#yeah in an ideal world! no! I wouldn’t be doing that

[lucky-clover-gazette]

okay i have THOUGHTS about this line

he didn’t have to say that to make his plan work. i mean yeah, being nice to the player definitely earns their favor and future assistance, but he could have just as easily gone the route of gaslighting them into feeling bad and like they caused the problem, eliciting a more shame-based and desperate and less uplifting and righteous kind of reliance. like if volo really hated the player, and was truly cruel, that’s what he would have done. the player would have still gotten the chain and felt indebted to him for the plate hunt, but they also would be miserable and feel lonely and hurt and confused. but volo doesn’t do that, he grounds the player and validates their feelings, which were hurt by the cruel townspeople more than the event volo caused to prompt that cruelty. like truly, it’s only volo’s fault that the player gets banished through the most like simple calculated logic—yes, if he hadn’t caused the rift, they wouldn’t have been banished, or brought here at all. but kamado CHOSE to banish them based on his own paranoia and disdain for outsiders, and the others enabled it by choice. volo didn’t make that happen, just how he didn’t make or even want arceus to get the player involved in the first place.

i don’t think volo hates the player, personally, at all. or at least, i think that he hates them and cares for them just as much as he hates and cares for himself. i know this isn’t groundbreaking volo theorizing material, but he’s absolutely projecting his disdain for society based on his vague past experiences here. he dislikes the outsider because his plan demands it, but he dislikes everyone else because he personally thinks they’re terrible. it’s kinda neat how he “fake” compliments the player’s loyalty to him as a merchant so often, bc i think loyalty is something he actually takes very seriously. and he probably saw how loyal the player was to the galaxy team, and then the way they kicked them out, and was genuinely pissed and hurt on the player’s behalf.

the things he says at the end of the game are said in extreme distress and defeat, and while they are not NOT reflective of his character and motives, i’m shocked by how many pokemon fans regard volo like he’s a nihilistic and amoral sociopath. passion and compassion are behind nearly everything volo does, for better or for worse. they’re behind moments like this, and moments like his ranting at spear pillar. he is a person who constantly grapples to align his personal moral code and lofty ideals, which live in this weird space between the manmade and divine, with the flawed reality of existence. his entire mentality is full of contradictions, because he is a man who thinks he should be god, but in reality could never be a good god, because he is still very much a man. it’s the emotion, idealism, and intellectual curiosity of humanity that drive him, not the impartiality, absolutism, and complacency of an omnipotent all-knowing deity.

so like, with this line. he specifically mentions that the galaxy team has treated the player poorly. not that the galaxy team’s choice was illogical, not that the player just needs to try harder to get them to accept him. he is emphatically rejecting the premise that the player did anything to deserve blame, even though he has no intention to actually explain why this really happened or volunteer himself to take the blame. because ultimately, volo is not the person to blame for the galaxy team’s cruelty, and he knows it. and he also knows that it’s the cruelty that has hurt the player, more than the sky problem itself, because he has been treated like an outsider too. and he can’t DO anything about that. even if he told the truth, the damage has already been done. the player knows how their supposed allies would react in this situation, regardless of the logic or truth. and volo can’t fix that. he does not believe he can make people kinder or the world a better place, which is exactly why he wants so badly to remake it. for himself, bc clearly he’s been through some shit too, for people like the outsider, and for anyone else whose loyalty and dedication have been met with rejection and apathy. which is so deeply tragic and ironic, because by being the only person to care for the player in this moment, he is making the world a better place for them.

volo is, at his core, a hypocrite. he’s like if you put the ingredients for a hero into a blender, but accidentally used the “tragic hypocrite” setting so he came out a janky villain instead. to volo, concepts like loyalty and self-righteousness are driving forces, much moreso than simple black and white morality or consequentialism. this makes him a hypocrite because he believes a perfect world is possible as long as his moral code is strictly followed, and his evil plan is to prove it. but in his efforts to do so, he proves over and over again that a perfect world isn’t possible, and certainly would not be possible under his control.

like, okay—if someone suggested that the means of pain and suffering in the world justified the ends (the world), volo would disagree and claim that arceus is responsible for the pain and suffering, and therefore does not deserve the power to create/rule worlds. but then, following that very same logic, if volo needed to get a random person banished and betrayed in order to create his better world, then those means wouldn’t justify his ends either. which is WHY we see him subconsciously draw a line here, between the things he’s not responsible for (other people being cruel, arceus transporting the player) and the things he is directly responsible for (the way he treats the player in these circumstances, either with derision or support). and wouldn’t you know, in this instance where it truly is up to him what the means are to his ends, he chooses kindness where he could have been cruel. because while arceus sending the hero and the town banishing them weren’t really Volo’s means to Volo’s ends, this conversation sure as hell could be. And he doesn’t want his better world built on a foundation of suffering and pain.

by saying this one line and treating the player as he does here, i think volo accidentally exposes something deeply true and good about himself. this man could say “i’m a villain and i don’t care about the player” and fully believe it, but at the same time demonstrably possess the morals and compassion of a hero, which he uses to actively care for the player. he is a delusional hypocrite, but he’s definitely not heartless. and i just think that’s neat.

alternatively, volo is completely heartless, knows that people are endeared to people who want to protect them, and methodically uses that knowledge here for his convenience. that very well could have been the intention, and it makes sense too—but i personally enjoy entertaining the notion of depth where i see potential for it. so yeah.

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 7: ALL THAT GLITTERS...* [FT. YAPPING TRENT]

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 6 | MASTERLIST | READ CH 8 [soon]

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: ANGST, SMUT, praise kink, power shift, begging, unprotected sex, language, implied anxiety genre: angst, fluff, slow(ish) burn romance wc: ~7.2k

The moment your voice cracked through the phone, Trent exhaled like he was holding his breath all night.

“Trent????” you asked again, wiping your eyes and sitting up against the headboard. You felt comfortable in your safe space, but the tension from Trent’s silence had you more awake than you wanted to be at such an early hour.

“Y/N” he said shakily. “You answered.”

You frowned, still half awake. “Mhm..why wouldn’t I?”

“Been calling you for hours...I thought you were pissed,” he admitted, you could feel the guilt laced in his voice. Your phone had been dead the majority of the night after the interview; mainly due to the onslaught of notifications. “Oh, baby no. I wasn’t ignoring you. My phone died from all the madness and I just..fell asleep.” You yawned, tugging your blanket up towards you. “You were worrying all night?”

“Yeah..I thought I messed up everything,” he murmured, sounding unsure of himself. He was clearly torturing himself all night, thinking you were angry at him, and it pulled at your heartstrings. “I mean..it wasn’t ideal that's for sure,” you admitted. “But it’s not the end of the world Trent. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Still..” he pressed in a heavier tone. “I promised you I would keep this shit away from you and instead I brought you right into it. Everyone knows now.” You sighed, still trying to wake yourself up. He was expecting an angry outburst from you based on the texts you sent, but you weren’t that mad at him, just extremely exhausted.

“You didn’t drag me into anything. It was bound to happen eventually and I knew that when we got together. It’s just...a part of your world I have to get used to, I guess,” the weight of your words sunk in as you said them out loud. There was silence on the other end that stretched for a ridiculously long time. Trent felt uneasy about something, and you could tell he was holding back.

“So...you’re not mad?” he finally asked, sounding so fragile. 

You sighed, wishing you could pull him into a hug from your end of the phone. “Well..I’m not gonna lie and say I’m happy about it.. but I’m not angry either. Just tired.”

“You sure?”

“I promise. It’s just....” you trailed off, trying to gather the thoughts from your sleep induced haze. “It’s been a really long day.”

That caught his attention immediately. He loved to yap. If there was an open ended question that would result in a long conversation, he was definitely going to ask; partially to hear your voice, and the other just to yap.

“What happened? Tell me.”

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your temples as the events from the day rushed back to you. “Love Notes was insane today. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing after your interview. People were coming in asking about the aftershave like I had it already. And to top it off, some kids came in and broke one of the fragrances. It gave me the worst fucking headache ever.” You didn’t feel the need to mention the conversation with your parents or the anxiety attack, it felt too heavy for the moment, and you weren't sure if you were ready to talk about it either.

“Shit. I didn’t know it got that bad. I didn’t know the logo was showing until I read your texts on the plane. How are you feeling? You should drink more water,” he rambled, sounding completely spent but still holding on for the yap session.

“I feel better... but Camille keeps bringing up hiring an assistant and..I just don’t know.”

Trent’s voice perked up slightly, “Well..baby she’s not wrong.” You rolled your eyes, feeling annoyed that he was suggesting it as well. “Trent. Don’t start. I’ve heard enough from everyone already.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I know,” you interrupted, sounding more sharp than you intended to. “Everyone thinks I can’t handle it. I don’t get why no one believes I can do this on my own? It’s my business.” Trent was silent for a while, and you felt bad for snapping, but the frustration was building all day. “Y/N...nobody thinks you can’t handle it,” he said gently. “But you’re only one person. You can’t do everything by yourself.”

“Yeah, but it feels like no one believes in me,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “What if I can handle it? Like, what if I don’t need an assistant? It’s fine. I’m fine.” Trent sighed, his voice softer. “No one doubts you’re not good at what you do, Y/N. Everyone has their limit. Tyler helps me out all the time. You should think about it, it’s not a bad idea.”  You sighed, feeling a little deflected. “Okayyyy. I’ll think about it.” He laughed at your annoyance with him, a brief silence following before he spoke again in a softer voice. “I haven’t slept all night and it’s almost 5AM.”

“Trent, what the hell? You’ve been up this entire time?” 

“Yeah,” he said, voice wound with exhaustion. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Aww. Baby, you have to go to sleep. Please..for me?” you murmured, dropping your voice.

“I will. Just wanted to hear your voice…”

“You heard it..now go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” you said gently, knowing he would want to yap even more.

He let out a tired chuckle but you could hear the weariness in his voice. “I wish you were here...next to me.” His sleepy admission made you smile. “I wish I was too. But pleaseee go to bed. Just call me when you wake up.”

He hummed in response, still talking but whispering. “Mm, yeah. Sleep. Just wanna be with you. Always…”  

You giggled softly, “We have plenty of time for that later. Just sleep.” He continued talking, slurring his words as he slowly lost his grip on consciousness. “When the season is over...we should go on holiday. Just us.” You perked up at the idea, remembering you were thinking the same thing earlier. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

“Don’t care as long as I’m with you...somewhere warm,” he mumbled. “Santorini...or south of France.” You smiled hearing him planning already, despite being half awake. “What about the Maldives? Oh! Oh!! Or maybe St. Barths?”

“Hawaii,” he added sleepily, his words getting slower and slower. “11 hour time difference though, we’d be so jet lagged.”

“Yeah, but it would be worth it just to be with you on the beach somewhere. I heard Ka'anapali is nice.”

“Yeah…just..us” his voice was fading fast, sleep pulling him into a dream about your future holiday. “I love you.” 

You froze immediately.

You could’ve sworn you heard him say 'I love you', but you thought for sure you misheard him. It was late and you were both exhausted. There’s no way he said that.

Right?

No no no, he didn’t. You were probably mishearing him. He definitely said “I’d love to.” That made a lot more sense given the conversation. You heard it wrong. You were sure you did.

“Trent?” you whispered, but the sound of soft breathing let you know he was already fast asleep. You leaned back against the pillows, trying to convince yourself you definitely didn’t hear him say those words for the first time while he was half asleep. He was exhausted, you were tired...it obviously had to be ‘I’d love to.’ You pressed the button to end the call, dropping your phone next to you as you pulled the blankets around yourself. As you drifted back to sleep, you convinced yourself whatever you heard was a figment of your overworked, sleepy imagination.

Maybe you did need an assistant.

A few hours later you woke up, groaning into your pillow as the memory of last night came up in your mind:

‘I love you’ or ‘I’d love to’ ?

It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t. You sat up, trying to shake the drowsiness off. There’s absolutely no way he said that half asleep, over the phone. You were delusional and exhausted from everything going on. Clearly, you were running yourself into the ground, and now you were hearing things. Camille was right.

You grabbed your phone to scroll through the endless notifications from yesterday. There were texts and calls from people you barely knew, all asking for 'The Trent Scent'. It felt like the whole world was on your ass about it. You never planned for anyone to know it existed, yet suddenly it was all anyone cared about. You wanted to crawl back in bed and rot for a week but you knew better, you had things to handle. Which now included possibly finding an assistant. You hated admitting Camille and Trent were right, but it was becoming too much. You dragged yourself out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, where Camille was making some weird health nut smoothie. She glanced up when she saw you, stifling a laugh. “Morning, babe. You look terrible.” You rolled your eyes, leaning against the counter. “I feel like shit. Didn’t sleep great.”

“Rough night?” Camille asked, turning off the blender. She poured two glasses and handed you one. “Try this. It’ll make you feel better. Trust.” 

You eyed the glass skeptically. “What’s in it? Why is it three different colors?”

“Strawberries, dates, collagen powder, sea moss, avocado..some other stuff.” Camille grinned, sipping from her glass. “It’s really good, I swear.” You reluctantly took a sip, expecting to frown immediately–but it actually wasn’t bad. It tasted like dessert for breakfast, but was somehow healthy. “Okay.. this is so good,” you muttered between sips. 

“See?” Camilled said, smirking. “I tried it at Erewhon when I went to LA. My skin is glowing. It’s the collagen.” You couldn’t deny it tasted amazing, but you silently laughed at Camille finding a way to bring Erewhon across continents. Your mind faltered back to the conversation you had with Trent a couple of hours ago and you groaned.

“Camille…I think I’m losing it. Actually going mad. Legitimately.” 

Camille snorted, almost choking on her smoothie. “You’re so dramatic Y/N. What’s up?” You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. “I was on the phone last night with Trent, and I swear I heard him say ‘I love you.’”

“Okay… andddd?”

“I don’t know!” you blurted, throwing your hands up dramatically. “He was half asleep, I was knackered..I had to mishear him. I think he said ‘I’d love to’ because we were talking about going on holiday. He had to or else it doesn’t make sense, right?” Camille gave you an amused look. “A bit random to say it mid-snooze, yeah. But..nothing about the two of you is ordinary in the slightest. Stranger things have happened. What did you say back?”

“Obviously nothing!! Hung up and convinced myself I imagined it. I was so tired.”

Camille laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, he’s definitely in deep..so who knows. Maybe you didn’t imagine it, but what’s the big deal? You love him, no?” You bit your lip, contemplating. “It’s just..ugh. I don’t know. Everything is moving so chaotically..” Camille studied you for a moment, like she knew something you hadn’t figured out just yet; she would wait until you figured it out yourself. “That brings me to my next point...you need help at the boutique. Especially now.”

You groaned again, “I get it!! Why does everyone keep reminding me?”

“Because it's true! You’re doing the work of like five different people. And girl, I love you, but I’m exhausted just watching you move like this.”

“I’m fine!” you whined, though the fatigue in your face told a different story. “It’s just a little rough patch. No biggie.” Camille gave you a pointed look. “You fell asleep before I could even pour any wine last night. That’s not a rough patch babes, you’re running on fumes. I can’t believe you did me like that.” You scowled at her, not wanting to admit she had a point. “I’m just scared…I put my whole life into that place.”

“I get why you’re protective over it. But an assistant could help out a lot. Plus, you’ll be able to spend more time with Trent.” You sighed, giving in a little. Having more free time did sound nice, regardless of Trent being included in the perk. “Fine. But I’m picking who gets hired.”

“Fucking finally,” Camille laughed. “But I’m still helping.” You dropped your jaw in disbelief, partially smirking. “No help from your dad, though.”

“Our dad, you mean. But yeah, I promise. Cross my heart and all that,” Camille said, crossing her fingers.

You smiled, reaching for your laptop, eager to get it over with. “Let’s just get this sorted before I regret it,” you muttered while logging in to draft the job posting. Camille grabbed her phone, glancing over your shoulder as she watched you type. “The charity gala is coming up in a couple weeks..do you know what you and Trent are wearing yet?” You gasped, fingers pausing over the keyboard. “I forgot all about that..oh my days. I really am losing it.” 

“Y/N, how could you forget?! I can’t wait to see what everyone wears.” You let out a small laugh, trying to focus on the job posting. “Clearly I’ve been busy. I just hope it isn’t as chaotic as last time. I think I reached my limit for that this year already.” Camille smirked, “Speaking of chaos..remind me to take Jude’s phone the moment he grabs a drink. We don’t need another Paris situation.” You bursted out laughing, “A little too late for that, I think. I’m actually tired of tiptoeing around..people know anyway.” 

“Oooh, thinking about an official pop out?” Camille asked, curiously.

“Absolutely not. But I just don’t see the point anymore. Maybe people will leave me alone if I just give them what they want.” The gears started turning in your head as soon as the words left your lips. If people were going to keep hounding you about Rêveur, maybe you could do something meaningful with it. “...What if I released a limited batch of Rêveur for the gala? And all proceeds go to charity?” Camille smiled excitedly, clasping her hands together. “Y/N, you’re a genius!”

“I’ll have to talk to Trent first, though…it’s his.” 

Camille waved her hands dismissively, sucking her teeth, “Please. He’ll be all for it. He was waving the bottle around on camera like he was paid billions. I’ve never seen that man advertise anything with that much excitement.” You nodded as the idea swirled around in your mind, just as you hit ‘publish’ on the job posting. “Yeah..I’ll talk to him.”

A few days later, you stepped into a restaurant, your heels clanked against the marble floor as Trent’s hand found your lower back to guide you inside. The restaurant had an intimate feel; the lighting was low, with a soft glow from the candles on the tables. From the moment you walked in, eyes were on the two of you. Trent had on an all white fit, crisp lines tailored his shirt and trousers; it looked gorgeous against his brown skin; he was also wearing an Audemars Piguet watch, the scent of Rêveur clinging to his skin. You were wearing a dress that hugged every curve just right, the fabric shimmering ever so slightly. Your heels caught in the light, adding a few extra inches to make your legs look longer. Your perfume was a soft, warm scent of amber and vanilla, which paired perfectly with his aftershave.

“You look incredible, Y/N. And you smell so damn good,” Trent whispered in your ear. He gently spun you around, taking in the full view as his eyes ran over your body, lingering his gaze on the way your skin was glowing under the dim lighting. “So fucking beautiful baby.”

You bit your lip, feeling your confidence soar from his praise. “Thanks.. but you’re kinda eating me up with that watch,” you teased, eyeing how he looked in the crisp shirt that clung to his body just right. “Nah..I wore this for you ‘cause it has the moon on it. Reminds me of my girl,” he winked, kissing you softly on the lips. You could feel heat surging within you, but you played it off and headed to a table that was tucked away in a private area with the perfect view of the city. While you were eating dinner, Trent couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was staring at you more than he was eating, complimenting you every few minutes. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect. I’m lucky as hell.” You giggled, picking up your wine glass before taking a sip. “I think you said that like ten times tonight.” “And I’ll say it for an eleventh time..you’re so beautiful, baby. I mean it every time. You’re stunning.” You could see his eyes dropping to your chest before meeting your gaze again with a smirk. You and Trent hadn’t really seen each other much the past few weeks due to your schedules, but made a plan to have a date night after the interview fiasco. He was definitely upping the ante; everything felt so deeply intimate and sensual. Trent leaned back in his chair, eyes still transfixed on you. You thought back to the phone call the two of you had a couple of days ago when you thought you heard him say ‘I love you’. He didn’t say anything else since then, so it was clear you more than likely heard him wrong, but still.. you wondered. Now wasn’t the time though, you didn’t want to make anything awkward. He was sitting across from you looking like a dream, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin the mood. Trent’s thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of your hand, his eyes still hypnotised by your beauty. You both knew where the night was heading, but teasing him was much more fun.

