and they tend to implode after a while. I relate to them a lot in that respect tbh with my Sun square Moon, because that’s how I am. You guys are also super passionate and super creative. Every Scorpio moon I’ve met has been really creative in some way whether it be makeup, fashion style, or artwork. I’ve also noticed that this is a very alluring placement, there’s this intriguing way about them, and like Aries Moons, they have a fire in their eyes. Their gaze is INTENSE. They’re also very selective with who they let close to them, they don’t let just anybody in. They’re also very good at reading other people and seeing people’s true intentions. They have an extremely good intuition. If underdeveloped this can be used to manipulate other people, as well as being compulsive liars. Scorpio moons are also very protective over the ones they love. If you mess with anyone they care about, they will kill you. End of story. Also I feel like every Scorpio moon I’ve met has been through the wringer, like they’ve really had some hard experiences, it’s so sad to me. Scorpio moons are also extremely stubborn, remember this is a fixed sign. Scorpio moons ain’t playing, once they’ve settled on something, they’re not budging. Also, can we just say, masters at investigating people. These are the friends you want stalking your ex’s social media. They will find out everything. They’re also really good psychologists as well, almost all the Scorpio moons I’ve met are actually Psychology majors LMAO. They’re very good at finding the root causes of people’s issues. I also feel like Scorpio moons undergo a lot of transformations in their lives. I’ve known a Scorpio moon for about 10 years now and he’s undergone so many different transformations in his life. Mentally and physically. They’re also extremely sarcastic and have a tendency to be pessimistic. They’re also mad scary when angry. I’ve seen them angry before, as an Aries moon, even I get a little scared.... love y’all tho.

🌵Sagittarius Moon: The funniest people ever. Sagittarius moons always have me laughing my ass off. Their sense of humor is very diverse. They tend to stick with sarcasm and like to say outlandish things to make people laugh. Also, I feel like Sagittarius moons tend to go for science/math oriented careers or at least have an interest in those subjects. I know four Sag moons, and they’re all in STEM it’s actually crazy. They’re also extremely blunt and honest, especially when it comes to people they don’t like LMAO. They make it very clear when they don’t like someone, it’s so funny. They’re also just so much fun, like they’re genuinely so much fun to hang out with. I feel like I’ve never not had a good time hanging out with a Sagittarius moon. I feel like Sag moons however tend to struggle with asserting themselves a lot of times, until they get really fed up. They’re very much go with the flow kinda people, and this can be to their detriment especially with the ones they love, they don’t wanna rock the boat. However, they also make really good mediators and are good at settling arguments. They also really like to travel, and likely have traveled a lot. All the Sagittarius moons I know have traveled to at least 4+ countries. They love traveling the world, and I’ve also noticed move or want to move far away from their childhood home. They wanna explore everything the world has to offer. My cousin who’s a Sag moon left her parents’ house to move a few states away and my other friend who’s a Sag moon wants to move to the other side of the country. These individuals also tend to like foreign culture as well. I’ve noticed Sagittarius moons tend to like foreign music or foreign tv shows. I feel like they also tend to ignore their emotions when they get sad and just don’t like to deal with their emotions. They also don’t like to talk about how they feel and will brush sad things off because it’s just too upsetting for them. However, once the emotions boil over, just like their anger, they will blow up LMAO. I’ve also noticed that they’re really good at teaching people things? Like my Sag moon friend explained this Chemistry equation to me I couldn’t understand and I got it after 10 minutes. Natural teachers.

🌵 Capricorn Moon: Guys, it’s okay to open up. You don’t have to pretend to be so strong all the time, you’re not weak for showing your emotions. Anyway, Cap moons have high expectations for people, and will not tolerate any bs from people. I seriously commend them for that. I feel like Cap moons struggle with how their points are being expressed, they can say one thing, but it’s seen as something else. While Capricorn moons may struggle with expressing their emotions, I haven’t found them to be closed off or cold when meeting them. Every Capricorn moon I’ve met has warmed up to me very quickly and have been super nice. I feel like they’re very friendly and once they have a conversation with you they’re really warm and kind. Also, they’re not afraid of anything?? Except for showing their feelings maybe. But like, they’re so open to trying new things like scary rollercoasters and aren’t afraid to fight for themselves if they have to. Also, super fucking ambitious. I wish I could be ambitious. These people will really have like three jobs, be in school, and tend to household responsibilities. I don’t know how you guys do it. Now everyone says Capricorn moons are just analytical and systematic when confronted with conflict, and I personally haven’t found that to be true. If they feel wronged?? Nah. They’re not going to be systematic or logical or anything. They will go off. As for personal challenges, yes they’ll be more analytical. But I feel like everyone boils down Cap moons to emotionless and machine-like nerds, which I find to be very untrue. Capricorn moons are very soft once they’re vulnerable with you, and genuinely feel like they’re bothering people when they show their emotions and feel weak for showing them. Also I’ve noticed that their mom is a big motivator for their success. Their moms always push them to do their best in work and school. If poorly aspected, they could feel too pressured by their moms to do well. Also, they’re so underrated for being funny. They have a really dry sense of humor and it’s well developed. I also feel like they get overlooked for putting others before themselves, when it comes to the people they love they’ll do anything for them. Brb gonna go give my Cap moon friends a hug.

🌵Aquarius Moon: You guys are just so unique. There’s something unique about each and every Aquarius moon, whether it’s a quirk or a hobby. These people are literally the best to talk to. It’s so easy to have a conversation with them, they really can talk about anything. I’ve also noticed that Aquarius moons tend to be interested in astrology and tarot and things of that kind. Every Aquarius moon I’ve met has been really interested in it, and even involved in it. I feel like they also have big dreams, and have big plans for themselves. Aquarius moons also love to get lost in their music and tend to use it as an escape. This can be a problem because they tend to avoid dealing with their feelings. They also go between reacting to things really heavily vs not reacting at all. It just seems like it goes back and forth. They speak up with things are unjust however only to their friends or online. They just don’t like to deal with face to face conflict in that regard. They also give really great advice. My best friend is an Aquarius moon and she always gives me the best advice. She knows me better than I know myself tbh. I feel like Aquarius moons relish in being unique LMAO. I’m 99% sure they had an “I’m not like other girls” phase. I feel like this placement always tends to space out and daydream a lot. They also aren’t the types to just lash out at people, their anger is more subtle (unless they have other placements of course). I feel like Aquarius moons also have a lot of friends but they tend to have a small group of friends that they tend to be super super close with. They’re also...really charming? I don’t know what it is, but like every single one I’ve met has been really charming and likable. They also have a really goofy sense of humor and love to do wild shit to make people laugh. I feel like some downsides of Aquarius moons are that they tend to be too analytical and rationalize things too much, and they inadvertently invalidate other people’s feelings. Aquarius moons are also super open minded to all opinions. I have a friend who I tend to disagree with on certain issues but they’ve always been open to hearing my opinion. They also love to travel too. I’ve noticed that as well.

🌵Pisces Moon: To think, I was almost one of you guys. No seriously I almost was, if I were born four hours earlier I would’ve been a Pisces moon LMAO. Anyhoo, Pisces moons are just so sweet. I don’t know how else to start, they literally are the sweetest people and give off this mystical type of aura. They’re very otherworldly. Also, these people daydream 24/7. They put Aquarius moons to shame in daydreaming. This girl I like is a Pisces moon and I always catch her daydreaming LMAO. They’re also extremely sensitive too and feel things so deeply. They try to hide how they feel from people, but you can see it in their eyes. I can always tell when my Pisces moon friend is upset just by the look in her eyes. They also tend to be introverted and it takes a while for them to warm up to someone. My co-worker is a Pisces moon and it took 2 weeks for her to finally start talking to me LMAO. They also have really vivid and wild dreams too. I feel like my Pisces moon friend is always telling me about some wild dream they had like that they were in a castle or in an ocean. They also can be really moody, they can be fine one second and then get really sad out of nowhere. Their emotions are like the ocean. I feel like another downside of Pisces Moons are that they can be very manipulative however this is really with any underdeveloped water moon/sun placement. I also feel like they tend to be escapists a lot. They don’t like to deal with reality a lot, and they see the best in everything and everyone even if it’s to their demise. They’re also super friendly and are nice to everyone they meet, even if they’re reserved they’re still very sweet. They’re also extremely creative too, I feel like every Pisces moon I’ve ever met has some sort of creative hobby. My co-worker who’s a Pisces moon is working on becoming a photographer and her stuff is AMAZING. I think that’s because they see the best in the world and the beauty in everything; and they know how to show that in their work so others can see the world like they do. They’re also super empathetic and are really good listeners. You can talk to them about anything and feel understood. :)

So this wraps up my moon sign series! I hope you guys liked it! Again, don’t take offense these are just my opinions on each moon sign! Hope you guys enjoyed, and if you don’t see your moon sign here it’s likely in part one.

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gaysimpsstuff · 3 years

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Accidentally Injuring Their Partner PT. 2

Part One Here

Y’all- the last one is like, my most popular post. As I’m currently writing this, it’s literally almost at 1K notes so... yeah. This one needed a lot of thought and effort if it’s going to meet people’s expectations.

Please read the note I added at the end of the fic

Genre: angst

Type: drabbleshot

Warnings: gore, mentions of hospitals, crying, cursing, toxic relationships, self blame, some real ‘who cares how I feel, how do you feel?’ kind of unhealthy vibes, hazbin hotel reference (found in Todoroki’s section), talking down on oneself,

Other: this was requested multiple times, but this bitch was planning it before it was requested haha I’m so cool no I’m not I still feel like shit lmao.

Angst Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy @catcherisvibin @thesubtlewhore

Tomura Shigaraki

It was really all he could do to stare at you.

You’d moved from the theatre to an abandonment hospital, mostly to find any leftover supplies to help with your arm, or rather, lack thereof.

You’d only sort of expected this. Tomura lashing out at you, you getting hurt, you just didn’t expect it to result in you loosing a fucking arm.

Toga was helping to change your bandages, and Magne was speaking quietly with Twice, Spinner, and Compress.

Dabi was speaking with Shigaraki outside the room, and you couldn’t hear what they were saying. You were glad, you didn’t exactly want to hear his voice right now.

You didn’t think you were being that annoying, you thought you were just helping him. And you usually did. When he’d have his little tantrums, he’d get upset at you sure, but he’d never hurt you.

You knew you didn’t do anything differently than usual, maybe he was just more stressed than ordinary? Maybe you should’ve recognized that and altered yourself to fit accordingly.

Or maybe he’d just been horrible, and attacked you for no reason, and you had just been trying to help him.

You knew it was more likely the latter, but you couldn’t help but blame yourself. People don’t just try to kill their partners that they love so much

The door slid open, and Dabi stepped in. He glanced around the room, waving his hand to usher Magne, Spinner, Twice, and Compress out of the room. Today stood up, but you grabbed her hand.

Dabi pushed the door open a little wider, and your boyfriend stepped inside. For once, you were glad he had that horrible hand in his face, you knew that if he took it off you’d probably vomit.

“Call us in if you need anything.” Dabi offered uncharacteristically, sliding the door shut behind him.

Everything was quiet.

Not even the people in the hallway wanted to say anything.

He slowly walked towards you, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

You sat cross-legged on the creaky hospital bed, staring at him as Toga held your hand.

“Why are you here?” You asked quietly.

“I- I um. Why is she here?” Tomura ignored your question, pointing to Toga next to you.