“So..for the gala” you began, trailing your fingers around the rim of the wine glass with your other hand, his eyes watching every movement. “I was thinking we could do a release of Rêveur and just give the proceeds to charity. What do you think?” You were slowly rubbing your leg against his under the table. Trent’s eyes widened when your heels grazed his ankle. “Yeah..that’s a..uhh..erm..really good idea. Let’s do it.” He could barely get the words out, he was completely flustered. You smiled innocently, letting the strap of your dress slip from your shoulder. “Yeah? Everyone keeps begging for it sooo..let’s give the people what they want..” you paused, sliding your heel off and pressing your foot directly into his lap. You could feel his dick twitch underneath you, “may as well make it worthwhile.” His entire body stiffened and his hand slid down to grab your calf, his fingers circling lazy on your glowing skin. He was trying to make you beg for him, but you were determined to have the upper hand tonight, for now anyway.

“Baby...c’mon. You’re not even playing fair right now” he muttered in a hoarse voice.

“What? I’m just talking about the gala…” you bantered, giving him a sultry look as you pressed your foot against his hard on. You could feel his body shudder against the pressure, his cock twitching even more. “Why are you so distracted, babe?” He squeezed your leg tighter, letting out a shaky breath. “Y/N...we need to leave. Right now.” You grinned, pushing him further. “But we haven’t finished finalizing plans yet..” You applied more pressure, watching him suck in a breath. “We can’t leave out all the details Trent.”

“Baby, please,” he whispered. His hand was trembling as he stroked the skin below the hem of your dress. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but alas, you wanted to push him farther one more time. “We need to get out of here before I lose my mind in front of all these people.” You laughed, leaning forward to stand up. “Fine..but you need to help me first.” He gave you a confused look until you lifted your leg back on his lap. “Put my heel back on, pretty please?” you said innocently, yet the look you were giving him was anything but. He swallowed hard as his gaze traveled up your leg. If there wasn’t anyone else in the restaurant, he probably would’ve bent you over the table right then. Your dress slid just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the lace thong you were wearing, and it nearly did him in. His hands were shaking as he slid the heel back on your foot. He placed a kiss on your ankle, muttering something about how you were going to pay for it later. You grinned, standing up straighter to smooth your dress out. “What was that babe? Did you say something?” He shook his head, standing up quickly and taking your hand in his. “Let’s go Y/N. Now.”

As soon as Trent unlocked the door you barely had a chance to step inside before his hands were all over you. “You’re a fucking tease,” he growled. He lifted you up, flinging you over his shoulder. “Trent! Put me down!!” you squealed, lightly hitting his back. “Be quiet” he ordered, smacking your ass. The sting of it sent a thrill straight between your legs. “I’m gonna give you something to really scream about.” You made a mental note to tease him more often, this was hot. He was a man on a mission as he carried you up the stairs, you were getting wetter by the second. Once he finally tossed you on the bed, you were pretty sure your thong was soaked. “You were so bad tonight.” he said, sliding his hands down your body to grab the hem of your dress. “Rubbing your foot against me under the table like that..trying to make me lose my mind in front of everybody.” You bit your lip feeling him tug at your dress. You heard the sound of fabric ripping and you gasped. “Wh–”

“I’ll buy another one,” he interrupted, leaving you in nothing but the thong. You were about to say something sassy until his fingers hooked your thong and you heard another rip echo in the room. You were already arching against his hands as his eyes drank you in. “I’m in charge now” His fingers found your clit immediately, rubbing circles that had you bucking your hips. “Wanna be a good girl for me now, yeah?” You were a moaning mess already, head falling against the pillows trying to catch your breath. “Yes, yesss,” you pant, already close from how pent up you were. This was the first time the two of you were having sex in weeks, and your body was aching for him. He pinched one of your nipples between his fingers with his other hand, as his fingers sped up on your clit.

“T-Trent, baby.. I’m so close.”

“No,” he huffs, pulling his hand away and leaving you on the verge of sobbing. “Not until I tell you to.” Your breath hitched and you nodded quickly, spreading your legs wider for him. He wasted no time dipping his fingers back inside you, groaning from how wet you were. His thumb encircled your clit again, rubbing teasing circles to set you off. “Look at you, Y/N. Such a good girl.” You moaned loudly, rocking against his hand. “Mm..oh my god, yes.” He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting a different angle that made your back arch off the bed as a mewl escaped your lips. “Just like that, baby. You sound so fucking beautiful moaning for me.” His praise was setting off a flame within you, making you say things you didn’t even realize you were saying.

“Ooh, fuck. Do whatever you want to me, please,” you beg, grinding against his fingers. You were on the verge of an orgasm and he could tell; he applied a little more pressure to your clit and whispered in your ear. “Show me how much you love being my good girl. Cum on my fingers, baby. Give it to me.” You squeezed your eyes shut, curving your back as you moaned his name, waves of pleasure enveloping you as you fluttered around his fingers. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice filled with pride. “So fucking pretty when you cum.” Just as you were coming back to earth, he pulled his fingers out of you and lined his cock, pushing inside you in a smooth thrust.

“Fuck!” you both moan in unison, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He moved slow at first, trying to savour the moment, but then picked up the pace, gripping your hips. “You feel so fucking good. Goddamn, Y/N.” he grits out, thrusting into you harder. You were still sensitive but you wrapped your legs around him to pull him deeper. “Oh my god, Trent…”

“Yeah?” he groaned, fucking into you deeper. “You like that? I feel you squeezing me.”

“I love it,” you moan, dragging your nails down the skin on his back. “I missed your dick. I missed you. So. so. Much.”

He picked up the pace, thrusting into your g spot with every deep stroke. “Such a good girl for me now that I'm giving you what you want, huh? Just for me.” His praise made you moan louder, your body moving in tandem with his to match his rhythm. You whispered teasingly in his ear. “I love when you fuck me like this. You’re so good to me Trent.” He cursed under his breath, thrusting even harder and deeper from your seductive tone. “Keep talking to me, baby. I want to hear you,” he breathes while his hand slipped between your legs to massage your clit. “You’re gonna make me cum again,” you whimper, feeling the tension build inside you. “You fuck me soo good. Am I taking it good for you?”

“Ah, fuck,” he growls, thrusting into you erratically and moving faster on your clit. He didn’t answer your question, but you knew the answer already. “Cum for me baby. I wanna feel that pussy cum all over me.” Your second orgasm was so much more intense than the first. You were clawing his back, leaving love marks as you screamed his name. Trent was barely able to hold back anymore, and groaned into your ear while your pussy quivered around him. “I’m about to cum baby, where do you want it?” You could barely catch your breath, but his words reignited something sinfully wicked inside of you. “Inside me,” you beg in a shaky voice. “Please. I need you to fill me up.”

“Fuck..fuck..fuck” he groaned, burying himself deep inside your pussy. His cock pulsed as the ropes of cum spilled inside you. The warmth from his cum made you moan with satisfaction. Neither of you wanted to move off of each other after that, and it wasn’t like he was going to let you in the first place; The man had been entranced all night, and you were enjoying every second of it. He placed a soft kiss to your lips, “You did take it good for me, by the way. Such a good girl.” You giggled, still in a daze from your high. “I think you need to talk to me like that more often. That’s so sexy.”

After a couple of minutes of cuddling, you ran your hand across his chest. “So...Rêveur,” you said softly, glancing up at him

“Hm? What about it?”

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty for asking him while he was so riled up earlier. Right now was a much better time to ask since both of your heads were clearer. “Are you actually okay if I release it for the gala? I know I brought it up earlier but…” Trent’s hand slid to your back, tracing the curve of your spine. “Yeah, it’s fine baby. It’s for a good reason, I’m all for it. Plus, I can brag more about how good you make me smell.” You giggled, reaching up to give him a kiss. “Okay..let’s make it happen then.”

A brief silence fell over the room before Trent pulled you closer to him, nuzzling into your neck, like he was trying to butter you up. “So...how’s the assistant search going?” he asked, very carefully testing the waters.

You groaned, running your fingers over his hair. “It’s...going. I have some interviews tomorrow. So that means we can’t stay up all night.” He pretended to be annoyed as he squeezed your waist. “Baby, it’s been weeks though!” You laughed, shifting around to look at him. “You’re acting like you’re starving. We just finished.”

“Maybe I am,” he shot back. “One round is just a warm up.”

“Oh, hush!” you teased, rolling your eyes. “You’ll survive until tomorrow. I can’t be late, seriously this time.” He laughed, remembering the chaos from when both of you overslept after a long night of fun. Trent reached for his phone, setting multiple alarms to make sure you were up on time. “We’ll see how the morning goes..” he smirked, pulling you close. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight” you whispered, snuggling into him. The alarms tomorrow would surely wake you up, or maybe not, depending on how bold Trent was feeling when they went off.

The next morning, you tried to slip out of bed as the alarms blared in the background, but Trent’s hand tightened around you, pulling you into him. “Where you going?” he mumbled sleepily.

“I have to get ready..” you whispered.

“A couple more minutes…” he teased, kissing the back of your neck.

Of course you gave in. One thing led to another and your ‘quickie’ turned into a full blown session, leaving you scrambling to get dressed. Trent’s home looked a little different now. A lot of your things found their place right next to his. Your toothbrush was next to his, your skincare products were neatly placed on his bathroom counter, and your clothes were starting to take up half his closet. Unintentionally, you made his place yours–and he made your place, his. 

“I’m gonna be late!” you laughed, grabbing your bag. Trent stood in the living room, grinning from ear to ear with no regrets. “I woke you up on time though. You’re welcome,” he said, looking amused and very proud of himself. You shot him a playful glare before giving him a kiss goodbye and heading out the door.

Camille was already lounging behind the counter with a smirk on her face when you got to Les Notes d’Amour. “You have a little glow going on today....Trent I’m guessing?? You’re cutting it kinda close babe.”

“Shut up Camille! I’m here now, okay?”

“Barely.” Camille giggled. 

You dropped your bag on the counter, trying to compose yourself. You looked pretty put together, but Camille could read you like a book. “I was multitasking.”

“Right..is that what it’s called now?” she shot back, bursting into laughter. “Anyway, are we ready for this madness? You said there were tons of applications, yeah?” You sighed, settling into a chair as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for the day. “Yeah, but I narrowed it down to four. I just hope they’re not all weird.” Camille grinned, always down for some fun. “There’s always one. Let’s just hope they’re entertaining.”

The first candidate carried themselves like they were about to conduct a TED Talk. He didn't waste any time before launching into an introduction that sounded like a dissertation for a doctorate degree. “Fragrance is an intricate balance of compounds and molecular distillation processes. When properly executed, it can maximize olfactory efficiency over time.”

What the fuck is he going on about? 

Both you and Camille looked at each other, confusion etched on your faces. You nodded, pretending like you understood whatever the hell he was saying. “Sooo, what’s your experience with retail?” you asked, attempting to steer the convo back to something more understandable. “Well, I have a passion for molecular evaporation techniques. Retail is secondary,” the guy continued, unphased. “You see, when certain notes are distilled just right…” You suppressed your laughter throughout the rest of the interview, eventually ending the conversation. As soon as the door closed, Camille scrunched her face up, “What the hell was that??”

Candidate two walked in with crystal necklaces and smelled strongly of patchouli. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes to feel the energy of the space.

“This place has such an unbalanced aura, but I can fix that.”

Camille eyed her with intrigue. “I’m curious to know how you’re going to do that?”

The candidate pulled out a rose quartz crystal, holding it up to the light. “I’ll align the energy of all the fragrances to my chakras. It’s all about cleansing the vibes in here. Very dark energy in this place.” You looked around confused. What is a chakra? You didn’t know how to respond, so you asked her about her experience in retail.

“My energy speaks for itself” she replied, setting the crystal on the table.

Camille giggled, “Does your energy know how to answer phones and emails?” The candidate gave Camille a sweet smile, not answering the question at all. “It’s all a part of a bigger cosmic picture. You’ll see soon enough.”

Umm, okay girl, anyway...

“Of course I picked all the weird people”, you told Camille as the chakra girl left.

The bell above the door chimed when the next candidate walked in: Ember.

She was beautifully striking with vibrant red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She was tall like a Willow tree; she definitely could’ve just stepped off a NYFW runway. She wore a black turtleneck, paired with tailored trousers..very sleek and minimalist. She had a confident smile that immediately drew you in when she gave you a firm handshake. 

Finally, someone professional.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Ember began with a composed voice. “I’ve seen a lot of your work over the years. Love your use of tuberose in your collections.” You blinked, surprised. Not many people knew about that detail unless they followed your work closely. It was an interesting observation, but she had probably just done her research before the interview to impress you. The interview continued smoothly, Ember talked about her experience handling high-end clients, managing orders, and had a knowledgeable demeanour. But something about how she navigated conversations so easily gave you an odd vibe. It wasn’t enough to question her, but it was strange.

When she left, you glanced at Camille. “What do you think?” Camille shrugged, “She’s good. Knows her stuff.”

The last candidate was Tara. She was the complete opposite of Ember in appearance, but was eye-catching in her own way. She had a bubbly personality, was short, and had curly black hair that framed her face. She wore oversized frames that made her look a bit whimsical, as if she had just come out of a cartoony fairytale. Her outfit was playful, yet chic. She wore patterned trousers with a tucked in blouse, paired with trendy boots. She was full of energy.

“Hiii! So excited to be here!” Tara said enthusiastically, but not too loud. You smiled at her energy, but Camille leaned back in her chair, intrigued by the shift in energy. The moment Tara sat down, she started talking about how much she loved perfume. “I’ve been obsessed with fragrances since I was a kid. My mum used to take me to try samples all the time!” She didn’t have the same polished demeanour as Ember, but her enthusiasm was refreshing and felt genuine. She said she was still in uni, but wanted to gain more experience. Camille glanced over at you, trying to feel out the vibe. “So, how do you balance uni and everything? Must be chaotic.” Tara nodded, “It is but I thrive on chaos.” She pushed her glasses up, grinning playfully. “My love for perfume keeps me sane..and footie.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Footie??”

“Oh yeah! Massive Liverpool fan,” she said casually. “Always in red!”

Oh, if only you knew.

You smiled, relaxing a little. “Same…” Tara quickly moved on to talk about her top perfumes, and how she loved the creativity of fragrance making. You felt like she could fit in well, especially with her easy-going vibe. You were thankful she didn't mention anything about Trent. Camille’s voice broke you out from your thoughts and you realized you spaced out after Tara left. “Footie, huh? Maybe she wants your man,” Camille teased. You shook your head quickly. “Eh, doubt it. She’s just excited about the club, I think. Can’t blame her, they’re great.”

“Well…whoever you hire. You should make them sign an NDA.”

“Huh? For an assistant?? That’s a bit much, no?” you frowned, confused on why she would recommend something like that. It’s not like they were going to be around Trent often.

Camille shrugged, her tone casual as she glanced back at the CVs on the table. “Maybe. But now that you and Trent are more public..it really might not be a bad idea. People talk.” You nodded, but you weren’t fully convinced. “I guess...but I don’t really see the point right now. They probably won’t even be around him.” Camille knew you were stubborn as a mule, and didn’t push it any further. You signed off on the paperwork to hire Ember full-time, and Tara part-time, while Camille continued looking at both their CVs. Her eyes lingered on the part of Tara’s that mentioned she was studying public relations in uni.

“PR, huh?” Camille muttered under her breath, too quiet for you to catch.

When you made it back to Trent's house, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The interviews drained you more than you expected. You sank into the couch, letting out a long sigh. Trent's aftershave lingered in the air, it was a scent you had grown accustomed to smelling all the time, and it made your heart warm every time. Trent was still at training, so you decided to binge one of the best Love Island seasons while you waited for him.

When Trent got back home, he wandered to the living room to find you sprawled out on the couch half way into a season of Love Island. You looked up at him, grinning. “Hi baby! Come watch, you have to see this recoupling.” He reluctantly sat down, acting like he didn’t care. “I don’t know how you watch this shit.” It didn’t take long for him to get sucked into the drama, though. Callum had just come back from Casa Amor with a new girl. Gemma stayed loyal the whole time and looked like she was either going to cry or kill him. Both??

“Nah! No way he did that to her!” Trent blurted out, forgetting he wasn’t supposed to care. His eyes were glued to the screen as his head lay in your lap. You stifled a laugh, glancing down at him in amusement. “Oh, all of a sudden you care now?”

“I don’t care,” he muttered, eyes still fully on the screen. “She’s gutted though.” You burst out laughing, “Trent, why are you into this more than I am?”

“Shut up…”

Gemma turned away, refusing to look at Callum. Trent’s jaw dropped. “Nah he’s finished. She’s not going to stay, right? You already saw this one???” You shrugged, trying to keep the suspense, “Keep watching and see.” A few minutes passed and the entire villa was in shambles. People were crying, yelling, storming off. It was hilariously chaotic. Trent shook his head, not believing what he was watching. “Shit’s scripted. Why do you watch this?”

“Because it's hilarious,” you replied. “The drama is better when you’re not a part of it.”

“Yeah..but would you couple up with me if we were on the show?” Trent asked playfully. You looked at him, pretending to think about it. “I dunno. You might come back with a girl like Callum.”

“Nah! Never!”

You shrugged, running your hands over his hair. “Sorry, baby.. but I would have to couple up with someone else.” You said it so seriously that Trent almost believed you before you both burst out laughing. 

“I’d choose you every time, Y/N..” he said, sitting up and leaning in closer. “I’m not just saying that either. I mean it. Every. Single. Time.” Your heart was almost beating out of your chest, the teasing from earlier disappearing completely. “You really mean that?”

He nodded, his gaze faltering to your lips before he pulled you in for a tender kiss. “Never been more sure.” Trent’s eyes locked on yours after the kiss, and without any hesitation, he said it. Perfectly clear, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you.”

So simple and matter-of-fact. It hit you like a ton of bricks.

You blinked, mostly out of shock as the realization washed over you. He did say it. He said it before, too. The night when he fell asleep on the phone. You weren’t imagining things. He was in love with you.

He loves me. Oh my god. This is real. Like we’re in it now. This is serious.

Your thoughts tumbled over themselves. Trying to make sense of the whirlwind the last couple of months had been. Your body honestly didn’t know how to react. Part of you wanted to kiss him, the other part of you wanted to tell him to shut up, another part of you wanted to get up and run away, your conscience wanted to tell him you loved him back. The stakes were even higher now.

“Y/N??” Trent’s voice pulled you out of your head. He noticed how quiet you were. You looked up at him, eyes wide and glassy, unsure of what to say exactly. He didn’t look worried at all, though. He wasn’t second guessing his words. He was just watching you, observing and waiting patiently with reassurance in his expression.

“I..” you started, but your voice faltered. What the hell were you supposed to say? Did you love him or not? 

I don't know if I'm ready for this. But I think I love him too? Ugh, everything's going so fast.

Everything was moving too quickly in your mind and somehow.. still not fast enough. You couldn’t deny the way his words made your heart swell, but you also didn’t feel ready yet. Maybe it was self-sabotage? Or maybe you were just in shock?? You swallowed hard, trying to blink back the tears pooling in your eyes. You weren’t sad, but everything felt extremely overwhelming.

How is he so sure?

Trent didn’t push you, though. He smiled, brushing his thumb over your lips. “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I just wanted you to know.” You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. He loved you.

It was terrifying, exhilarating, and intoxicating all at the same time.

Just as you were trying to make sense of everything, a lurking, whispering voice came creeping in from the corners of your mind, like when the moon crosses the sun.

What if fate was never on your side? The sun can't shine forever, right? The tension from thunder and lightning only happens when it's about to rain.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! i appreciate each and every one of you that take the time to read this. lmk what you think

[1arkspur-aconitum]

DISRUPTIVE (s.r.)

IN WHICH: Juniper Bishop sneaks into the back of one of Spencer’s lectures and pretends to be a student, nearly getting both of them in serious trouble.

PAIRING: Spencer Reid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: fluff, fade-to-black smut

CONTENT: established relationship, relentless teasing, hints at smut towards the end, similarly genius character, first person so no use of y/n, 13x16 vibes

WORD COUNT: 10k…

‘—YOU CAN STAY IN BED, you know. I won’t be long.’

The bed sheets are cool across my bare skin, but Spencer’s body is warm. Dazed by sleep, I opt for warmth. Going purely by the sound of his voice, I latch my arms around his shoulders and try to haul him back into the pillowy softness of our bed. Strands of his hair tickle my arms but my attempt spectacularly fails. Whilst my boyfriend does topple a little bit, he also succeeds in sticking a hand out to support himself.

‘June—seriously, darling, I have to go now.’ Spencer chuckles, an exhalation of breath against the shell of my ear. I moan sleepily. Pressing myself to him as best I can, I force my eyes to blink open.

Spencer is kneeling over me and I’m surprised to see that he is not naked—in fact, Spencer Reid has already put his suit trousers on, his favourite white shirt, and his lenses. His face splits into a wide grin when he sees my brow furrow, taking in the unexpected appearance. It’s our day off. Normally we spend our day off nude and lounging around the house. In fact, I’m insulted that he isn’t.

‘What are you doing?’ I grumble, pushing a few stray strands of his hair out of his face as he gazes down at me. The sheets separating us bother me. ‘Why aren’t you naked?’

This earns me a laugh. ‘I told you last night, I have to go to the Academy, I have a lecture.’

Oh, yeah. That’s right. I have a vague Morpheus-marred memory of Spencer mentioning something about being asked to lecture whilst I dozed on the sofa to some documentary about bugs, but I’m pretty sure I chose to not listen. Alas, my tactic of hiding from reality has never been very effective. Especially when it comes to Spencer Reid, the man who remembers literally everything.

I pout, idly scratching my nails across his skull. Spencer’s eyes flutter shut briefly, head leaning into the palms of my hands. Perhaps if I do this enough he will fall back asleep and our day of naked relaxation can continue on as planned. Spencer hums deeply, the sound reverberating through the peaceful quiet of our bedroom. The blinds are still drawn, but the dusty sun slips its fingers around the edge of it, casting sharp lines of light across the duvet.

‘Juniper.’ Spencer says, with a slight moan as he pulls his head back. My hands drop from his hair. He chuckles down at me, big brown eyes impossibly soft. ‘Seriously. The lecture starts in an hour and I have to prepare.’

‘Do you have to go?’ I say, with as much whine as I can muster. He does have to go, it’s not like the lecture will teach itself, but a girl can dream. In an ideal world, Spencer would have already gotten a call from the head of his department to say that he can spend the day with his girlfriend, but he wouldn’t have already gotten nearly fully dressed.

‘Yes, darling,’ Spencer leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. His lips are soft, warm, but the kiss is way too short. ‘I do. I won’t be long, okay? If you roll over now, you’ll probably still be asleep by the time I get back.’

‘You know I don’t like sleeping without you.’ I complain, still pouting, but resigning myself to my terrible fate. Spencer sighs but he’s still smiling. He always does this–pretends to get annoyed with my morning antics, but really, he loves it. Why else would he have woken me up in the first place?

‘I know.’ He kisses my forehead again. ‘I’ll be back before you know it. I love you.’

Spencer goes to move away, off of the bed, but a groan pulls him back. I proffer him my chin, and he swiftly presses a kiss against my lips. It, like the forehead kiss, is way too short. My boyfriend clambers off of the bed and heads towards the wardrobe. Sleepily rolling onto my side, I watch him don his favourite sweater vest and brown blazer through half-open eyes. It doesn’t take him long at all. The only sounds are the soft exhalation of my breathing and the rustle of his clothes.

When he’s dressed and ready, he briefly returns to the side of the bed–his hand is warm across my hair, lips gracing across my cheekbone���before the bedroom door clicks shut. The sounds of him pouring himself a coffee are far off, as if through water. With a sigh, I roll over and bury my face into the pillow that still smells like him.

The front door closes (and locks) barely five minutes later. I am suddenly left in the suffocating quiet of the dark bedroom, wrapped in cold sheets that are incomparable to my lover’s arms, and I feel bereft. This was not how I had planned to spend this morning.

I swear, I do my best to try and fall back asleep. I toss and turn to get myself comfortable. Take deep, steady, box-breaths. Tense my muscles and relax them one by one. Fuck, I even count a varying array of barnyard animals–sheep, cows, donkeys–but none of them help. Unfortunately, it seems as if I am well and truly awake. Awake and bored as hell.

When I look at the clock, only fifteen minutes have passed since Spencer left.

‘Fucking stupid lectures.’ I plaster a frown onto my face as I clamber out of bed, letting my bare feet sink into the soft carpet. The room is freezing so I grab one of Spencer’s discarded Cal-Tech shirts. The cotton slips over my bare skin. ‘Stupid. Why today?’

I pad into the living room to make myself a coffee. Whilst I’m awake, I may as well caffeinate myself. Spencer has left out my favourite mug already for me–the bright yellow Kiss the Librarian mug I’ve had for years–and the coffee pot has been topped up. As always. Pouring myself a steaming cup, I start to meander around our living space.

Evidence of our Chinese takeaway litter the coffee table. The cardboard boxes are partially open, chopsticks protruding from mine, Spencer’s neatly closed. All of the spring rolls were demolished last night, but the tub with my veggie chow mein has mysteriously vanished–probably into the fridge. The sofa is a mess of blankets, Spencer’s plaid shirt tossed casually over the arm. A stack of books teeters precariously on the side table. Spencer insists on having a grace period between stack and shelf, though I think it’s so he can look at his purchases before filing them away.

I really had tried to stay awake last night but David Attenborough always lulls me into some strange stupor. Somehow Spencer managed to keep himself alert throughout the entire documentary, occasionally nudging me when something interesting came up. His near-insatiable desire to learn has always been voracious, even when it’s about the mating habits of dung-beetles. It’s the reason why I love him so much. He has such passion it’s hard not to be passionate with him.

As I finish the dregs of my coffee, my eye finds its way to the clock. An idea enters my mind.

Safe to say, I wouldn’t be bored any more…

The FBI Academy is barely a ten minute drive on Maple, her engine rumbling securely underneath me. Considering the Academy (and most of Quantico) is deep within Lunga Park, I only have to zip through the main traffic in the centre of town before the wide, open road through the forest opens up for me. Maple rips through the air, my body hunched over her fuel tank. There is nothing more freeing than opening up that throttle. God, I need to bike more.

I arrive at the Academy car park with about five minutes to spare, hurriedly shrugging out of my leather riding suit. The cool morning air nips at my exposed skin as I struggle with the stubborn zipper, drawing curious glances from a few passing students. Their eyes linger on my battle with the brown material, but I don’t have time for explanations or small talk. Not when time is ticking.

Yanking my bag out of Maple’s panniers, I swiftly shove the suit and helmet back in its place, double checking that everything is secure. Taking a deep, steady breath, I begin to jog gently after the students. My FBI badge allows me access to the Academy and before long, I am navigating familiar hallways. Muscle memory truly is a spectacular thing–it’s been years since I’ve been in this part of the Academy, and yet I know exactly where to go.

My heart races with a mixture of anticipation and nervous energy the closer I get to the lecture hall. Each measured step brings a soft tap of my pleated skirt against my bare thighs, a rhythmic counterbalance to the quickness of my breathing. Spencer’s favourite green sweater, hastily tucked into the hem of my skirt, provides a comforting familiarity. It smells like his cologne. I’ve yanked the collar of my shirt out over the crewneck of the jumper, adding a touch of polish to my hastily (yet calculatedly) crafted outfit. Paired with my favourite brown boots and a messy ponytail, I’m pretty confident I will blend seamlessly with the rest of the students. A mischievous smile finds its way to my lips as I imagine Spencer’s reaction.

Hopefully he won’t spot me right away and ruin my fun.

I slow down when I reach the right corridor, keeping an eye on the brass numbers hammered into the doors. Stopping outside the correct one, I can hear my pulse thumping through my ears. I take a deep breath. I take a moment to compose myself before peeking through the small glass window in the door. The room is already filled with students arranged on tiered seating. Their attention is focused downwards, to a raised platform at the front of the room. There, commanding the space, is Spencer.

His back is to the door as he scribbles notes on the whiteboard. As usual, his handwriting is near illegible, a messy mixture of capitals and lower cases. For a genius, you’d think he would care more about the grammatical errors, but I suppose even perfect people have to have flaws. From the flow of his words and the attentive posture of 95% of the students, it’s clear that the lecture is already in full swing.

Balls. I am later than I’d hoped.

Steeling myself, I grasp the door handle, easing it open with painstaking care. As quietly as physically possible, I slip through the narrow opening, my movements slow and deliberate. The click of the door closing is thankfully masked by Spencer’s voice. It fills the room with an authority I have learnt to love and a passion I have always adored. He’s deep in a discussion about the differences between a stressor and a trigger, his words punctuated by the occasional squeak of his whiteboard pen.

Within seconds of being inside the room, I have identified the perfect inconspicuous spot. There, in the furthest corner of the back row, a seat is mostly marred by shadows. With a stealth only possible after years of field experience, I make my way to the seat, settling as quietly as possible. Spencer has yet to turn around. Mission successful.

Crossing my legs, I let my bag settle at my feet, leaning forwards to observe my brilliant boyfriend in his element. A warmth blooms in my chest as I listen to him talk so passionately about the topic, a mixture of pride, adoration, and just a hint of mischievous anticipation for the moment he finally clocks me.

I reach into my bag just as he turns around. My heart stutters against my ribcage.

I freeze, hoping the shadows will be enough to hide me. Spencer, however, barely breaks stride in his lecture. He scans the room once, methodically sweeping over his enraptured audience. I hold my breath as his gaze passes near my hiding spot, but to my relief, he doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Spencer continues pacing, circling around the edge of his desk as he continues his impassioned speech. His hands move as animatedly as ever, punctuating key points with a flourish, with gestures that draw everyone’s attention.

That familiar small smile–the one I have affectionately dubbed the ‘I’m being a nerd’ smile–plays out on the corners of his lips, a testament to how much he enjoys teaching. It’s wonderful to see him smile. Ever since he left the prison, it’s been harder to coax it out of him.

As the fear of being spotted abates, I allow myself to relax. As quietly as possible, I rummage around in my bag, searching for a specific thing. With a triumphant–yet silent–‘aha’, I retrieve my favourite treat. A cherry flavoured lollipop about the size of a tin of Vaseline. I nearly always have one in my bag for emergencies.

Unwrapping it carefully to avoid any telltale crinkling sounds, I pop the lollipop into my mouth. The burst of artificial cherry flavour makes me salivate. A wave of childish glee washes over me as I continue to suck on the lollipop, watching Spencer pace back and forth. I wonder if he can hear the faint pop as I roll the treat around my mouth. The sticky sweetness is a stark contrast to the sterile lecture hall air. It’s a small, miniscule act of rebellion. A secret pleasure I am indulging in right under his nose. The longer Spencer remains oblivious to me, the more the thrill increases. I am playing a game with him and for now, I am winning.

Spencer is currently gesticulating about the psychological impacts of prolonged stress on an Unsub’s decision-making process, which is actually very interesting. He’s so engrossed in it that it’s hard not to pay attention to him. There is something about Spencer actually lecturing that is really hot. It might be the authority and power he holds over the room, or the endearing way he tries to keep everyone engaged, or it might simply be that the collar of his shirt is undone and I can see the smooth planes of his throat. Either way, I can’t drag my eyes off of him.

It is only when he poses a question to the whole class that I remember this lecture is not for my benefit alone.

Spencer’s question about undue stress and sleep patterns hangs in the air and I find myself already formulating an answer. My fingers itch to be raised, but I catch myself. I’m not supposed to be a participant; I’m meant to be invisible. Suppressing a chuckle, I sink further into my uncomfortable lecture seat, savouring the sweet irony of my predicament–and the sweetness of my lollipop.

A few hands shoot up amongst the congregation before me, one of them even vibrating with excitement, but Spencer’s gaze sweeps over them. There’s a familiar hint of amusement in his eye, the one that I always see before he tackles me to the bed. The look that tells me he knows he’s in control of the situation. He’s scouring the faces carefully, starting at the front row and skipping over those who already have their hands up.

When Dr. Spencer Reid finally spots me, his entire demeanour shifts. His usually water-fluid movements come to an abrupt halt, as if someone has just paused a lecture video or stalled a car. Those warm, intelligent brown eyes of his lock onto mine, widening slightly as recognition ploughs into him. His eyebrows lift in a momentary micro-expression of surprise, a tell-tale sign that I have genuinely caught him off guard.

Mission complete.

His beautiful mouth parts and I catch a glimpse of teeth, the hint of a surprised intake of breath. The corners of his lips twitch, fighting between maintaining his professional composure and breaking into a smile. I cannot help but grin back, lollipop nestled in my cheek. My heart continues to beat a dangerous rhythm against my ribcage as I wait to see what he does, how he recovers. The air between us crackles with unspoken words, a silent exchange that speaks volumes in the midst of a crowded lecture hall.

For a brief moment, time seems to stand still. The rest of the room fades away, leaving just me and my boyfriend, caught in this unexpected moment of connection. I can almost hear the gears turning in that beautiful mind of his, no doubt already formulating theories as to why I am there. He correctly assumes that because I didn’t interrupt the lecture, it is not for official business.

Then, it’s over.

Spencer looks away. Turns to someone with their hand up and continues on with his lecture. As if I wasn’t even there. If it wasn’t for the frequent amused glances he sends up my way, I would think he was upset that I crashed his lecture.

The lecture continues, heading towards it’s close, and I find myself increasingly engrossed. Not just in Spencer’s words, but in the subtle dance of our secret interactions. Every time he looks at me, my skin heats, as if I’m seventeen and in love again. I cannot help but wonder what will happen when he finishes the lecture, and how he plans to address it. If he scolds me, or tells me he wants me to come to all of his lectures. Admittedly, both sound appealing.

It’s clear this game of cat and mouse is affecting him too–the way he subtly shifts his weight towards me, lingering more on my side of the lecture theatre than the other, the slight tremor in his voice as he continues to ask questions to the students. It’s as if he’s trying to reconcile the professor with the loving boyfriend, and the conflict is absolutely adorable.

As the lecture reaches a natural stopping point, I find myself leaning forward. The lollipop is significantly smaller on the pit of my tongue, but no less flavourful. There’s something about the way Spencer presents his desire to share knowledge that is incredibly alluring. I can’t help but feel a certain smugness that I am the one who gets to see him like this every single day, get to see him at his most vulnerable. His most authentic.

‘You’re probably gonna want to write this down,’ Spencer announces, gesturing towards someone in the mid rows. When he continues to talk, he slips his hands into his pockets in a movement that really shouldn’t be sexy, but totally is. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you guys this, but I’m definitely putting this on the final.’

‘I’m…I’m only auditing this class.’ A young female voice snaps me out of daydreaming about Spencer’s hands, and I shift in my seat to get a better look. Admittedly, I can only see the back of her head, but her long brown hair is pretty. She tucks it behind her ear as she ducks her head to Spencer. I can practically hear the broad smile on her face.

Spencer frowns slightly. ‘Is anyone else auditing this class?’

To my absolute glee, approximately fifteen more hands shoot up in response to Spencer’s question. As I scan the room, I notice a striking pattern–all of these raised hands belong to young women. The realisation hits me like a wave of mirth, and I have to clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle. Most of these ‘auditing’ students don’t even have the pretence of a notebook in front of them for notes. One particularly enraptured girl has her chin propped on her hand, her eyes fixed on Spencer with a vacant, faraway look that speaks volumes.

You don’t have to be a profiler to realise that these young women are not here for the intricacies of criminal psychology, nor the nuances of prolonged stress. No, their motivations are far more…aesthetic in nature. They–like me, I suppose–are here to bask in the presence of Dr. Spencer Reid, to drink in his every word and movement like fine wine. It is a testament to Spencer’s obliviousness to his own appeal that he doesn’t seem to grasp the situation.

He has his adorably confused expression as he surveys the room, a clear indicator that he has no idea the effect a handsome lecturer can have on students.

I force myself to continue sucking on my lollipop to stop the laughter. This is absurd. My brilliant, gorgeous, genius of a boyfriend is completely oblivious to the small fan club he has inadvertently created. These girls are fawning over him. Pride shoots through me, quickly chased by unwarranted jealousy. Yes, I will be the first person to say that Spencer is one of the most attractive people I have ever laid eyes on, but these girls only see that. They have no idea the depths of his intellect, his kindness, the small quirks that make him Spencer. They’re captivated by the surface, whilst I have the luck and privilege of knowing (and loving) him as a whole.

‘Okay.’ Spencer says, obviously disarmed, and quickly checks his watch. ‘Unfortunately, that is all the time we have for today. Thank you, guys.’

The class erupts into a chorus of disappointed groans, a few of the girls even going so far as to plead with Spencer for more time. It’s almost comical how they hang onto his every word, as if he were some kind of famous rock star rather than FBI profiler. The smile I have had on my face since the auditing question only grows–I can’t blame them, I mean, I was no better when I first met him. Spencer has that effect on people.

Students begin to file out of the lecture hall. I slowly clamber to my feet, slinging my bag over my shoulder, and twisting my lollipop. It clacks against my teeth. I watch, amused, as the girls who raised their hand start to form a vague queue to his desk. Spencer has been surrounded. When it becomes evident that they’re not going to disperse any time soon, I make my way down the tiered seating to join them.