“She’s here because she chopped off my arm after you dusted it. She’s here because she saved my life. Why are you here, Tomura?”

One of his hands lifted to his neck, scratching lightly.

“Shit- I didn’t want anyone else in here-“

“Why not? Don’t want anyone to see you loose yourself and hurt me more? Don’t want anyone here to save me?” You snapped.

“You- you know I didn’t mean it-“

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not, Shigaraki.” He flinched away when you spat out his last name like that. “I still got hurt. I lost a fucking arm because of you. How horrible are you that you have to cover up your own insecurities by trying to kill me? No really, I could have died.”

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed, nails digging deeper into his neck. “I love you, okay? And I promised I’d protect you so-“

“So you broke your promise in the worst way possible.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed, squeezing Toga’s hand before letting go. You walked up to Shigaraki, lifting your hand and gripping his shoulder tightly.

“I’m going.” You whispered. “I can’t be around you. I still have family outside the League, friends that aren’t villains. I can build myself a semi-normal life. I’ll be happy without you.” You turned back to Toga, offering her a smile. “You can come over whenever you want, you’re my friend.” You headed towards the door.

You paused when you heard a soft noise, like a gargled scream. You turned around, seeing Shigaraki shaking.

“No, no please no- don’t go!” He spun around, grabbing your shoulders. You shoved him off you in an instant, curling into yourself

“GET OFF ME!” You screamed. But he was already launching himself at you again, you saw his palm flying towards your face. This time, it wasn’t an accident.

And you knew you wouldn’t make it out this time.

You were pulled back by a strong force, realizing Magne was holding you tight. Compress and Dabi were on either side of Shigaraki, holding him back, while Twice had ran to Toga.

“No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave me!” He screamed, the hand fell loose on his face, tumbling down to the floor. You turned away, not wanting to see him.

You could only imagine his expression.

“Goodbye, Shigaraki.” You whispered, ducking out of Magne’s grip and rubbing off.

“Goodbye.”

Touya Todoroki/ Dabi

It had been a week since he’d seen you, a week since he’d felt your hands on his. A week since he’d heard your voice. A week since he’d seen your smile.

A week since he’d burned you.

Called you inferior.

Threatened to kill you.

Well there was certainly a reason why he hadn’t gone to see you since the incident.

But...

He missed you.

He felt so guilty, knowing what he’d said and done to you, and he needed to see you.

Maybe he was just being selfish.

Maybe he knew he’d done something wrong.

Maybe he needed to call you.

He flipped his phone upside down, then right side up again on the counter of the bar.

Toga sat on a stool next to him, tapping her hands against the marble in boredom.

“So... what’s up with you?” She asked, cocking her head and glancing at him.

“Like I’m telling a brat like you.” He growled, flipping his phone over again.

“You’ve been off all week!” She exclaimed, leaning towards him. “Somethings happened to you.”

“If i tells you a little, will you shut up?”

“Mhm mhm!”

“Ughhhhh fine. I had a fight with someone close to me. I... I really hurt them. I know it. I haven’t spoken to them in a week.”

“So... Dabi has a soft spot?”

“That’s not the point of this. Also say that again and I’ll kill you.”

“Oookay then. You should just call them. Say something to them and apologize.” She offered with a shrug.

Dabi sighed, pressing his face into his hands.

“They don’t want to talk to me. Trust me on that.”

“Welp- that’s just my advice. Cent for my thoughts kind of thing except you didn’t pay me. You owe me a penny.”

Toga shrugged, hopping off the chair and leaving the room.

“Don’t owe you shit.” Dabi grumbled, glowering down at his phone again. He pulled up your contact, staring at the picture he’d set for you.

You had a bright smile, emoji hearts decorating your cheeks. It was from your first ‘date.’ When you’d hung out at your place after he broke in looking for shelter and food.

You’d taken care of him, let his spend the night, and even offered to let him stay whenever he needed to.

You were an Angel on earth.

And he’d burnt you.

Called you dirty.

And selfish.

You were anything but.

Ring

“Why the hell are you calling me?”

“I-“

“Dabi. Why are you calling me? You hate me, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you...”

“Jeez, coulda fooled me.”

“Baby...”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I- I didn’t mean it.” He choked out. “Everything I said, I didn’t mean it. And I-“

“I really don’t care. The doctors said my arms would scar. I’m burnt and scarred like you. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to achieve? Make me like you so that no one would want me? So that only you could have me?”

Yes

“No! I never wanted to hurt you, ba- Y/n please,”

“Please what? Please what, Dabi? What do you want from me? Huh? You want me to cradle you and say is all going to be okay? You want me to kiss your scars and tell you you’re beautiful? You want me to suck your dick and tell you I love you? After everything you’ve put me through?”

“I-“

“It’s not just you burning me. You’ve left me for days without contact, and then showed up like nothing’s happened! You’ve hit me and then groveled and cried for my mercy! You’ve made me do so much shit for you in bed that I never wanted to do! Our entire relationship, I was scared you’d get sick of me and kill me!”

“You really thought that?”

“Well guess what motherfucker? You can’t come after me! I’ve told the police what happened. Everything between us. They’re helping me move across the country. You’ll never see me again. Happy?”

“No. No no I’m not happy why would I be happy? You made me happy, when I didn’t even know what the word meant, you don’t have to go through with this, please don’t go through with this!”

“Don’t flatter me. I never made you happy. Nothing could make you happy except watching the world burn. I don’t make you happy, Dabi-“

“Yes you do!”

“Just shut up. I’m going to hang up. If I’m being honest... I’ll miss you. You made me happy. But with so much anger and fear surrounding you, it’s hard to even remember the last time we were happy together.”

“I’m... I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Beep

You were gone.