I become a silent observer in the sea of admirers, the girls as jittery and nervous as I am. When I reach the edge of the group, I tuck myself in amongst them, remembering how it felt to be at college and drunk on the idea of impossible love. With my head ducked down, I angle an ear to listen.

‘Dr. Reid, your lecture was amazing,’ one of the girls gushes, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. She’s on the raised platform with a couple of cronies, dressed in some very short shorts and a jacket. ‘I don’t think I have ever been so captivated by a topic before.’

Spencer chuckles, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. ‘Thank you. I’m glad you found it interesting.’

‘Interesting?’ Another girl chimes in, her eyes fixed on Spencer with an intensity that borders on predatory. ‘It was more than interesting–in fact, some might call it inspiring.’

I bite back a laugh, the lollipop nearly falling from my mouth. These girls are laying it on thick and my poor Spencer seems utterly bewildered by the attention. He spares a brief glance back up to where I was sitting and I’m slightly pleased to see a glimmer of disappointment in his eye.

‘Do you think that’s a new suit?’ Someone whispers near me, and I turn to look.

‘I don’t think we’ve seen the blazer before.’ It’s a pair of girls, huddled together a bit further away from the dias. One has hair of white blonde, falling in sheets around her face. She’s all wide angles and broad lines, and is absolutely gorgeous. She’s clutching the arm of a smaller girl with frizzy brown hair and purple glasses, more diminutive but no less attractive. ‘Ugh, it suits him though, doesn’t it?’

‘I think anything suits him.’ Purple Glasses gushes back, angling her head at my boyfriend. I can’t deny the thrill of hearing these girls fawn over my boyfriend. It’s a validation of my own feelings, a reminder of just how lucky I am that Spencer Reid was in my bed barely three hours earlier. ‘I mean, look at him.’

‘I know,’ I say, matching their tone and sidling up a little closer. I make sure to keep my eyes wide and mimic their adoring expressions. They glance at me. Look me up and down. I feel as if I am lining up for the firing squad. Thankfully it doesn’t take them long before they relax again. I have been deemed just another student. ‘Isn’t he dreamy?’

‘He’s by far the sexiest of all the lecturers.’ Blondie opens her body language to me, accepts me into their circle. I can feel Spencer’s eyes boring into my head, but from the sounds of it, he is still being inundated with questions from the girls. ‘No wonder so many people are auditing.’

Purple Glasses nods enthusiastically.

‘I just love his hands.’ I purr, twisting my lollipop in my mouth. The other two send me ‘omg tell me about it’ expressions, so I do. ‘The veins, the fingers. It’s almost so distracting I can’t focus.’

‘I know. He doesn’t wear a wedding ring, so we don’t think he’s married.’ Purple Glasses ducks her head towards me and I glance over at Spencer. He sends a glare in my direction, but I simply brush it aside. Hard luck.

‘I think you’re right,’ I murmur, the three of us conspirators. We share a knowing look, revelling in our shared secret. Part of me feels guilty, but most of me is having way too much fun to stop. ‘I’m gonna keep auditing this class if he keeps looking so damn good.’

‘I’m totally with you on that one.’ Purple Glasses gushes.

Spencer has managed to deflect some of the girls, a few of them giggling as they head towards the exit, but he has been surrounded by some more. It’s as if they wait in packs to ask him questions, and from the few snippets that I catch, hardly any of them are even related to the topic at hand. He feels me looking and sends a glare in our direction. In the few seconds that our eyes lock, I quirk a mischievous eyebrow.

‘Oh my God, I think he’s looking at you.’ Blondie hisses, grabbing onto my arm and hiding behind me. I do my best not to laugh, pressing my lips together into a firm line around the stick of my sweet.

‘Do you think he heard us?’ Purple Glasses whispers with wide, fearful eyes. I manage to not roll my eyes–Spencer is hyper tuned into me right now, there’s no way he can’t make an educated guess as to what we’re talking about.

‘I don’t know,’ I say, trying to keep the amusement from my voice and failing. I risk a glance at Spencer and am rewarded with a pointed glare. Apparently he’s not a massive fan of me pretending to be a student. ‘He probably thinks we’re being weird.’

‘We are being weird.’ Blondie replies, but there is no malice in her voice. In fact, she gives my arm a reassuring squeeze and a smile.

‘I don’t care.’ Purple Glasses shrugs. ‘He’s hot.’

‘So hot.’

It is at this exact moment that Spencer, evidently reaching the limits of his patience, decides that he has had enough. With a deliberate and resounding clearing of his throat that startles me and causes the flock of girls to scatter a little, he strategically manoeuvres himself. By putting the desk between himself and the persistent gaggle of admirers, Spencer creates a physical barrier that subtly but effectively identifies his need for space. His body language shifts, and when he speaks next, he addresses the group as a whole.

‘I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to answer any more questions at this time,’ he announces, tone firm but not unkind. His words are met with a chorus of disappointed groans from those still eagerly awaiting their turn. Spencer’s gaze sweeps across the group, making eye contact with each student in turn, though I notice he pointedly avoids mine. ‘I’m going to have to ask you all to leave. I have work to do.’

The girls grumble amongst themselves, their disappointment as malleable as putty in the air. Amidst their reluctant shuffling, I dramatically clap a hand to my chest, a silent question for Spencer and Spencer alone. His ocher eyes meet mine. His expression is inscrutable but somehow speaks volumes. You don’t have to be a genius to work out what I am trying to say: do you want me to leave too?

His response, when it comes, is succinct and leaves very little to communication.

‘Not. You.’ He enunciates each word with the utmost care. When the girls look to see who he is talking to, there is no doubt. Spencer’s eyes do not stray from mine, effectively singling me out from the departing crowd.

‘Oh my God.’ Blondie whispers in my ear. Her voice is a trembling combination of excitement and disbelief as the rest of the girls start to file out. I do not miss the dirty glares a few of them send my way. Blondie’s fingers dig into my skin, her wide eyes flickering between me and Spencer. ‘Oh my God. I am so jealous.’

‘Good luck.’ Purple Glasses says as she walks past me, her face a visage of awe and envy. ‘He’s never asked someone to stay behind like that before.’

‘Count me the lucky one.’ I breathe, barely sparing them a glance—I only look back once to find Blondie giving me one last lingering look before she follows Purple Glasses. Another small pang of guilt spears through me for deceiving these girls, but the thrill of this little game has far outweighed any remorse I might have.

The door closes and it is finally just me and Spencer.

‘You are supposed to be in bed.’ Spencer breaks the silence, stepping around his desk and approaching the edge of the dais. I have to tilt my head back to look at him, but there’s no hiding the shit-eating grin I flash his way. I flutter my lashes like a schoolgirl and he fights back a smile. My boyfriend doesn’t seem that upset at me, which I will take as a win.

‘But, Dr. Reid, how could I miss your lecture? I need it for my college credit, you know.’ I tease, unable to stop myself. ‘It truly was inspiring, as some might say.’

I take his offered hand and Spencer helps me up onto the platform. He looks amused as he ghosts a kiss to the back of my knuckles.

‘You already have a degree—several, in fact.’ He reminds me, clearly attempting to sound exasperated and failing spectacularly.

‘So? Perhaps I felt like auditing.’ I pull away from him and sidle over to his desk. Leaning back against the oak, I make no attempt to hide how much I am relishing every moment. ‘Seems like a lot of people—I’m sorry, girls—had the same idea.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair and taking a step after me. His eyes trail down my outfit, to where the little pleated skirt has hitched itself around my arse. Spencer swallows.

‘I was bored.’ I shrug, crossing my legs at the ankles. Spencer’s eye dips lower. My grin widens. The lollipop is nearly finished so I crunch it between my teeth loudly. His eyes narrow playfully, now focused on where the stick twists between my pursed lips.

‘Bored?’ He repeats, raising an eyebrow and taking another step towards me. Spencer’s broad frame starts to dominate my view. ‘So you decided to crash my lecture, dressed like that, and pretend to be a student?’

‘Hey, at least I can still pass for early twenties.’

‘June.’

‘What can I say?’ I laugh, reaching out a free hand to thumb the lapel of his jacket. Tilting my head to the side, I allow myself free reign to check him out. He’s all fine lines and a firm frown, sharp angles that compliment each other so well. I could look at Spencer Reid all day and not get bored. The students are right—he is delicious. ‘I wanted to see you in action.’

‘You didn’t have to pretend for that.’ Spencer closes the distance between us, one of his hands brushing naughtily up my bare thigh.

‘In my defence, I didn’t come here with the intention of being a student.’ I grip his wrist and yank it away from where his fingers are now idly playing with the hem of my skirt. Spencer quirks an eyebrow. It’s rare for me to stop such an intimate touch. ‘It just kind of…happened.’

‘Mmhmm.’ He doesn’t believe me in the slightest.

‘Oh, come on, Spence.’ I straighten the collar of his shirt, still looking up at him from under my lashes. My fingers brush the column of his throat. ‘How could I resist? They were all fawning over you, I wanted to do that too.’

‘They weren’t fawning—’

‘Oh, Dr. Reid, please keep talking, I don’t think I’ve ever been so captivated,’ I pitch my voice up, making it soft and breathy, and he narrows his eyes again. ‘Oh, please, Dr. Reid, give me extra credit, I’d love to help you with your research.’

‘Juniper.’

‘Don’t ‘Juniper’ me.’ I grin, standing up so our chests are pressed together. Spencer peers down at me, wetting his lips with his tongue. He leans in. Before our lips meet, I dance away, putting the desk between us. Spencer scoffs in annoyance. ‘You can’t seriously tell me you don’t realise how fucking sexy you are when you’re being a nerd?’

‘I’m not a nerd.’

‘Yes you are, Spencer, we’ve covered this topic before.’

‘I’m teaching, it’s different.’

‘No, it’s not—you’re still a nerd, you’re just being paid for it.’ I lean against the desk, hands splayed wide. ‘Besides, I never said it was a bad thing. I love it when you’re a nerd—didn’t you hear what I said?’

‘They could have been interested in criminal psychology, you know.’ Spencer mirrors my movement, leaning on the opposite side of the desk. I can feel his warmth from here.

‘Only if criminal psychology is being taught by you.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Spencer insists, shaking his head. It makes his curls bounce.

‘Oh, come on, you remember what it was like to have a crush on a lecturer—fuck, I mean, I practically dominated Dr. Traver’s office hours when I was doing my PhD.’

‘I was fourteen in college.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ I put on my best innocent smile. ‘Well, then, what about your first crush? The rush of feelings, the ‘oh my god she looked at me!’ thing? The ‘oh, did she just touch me and if she did, did she mean it?’ thing?’

Spencer opens his mouth to reply, but pauses. His eyes glimmer with amusement. He straightens up, pushing his hands into his pocket, and angles his head. I feel as if I am a piece of artwork on a wall and Spencer is trying to decide if he likes me or not. My confidence wanes just a smidge. I push my shoulders back and try to bring the armour back over me, folding my arms across my chest.

‘I remember.’ Is all he offers, inclining his head. ‘I was like that with you.’

I’m touched. I bite my lip to stop my smile getting too wide. ‘You’re sweet. But you see what I mean, right?’

‘Alright, yes, fine.’ Spencer relents, rolling his eyes. He reaches out a hand and I move around the desk, a magnet pulled towards another. ‘Maybe they don’t have as much of an interest in the subject matter as I would hope.’

‘I mean, I can’t blame them.’ I let him take my hand, let him pull me closer to him. Spencer chuckles softly, hooking an arm around my waist and tucking me perfectly into the space between him and the desk. I slide my hands up underneath his blazer. ‘You really are the hottest lecturer I’ve seen.’

‘If this was a research study, you’d have an undeniable bias.’ Spencer pushes some of my hair away from my face, cold fingers trailing down the back of my neck. I shiver. He smirks.

‘So…’ I murmur into the small space between us. ‘Are you going to invite me to all of your lectures now? Or will I have to do this again?’

‘Don’t push your luck.’ Spencer retorts, voice firmer than it was before. ‘This could have gotten me into serious trouble.’

‘What?’ I recoil, frowning up at him. The idea that my (seemingly) harmless fun might cause Spencer a reprimand jars through me. There’s no way that this could cause him to not lecture any more, is there? It’s not like I’m not allowed to go see him teach, I’m part of the FBI for crying out loud.

‘Pretending to be a student? What if someone found out?’ Spencer laughs, using his hold on the nape of my neck to pull me back towards him.

‘You’re just being mean now.’

‘I suppose I’ll just have to keep a closer eye on you.’ Spencer teases me, using his thumb on the hinge of my jaw to angle my face up to him. My traitorous cheeks heat. He is so close he could kiss me at any second. ‘I will admit, seeing you in this little skirt was…quite distracting.’

‘Then it did its job.’ I breathe, wrapping my arms around his neck. My fingers curl in the long hairs I find there. I let a wicked grin spread across my face. ‘Who knew Dr Reid had such a thing for his students.’

‘Juniper.’ Spencer scolds, barking out a stunned laugh as he does so. ‘You can’t say things like that.’

‘I’m a profiler, Spencer, and some might argue a genius when I’m not standing next to you.’ I raise an eyebrow. Spencer purses his lips. He goes to protest but I keep talking. ‘I know how to read your brain. It’s not hard to see you’re hot for school girls.’

‘You are incorrigible.’ His grip on the back of my neck tightens, voice dropping to a husky, deep timbre that ripples through me.

‘And you are not denying it.’

‘Shush.’ Spencer scolds me, dropping a hand from the back of my neck and letting it rest on my hip. Fingers brush the pleats of my skirt. That also wasn’t a denying statement, and a thrill of pleasure at having worked that out pools in the pit of my stomach. He regards me carefully for a few seconds. ‘As nice as it is to see you here, I am kind of sad you’re not still in bed.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Mmhmm.’ Spencer brushes a kiss to my cheek so that his next words are murmured into my ear. ‘I was thinking of different ways I could wake you up.’

‘And what might those be?’

‘I suppose you’ll never know now.’

‘Spencer.’

‘I’m not the one who decided to crash my lecture and ruin the surprise.’ His nose brushes against mine, lips parted and so dangerously close. Spencer is clearly loving this. He’s got that annoyingly smug smirk on his face and it riles me up. The notion that Spencer had been daydreaming about potential wake-up calls only makes that feeling in the pit of my stomach grow.

‘Well, why don’t you show me anyway?’ I try. Hopefully the temptation will outweigh his desire to punish me for my antics.

‘Nuh-uh.’ Spencer shakes his head, even when my fingernails scrape his skull. ‘You’ve ruined it.’

‘I’ll even wear this skirt.’ I wheedle, rocking up onto my tiptoes so that his fingertips brush the warm backs of my thighs. His eyes flash. Darken. ‘Pretty please?’

‘God,’ he groans, so close that the breath I exhale is the one he breathes in. ‘You’ll be the death of me.’

‘Good.’ I purr, tugging on his curls. I’ve had enough waiting. Hopefully Spencer finally gets the hint.

And he does.

Spencer’s lips crash into mine with a hunger I wasn’t expecting. It speaks to longing, to pent up desire, almost as furious as the first time he ever kissed me. His hands grip the loose hem of my skirt as he pulls me closer to him, as if we are two clay bodies that he wants to become one. I can feel the heat of his skin, and that pool of tension in my stomach only serves to make me want more. He leans over me, forcing me to fold backwards—to stop us toppling over I have to latch on tightly.

Spencer groans against my mouth as he pushes me back into the desk. He’s so demanding, taking up every available thought I have until it is just me and him. I arch into him, desperate for more friction. The desk behind me creaks ominously, his hands sliding dangerously down my bare thighs. His body is a solid wall of heat. Spencer’s fingers dig into my flesh, and I wonder if he’s actually considering fucking me in a lecture hall, and if I’d let him.

Someone clears their throat.

The moment shatters.

Spencer jumps away from me as if burned, lips swollen and raw. I quickly brush my skirt down, flamed with embarrassment, trying to regain some semblance of composure. Our faces are flushed, our breathing heavy, as he turns to the door—there, standing with the look of a deer trapped in headlights, is Blondie.

Fuck.

Her jaw is slack, eyes essentially bugging out of her head as she takes in what must look very suspect. She looks between us, taking in the dishevelled state of our clothing, the heavy pants of our breath. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots and I physically witness her face march through a series of emotions—shock, disbelief, then crushing disappointment.

‘Oh,’ she breathes, her voice barely a whisper, but the quiet of the auditorium amplifies it. ‘I…I’m so sorry, I left—I didn’t—I’m sorry—’

Spencer, ever the gentleman, tries to salvage the situation. It would work better if his voice wasn’t so breathless. ‘It’s not—she’s not—’

‘It’s okay,’ I take a step forward, ignoring the way Spencer glares at me. I tug on the hem of my skirt, suddenly regretting wearing something so short. ‘It’s not what it looks like, I’m not actually a student here—’

‘Sure.’ Blondie says with as much sarcasm as she can muster. She lifts her backpack onto her shoulder, unable to look either of us in the eye. Her cheeks are a vibrant shade of crimson. The poor girl must be mortified, and I feel somewhat guilty as to putting her in this position. ‘I’m just gonna go. Sorry again.’

With one final lingering look of distrust, Blondie turns around and flees. In her haste, she leaves the door ajar, and we can hear the steady sprint of her footfalls all the way down the corridor.

I can’t help it. I burst into laughter. The tension has dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, and my laughter only increases when I see the mortification on Spencer’s face. He’s staring at the door like he’s seen a ghost, skin pallid and a motley shade of green. I double over, laughter filling the entire space.

‘It’s not funny.’ Spencer says, voice a harsh hiss. He storms towards me and grabs his bag from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. ‘This could seriously get me into trouble—why the hell did you pretend to be a student?’

‘I didn’t know you were gonna practically fuck me on your desk!’ I retort, annoyed that he’s blaming me for this situation. It’s not my fault.

‘I wasn’t going to—Jesus, June.’ Spencer spins in an agitated circle, brain whirring away as he tries to process what just happened. He evidently decides what to do as he grabs my wrist and drags me towards the door. ‘Come on, we need to see the head, right now.’

‘The head?’ I gape, stumbling after him as he unceremoniously hauls me up the stairs to the still-open door. ‘What—why?’

‘Because I am not getting fired over this.’ He replies, a few steps ahead of me as he yanks the door open and starts to march down the hallway. I can barely keep up. Spencer doesn’t seem to care if I stack it as he pulls me through the Academy’s corridors, past several bewildered students and curious faculty members.

I have no idea where we’re going, but I’m 99% sure I’m about to witness Spencer get a bollocking from his boss. He hasn’t said a word since we left the lecture theatre, and that irritation tugs at my chest. If he actually thinks this is because of me, then he’s got another thing coming—and I have no idea why we have to go to the head of his department just to fess up that we were about to have a quickie on his desk and someone walked in on us.

‘Hold up,’ I say, gasping for breath. I manage to dig my heels in and Spencer stops, turning around to face me. Stress tightens his cheeks, sets his mouth in a firm line. ‘I don’t understand. How is this my fault?’

‘It’s not your fault, June.’ Spencer says, trying to keep his voice down. We have reached a door with a brass plaque declaring it the office of ‘Head of Behavioural Science’. ‘But I have to explain the situation before that girl tells someone and this all gets blown out of proportion—if people so much as think I’m having relations with a student, my entire credibility goes down the drain.’

‘You make it sound like we were actively having sex on your desk.’ I grumble, folding my arms across my chest. I only realise how petulant this action is when Spencer’s lip twitches.

‘We weren’t far off, now, were we?’ Spencer retorts, but the bite has gone out of his voice. He looks down at me and his expression softens, the tight grip on my wrist loosening. ‘Look, I’m not angry at you—well, maybe a little bit—but I need to sort this out, okay?’

‘Alright.’ I say, following it up with a deep sigh. ‘But if you get fired, I want the record to state that it was your fault.’

Spencer rolls his eyes but there is no heat behind it. He knocks twice on the door, giving my hip a gentle squeeze before folding his hands in front of him. The picture of a demure professor, ready to supplicate at the foot of his superior. I do my best to copy his position, but I’m well aware that my lips still taste like Spencer and cherry lollipops. Just don’t make the situation worse, that’s all you have to do.

The door opens to reveal a tall, somewhat imposing man with a neatly trimmed brown beard and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose. Like most members of the FBI, he is dressed in a well cut black suit. The hem is a bit frayed at the sleeves, though, so probably an old faithful. He looks surprised to see us both outside.

‘Dr. Reid? Dr. Bishop?’ He greets us, stepping aside to usher us into his office. His voice is a deep baritone that commands respect—useful if you’re going to be the head of a department. He closes the door behind us with a click. ‘What can I do for you?’

I hover awkwardly as he makes his way around his desk and sits down, gesturing for us to take the two plush armchairs facing the desk. His walls are relatively bare, aside from a few paintings—Ophelia by John Millais dominates one side, mirrored with Samson and Delilah by Paul Rubens. Baroque and Renaissance, squaring off to each other. He has a miniature Venus statue on his desk, but not much else other than a file organiser and a small sign that reads ‘Dr. Jonathan Moores’ in a crisp gold font. The lamp behind him is switched on despite the sun streaming through the blinds.

‘Sir, I need to explain something.’ Spencer blurts out, ushering me into a seat. His words tumble over themselves in a rush. I have to bite back a laugh as I watch my boyfriend, the picture of composure out in the hall, devolve into a stuttering mess in front of his superior. If I wasn’t so nervous, I might have found it endearing.

‘Go on.’ Dr. Moores says, voice wary as he inspects the both of us.

Spencer proceeds to recount everything that happened—from the moment I walked into the lecture, mind, to the ‘misunderstanding’ with the students as he so kindly phrased it, to the very unfortunate situation with Blondie. Spencer chooses his words very carefully when he reaches that point, avoiding things like ‘making out’ to go with ‘a little peck’, obviously downplaying the situation. I choose not to say anything, instead watching Dr. Moores expression shift from serious concern to poorly concealed mild amusement. By the time Spencer has finished his sordid tale, I have a hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my laughter.

When Spencer finishes, Dr. Moores leans forward and steeples his fingers. He lets the silence stretch, practically torturing poor Spencer. My boyfriend is shuffling awkwardly in his seat, unable to sit still—in fact, he even cracks his neck as he waits, right leg jiggling incessantly.

‘Well.’ Dr. Moores finally speaks, clearing his throat and schooling his features into a look of bland disinterest. ‘I must say, Dr. Reid, I didn’t expect to be dealing with a case of mistaken identity and a potential HR violation on a Thursday morning.’

‘I know, sir, I’m sorry.’ Spencer hangs his head.

‘However, I appreciate your honesty, and thank you for coming to explain what happened.’ Dr. Moores relaxes his features and that, in turn, relaxes Spencer. Spencer rolls out his shoulders, shooting me a bashful look, and nods his head. ‘I must admit, this will make an interesting case study for my next lecture on personal dichotomies…’

Spencer’s eyes widen in horror. ‘Oh, no, sir, please don’t do that.’

‘Don’t worry, doctors.’ He chuckles, and all pretence of anger has dissipated from him. His laughter spurs me on. A giggle escapes from behind my hand and I fold my legs. Phew. We’re not in trouble. ‘I won’t actually do that, though I do trust this situation has taught you that you really shouldn’t be kissing on company time. I trust you’ll both be more careful in the future.’

‘Yes, sir, of course.’ I manage to say relatively straight faced, but I have to say the words to the desk rather than to the head of the department.

‘And Juniper, if you do decide to return to the Academy, perhaps I might be able to convince you to do a lecture or two yourself.’ Dr. Moores rises to his feet and we copy him. It’s clear that this conversation has finished. He leads us towards the door, looking at me for an answer.

‘I’d love to, sir.’ I grin over my shoulder at Spencer, who mouths ‘don’t even think about it’ as the head opens the door to his office. Spencer’s disapproving look vanishes as soon as the head turns around to look at us. I offer Dr. Moores my hand as I leave, ducking my head. ‘I’ll be in contact—and sorry, again, sir.’

‘It’s quite alright.’ He shakes my hand and gives Spencer’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as my boyfriend trails after me. ‘You’d be surprised how often that happens. Enjoy the rest of your day off.’

And with that, he closes the door behind us and the situation as a whole.

‘Well, it was definitely unexpected.’ I say. We’re back home now and finally able to discuss the situation—Spencer had sent me home on Maple first and followed behind in his car. He’s currently sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee and some chat show on the TV that he must have forgotten to change. ‘I didn’t expect it to go that way.’

‘You think?’ Spencer moves his blazer to let me sit down next to him, tucking my feet up underneath my skirt and cradling a steaming mug between my palms. There’s a glint in his eye that shows me he’s not mad. His arm falls across my lap in a casual display of intimacy.

‘I’m surprised he didn’t give us both detention.’ I tease him, bumping his shoulder gently with my own.

‘I think he was more amused than anything,’ Spencer hums, taking a sip of his coffee before smiling at me. ‘Though I have to admit, I was nervous.’

‘I know you were.’ I find my eye trailing down his collar. ‘I found the whole thing absolutely hilarious. But hey, at least you haven’t been fired.’

‘That is definitely a plus, though maybe next time, don’t pretend to be a student, darling.’

‘Well, maybe you should learn to control yourself around said students.’

‘Stop it.’

‘They already adore you, what are they gonna do when Blondie tells them you were practically balls deep in me on the fuckin’ lecture theatre desk.’ I chuckle to myself, taking another sip of my coffee. Spencer chokes beside me.

‘Oh my God June, your mouth is filthy.’ When I look at him, he’s gone bright red. Even after everything he has been through, everything we have faced together, he’s still embarrassed by a couple of naughty words strung together in a sentence. It’s so endearing that my chest hurts.

‘Seriously, Spencer? We’ve known each other for, what, ten years—’

‘Ten years, seven months, nine days.’

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever, and you’ve only just realised that?’

‘No, June, I’ve always known you to have a dirty mouth, but I think it’s weird when it’s relating to my students of all things. And I don’t think ‘adore’ is the right word.’

‘Alright.’ I lean back in my seat, lick my lips. With a careful, calculated gesture, I stretch my legs over his lap. His eyes drop to the stretch of skin just below the hem of the skirt, fingers brushing down to touch it. ‘What would you like me to say instead? That they’re desperate to shag you? That they love you?’

‘Stop. It.’ He grips my thigh tightly, giving me his patented exasperated look. I return it.

‘Why? It’s true.’ I shrug, leaning further back into the cushions and eyeing him over the rim of my mug. Spencer’s fingers trace idle, teasing patterns on my thigh, sending shivers down my spine. ‘I reckon half of them would become Unsubs to have you look at them the way you look at me.’

‘You are being ridiculous.’ Spencer insists, shaking his head, but the very tips of his ears have turned pink. A telltale sign. He clearly loves the attention, he just doesn’t want to admit it. He leans over and puts his coffee mug down with a thud. When he returns, he is significantly closer, his head nearly on my collar.

‘Am I?’ I raise my eyebrow, sliding my arm across his shoulders and letting my fingers fiddle with the seam of his shirt. ‘You can’t say that you didn’t enjoy it, at least just a little bit.’

Spencer sighs, letting his head rock back onto my arm. His lips are slightly pursed as he thinks over my words. The hand on my thigh continues to make idle patterns, though it is getting higher and higher towards the hem. He’s not inconspicuous in the slightest, though I don’t think he’s intending to be. Spencer licks his lips before he speaks.

‘Perhaps a little,’ he admits sheepishly, brown eyes locking onto mine. I grin in triumph. ‘It’s nice to be appreciated, I guess.’

‘See, I knew it.’ I press a kiss to his cheek, unable to keep the humour out of my tone. I don’t want him to think I’m making fun of him, so quickly continue. ‘You’re only human, Spencer, you’re still a man. Admittedly a man with Adonis-like cheekbones and a face Paris would choose, and a certified genius, but a man nonetheless.’

‘I am hardly a god amongst men, June.’ Spencer chuckles, but his cheeks turn pink. He plucks my mug from my hand and puts it on the table next to his. When he returns, he wastes little time in pulling me into his lap, large hand descending back to my upper thigh. The more he strokes my skin, the harder it is to focus. ‘And you’re the one who keeps calling me a nerd.’

‘Being a nerd and being appreciated are not mutually exclusive.’ I remind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and speaking against his skin. ‘Besides, you’re my nerd, and I appreciate you more than anyone. Don’t you forget that.’

Spencer’s arm around my hips tightens, the other hand relaxing its ministrations. He just holds me for a moment, head falling onto my collar as he exhales shakily. We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments. The only sound is the low chatter of the TV and Spencer’s unsteady breaths. I close my eyes, fully content to bask in the warmth of Spencer’s presence, the weight of his arms a comforting anchor in the sea of chaos that is the world.

‘I appreciate you too, June.’ He murmurs, voice a soft caress against my chest. ‘More than you know.’

‘I know, Spence, I know.’ I press a kiss to the crown of his head. My hand cards through his hair, the softness so familiar to my fingertips. It’s nice to sit here with him and share a moment of peace, especially after such a hectic morning. It goes to show how much stronger we are together than we are apart. I decide to be a bit cheeky. ‘So…about those wake up calls…’

‘Oh, I thought I told you’d never know about those?’ Spencer smirks cheekily at me, pulling his head away from my chest and raising an eyebrow.

‘Yes, but I also know that you find it hard to resist me.’ I retort, leaning in so we’re barely a centimetre away from one another. Spencer’s eyes drop to my lips, hand tightening around my thigh. It’s my turn to smirk. ‘I also know that I mentioned something about the skirt…’

‘You’re incorrigible.’ He groans, and leans in. I pull away with a cheeky grin.

‘You’ve said that already today.’

‘I thought it was worth repeating.’ Spencer retorts, pulling me back down towards him. ‘I suppose I could be convinced to show you what I was thinking of doing to you this morning…’

‘Please.’ Is all I need to say before Spencer is upon me.

He kisses me with a fiery intensity I have rarely experienced from him before. His pent up passion is palpable as he curves me backwards, pressing his lips against mine with fervour. It’s a little sloppy, an untamed urgency, and his tongue seeks entrance earlier than usual, pushing against mine with a newfound dominance. Evidently I had been getting under his skin.

The large, warm hand on my thigh slips up under the skirt to grip the meatiest part of it, a handful of skin that I have no doubt will be bruised tomorrow. The idea of bruises only serves to turn me on more, though, the idea that I will find evidence of our mischievous behaviour invigorating. I do my best to keep up, clinging onto him, matching his enthusiasm as best I can. I am way too pleased with myself that I have managed to get this to go my way.

Spencer’s lips leave mine and aim for the underside of my jaw, trailing a line of fire. He peppers open mouthed kisses to my throat, my chin, wherever he can lay his lips on. It’s as if he is determined to taste every single inch of exposed skin. The hand under my skirt ventures further, slips under the hem of my underwear and I have to bite back a soft moan of excitement. Spencer is everywhere, all at once, leaving me breathless and wanting.

‘Bedroom?’ I suggest, voice barely above a whisper. The living room is suddenly way too confined for what I have in mind.

‘Bedroom.’ He confirms, voice a husky mix of pleasure and barely restrained desire.

‘As you wish, doctor.’ I tease, a playful lilt in my tone as I extricate myself from his lap. I sashay towards the bedroom door in languid, deliberately provocative movements. Spencer, however, is quick to follow. Before I can open the door fully, a hand—the very same one that was exploring underneath my skirt mere moments ago—slams into the door. Spencer has effectively barred my entry. I blink up at him, confused. ‘Babe, that’s the door to the bedroom. I can’t go in the bedroom if you’re holding the door closed.’

‘Strip.’ He instructs, voice low and commanding. He leans against the door, eyes raking up and down my figure with unmistakable hunger. It’s a hunger I’ve seen many times before.

I chuckle, bemused, but do not deny him his pleasure. I start with his jumper, peeling it off impossibly slowly before tossing it somewhere over my shoulder. Spencer’s gaze is intense, searching me rapidly for any hint of exposed flesh. I turn and bend at the waist to remove my knee-high socks, fully aware of the view I am presenting. The deep groan that rumbles from the back of his throat tells me he’s appreciating the glimpse of my very skimpy underwear. Next to join the others is my shirt and bra, leaving me nearly bare. The chill of the air conditioning makes my nipples pebble, a testament to my ever-growing arousal.

I reach for the waistband of my skirt but something stops me.

‘Don’t—’ Spencer’s slightly strangled voice stalls my movements, and I raise an eyebrow at him. Spencer clears his throat once and scratches the back of his neck in a gesture that betrays a hint of the sheepishness I saw earlier. He schools his features and swings the door open, holding it wide for me. ‘Leave the skirt.’

‘I fucking knew you had a thing for it!’ A triumphant grin spreads across my face and my laughter—rich in smugness and amusement— rings through the apartment. I saunter into the bedroom. Spencer follows swiftly behind, slamming the door shut with such force that the vase on the windowsill shudders.

Looks like I might be in for it today.

Safe to say that this skirt has just become my very own secret weapon. Who would have thought that a little bit of pleated fabric and a smile could be so disruptive?

THANK YOU FOR READING! MORE SPENCER REID FICS ON THE WAY.

[lesbiansanemi]

I spoke too soon I should have known that was too easy for him I’m so tired I was like hey! I might have found someone interested in subleasing, if they end up not wanting to ill start making posts places but either way, ill need a move in date to advertise and tell people. Do you have any estimates of when you might find a place yet?

And my fucking roommate replies with a bunch of links to apartments like well you could move HERE like fuck you fuck you fuck you jackass this wasn’t what we agreed on and also 90% of the places he sent me were places I already contacted and had no availability/a waitlist/couldn’t sign until august and the other 10% were WAY out of my price range also none of this solves that I don’t want to sign a new fucking lease cuz I want out of this fucking fuck ass city between you and your bf you make almost TRIPLE what I do you will have such an easier time finding a new place and moving plus you wanna stay in this stupid fucking fuck ass city just fucking GET OUT

[mutalune]

really wish there was a tag that separated “I’m having Big Angry and/or Angsty Opinions about Star Wars” from “I’m goofing off with Star Wars I’m playing in the sandbox none of this is real so yes I will make my blorbo and this random glub shitto go on an adventure that makes no logical sense” posts because there’s too much of the former and not enough of the latter for my current mental state

[deityofhearts]

rn I’m getting through life by romanticizing the idea of me living in a bigger city (not like. new york sized but like just one of our bigger neighboring cities) and working as a librarian or library assistant there or something and having a quiet simply life and a regular routine that I go about

[k8martins]

｡˚ pillowtalk ‎₊˚ 𓂃˖ 𝜗𝜚 ｡˚

summary: kate has a sex dream about roommate!reader and can’t stop thinking of her like that, and it leads to something more

words: 2.4k

warnings: smut, 18+, kate takes forever with foreplay, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), overstimulation ig

a/n: this shit is freaky… filthy even..

——————————————————————————

when kate jolted awake on her back, her dream was still lingering in the waking world. she couldn’t even get her eyes all the way open yet, but swore she could still feel the forbidden sensation of her roommate’s hands; the way they left no portion of her skin untouched, eventually anchoring down her thighs. intentional kisses, all the way down her body. kate brought a hand up to her face and tried to rub the image away. it was proven futile as her legs twitched at the dreamy feeling of her roommate lapping her tongue around kate’s heat, making her sway.

it was an accidental groan from kate’s mouth that finally brought her back to reality, meeting your gaze from her bed.

“tough night or what?” you laughed, staring at a sleepy kate lying in her dorm sized bed. you stood a few feet away, getting ready to go to class.

for a moment, kate couldn’t bring the words out of her mouth. her hand was tangled in her hair, stalling her response further. she blinked several times, her eyes getting more awake each time.

“oh... yeah,” kate mumbled, embarrassed. she was almost convinced you could read her mind and look into the dream she had.

you noticed kate was staring you up and down intently. although sleepy, it looked like she could’ve pulled you onto her bed for herself. fixing your hair in the mirror, you tried to disregard her look.

“well, i’m gonna go to class. and then i think i’m going out later if you wanna join.” kate was now sitting up in her bed, lightly tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“um.... i probably shouldn’t. got a lot of work to do,” kate said in her raspy voice. you looked at her, surprised.

“are you sure?”

“yeah i’ll just stay here and watch after the dorm,” kate joked, smiling stupidly.

her ridiculous statement made you giggle, but she was acting a bit different.

“is there something up with you?” you questioned lightheartedly. although you were curious, class started soon, and you walked towards the door. the question appeared to make kate nervous, and she moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“no, why?”

“well... i just thought it would be silly for you to be sitting here all alone with your cute self. thats all,” and you headed out the door with one last smug look.

after the door closed and kate was left alone in the room, she stared quietly at the floor, replaying the dream over and over again. she sighed as your phantom hands ran up and down her body, toying at the clothes she still had on. the eager pace, not letting up despite kate’s whimpers. she wanted it to be real life; easily picturing the fantasy in her mind into reality. she stared at her bed and recalled her body sprawled out, your head between her thighs, gripping at the sheets.

kate was relieved and simultaneously torn that you left so abruptly after coming so close to uncovering her secret. for months now, kate had been sharing a dorm room with you, a near perfect match. it was almost too perfect, as kate frequently found herself staring at you getting ready, “discreetly” glancing as you change clothes, and being over curious as to your whereabouts. kate knew it wouldn’t exactly be ideal to pursue you, as you were meant to only be friends, living together for just the year. her mixed emotions ate away at her; too nervous to mess things up, while also wanting to confess how she feels. the dream was nearly her last straw.

——————————————————————————

later in the day, kate returned back to her dorm from her class. she spent all day thinking of you, her mind clouded over with the morning interaction. it wasn’t exactly late yet, but kate stepped into your shared room to find you getting ready for a night out. you had just gotten your top on, which was a wide strap tank in pink, and a black mini skirt.

“oh hey kate!” you exclaimed once she came in.

“hey. what ‘cha doing?” kate asked dumbly, trying to act casual. she noticed your outfit, and took her time looking you up and down.