Shouto Todoroki

If you thought Shouto was quiet before, you should see him now, wait, you were seeing him now, in class, eyes boring into your spine.

You still had a large bandage on your face, being hit in the face with plus added fire power is bound to leave a mark that lasts for over three days.

Did I mention it had been three days now?

It’s very hard to ignore Shouto, seeing as you were in the same class and lived in the same dorms.

Plus everyone in class wanted to know what happened between the two of you, why Shouto seemed so down, why you had the bandage on your face, and if it was all connected.

You’d only told one person what had gone down between the two of you, and that was Bakugou.

Which maybe was a mistake, because he took to trying to fight Todoroki every time he saw him, and repeatedly told you that he ‘fuckin knew that icy-hot bastard was a good-for-nothing bag of of poorly packaged horse shit.’

You appreciated his comfort, but it hurt you every time he said something about Todoroki.

“I don’t get why you’re defending the scumbag. His hand hasn’t even healed off your face yet!”

You and Bakugou were heading to the dorms after class, and he had gone on his usual tangent about how Todoroki did this, Todoroki did that, Todoroki was an asshole, etc etc.

“I mean... he’s technically still my boyfriend. And he’s been nothing but kind to me up until this point. He just... he was stressed, and I was being a bother. I’m sure the injury will fade at some point, then he’ll talk to me again and we can get back to normal.” you shrugged, rubbing at the back of your neck. “We’ll be fine.”

“You know what you are? A pushover.” Bakugou glared at you.

“Wha- I am not! Where did you get that idea?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe from the fact that You forget to check in with how you feel and keep thinking only about that Half n Half bastard! ‘Oh, he must be so upset with himself!’ Fuck that! How do you feel?”

You kept your eyes on the ground, speeding up. Bakugou grabbed your sleeve, tugging you backwards. His hands found your shoulders, thumbs rubbing soft circles. Your breath hitched, did Shouto ever do this for you?

Not that you could remember.

“I feel... nervous.” you admitted. “I’m nervous that he meant what he said to me. That I’m nothing but a bother to him. I’m nervous that he’ll never come and talk to me, never apologize. I’m worried that if he does talk to me, he’ll think it was my fault. It wasn’t was it?”

You looked up at Bakugou warily, and squeaked when he tightened his grip on your shoulders.

“The fuck? Of course it’s not! Idiot.” he poked your forehead, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Keep talking.”

“Um... I’m...” you took a deep breath. “I’m angry. I’m angry that he hasn’t talked to me. I’m angry about what he said. I’m angry that he even hit me to begin with. If we were training, of course it’d be different, but we weren’t training. And he hurt me. And now I’m doubting everything between us.”

Bakugou was silent, Cardinal eyes met yours. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and for a moment, you feared Bakugou would try to blow your ass up for being a pathetic little weakling.

I mean... compared to people like Todoroki and Bakugou, you were right?

Bakugou took a step forward, pulling you into his arms. You held your breath, wondering if he was going to finally snap and kill you.

But... it felt nice.

You lifted your arms, wrapping them around his body and tugging him a little closer. You buried your face into his uniform shirt, body shaking a little as you cried.

You almost wanted to scream, but then the school would panic.

So you just cried, sobbing into his arms and letting him hold you. His embrace was war and comforting, nothing like you’d felt from your so-called boyfriend.

Maybe he was right, maybe you really shouldn’t try to think about him.

You did deserve better.

You sniffled, pulling off Bakugou with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Bakugou. I really needed that. And you’re right.”

“What was that second thing?”

“You’re right.”

“Hmmm?” Bakugou cupped a hand around his ear, feigning deafness.

“Oh my goodness- I said you’re right!”

“That’s it.” he patted you on the shoulder, proud smirk traced across his features. You chuckled. “Now you’re going to tell that to Mr. Daddy Issues and get the fuck over him.”

“Alright, but you’re coming with me!” he nodded, keeping his hand on your shoulder as you returned to the dorms, heading to his dorm.

You paused just outside his door, knocking lightly. Bakugou was a few feet behind you, out of the way, but close enough to step in if something were to happen.

The door swung open slowly, revealing a bored-looking Todoroki. WHen his eyes landed on you, he jumped a little, taking a step back. His hand tightened around the doorknob, his other hand gripping his pants

“Y-Y/n-“ he stuttered, eyes flickering between you and Bakugou. “I-“

“We need to talk.”

“Listen I- I’m sorry!” He exclaimed.

“Todoroki, I don’t think you get it. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it. You might have scarred me, so your one mistake might stay with me my whole life!”

“I know.” His head drooped, and his grip on his pants loosened. “I know. I’m- I’m just like him.”

“Him?”

“I promised I was nothing like him but here we fucking are!”

“Shoto what are you talking about?”

“I’m the worst kind of person!”

“No!”

Shouto looked up, eyes brimming with tears. You took a few steps forward, taking his face into your hands.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered “it was an accident, and you didn’t mean it. Please don’t talk about yourself like that.”

Bakugou grabbed you, yanking you away from him

“Uh, what the fuck? You came here to sever ties with him, not fucking comfort him!”

“Look at him, Bakugou. He needs me.”

“Y/n-“

“Trust me.” You smiled at Bakugou, pushing him away from you slowly before turning back to Shouto. You took the boy into your arms, rocking back and forth with him.

You ignored the heavy feeling in your chest, and the screams your brain slew ar you to get off of him, get away from him, and let Bakugou protect you.

You ignored logic, emotion, and all better judgement.

For this boy who’d hit you.

But Bakugou would end up being right, he was smart.

You’ll see.

Katsuki Bakugou/ Dynamight

Shit wrong Pomeranian

That’s better

Katsuki stood outside Recovery Girl’s room, waiting for Kirishima to come out and tell him what was going on.

He was chewing on his nails, foot tapping against the ground as he stared at the door. He could hear people moving around and talking inside.