“doing my makeup,” you replied innocently, staring back at kate through the mirror in front of you.

she stepped a few feet closer behind you as you applied your lip combo. “that’s a pretty color on you,” kate complimented.

this time you turned your head behind you, gazing at her with a knowing look. you smirked as you put the last bit of lipstick on, pushing your lips together and blushing.

“it would look good on you too,” you commented boldly, gesturing towards the lipstick. you turned your head around back towards the mirror and was fixed on putting away the lipstick when you felt kate’s big hands creep onto your low hips. you melted in her touch, a feeling you’d been waiting for.

“yeah? should we try?” kate said in a low tone, shamelessly letting her hands roam up and down your waist. her body was still against yours from behind, feeling her chest and waist against your back. as embarrassing as it was, you already began to grow wet between your legs.

“kate...” you breathed, turning around to meet her face. you weren’t exactly sure what you wanted to say, but couldn’t take your eyes off her face, which was now fixed into an eager but gentle look.

“is this ok?” kate asked, as if she hadn’t been feeling you up already.

there was almost no space left between you and kate as you lifted your face up to hers. “i’ve wanted to do this for so long,” you admitted, your face just inches away.

kate hummed lowly as she cupped your face with her hands, bringing you into the kiss. it quickly became heated as your lips crashed together; kate feverishly bit down on your bottom lip, a sting you would surely feel for the rest of the night. her hands left your face and traveled back down to your waist, finding the hem of your skirt.

“this little skirt... is driving me crazy,” kate said breathlessly, toying with band of your short skirt.

your heart boomed at her words, pushing your hips into her hands. the knot in your stomach was becoming harder to ignore, and you were desperate to do something about it.

“kate, please,” you moaned into her mouth.

at the tone of your begging voice, kate gripped your hips and walked you to her bed. she only broke the kiss once to lift you up onto the mattress in one swift motion. with quickness, you laid your head down on kate’s pillow as she crawled on top of you. she didn’t know where to touch you first, beginning with your head and gently pulling at your hair, making you even more needy.

moaning into the kiss once again, you begged kate to just do something, but she took her sweet time making you wait. every time you begged, you saw the amusement in her eyes, knowing she loves it. to make you wait even longer, kate placed her knee between your legs, pushing it firmly against your heat. the sensation made your head spin, but it wasn’t enough. you eagerly bucked your hips up against her knee, trying to create any possible friction against your aching pussy. the friction was short lived as kate flew her hand to your hip, holding it down.

“you gotta be patient, princess,” kate teased, feeling her breath against your jaw. you felt like you could cry as you realized how long she was going to draw it out, squirming underneath her grasp.

kate kissed along your jaw and made her way to your neck. you brought your chin up, giving her full access. your hands scratched at her back, eventually moving them under her shirt and earning a low moan from kate. it was your turn to moan as she agonizingly sucked spots onto your neck.

“kate don’t leave too many please,” you whined, thinking of how you would see your friends later.

she carelessly continued to leave her marks, only lifting her head to say, “what, you don’t want your friends knowing you got fucked by your roommate?” she took amusement in her own words, smiling as she went in to kiss you on the lips. the pool between your legs was undeniably getting stronger, and kate was not making it any easier.

your mind reeled as kate moved on to your chest, tugging at the top of your shirt.

“take this off, babe.”

you followed her orders as fast as you could, the cool air brushing against your now bare chest. kate wasted no time covering your tits with her large hands as she gave them light squeezes. she then resumed leaving her marks.

“you’re so,” kate breathed between hickeys, “fuckin’ beautiful.”

moaning at her words, your pleasure was heightened as her tongue found your hardened nipples and swirled her tongue around it. since kate’s hands were busy around your chest, you tried to sneak a hand down to your puffy clit to relieve some pressure. with one hand tangled in her blonde hair, your other hand attempted to remove your soaked panties from under your skirt. the attempt was cut short as kate swatted your hand away.

“you want it real bad, hm? fine.”

“kate, i need you so bad, please just do it,” you begged. at this point, you realized much of your dignity was out the window, and you didn’t care. kate moved off of you and sat on her knees, her hand stalling at the zipper on your skirt.

“tell me what you want,” kate said, keeping her eyes on you and slowly unzipping your skirt.

“want you to fuck me,” you whimpered out.

“there you go, that’s all you had to say,” she said cockily, beginning to remove your skirt. you were left sprawled out in just your panties as kate got on her stomach right in front of your pussy. her hands pried your thighs apart, pushing them back as far as possible. she noticed the large wet spot on your panties and bit her lip before going in to place a kiss upon your clothed cunt.

“you’re such an asshole,” you whined, clawing at the sheets.

kate let out a short chuckle at your whining, her eyes fixed on the view in front of her. her hand was grasping your upper thigh with her thumb close enough to graze your clit.

“am i?” kate’s words echoed in your head and were quickly forgotten as she used one hand to rub slow circles on your clit, and one hand to tease your sopping entrance. her middle two fingers pushed your panties to the side and slowly made their way in. kate’s long fingers filled you up, making you arch your back off the bed immediately. you moaned her name like a prayer as she gradually picked up the pace on both your clit and her fingers.

“so perfect,” kate mumbled, enamored at your bare body. her words mixed with her pace was almost enough to make you finish right there.

“kate i-i’m gonna-“ you cried, eyes screwed shut at the feeling. at the sound of your loud moan, kate withdrew her fingers and the sensation stopped all at once. she noticed your confused pout and worked quickly to bring your legs back together, tearing off your wet panties.

“‘m sorry, babe, your makeup might not hold up,” kate teased, and brought her head down to your pussy. connecting her lips to your core, you cried at the unrestricted feeling of her tongue lapping directly around your puffy clit. she began with a sole focus on licking back and forth, bobbing her head with each movement.

the knot in your stomach was coming closer and closer to being undone, but you held it as kate continued to suck. your hands were caught up in her messy hair, pushing your hips into her face. kate’s prominent nose rubbed against your sensitive clit, only heightening the arousal. your shaking legs began to involuntarily close around her head, which made her go harder.

finally, she entered her fingers into your warm cunt once again. her tongue mixed with her long fingers began to overwhelm you, and you realized she was probably right about your makeup. kate’s fingers quickly reached a merciless pace and hit your g spot every time. you threw your head back, the tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. every exhale from your mouth was a moan, and you were nearly unable to form any other coherent sound. kate noticed your face twisted in an expression of pleasure and struggle, with tears beginning to fall.

“you’re taking me so good, pretty girl,” kate cooed against your pussy, “just let it out.”

with kate’s permission, you came around her fingers as the orgasm rippled through your body. your legs shook and you gripped at the sheets, arching your back while kate rode you out of your high. you were still tiredly moaning as kate removed her lips from your spent pussy, and withdrew her fingers.

sitting up again, kate softly wiped away your tears. both of you were breathing heavily and recovering from the intense moments.

“you doing ok?” kate wanted to make sure, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

you nodded, going in to gently kiss kate. it was a shorter kiss, and she moved from your lips to pepper kisses along the rest of your face. lying back onto her pillow, you caught your breath as she retrieved your clothes. recognizing you as her pillow princess, she put your clothes back on for you before joining you in lying down.

you cuddled close to her and you caught your reflection in the mirror across the room. covering your hand in embarrassment, you saw your fucked out face, mascara smeared around your eyes and lipstick nowhere to be seen. you playfully hit kate and you both began to laugh.

“i told you,” kate giggled.

“you have to go out with me now, by the way.”

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

hi luv! i hope you're doing great. Saw your recent post and i do have a hc request (since im having a haikyuu brainrot rn 👀), what would you think of making papa!haikyuu hcs 😩. How would these volley boys make as a father! (especially kenma, tsukki and noya) and you can add your favs too 💕sjsjjsjs hope you have a great day ahead!

I'm doing okay, I hope you are doing good and that you have a nice day! I hope you enjoy this post and it is to your liking

Them as fathers

Characters: Kenma, Noya, Tsukki Gender neutral reader, it is not mentioned whether the children are adopted or biological, Kenma’s is longer than the others because i had way too many ideas for him

Kenma Kozume

First things first: I don’t think Kenma would have more than one kid, if you really wanted to have more he would relent but he is perfectly happy with just one, he thinks 3 people is the perfect number for your little family.

You may think he wouldn’t be that involved in his kids life, but that is a big misconception,

No matter how much work he has to do he makes sure to spend time with you and your kid.

Kenma would never show his child on the internet in any way, he wants to keep his private life private and keep his child safe, he knows how cruel the internet can be, no way in hell will he put his young child into that kind of situation.

Once your child learned to crawl he brought the three starters of Pokémon black and white (gen 5 best games I don’t take criticism) to see which one your child would choose.

Based on what they chose he will be sulky or proud. (I nearly made this into Oshawott propaganda but I didn’t you’re welcome). But at the end of the day he knows that they just choose one based on colours and shapes, he would teach them once they are older how to perfectly choose a starter.

Best believe that as soon as your kid is old enough to understand things he will show them all kinds of (age appropriate) video games.

You enter his gaming room with some snacks for him and you can just see him play Slime Rancher as your kid sits in his lap, eyes glued to what their father is doing.

He already has started a Stardew Valley coop farm for you three to play together one day, he is just waiting for the day your child is old enough.

Now enough video game talk, (though I have so many more ideas about this lol) your child loves it when Kenma reads to them before they sleep, his voice is very soothing to them.

Once they are asleep Kenma stays at their side a bit longer, watching them sleep a serene smile on his face.

Kenma can’t say no to your kid, he will buy them anything they want. You sometimes wonder how he can be so responsible with his money in any other situation, but your child just needs to point at something and he will buy it for them unless you intervene.

Lastly, be prepared for Kenma and your kid to team up against you. Board games? Yeah they are a team even if the game isn’t a game for teaming up. (Monopoly is a nightmare with them, Oh you need a red? Too bad your kid and Kenma are trading it between one another instead of giving it to you) But you can’t really seem to mind when you see the way Kenma and your kid smile. (Unless you are like me and are fiercely competitive in games then you may want to strike Kenma down)

Yu Nishinoya

Noya would take longer to have children with you, at least until he is done travelling, he does want kids but is aware that travelling the world with them wouldn’t be ideal, he wants them to have a stable home.

Once you two do have kids, he wants at least 2 or 3. Noya wants a big family.

I feel like he is the type of Dad that throws his kids in the air and then catches them (he won’t do it high) and it always gives you a heart attack.

Instead of reading them good night stories he always tells them (embellished) stories from when he travelled the world, for example he once exclaimed to one of your kids how a mermaid vied for your attention but he fought them heroically off.

This does bite him in the ass years down the line once your kids are teens, they will bring these stories up whenever they can to tease him.

Asahi is basically an uncle to your kids, he often visits you and brings the kids many gifts. He loves to spoil them.

And yes Asahi designs the clothes for your kids as well, it often leads to many people asking you and Noya where you got the clothes for them from since they are such a high quality.

Yes, he will teach your kids “Rolling thunder”. No you can’t stop him. Even if your kids don’t play Volleyball they will still know the move.

This leads to your kids looking for his old jersey’s from highschool, putting them on and pretending to  be their dad. No he is not crying, he just got dust in his eye.

Vacations and holidays are important to Noya, while he can’t travel the world with your kids, he will take them on memorable vacations across the country when they are old enough to remember them.

He wants them to have a happy and fulfilled childhood with as many experiences as they can have.

Kei Tsukishima

When you first brought up having children with him he asked “Are you sure you can take care of a child? Don’t you wanna practise with a pet rock first?” You lightly punched him in the chest for that and he had his signature smirk on his face.

He is honestly neutral on the aspect of having kids, he is not against it but also it was never his dream of having them, so he is fine with whatever you want.

Just like Kenma he would probably only have one kid, with his Job as a Volleyballplayer and everything he isn’t home that often, so if you had more than one kid he would feel guilty leaving you home alone with them.

Tsukki is probably the first one from Karasuno to have a kid, so he is smug about the fact that he is ‘better’ than the others in that regard.

The first team reunion after you two had your child will have him holding his child proudly, while he tells all the others how slow they are for not having kids yet, which has everyone rolling their eyes. He is very proud of his kid so that he will hold it up Lion King style so everyone can admire it.

Unluckily though he miscalculated the height of the ceiling and bonked your kids head on it, which left everyone in the room in a stunned silence (True story from my infant days, my dad did this exact thing with me)

You had made him change every diaper for 2 weeks for the heart attack he gave you with that, even if your kid was fine and wasn’t hurt.

Tsukki and you switch every night who is going to read your kid, while you pick different topics every time, he only ever chooses dinosaur stories to read to your kid.

Speaking of dinosaurs, Tsukki once claimed he had to educate your kid on certain things while you went out grocery shopping, when you came back you saw that the thing he was educating your child on was “The land before time” which made you smile.

Now no matter if the child is biologically yours or adopted, it somehow interhits his sass, which means you will be surrounded by two sassy little pieces of shit (affectionate).

Though you get both of them to calm down their sass by offering them some strawberry cake if they stop, it surprisingly works better on Tsukki then on your kid, who would have thought?

[goldenwilliamson]

Could you do one with leah x reader where reader is a new signing and she catches Leah's attention and Leah, all cocky, asks her out repeatedly, but the reader was warned about Leah's fuckgirl fame and always turns her down, but obviously ends up falling for Leah in the end, pure fluff please ;)

Pd: you write soo goooodd

bad idea right? | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

a/n: thanks for the ask!! i had fun with this one. reader is australian obviously inspired by kyra's signing after the world cup, but with a very different vibe to KCC's annoying little sister energy hahaha. also this is an ideal world where ACL's don't exist and leah was in training at the start of this season.

summary: reader signs at arsenal and leah has her sights set on her, but reader tries her best not to let herself fall for leah.

word count: 2.9k (got a little carried away with this, but i loved it)

When you got your call up for the World Cup, you had expected that some clubs might take an interest in you, along with all the other younger Australian players who hadn’t yet gotten the chance to play in such a large tournament. What you didn’t expect however was that the club you grew up supporting would be making a deadline day signing for you. When you heard that Arsenal were interested after the World Cup, it was just the cherry on top of what was the most surreal experience of your footballing career so far. Obviously with Steph Catley and Caitlin Foord already being at the club, you had felt entirely comfortable about making the transfer. You had already been playing in the WSL for a few years, but you’d always told yourself that if Arsenal ever came knocking, you would go there without a doubt. 

Being such a fan of the club and playing against Arsenal in the past, you already had preconceptions about many of the girls. Before you had your first training, Steph and Caitlin had come over to your new flat to help you settle in and put together some furniture, and you took it as an opportunity to get all your final questions out of the way. You had already spoken to them endlessly about the culture of the club for the players, but you hadn’t spoken too much about the other girls. All that they had told you was that you would fit in well with the team, and that was good enough for you at the time. 

But now that your time for actually joining the team was getting very close, you decided you wanted to learn more about some of the girls you would be spending the majority of your time with for the foreseeable future.

‘What’s Kim like as a captain?’ You asked first, and both Steph and Caitlin sung her praises while explaining that underneath her hard front is a big softie who wants the best for everyone. 

‘I’m not going to lie, I’m nervous about not clicking with anyone,’ you said next. 

‘I can’t imagine you ever not getting along with anyone,’ Steph said, ‘You hit it off with everyone you’ve ever met.’

‘True, I reckon you and Leah will get along well but,’ Caitlin adds. 

‘Really?’ Your voice is higher when you say this, a little surprised. 

‘Oh yeah, she’s going to love you. She’s already spoken to me about how she’s excited you’ve signed,’ Steph says and you feel very flattered. Leah is a player you’ve admired for years, and a defender you’ve dreaded coming up against in games. Even though you’ve played against her, you wouldn’t expect her to have noticed you, let alone be excited about you joining the team which she cares so much about. 

‘What’s she like?’ You ask, genuinely curious. 

‘She’s somehow managed the perfect balance of being super fun and lighthearted, but also stern and serious,’ Steph says. 

‘Is she single?’ You find your mouth moving before your brain has the chance to tell you not to say that. Both Steph and Caitlin laugh at your forwardness, but they don’t seem all that surprised. 

‘Leah is undateable, she meets a lot of girls, but they never stick around for long,’ Caitlin says truthfully, and for a moment you feel a bit of disappointment.

‘Because she’s not a good person?’ You ask, unsure about why no girls would want anything with her. In your eyes she’s a catch. 

‘No,’ Steph says quickly, ‘She’s an amazing person, she just doesn’t want them to stick around for long, it’s always more of a one night thing for her.’

This surprises you, and it does make you see her a little differently. In the media she seems very mature, being the England captain and all. You can’t really imagine her going out, meeting girls, and having one night stands, but then you remember you really don’t know the girl at all.

A few days later you arrive in London Colney for your first training session of pre-season, carpooling with Caitlin and Katie. You’d already met Katie a few times now, which made your arrival feel a bit smoother. You don’t take it for granted having Steph and Caitlin around to welcome you and make sure you’re connecting with the other girls. 

Before you go into the first meeting of the season with Jonas, you get to meet all the other girls. While someone might find this overwhelming, you are unbelievably excited to finally be introducing yourself and meeting all these players you respected so much. 

Everyone greets you warmly with a hug and kind welcoming words. When you approach Leah she flashes you her fantastic smile and you can’t help but mirror her expression. You keep in mind but that she is used to being able to charm girls, and you try not to fall victim to it. 

‘Hello, mate. I’m Leah,’ she says in her relaxed voice, giving you a hug hello. 

‘Hey, good to meet you,’ you say.

‘Likewise. I’m so glad you’ve signed, you’re going to be a great addition to the team,’ she says and you thank her graciously, feeling good knowing you have a little bit of support behind you, from Leah Williamson of all people. 

From your first meeting, you can see what everyone else sees in her. She’s a beautiful girl, there’s absolutely no denying that, and she carries a confidence that radiates off of her. It’s both incredibly attractive and intimidating at the same time. You know immediately you can’t let yourself go down the rabbit hole of developing a crush on her, because you know all too well that it would consume you completely. So for the first few weeks at the club you don’t spend too much time with Leah. You don’t avoid her, because you don’t want to be rude, but you don’t let yourself go as deep as you normally would want to. Usually when you find yourself around someone attractive you’re asking questions, trying to get to know them. You decided the less you knew about Leah the better. 

You didn’t realise that Leah had noticed the way you hadn’t been giving her as much time and attention as you’d given some of the other girls, and the way that you had bruised her ego. One day Leah and Jen were peddling on the exercise bikes in the gym next to each other while you ran on the treadmill on the other side of the room. Leah watched you like a hawk as you took your long, easy strides. 

‘She’s great isn’t she?’ Jen said, following Leah’s line of vision.

‘Oh god yeah, she’s gonna be our secret weapon going into this season,’ Leah says without a beat. She’s been watching you every day, witnessing how well you’ve managed to establish yourself within the team already, earning respect from all the players. She would be very surprised if Jonas didn’t start you in the upcoming games, because you're the perfect number 9 that the club has been needing. 

‘Lovely girl too,’ Jen observes and Leah nods.

‘I haven’t gotten to know her that well, I don’t think she’s too interested in me,’ Leah says, and even though she tries to hide her contempt, Jen reads her like a book.

‘Finally someone who’s not interested in you, whatever will you do?’ The naturally sarcastic Scot makes fun of Leah’s obvious dissatisfaction with her ability to have you in the palm of her hand. 

‘Shut up,’ Leah pushes her shoulder. 

‘You’re seriously crushing on her aren’t you?’ Jen says.

‘I wouldn’t call it a crush,’ Leah scoffs. She would never admit to having a crush on someone, it’s not in her nature at all. When it comes to dating she has always preferred to be detached and aloof. 

‘What would you say then?’ Jen asks.

‘I guess you could say I’m intrigued by her,’ Leah says, immediately cringing at the way it sounds coming out of her mouth.

‘Alright stalker, don’t go following her home now or anything,’ Jen says, unable to contain her laughter seeing Leah in this new position. As Jen makes this comment you step of the treadmill and pull off your headphones and Leah quickly shushes Jen. 

‘How was the run, Y/N?’ Jen calls out to you from across the room, and you smile, striding in the direction of her and Leah as they continue to peddle. 

‘Yeah not too bad,’ you nod, ‘How are the bikes treating you guys?’ 

‘I think I zoned out watching you running over there,’ Leah says, and you don’t know whether or not to interpret it as a flirty or not.

You laugh lightly and shake your head, ‘Glad I could be of service.’ 

‘You do look proper graceful for someone doing sprints,’ Jen says.

‘Well now I know who to come to when I need a pick me up, thanks girls,’ you look at them both, your ego boosted. You had no clue how you looked running on the treadmill, but you couldn’t have imagine it was anything impressive, or graceful. You tell the girls you’ll leave them to it as you turn to walk out of the gym, thinking over Leah’s little comment for quite some time. 

A few days later you’re invited round to Beth and Viv’s place for a little dinner. It’s not a huge group there, just yourself, Steph, Caitlin, Leah, Jen, and Kim Little. Despite being one of the younger girls in the squad at 24, you’ve found yourself feeling most comfortable around the girls a little older than you like Jen and Beth. Even Viv who was notoriously introverted had made an effort to get to know you. 

The night is lovelier than you could have expected, chatting with all the girls with ease, like you’ve known them all as long as you’ve known Steph and Caitlin. At one point you decide to go into the kitchen to refill the water jug, and when you’re standing over the sink, Leah slips into the space with you. 

‘What are you after?’ You ask casually.

‘You,’ Leah says and you turn around to look at her with a confused look on your face.

She’s leaning against the kitchen bench, eyeing you confidently, but you’re determined not to let her work her ways on you. 

‘Whatever for?’ You ask innocently, turning back to watch as the water fills the bottle in your hand. 

‘Why’ve you been avoiding me?’ Leah says as you flick the tap off. To buy some time you rest the bottle on the bench and grab a tea towel, wiping off the water that spill down the sides of the bottle.

‘I didn’t realise I had been,’ you shake your head, not looking at her as you lie through your teeth. 

‘Maybe it’s in my head then,’ Leah shrugs.

‘Maybe, but I’m sorry if I haven’t been giving you enough attention,’ you say sarcastically, knowing that your words would cut deep for a girl who usually has her ways with girls. 

‘That’s alright, why don’t I just take you out for dinner, that way I’ll have you all to myself,’ Leah suggests and you scoff.

‘Sorry, as fun as this is, it’s not really me Leah. I’m not interested in being another notch on your bed post,’ you say, and while you might feel rude saying this to anyone else, you feel like you could chip away at Leah’s ego all night and she would remain confident as ever. 

Leah sighs with a smile on her face, ‘Worth a try,’ she says and you two walk back to the table, acting like nothing ever happened. Jen Beattie is the only one who catches the smirk on your face and the ever so slightly defeated look on Leah’s. 

She tries again a couple of days later after training, asking what your plans were for the night.

‘Going home,’ you say, stating the very obvious fact after a long and tiring training session. 

‘Want some company?’ Leah asks. While you would’ve said yes to company, feeling like anyone being around was what you needed to settle into your new home, you knew you couldn’t say yes to Leah.

‘Uh, not tonight, I’m going to go home and fall into bed,’ you say.

‘Tomorrow then?’ Leah offers and you shake your head at her persistence. 

‘You’re relentless,’ you say, smiling at the cocky look on Leah’s face. Slowly it’s getting the better of you. 

‘I prefer the term driven,’ she says and you laugh. 

‘Don’t let me stop you, it’s doing wonders for my confidence,’ you say.

‘Oh don’t worry, I won’t,’ Leah assures you as you part ways walking towards your cars. You ignore her once again, but of course she occupies your thoughts the whole drive home, and the rest of the night. 

There is even a moment after you eat your dinner that you consider asking her to come over, knowing exactly what would happen if she did. You groan out loud, realising that she had already won this battle. That’s why the next time she tries her luck, you fold. 

It was the perfect setting, all the Arsenal girls and the Matildas that lived around London were out at a bar celebrating Caitlin’s birthday. Leah was of course locked in on your every move, and you knew it. Every time you glanced in her direction, she was already looking at you. It was driving you crazy, making you feel all hot and bothered. As if dancing was the cure for your overwhelming feelings, you remained among the girls throwing their hair and arms around to the music. 

A classic ABBA song comes on and Leah makes her way into the people moving on the dance floor, subtly making her way towards you. It’s unsurprising when you feel her hands on your hips, you’d been waiting for it at this point. The music is loud in your ears, drowning out any remaining inhibitions. You turned to face Leah with a look of defeat, as if you were forfeiting to her. You let your arms fall around her neck as she stabilises herself with her hands on your hips. She leans in close to speak directly into your ear and you can feel her breath on the top of your neck, sending a small shiver up your spine.

‘You’ve been driving me nuts,’ she says, giggling slightly with her admission. 

You lean into her now, planting a tantalising, gentle kiss on her neck before murmuring, 'I still don’t want to be just another notch on your bed post.’

Leah pulls back and looks at you with a face that tells you that you can believe her when she shakes her head, ‘This isn’t about that, I just want to know you.’ 

‘Do you say that to all the girls?’ You ask, still harbouring some slight concerns about Leah’s notoriety when it comes to her sexual partners.

‘I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time,’ she says. Even though you really don’t know her all too well, you know her words are genuine, and you know that you feel the exact same way. There was no denying the chemistry between you both, and the similarity in your personalities. You remember the way Caitlin and Steph had predicted you two would get along, and you know it’s true now.

‘Me neither,’ you tell her honestly, and you can see from the grin on her face that it was exactly what she wanted to hear. 

‘How about we get out of here and go find some food,’ Leah suggests and you nod eagerly, dying to step out into the fresh air with her to speak freely without trying to talk over the music. 

‘Great idea,’ you say. With that you and Leah say your goodbyes, not feeling too guilty about leaving as it was nearing midnight already at this stage. When you step out into the night it feels like you’re back in the real world, and your feelings about Leah were still very much there. 

She takes your hand in hers and leads you up the street and the two of you walk until you find some fried food to sink your teeth into. You talk the night away and get to know Leah behind the persona she has created. This Leah is endlessly caring, a listener, a deep thinker, incredibly witty, and much more vulnerable.

That night you two end up back at your North London flat to save her the trip out to her house in St Albans. To your surprise, you don’t sleep together, but you’re pleased with that. Part of you was still waiting to see what Leah’s intentions were, and she proved that she really did just want to spend some time with you. You were happy to give her your attention now.

 ’You’re nothing like how I expected,’ you admit to her as you lay face to face in your bed, your legs stacked on top of each other. 

‘Better or worse?’ Leah asks, smirking at you in the darkness of your room.

‘Better,’ you say with a smile, leaning in to finally kiss her properly. It’s gentle, but there is clear passion behind it. You hum, satisfied as you pull away, ‘Definitely better’.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Just a Dog Walker

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x grad student!dog walker!fem!reader

Summary: As Tim's dog walker, and nothing more, you grow close to him and Kojo. After protecting Kojo from a dog fight, you learn how Tim really sees you.

Warnings: dog attack, dog bite (r), fluffy ending. (Kojo is totally fine!)

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: More Kojo, what the world really needs.

“Sergeant Bradford, come to my office for a minute?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers quickly. “Uh, sorry. No, sir, I can’t.”

Crossing his arms, Wade inquires, “Why not?”

A low huff is audible in Tim’s office, but Wade knows it isn’t him.

“Is yo’ dog under that desk?”

“No.”

“Let me amend the question. Is Kojo under the desk?”

Kojo barks happily, trying to push past Tim to visit Wade. Wade shakes his head, dropping his arms.

“Why is he here?”

“I’m working a double and I couldn’t leave him at home. What if he had run out of water or needed to go out?” Tim answers.

“You know, here in sunny Los Angeles, there are more people than I can count who are certified dog sitters.”

“Kojo doesn’t like strangers.”

“Just Kojo? Look, Tim, I get it, the bond between a man and his dog. But, there has to be a boundary, a separation somewhere. I’ll call Luna, she’s got friends with dogs and trusted, bonded employees who watch their dogs. Walk ‘em daily, train ‘em, do everything while you’re at work.”

“I can take care of my dog by myself.”

“Not while you’re at work, Bradford. He can stay for now, Lord knows he’s a better boy than you, but by the end of the week I want to know you’ve got someone to care for him.”

Tim grumbles, pushing his hands under the desk to pet Kojo. “I’ll take you up on Luna’s friends then.”

“She’ll call later.”

“You already asked her?”

“’Course I did. We have work to do. And, so you know, we can see Kojo’s paws under the desk. But nice try.”

“I tried, buddy,” Tim tells Kojo, passing him a treat from the container hidden in his desk drawer.

✯✯✯✯✯

Grad school is expensive, but since you don’t have the degree level you are striving for, you need a different job to get you through. Pushing 30 and being a dog walker isn’t ideal, but it’s paying the bills. One of your neighbors helped you open a business with proper insurance and licensing to care for the dogs of Los Angeles. 

Most of your clients live nearby, and you do your rounds twice daily, studying and attending classes between. One of your favorite clients has a friend named Luna, who you love. She gets you jobs, helps you out constantly, and is like a mother figure to you. You are forever grateful for her. So, when she calls, you rush to answer.

“Hey, Luna!” you answer. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you doing? Still working on your dissertation; making progress?”

“Slow but steady, yeah. What can I do for you?”

“This is actually something I can do for you. There’s a sergeant that works with Wade; he’s got a dog and needs someone trusted to take care of his dog while he’s at work. He’s been sneaking Kojo into the station and Wade had to ask him to stop.”

“Kojo? That’s an adorable name. But, yeah, I’d be happy to meet him.”

“Awesome! His name’s Tim. I will send him your number and have Wade force him to set something up.”

“Is Tim a little rough around the edges, typical cop type?”

“Not typical, no… Just- you’ll see when you meet him. He’s great, though, deep down.”

“I’ll try to remember that. Thanks, Luna.”

“See you Friday?”

“See you Friday.”

You sit back, writing the name ‘Tim’ on your dog-walking calendar. Another client would be great for your wallet, but it seems like this sergeant will take some convincing before he hires you. This is understandable, of course, because you wouldn’t let just anyone take care of your babies, and dogs are just four-legged babies. 

“Please be as great as Luna said,” you whisper before returning your attention to the research before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Yeah, I texted her. We’re meeting at an outdoor café tonight,” Tim says before Wade can ask. “But if I don’t like her or if Kojo doesn’t like her, I’m going to keep looking.”

“Got it,” Wade answers. “But you’ve got more double shifts in your future, so don’t take too long trying to find a ‘perfect’ dog walker.”

Tim nods, hoping he can find a way out of letting a stranger into his house to take care of his dog. He checked your name, and your business seems legitimate, but there’s no way of knowing. Luckily, he and Kojo are both excellent judges of character.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luna sent you a picture of Kojo, and you spot him immediately. The man sitting beside him, though, is breathtakingly handsome. You’re shocked that he doesn’t have female neighbors and friends lining up at his door, offering to take care of Kojo (and him). 

“Hi, Mr. Bradford?” you ask.

Kojo looks up at you and pants, his tail slapping against Tim’s leg.

“Yes. Nice to meet you,” Tim replies, offering his hand.

Shaking his hand, you glance down at Kojo. When Tim releases his grip, you squat and extend your hand for Kojo to sniff. He flips your hand up with his snout, stepping closer to you.

“I’m sure Luna told you that I’m a cop,” Tim continues, drawing your attention away from Kojo.

You sit beside him, lowering a hand to pat Kojo’s head. “She did, sir.”

“Then you know that if anything were to happen to my house during or after your visit, I could very easily charge you with any number of crimes. And I won’t tell you what I would do if something happened to Kojo while under your care.”

You can’t tell if his threat is legitimate, so you nod in understanding.

“Yes, sir, I understand. Kojo’s safety, and your home, of course, are of the utmost importance and I will do everything I can to do right by both of you.”

Tim nods, watching Kojo for a moment. “You’re good with him. He’s not always so welcoming with strangers; scared one of my girlfriends away once. So, I’m going to give you a chance.”

“Amazing. Thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“What do we need to do to get started?”

“I can offer you a few days free, as a trial run. And if you still want to keep me on afterward, we can discuss payment, sir.”

“That’s unnecessary. I need someone to take care of Kojo and you seem to be the best fit.”

“Okay. Then I will email you a link to create a client account and my website has a portal to pay. Luna mentioned that you work overnight sometimes, so if you needed me to do later or earlier visits, I can do that too, sir.”

“Sounds good.”

Tim stands, wiping his hand on his jeans before offering his hand again.

“Nice to meet you and I look forward to your email.”

“You, too. And thank you.”

Petting Kojo once more, you smile before walking away. You didn’t expect him to be so attractive, so you have to remember that he clarified you’re his dogwalker, and he doesn’t even really want a dogwalker.

Determined to make him see the benefits of someone caring for Kojo, you add him to your schedule before he even pays you. Money is no longer a concern; you’re already in love with Kojo, and now, you need to focus on not falling for his owner, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’d you think about her? I know you hired her, but what’d you think personally?” Luna asks, standing in Wade’s office.

Tim shrugs. “She’s very polite. Seems driven, hard-working, responsible.”

“Well, now that you’ve read her resumé, have anything else to add?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and Wade guesses, “She makes you nervous?”

“A little.”

“What?” Luna exclaims. “She’s the sweetest!”

“Not like that, Luna,” Wade interjects. “Someone wasn’t expecting a pretty dog walker.”

“Oh. Tim Bradford, I wasn’t sure you still had it in you.”

“She is taking care of Kojo. Yes, she is beautiful, but this won’t go any farther than a business agreement.”

“Care to bet on that?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers before leaving and closing the door behind him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Kojo, Kojo,” you call, entering Tim’s house with the key he had made for you.

Kojo’s nails click on the flooring, rushing to greet you.

“Hey, buddy. You miss your dad? I bet you do.”

As you slide Kojo’s harness over his front legs, he licks your face, and you laugh, scratching his chest before standing to connect his leash. Kojo has quickly become your favorite dog. You visit several throughout the day, but Kojo is the sweetest and the most handsome.

When you return to Tim’s side door, it’s standing open. You know that you closed and locked it, so you pull Kojo’s leash tight, stepping back as you prepare to run.

“It’s just me!” Tim yells from inside. “Sorry, my hands were full, and I couldn’t close the door.”

Sighing in relief, you lead Kojo inside, closing the door behind you and locking it instinctually.

“Honey, we’re home!” you call.

Tim freezes in the kitchen at your teasing, borderline flirtatious tone. You remove Kojo’s leash and harness and put it away, following him as he runs toward Tim.

“Why are you home so early?” you ask.

“I worked all night,” Tim answers. “Thought you’d feel my absence through our connection.”

You chuckle at Tim’s flirting. After the second meeting, it became much easier to talk to him. Interestingly enough, Tim started the flirtatious tendencies. You tend to stick to business-related topics, but sometimes it feels like you’re just two friends – maybe more – and you forget you’re just his dog walker.

“Everything go okay at work, sir? Kojo, for one, had a great day.”

Tim says your name, a sigh more than anything. “I told you a week ago to stop calling me sir.”

“Sorry, sir- Tim.”

Tim looks away suddenly, turning his attention to the bags he carried inside while you were walking Kojo.

“Did you even wonder where Kojo was?” you ask.

“No. I know his dog walker is punctual… and a control freak.”

“Planning my day doesn’t make me a control freak!”

“You have it planned to the minute.”

“To accommodate you,” you grumble.

“Yet you won’t let me take you on a date.”

“You won’t ask.”

You fall silent, and when you think you took it too far, Kojo barks and makes you both laugh. Talking to Tim is easy, but no matter how much you love Kojo or think you could be more, you must keep everything in perspective. Tim is older, a police sergeant and you are his college student dog walker.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hello?” you ask, answering your phone and rubbing your eyes as you look away from the computer screen.

“Hey,” Tim says. “I’m so sorry for the late notice but I’m going to be here overnight. Could you-“

“I’ll go over now.”

“Listen, it’s crazy out there right now. If you want to stay there, please do. I don’t want you out more than you have to be.”

“Tim, that’s not necessary.”

“Please. It’s not just for your safety; I’ll feel better knowing that you’re somewhere safe.”

“Okay,” you reply. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m insisting. Kojo is a cuddler, but that’s all you have to fear there.”

“Oh, you should have started with that. Kojo cuddles sound amazing.”

“Long day?”

“Not as long as yours. I’ll text you when I get there. Thank you, Tim.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“See you then.”

The drive to Tim’s house is short, but you hear several police sirens. Whatever they’re dealing with does seem (as Tim put it) crazy. Once you’re inside and the alarm is reset, you collapse on the couch and let Kojo cuddle up to you. You feel weirdly close to Tim, too, probably from being in his house. Falling asleep here is easy; you’re at peace, happy, and cuddled by a warm, loving dog.

✯✯✯✯✯

Waking up is not quite as peaceful. Tim is taking a picture, and when you grunt, he lowers the phone and smiles.

“That’s adorable,” he states.

“I’m quitting,” you murmur, throwing an arm over Kojo.

“You know, he didn’t even come see me when I got home? He’s a cheater, although I can’t blame him. It does look pretty comfortable.”

Ignoring him, you move closer to Kojo.

“Consider this my two hours’ notice.”

Tim chuckles, and the couch dips by your feet as he sits. When you sit up, he’s leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your way so you can rest. Need me to come back later?”

“No, I’m here all day. If you want to stay, you can.”

“I have a paper to finish,” you lament. “But I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” You’re gathering your things when Tim reiterates, “Seriously. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Drive safe.”

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s cloudy in Los Angeles, like a bad omen. You’re considering taking Tim’s offer of staying at his house to work. Kojo is the last dog you visit, and you look down at him as he sniffs the base of a streetlight.

“Mind if I stay with you for the rest of the day?” you ask him.

Kojo’s tail wags faster, but he’s still more interested in the light than you.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kojo picks his head up, continuing toward the corner as you lead him down the sidewalk. You see something move up the road and command Kojo to stop. Unsure if it’s a dog or some other animal, you wait a moment before walking again.