He couldn’t get the sound of your screaming out of his head, the large dark patch that formed on your skin around your face, the way you just... fell.

The door slid open, and Bakugou stared forward and Kirishima stepped out, smiling and thanking Recovery Girl.

Bakugou was on his feet in an instant, grabbing Kirishima’s arm.

“How are they? Do they hate me? Can I see them?” He rambled, Kirishima gently pushing Bakugou off him.

“Uh, they’re fine for the most part, they haven’t said anything about you at all, and ask Recovery Girl.” He said, backing off down the hall as Bakugou stared helplessly after him.

“You uh- you might want to apologize. They are really upset.” Kirishima told him, quickly running off down the hall. Bakugou faced towards the room, stepping inside.

A cyan curtain blocked him from seeing you, and he heard shuffling behind it. It slid open, Recovery Girl stepping out. She looked up and saw Bakugou.

She wacked his leg with her needle/cane, and he yelped, stumbling backwards.

“You have no shame!” she snapped. “With what you did to them, you should be cowering outside right now!”

“Shhh!” Bakugou pressed up against the wall. “Do you want them to know I’m here?”

“Are you that clueless?” she grumbled, pulling herself up into her chair. “They’ve gone temporarily deaf.” Bakugou froze, glancing back at the curtain.

He’d blown up your eardrums.

He felt Recovery Girl press something into his hands, and he glanced down.

It was a small whiteboard, with a pen and washcloth.

This was how he’d have to talk to you.

On a fucking whiteboard.

RG pulled the curtains aside, revealing you.

You were laying in the bed, half your face wrapped up in bandages, hands resting on your lap.

“Y/n...” he murmured. You remained still, staring out the window. Bakugou cleared his throat, and you still didn’t react.

“They can’t hear you, remember?” RG shook her head, waddling over to the other side of your bed, pointing at Bakugou. He watched your face slowly turn, before his eyes shot away from you, staring at the ground.

He heard you swallow, and you let out a soft whimper.

Were you scared of him?

Bakugou lifted the whiteboard, quickly scribbling some kanji on it

ごめんなさい (Translation: I am sorry)

You reached forward, taking the whiteboard from him and erasing his words, putting your own down instead.

分かってる。(Translation: I know)

Bakugou pursed his lips, fidgeting with his shirt before he watched you put more writing down

どうして？(Translation: Why?)

Bakugou reached out, taking the whiteboard back, quickly putting down his excuse explanation

私は弱いと感じました。じゃあ霧島を助けてくれたんだ。うらやましくなってきた (Translation: I felt weak. Then you helped Kirishima. I got Jealous)

お許しください (Translation: Please forgive me.)

He handed you the whiteboard back, tapping his foot against the ground. You passed it back to him, and he hurridly read your response.

私はそれについて考えます (Translation: I’ll think about it.)

He had a chance. His eyes finally lifted off the whiteboard, landing on you.

The visible part of your face looked exactly the same, although there was a large bandage on your ear. Your eye looked sad, fearful, and nervous. You had a shaky smile on your face, trying to make him feel better.

You were always thinking about him.

それは再び起こらないだろう (Translation: It won’t happen again)

You sighed, smile falling.

本気？(Translation: Are you sure?)

Bakugou felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Well of fucking course you didn’t trust him, look what he’d done to you!

おっしゃる通りです。. もうお前を放っておいてやるさようなら、y/n。(Translation: You are right. I will leave you alone now. Goodbye, y/n.)

He stood up, leaving the whiteboard on your bed. He headed towards the door, with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ignored the soft cry of your voice, surprised he was leaving.

He ignored the way you managed to choke out his name in a warbly, unsure voice.

He slid the door shut behind him, slumping against it and sliding down until he sat on the cold ground. He buried his face into his arms, finally allowing himself to cry.

He wasn’t going to try and talk to you, he resolved. He wasn’t going to bother you or scare you.

He’d keep you safe by refusing to talk to him.

He’d let the author end the fanfiction right then and there.

The door slid open behind him, and he flopped backwards, staring up at your face. You were holding the whiteboard.

オマンコにならないでください。事故だったのは分かってる頑張って俺を捕まえるのか諦めるのか? どんなヒーローがあきらめるだろうか？

(Translation: Don't be a pussy. I know it was an accident. Are you going to work hard and get me or give up? What kind of hero would just give up?)

A smirk slowly spread across his face. Yeah, he’d work hard. He’d never scare you or hurt you again. He’d do better.

He’d be the best boyfriend.

And he’d accept your help to stand up next to you.

=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

After fic note: ohmygod I’m finally finished. This took fucking forever. You loved part one so much, I had to make sure part two was perfect.

Some of these ended in heartbreak

Another ended in a questionable descision

The last ended happily

All of them are different!

I hope you get my references, and appreciate the Japanese Kanji I put in Bakugou’s part (if any of it is inaccurate, please let me know so I can try my best to fix it. I don’t speak or write Japanese, I used this translator to get what I needed).

I worked hard on this, so if y’all could tell me what you like and dislike about this so I can improve my writing, that would be lovely. Don’t be afraid to pop a comment or pop into my ask box, I do my best to respond to every comment and ask, so don’t worry about being ignored.

I love all of you, and I’m so glad to be able to write for you.

Thanks for all of your support, I promise I’ll work hard on all of my drafts to make sure you get entertainment constantly!

5K notes · View notes

midnightswithdearkatytspb · 3 years

Note

Mob bucky/seb or mob chris/andy recs??

Updated 07/04/21 ✨ = Just Added

To be added please tag me in your future works!

Hey Anon! I’m so glad you asked this because Mob/Mafia! Any version of those boys is my favorite. In my previous fic recs I recommended...

If love was an option by @mianorth » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Part 1 🦋 Part 2 🦋 Part 3

Good Little Wife & Good Little Girl by @donutloverxo » Mob!Andy Barber x Reader – A little dark and it has some really good smut in it.

Blackmail by @stargazingfangirl18 » Soft!DarkMafia Andy Barber x Female Reader — You were just doing it to protect your family, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, especially once you started to like it. (One-Shot)

Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Bucky is having a bad day, you can help him feel good. (Part of Mafia Monday’s)

Run To You by @bestofbucky » Mob!Boss Bucky x Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. (Series)

Can’t Run, Can’t Hide by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!MafiaBucky Barnes x Reader — When you get noticed by the infamous mob boss, you flee. But Bucky doesn’t like to be denied anything and he’s coming for you. (One-shot)

Six Feet | Ch.1 ⚰️ Ch.2 by @queenoftheworldisdead » Dark Mob!Steve x Reader + Dark Mob!Bucky x Reader — Your family’s small funeral home comes into financial trouble. In desperation your father finds the most unlikely solution to solve his financial problems. | (Short Series)

Bankrupt by @mypoisonedvine » dark!40’s!Mob!Stucky x Reader — Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension. When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems.

Partition by @angrythingstarlight » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky comforts you after a bad day, and your boss learns why no one messes with his girl. —> Part 2: Let Me Show You — You wanted to know what your mobster boyfriend did, lucky for you he’s more into the show then tell.

Say the word and it’s yours by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mobster boyfriend rescues you from a long, boring day at work. Bucky always said, “ask and its yours”

Lost Without You by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky Barnes would be lost with you. You’re his everything and he plans on spending Valentine’s Day proving it to you.

All Dressed In White by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!Mafia Bucky Barnes x Reader — You were going to marry someone else, Bucky won’t let that happen. You belong to him now and forever. Till Death Do You Part.

Thick As Thieves by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Mafia!Steve Rogers — The only thing the Mafia hates as much as snitches are thieves. And you’re planning on stealing from Bucky and Steve, what happens if you get caught?

Won’t Let You Go by @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay » Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC!Kori — Kori met Bucky in one of his clubs, out to get shit-faced with a couple of friends to forget about her worries and maybe take home a guy to further rid herself of her numerous frustrations. Little did she know that the one-night stand with Bucky would turn into so much more than that.

Tell Me What You Want by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader; Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask. And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again.

To Have & To Hold by @slyyywriting » Bucky Barnes x Mob Boss!Reader — Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.(series)

✨ Mob!Sugar Daddy!Stucky Moodboard by @brattycherubwrites » Mob!Stucky x Reader

✨ Laced Around Your Throat by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Your Mob boyfriend knows that the only thing that looks even better than his hand around your throat is his custom made necklace. You’re his girl and the world needs to know it.

✨ Hidden Gems by @jtargaryen18 » Mob!Steve Rogers x Mob!Daughter Reader — Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

Necessary Arrangements by @stargazingfangirl18 » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x (Different) Fem! Reader ft. Ransom Drysdale » One of my favorite series, chapters are decent sized and the smut is so good!

Hugs My Love by @thatfuckingweirdo » Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You just really need a hug, and Bucky is the only one you want it from.

my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam by @cloudystevie » Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader — steve gives you what you want… kind of.

Brooklyn Wars by @world-of-aus » Stucky x Reader

Petals and Bullets by @revengingbarnes » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader (One of my all time favorites series)

I would check out @sinner-as-saint’s Masterlist they have quite a few Mob!Bucky series and one-shots that I have loved in the past.

Special by @buckycuddlebuddy » Bucky Barnes x Reader — this one-shot is really hot.

Love, Honor, and Obey by @constantwriter85 » Bucky Barnes — This one is good and I need to catch up on.

Mafioso by @captain-barnes-writes » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Please do yourself a favor and read.

Lipstick and Crayons by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader - In Progress

A really good DarkMob!Steve Drabble called Please Hurt Me by @gotnofucks *chefs kiss*

The Mobster’s Little Girl by @smutsonian » Steve Rogers x Reader

off to the races 🐻 off to the races 2 by @harryspet » Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

The Ignorant Beauty & the Beast by @mysterioh » Steve Rogers x Reader – With 21 parts sadly it hasn’t been updated in 8 months, it’s one of my favorite Mob!Steve Roger fics out there. *Thanks to @inactivewhore I found out this story was moved to AO3 and is now called where angels fear to tread it was last updated on 13/11/20*

What It Takes by @cherienymphe » Bucky Barnes x Reader — You left Bucky once you found out who he really is. The one thing you thought would guarantee your safety ends up sealing your fate.

Welcome Home by @punani » Chris Evans x Black!Reader — He’s been away for awhile, but he knows that his girl’s loyalty to him knows no bounds. Knows she’s been waiting for him after her adamancy in telling him there was no other option. It’s only right to make the reunion a memorable one. | So, so, so, so freaking good!

These are what I found on Tumblr that I plan on reading.

Handmaid by @extremelyblackandwhite » Sebastian Stan x ingenue!Reader — y/n works as a handmaid for the daughter of an influential mob leader who is promised to the new boss of the most powerful mob family in new york, sebastian.

AO3 Website Reccomendations

Satellite Heart » Stucky x Reader — You used to be Steve and Bucky's girl. Then they fucking left without saying goodbye. Little did they know, you were pregnant. But life went on. You raised your Talia to the best of your ability. But one day, everything goes to shit. Now your boys are back in your life. And they're not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Little Fox A/B/O Series » Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Soft!Dark Natasha Romanoff x OFC! & Peter Parker x Soft!Dark Tony Stark — So I can’t stress this enough you need to read the tags for this series and I kept getting confused as I read this story as to how old Violet Mason is. But this series takes you on a roller coaster, I like it, my cousin didn’t finish it, I need to catch up.

Pelmeni *finished* » Stucky x Reader — James Bucky Barnes has a good life, as a member of a powerful organized crime syndicate. His best friend Steve is a member too and his literal partner in crime. Bucky's got a problem though. You. His longtime love and secret girlfriend. Unfortunately, your father is his boss and has plans for you that involve normal life. Steve has a problem too. Steve wants in on your relationship and more than the semi-regular/occasional steamy threesomes. You don't have a problem, you're just busy with a big mob wedding coming up, which means a big celebration, that you're busy catering for.

Dying For This Love » Dark!Bucky x Reader — That was before. When you were Bucky’s girl. Now, you have a score to settle. That’s why you’re wearing Bucky’s favorite red satin dress, the one with the cuts that reach right up to the tops of your thighs, the tennis necklace he gifted you for your anniversary, and are fresh off of a mani/pedi and hair appointment. He’s going to regret the day he fucked with you. | This one is intense and a tad bit dark, but the smut is good.

off to the races » Steve Rogers x Reader — In which you call the kingpin your Daddy.

The Mobster’s Little Girl » Steve Rogers x Reader — what happens when the big bad mobster gets blackmailed by your father to marry you? (kind of fluffy kind of not. kinda dark kinda not.)

Brooklyn Sweethearts » Dark!Stucky x Reader — Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise. | Probably one of my all time favorite Mafia!Stucky stories I have ever read, just sadly it also hasn’t been updated in like 8 months and I keep hoping it will get updated.

Hot Doll » Skinny!MobBoss Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there. | Dark and good!

Doctor Doctor » Steve Rogers x PlusSize! Reader — (1940 Mobster AU!) You're a war widow down on her luck; and the King of Brooklyn, Steve Rogers, takes notice. | Another one of my favorites. A little bit dark as well.

The Widow » Dark!MobBoss x Reader — It’s the 1920s and everyone’s having a roaring time but you. | Trust me it’s just dark enough.

Those are just some on AO3, I would just go through Mafia AU tag and go to filter and click Avengers or Captain America.

#you ask i answer #ktk rec ‘21 #ktk rec #ktk fic rec #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky #mob!andy barber #andy barber #andy barber x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob!steve #dark!steve x reader #stucky x reader #fanfiction recommendation #fanfic rec #mob!sebastian stan #mob!sebastian stan x reader #mob!chris evans

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mammonswhore · 3 years

Note

Heyo! How would the Obey Me brothers react to MC being a teenager/younger gen Z? Like, the paper-work got mixed up somehow, and said they were like 26, when they were actually like 16? Also (you don't have to include this), what if the teen MC was actually really interested in demons and angles before coming to devildom, so they're really nervous, but also really excited? If you don't wanna do it, that's fine tho :) Have a great day/night!

I love this prompt! Have a great day too,love🖤

Brothers reaction to MC being a Gen Z teen. (Platonic)

✒Lucifer.

He can already picture himself struggling with you.

Six brothers to take care of + a TEEN? Man is about to loose it.

If you are an introverted he will like you automatically and feel relieved that you will not always get into his brothers shenanigans.

If you are an extroverted (or just a curious one tbh) he will keep an eye on you 24/7 so you won't get into Mammon schemes or Satan's nerves and get yourself in trouble.

Really amused if you like demons and angels, will curse himself for misreading but will not hate himself too much since you are not that scared.

Gets tired of you quickly if you make too many questions and will always send you to ask Mammon or if it's something that he doesn't know himself he will ask Diavolo and tell you later but he will (of course) act all high and mighty as if he already knew the answer to such question.

Will practically adopt you and spoil you a lot because hes is big brother.

Overprotective. Oh you met a lesser demon and you want to go on a date with them? Haha he won't let you.

You will be the only person who gets in trouble and leaves with just a warning.

Also you are totally his soft spot. Man can't resist your sad face and will do anything to make you happy even if he doesn't like to admit that.

Totally lost when it comes to TikTok/memes references and will ask about it a lot.

✒Mammon

He is amazing. Not only does whatever you ask him to but also has the best ways to get you out of boredom.

He will teach you how to scam people and how to be a good thief even if you don't need it or want it.

Teaches you about demons and angels without even knowing. Sometimes he drops random facts but it's not until he realizes you write down what he says that he stops doing it just to hear you ask him things so he can act all smug and smart.

If someone breaks your heart he will be ready to throw hands,no one hurts their little siblings.

Like Lucifer,he adopted you and always claims to be "the one you choose to be with you first" making sure his brothers hear him.

He will help you make your homework. Even if he doesn't understand he will try his best.

Please refer to him sometimes as "big brother" he will die.

When he saves your ass from getting killed by lesser demons he will be ready to receive the biggest hug ever and is absolutely ready to be praised.

If he saves you and you say "thanks,big brother" now you have a problem. He will brag about it for a week (at least).

Will steal things from you to keep them with him when he is going thru an episode. It reminds him that someone thinks of him as worthy and love deserving.

Will die for you,you are not only family now but his favorite person.

Will compliment you in the best brotherhood way he can "looking good today,kid", "your hair looks nice,brat" and "You are the best looking sibling after me of course" are his go to compliments. Mostly does it because you compliment him back and because he knows his comments make you feel closer to him and boy loves it.

✒Levi

If you are an introvert like him you can expect him to go out of his room more often just to see you or talk to you.

If you are not he will try to make you an indoors person but if he can't he is might be willing to take a risk and go out once a week but just to the manga store and back,don't expect more,normie.

If you like any thing he likes he will try to test you and prove he is better than you,he doesn't give a fuck you are practically a child he can't loose.

If he wins he will be very happy and more open to you to open up with some things.

If he doesn't win he will cry when he is alone and call himself an ugly unworthy idiot who can't even be considered an otaku but relax my dude,MC will go to you and reassure you you know better than them and that they will love to hear what you have to say (even if they don't mean it,they love you and will love to see you happy again).

Knows the basics about demons and angels so he is not the best to go to if you have too many questions. That's the only time he will let his envy go away and tell you to go to Satan or Lucifer since they know more than him.

He does not takes his duty as a big brother as something serious since Lucifer is always there but if you call him "big brother" he is going to take that role serious but for you and you only.

Will 100% find siblings cosplays and gets you to do it with him.

If you ever said something like "I'm lucky that my big brother is also my best friend" he might tear up a little since he has never been considered someone's best friend ever.

If any of his brothers try to get you to call him "big brother" he will go on a rampage unless it's Lucifer. Boy is envious not dumb.

If it was Lucifer he will go to him later and ask you if he can stop trying to get you to call him that way because that's they way you call him and it makes him feel special. Lucifer will probably agree because he knows Levi doesn't feel special often so he might give in; if he doesn't Levi will start an argument and won't stop until Lucifer cuts him off or agrees.

Keep calling him big brother, he adores it.

✒Satan

As grumpy as he is,he loves to have yo by his side. Not because he loves company but because he likes to be able to answer all your questions.

Ask him anything about demons or angels and he knows it,fuck he is smart.

Will get you a notebook so you can write what he says and will give you books to read as "extra homework" it's kind of a bad deal if you think of it but it's his way to show love.

The only person who calls him "big brother" often is Asmo and got used to it coming from him and him only. If he hears you calling him that way he will probably jump out of happiness when he is alone but for know he will just answer to that name name and act like nothing happened.

You don't want to do your homework? Fine you can copy mine but just this once.

If you struggle with anything he will solve it for you,no cap.

He will get you cat themed items like pencils, notebooks,necklaces or rings.

Matching is a must. Not because he likes the concept of being associated with a part of someone but because he will love to brag with his brothers obviously.

Will definitely get mad if you ask any type of demon/angel related thing to others.

Names a cat after you but it's the cats middle name so he won't get mocked. Won't tell you tho.

Very very protective but good at hiding it. He might be following you down the street but you wouldn't even know. Kinda creepy? Yes. Have you ever got eaten? Nope.

✒Asmo

Yes! Exactly what he was waiting for.

You are part of his experiments. You don't like makeup? Well now you do. What type of clothes do you have? Do you have an aesthetic? No? Well now you do.

He is always there when you need him to. Best of them all to give advise when needed.

Definitely will be annoyed by all of your questions but will try to be as gentle as possible to tell you that.

Can help you to become really good at comebacks,believe him he knows best than anyone.

He is the one making sure you are educated when comes to sex. Simple but worthy lessons such as "sex is about experimenting and finding what you really like but you always need your partners consent" or "always have a safe word,even when you have vanilla type of sex" or the best one yet "if they want to fuck with you that's fine but always remember to use protection because I will not like to see you having a child so young or having an abortion" because yeah that's what big brothers do.

If you hit him with the "you are the best,big brother" he will jump into your arms and say that he knows he is the best but that hearing that was way too magical,do it again!

He is very aware of insecurities and will try to be the shoulder you cry on if you need to,he is always there to wipe of your tears (or wipe off the ones who hurt you).

Not as protective as the others but keeps an eye on you because your curiosity might hurt you.

Will be crushed if he sees you suffering from the most minimal thing. That lipstick does not fit your skin color? Fuck that lipstick! We are getting new ones,go get Lucifers card!

Spoils you way more than any other because he wants to create a brat. He needs to have someone like you who will cling into Lucifer and beg him to let you do dumb things because you know Lucifer can't say no to you. He needs your power and is not afraid to tell you that

Constant reassurance. He always calls you by cute nicknames and as long as you call him "my beautiful big brother" every time he is amused.

✒Beel

Baby is ready to give you life lessons. Don't stab anyone,drink enough water and be patient with the ones you love.

Yes,he learned the "don't stab anyone" from talking to Belphie.

Is very lost when it comes to you being so interested in demons and angels because he is not used to be the one answering the questions but making them. Bare with him, he is trying to get a good answer.

Will ask for advice on how to answer you, probably goes to Lucifer but mostly Belphie.

Soon you two start doing things together that involve learning from humans and angels. Maybe you are walking down the street working out and when you both start chatting about demon life and suddenly everything stops.

Beel is clueless when it comes to comforting someone about an insecuritie since he was the one being comforted most of the times but will give you space if you need to or do whatever you feel comfy with.

If you call him "big brother" he will hug you like no one has ever hugged you before. Teddy bear hugs are a must now.

Will die for you and is not afraid of telling you such. "MC I will die for you" "whAt?" "As your big brother I may protect you with my life" "Please don't."

Tells you how much he wants you to be happy and constantly asks if you have any type of dreams or goals.

If you do have goals or dreams he will encourage you to go get it. Beel is there to support you no matter what.

✒Belphie.

Absolutely fucking not.

Why is everyone spoiling this stupid brat and not me? I hate them.

But hold on there,he doesn't completely hates you he just hates the attention you get.

If you go to him with a soft attitude and ask him if you can nap together he will say yes and will enjoy the moment a lot .

He has never been someone's big brother so it kinda hits him if you call him like that and will try to act confident and smug about it but it's kinda terrified.

What if he doesn't catch up on the big brother thing and fucks up? He doesn't want to disappoint you or make you feel awkward. So he copies his big brother and tries his best,believe me he does.

You need help with something? Ugh well I will help but you owe me one (you don't owe him anything really,he just doesn't wants to be seen as soft for you). Oh did someone caused you problems? No biggie,I will take care of it.

Spoiler alert: he is very overprotective with you,he doesn't want to lose you.

#obey me x reader #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me mc #obey me

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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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