With your attention on the unknown shadow before you, you fail to hear a dog running up behind you. Kojo turns suddenly, and you don’t register what’s happening as you push him out of the way.

Another dog, about Kojo’s size, with no leash or owner in sight, is on top of you. Kojo is barking, trying to help, but you yell at him to stay back.

“Kojo, sit!” you yell over the other dog’s growling.

Your yell turns to a cry of pain when the dog’s jaw clamps down on your arm, his claws digging into your side.

“Get off!” you yell, your adrenaline giving you the strength to push back. 

Once you’re sitting up, you use your legs to free yourself from the dog’s grip. Kojo is behind you, unharmed, and you need to keep it that way. Flipping yourself on top of the dog, it releases your arm before moving its legs wildly, raking a paw across your face as it tries to move away.

“Go!” you yell harshly, moving enough to let it up.

Stomping your foot after it, you show the dog you’re in charge and wait in front of Kojo until it’s out of sight.

“Kojo, we have to go,” you say quickly, grabbing his leash and limping behind him as he leads you home.

Kojo focuses on getting you inside, and when you close the door and fall to the floor, he moves to your side. He whimpers, and you want to comfort him, but you are growing dizzy.

“You okay, boy?” you mumble.

You scream in pain when you raise your hand to check that Kojo is okay. After dropping your arm, your breathing grows shallow as tears stream down your face. Kojo whines again, and you want to reach for your phone, but your arms feel too heavy to move. Looking down, you suddenly realize the severity of what happened. Covered in blood and with no strength to call for help, you whisper an apology to Kojo and let your eyes drift close.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs as he turns onto his street. He’s ready to see Kojo and, if he’s lucky, you. When Tim sees your car in the driveway, he smiles and rushes toward the door. That happiness quickly disappears when he notices the trail of blood leading up the driveway. Walking to the sidewalk, he sees that it leads nearly to the corner. Racing to the backdoor, which has a large blood smear below a clear handprint, Tim keeps a hand on his gun as he unlocks the door.

Kojo’s whimpering greets Tim, and when he looks down, he sees that Kojo has blood on him. Kojo looks over quickly, and Tim follows his movement. Whatever fear he felt when he saw the blood on Kojo is multiplied when he sees you.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Tim calls for an ambulance before kneeling beside you.

“Is Kojo okay?” you ask weakly.

“He’s okay,” Tim promises, leaning closer in a poor attempt to find the source of your blood. “What hurts?”

“What doesn’t? Did you check on Kojo? He seemed okay but I couldn’t make sure the blood was mine.”

Tim turns, running his hands all over Kojo. The blood is only on his fur, evidently not his.

“He’s fine,” Tim repeats, his voice breaking at the end. “You are not.”

“There was a dog free running and I- I didn’t see it. Kojo stayed behind me so I need him to be okay.”

Tears are running down your face again, mixing with the blood. Tim wants to wipe them away, but the clear claw mark over your cheek deters him.

“There’s an ambulance on the way, you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. Just stay awake.”

“Kojo- Kojo’s a good boy,” you mumble.

“He is. Can you please keep your eyes on me? The ambulance is almost here.”

You nod, and the last thing you remember is Tim’s apologetic look and a painful pressure on your side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim, are you coming with?” Bailey asks.

Tim is staring at the bloodstain on his floor and up his wall. “I’ll be there soon.”

“We’ll keep you updated. She’ll be okay.”

Tim nods and waits for the EMTs to exit the house before he begins cleaning. He scrubs until every trace of your blood is erased from inside and on the door. After animal control captured the dog, several officers went out to find the dog's owner. Nolan promised to come by and clean the driveway, so Tim concentrated his efforts inside.

“Alright, Kojo, our turn,” Tim calls, letting Kojo into the bathroom to remove the blood from his fur. 

After Tim cleans Kojo and himself and throws away the blood-stained rags and cleaning supplies, he gathers his things to visit you in the hospital.

“I’ll be back with our girl,” Tim promises Kojo as he leaves.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m sorry.” You can’t stop the apology when Tim walks in.

“Stop apologizing. You kept that dog away from Kojo and I don’t- I can’t lose you. I walked in and you were covered in blood… I should have told you before that I care about you.”

“It’s my job to take care of Kojo,” you whisper.

Tim moves to the side of the bed, gently taking your hand. “You are not just a dog walker. I’ve been falling for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. The fact that you love Kojo solidified it for me.”

“I- I have feelings for you too,” you admit.

“They told me your pretty face won’t scar.”

“I barely even remember what happened.”

Tim sits beside your legs as he tells you, “Nolan and Celina arrested the dog’s owner. It wasn’t the first time he had done this.”

“Given a poor, unsuspecting college student thirty stitches while she’s just trying to spend the afternoon in her crush’s house? Oddly specific crime. What’s the code for that?”

Tim chuckles, gently squeezing your hand. “You can go home now. If you’re still up to spend some time in your crush’s house.”

“Tim-“

“Don’t tell me I don’t have to. I want to, need to.”

“I would love to spend time with you and Kojo. But I’m not sure I’m up for flirting today, handsome.”

“After the day you’ve had, just sit back and I’ll do all the flirting.”

“’Preciate that, sir.”

Tim laughs as he exits the room to complete your discharge paperwork. You smile behind him, hoping you’re not dreaming, and you finally told him how you feel.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo,” Tim chides. “Give her some room.”

“You cleaned all the blood?”

Tim gently directs your eyes to him, leaning close to remind you, “You’re more than just a dog walker. Worth the time, the effort, the love, all of it.”

“Love?”

“Yeah. Kojo really loves you.”

You laugh, quickly remembering that you have several stitches on your side.

“Careful,” Tim requests.

“Are you certified to help someone sit still while stitches hold their side closed?” you ask.

“Depends on the patient. You? Absolutely.”

Tim helps you get comfortable on the couch before walking to the kitchen to gather some water and snacks. When he returns, Kojo is cuddled up to your uninjured side.

“Really? Again?” Tim asks.

“I love you,” you say, completely distracting Tim as he kneels before you. “But I also think I really want to quit this time.”

Tim laughs, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “That’s fine. I am looking for a girlfriend rather than a dog walker now anyway.”

“Care to see my resumé?”

“Memorized it last time.”

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ photograph ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) decides to fly out to Philly for Valentine’s Day after watching Jamie say in an interview that he’ll probably be spending the day alone

warning(s) : just some tooth rotting fluff with no angst for once, a heavy makeout

author’s note : this is just a (not so) lil fluff filled thing bc i wanted to write something for belated valentine’s day. sorry or you’re welcome (idk)

༺═──────────────═༻

“Yeah, uh, I don’t actually have any plans tomorrow,” he explains to a reporter through the screen on her phone. “Everyone I know here does have plans and everyone else I know is across the country so I’ll most likely spend the day putting together furniture in my new apartment.”

That was the moment she decided that she was getting on the first flight she possibly could to Philly so Jamie didn’t spend Valentine’s Day alone. No one should have to spend the day alone. She doesn’t have any plans and she’s off from work for about two weeks because they’re doing renovations so a little trip to Philadelphia doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Last year he spent the day with Trevor on the couch and watched movies in their shared apartment. This year, he is in Philly and Trevor actually has a girlfriend. Not very ideal for Jamie.

She isn’t Jamie’s girlfriend, but she is one of his best friends and could never let him be alone on Valentine’s Day. Especially not after hearing what his actual plans are for tomorrow. She’s going to at least help him put furniture together in his apartment.

A flight out of LAX is scheduled for 10 that night. It’s six so she has about two hours to pack for a week long trip to Philly. She even buys a ticket for Saturday’s game at MetLife since she wants to see Jamie play a game while she’s in Philly.

By eight, she’s out the door with a suitcase that’s packed full of clothes and non-liquid toiletries. The jersey Jamie sent her about a week after the trade is neatly folded with the rest of her clothes. She orders an Uber to drive her to the airport.

While in the Uber, she debates texting Jamie and telling him that she’ll be at his new apartment early tomorrow morning since she’ll be landing a little before six in the morning. It’ll probably take about 45 minutes after she lands before she’s on Jamie’s doorstep.

Maybe a surprise wouldn’t be the worst thing so she puts her phone away until she has to pull out her plane ticket.

Getting on the plane takes an hour between getting past TSA and buying snacks for the nearly five hour flight. She boards the plane twenty minutes before it takes off so she has time to get comfortable.

She’s asleep before the plane even leaves the ground.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All the snacks she bought before the flight are going to be the snacks she eats while she’s in Philly because she slept for the entire flight. It didn’t feel like she slept for 5 hours but she did.

By six, she’s at baggage claim and grabbing her suitcase. She orders an Uber to Voorhees while she waits for her things. The car is waiting for her when she get outside.

It’s a lot colder out than she thought it was going to be. All she has on is a Ducks hoodie that Jamie gave to her the year before and a pair of leggings with Uggs on her feet. Her feet are warm. The rest of her is not. She shakes as she puts her things in the trunk of the car.

She gives the driver Jamie’s new address and she’s off to surprise her best friend.

The closer she gets to Jamie’s, the more nervous she gets. What if he found someone after moving to the Philly area? What if the whole putting furniture together comment was a lie so he didn’t announce to the entire world he was in a relationship? What if he doesn’t want her there in general?

Maybe a spontaneous trip across the country without at least letting Jamie know she was coming wasn’t the best idea she’s ever had.

A call comes through from Trevor. Confused, she answers the phone. “Good morning?”

“Are you in Philly?” he asks.

“Maybe,” she slowly replies as she watches the Philly skyline pass. “Why? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Not for you apparently,” he retorts. “I looked to see where you were because Mason said you weren’t replying to his texts so I wanted to make sure you were okay and I see that you flew across the country.”

She smiles and shakes her head. The way Trevor would find out she’s in Philly is by checking her location. He and Jamie are the only ones that have her location because she’s closest with them.

“Just wanted to surprise Jamie,” she tells Trevor. “That’s all. Tell Mason I’ll call him later because I’m about ten minutes away from Jamie’s apartment.”

“You gonna tell him you love him?” Trevor questions. She opens her mouth to object but he keeps talking. “It’s so freaking obvious so don’t even lie to me.”

A nervous laugh passes her lips. “We’ll see,” she replies. “I’ll talk to you later, Z.”

“Tell me how he’s really doing,” he tells her. “I worry about him sometimes.”

“Will do,” she says as the driver pulls up to Jamie’s place. “Talk soon.”

The line goes dead and she looks out the window at the apartment building. Jamie’s somewhere in there asleep and she’s about two minutes away from calling him to come let her into the building.

She gets her things out of the trunk and thanks the driver before he drives off to pick someone else up. She sighs and pulls up Jamie’s contact.

When she presses the ‘call’ button, it rings about four times before Jamie answers. The entire time, her hands are shaking and she isn’t sure if it’s because of the cold or if she’s nervous to see Jamie for the first time since the trade.

“It’s like four in the morning,” he croaks when he picks up. “Are you okay?”

She smiles at the sound of his morning voice. “Actually it’s almost seven in the morning and I’m currently freezing my ass off outside your apartment building so if you could come let me in, that would be great,” she says.

It sounds like Jamie falls out of bed when she says that she’s outside of the building. If he broke anything then she’s going to have to explain to Torts why Jamie will be out for six weeks.

He isn’t holding any body parts when he swings the door open and blankly stares at her from the top of the steps of the building. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to decide if he’s still dreaming or if he’s awake. She waves and a barefoot Jamie runs down the stairs to hug her.

A laugh passes her lips and she wraps her arms around his torso. “You’re actually here,” he says against her ear. “I thought you were lying to me.”

“Nope,” she replies. “I’m here. I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d come surprise you. Help you put together some furniture for Valentine’s Day.”

Jamie pulls back from the hug just enough to look at her. “You saw that interview?” he asks.

With a nod and a smile, she replies, “It sounded like a very boring way to spend Valentine’s Day so I thought I’d come keep you company. Maybe watch you play at the outdoor game this weekend. I have another week off from work and spending it in the Philly area with my best friend didn’t sound like the worst idea.”

“You are actually insane for buying a plane ticket without knowing if I’d be here or not,” he tells her. “I could’ve left for Toronto before you got here since we play them tomorrow.”

“Yeah I know how your travel schedule works,” she retorts. “That’s how I knew you’d be here.”

He shakes his head and grabs her suitcase. “You have some of the best timing because I took a maintenance day today so I have a day off from practice, but I leave tomorrow morning for Toronto,” he says to her as they walk into the building together.

“Listen, I’m spending a week in the area,” she replies. “I get to watch you play at the outdoor game on Saturday when I wasn’t planning on being on the east coast at all. If you’re gone for a day or two then it’s fine.”

The smile that forms on Jamie’s face makes her heart do somersaults in her stomach.

She can tell how excited he is that she decided to visit him. She knows how much he has been missing Anaheim so she brought Anaheim to him for a week.

When Jamie opens the door to the apartment, she is very surprised by how decorated it is and how much of the stuff he had in his Anaheim apartment has made its way to this one. It still needs some work done, but that is why she’s here. She’s here to help him finish putting it all together.

“I need to build some shelves,” Jamie tells her. “And put together the guest bedroom. The frame still needs to be built for the guest bed too. This is what my plans were for the day.”

She turns her head to look at him as he closes the door behind them. “So it wasn’t come ruse so you didn’t have to admit to the world that you had a secret girlfriend?” she questions.

If she should expect Jamie to have a girl over then she might as well get the girlfriend question out of the way early on in her visit.

“Uh, no,” he replies. “No secret girlfriend. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had any time to find a girlfriend. Yorky has tried but he’s not the best wingman.”

She can’t help but laugh. Jamie smiles and rolls her suitcase to the unfinished bedroom.

She decides to make some coffee for the two of them so they can get started on the day’s plans. They have to put together the guest room and build some shelves. It can’t be very hard to do either of those things. Right?

Wrong.

It turns out that Jamie can’t follow simple instructions to save his life. She has had to refrain from throwing whatever is in her hand at him so many times because he can’t read a piece of paper.

“Jamie, what am I supposed to do with this screw?” she asks as she holds up an extra screw. “Do I have to put it in your head so you can use your brain or something? You missing one in there? Do I need to get Trevor on the first flight out of LAX to come help you figure out how to read the instructions?”

Jamie looks up from his spot on the floor and throws the instructions at her. “Here, you try to read this and tell me if it makes any sense,” he retorts. “It’s all confusing. My parents helped me build shelves when they came to visit a few weeks ago. I didn’t have to do this. Maybe it’s just an extra.”

She grabs the pamphlet and reads the directions. The screw was supposed to be put in when putting the shelves in place. A shelf is missing a screw.

“You dumbass,” she says. “It’s not an extra screw. It was supposed to be put in on the bottom shelf to make sure it is secure and even. You now have an unsecure shelf in your guest room.”

Jamie flattens out on his back on the carpeted floor with a groan. “This is why I’m a hockey player and don’t work in home improvement,” he says as he rubs his eyes. She laughs and tries to keep her eyes on his face instead of on the sliver of skin that peeks out between what is a new Flyers t-shirt and pajama pants. “This is so dumb. I am not about to take that whole thing apart to put one screw in.”

She walks over and slaps the pamphlet on his stomach. He gasps and sits up with the paper in his hands. “Then get it together, Drysdale,” she tells him. “We have a bed frame to build.”

“Fuck the bed frame,” he sighs as she grabs the box in the corner and drags it into the center of the room. “You don’t need a bed to sleep in tonight.”

With a light laugh, she teases, “If we don’t get it set up then I’m gonna be sleeping in your bed until we get it put together.”

Jamie mutters something that sounds like “would be okay with me” but she pretends she doesn’t hear it. She can’t hear it or else she will just say “fuck it” and sleep in Jamie’s bed the entire time she’s here instead of putting the bed together.

The mattress is sitting up against the wall next to where the box with the bed frame was. He has everything he needs to put this bed together and he hasn’t done it yet. Not even over the All Star break when he had a few days off before going to Mexico with the Flyers.

Putting the bed together takes less time and a lot less arguing back and forth. Within an hour, the mattress is on top of the bed frame. Five-foot-eleven 185 pound Jamie flops on the mattress to make sure it’s secure and won’t fall apart if someone were to jump on it.

They do not need to have another shelf problem with the bed that she will most likely be sleeping on while she’s in the area. If it is like the shelf and it’s not safe to sleep on then the couch is in the living room for a reason.

The two of them stand in the doorway and look at their work when they decide the bed is secure. “We make an amazing team,” she comments. “Aside from the shelf.”

Jamie groans and walks down the hallway to his own room. “Shelves are stupid anyway,” he replies. “Who is actually going to use them in this room aside from me just putting a handful of books and pictures on them?” She laughs and goes to unpack her stuff now that it’s safe to do so without stepping on wood, metal or a screw on the floor.

The Flyers jersey that he sent her gets hung up in the closet along with her shirts, hoodies, and nicer pants. She’ll pull bras, panties, and socks out of the suitcase as needed. The beanie she brought to wear on Saturday is put on the bedside table.

Then she pulls out the gift that she brought for Jamie. It isn’t much but she’s hoping that it means as much to him as it does to her. The pictures she brought were taken at such important moments in Jamie’s career and she hopes that he doesn’t mind having a few pictures of his best friend around the apartment.

She walks down to Jamie’s bedroom and knocks gently on the door. There are footsteps behind it before the door swings open. “I, um, had these printed and framed in case I ever came to visit you,” she tells him as she holds out the three picture frames. “Thought you might need some décor.”

Jamie looks down at the pictures and shifts through them.

One of them was taken on Jamie’s Draft Day. He has on a Ducks jersey and she has on his Ducks hat. He looks so happy. He has an arm around her shoulders while he holds up six fingers and is smiling at the camera. She has a smile on his face and is looking up at him with a proud look on her face. Messy ponytail and all.

The second one was taken the day Jamie made his NHL debut and scored his first goal. It’s a selfie she took of her, Jamie, and Trevor at dinner that same night. They’re both holding their pucks because they went right from the arena to a restaurant to eat.

The third one was taken during the 2021 World Juniors tournament where Canada placed second. She’s putting the silver medal back around his neck after he had given it to her. “Silver just means you lost” is what he had said to her a moment before this was captured. She had told him that she was a winner to him and put the medal back around his neck. There is heavy eye contact between the two of them in their matching jerseys.

It was as the third picture was being taken she realized that she loved Jamie. The first two pictures, she knew she had feelings for him, but the third was when she realized that she wanted to be there for him as more than just a friend.

“I had no idea you had any of these,” he says after he’s done looking through them. Jamie looks up at her. “All at different points of my career.”

“Been with you since day one,” she replies with a smile on her face. “You didn’t think that I wouldn’t be here with you while you succeed in a whole new city, did you?”

Jamie laughs and shakes his head. “Absolutely not,” he tells her. “You always make sure you’re a presence in my life.” He pauses and looks right at her. “It’s one of the things I love most about having you in my life.”

She could almost cry when he says that.

There have been so many times over the years where she thought she was annoying or that he wanted her out of his life. She followed him to California when he started playing with the Gulls then the Ducks. He asked her to come with him, but she thought for months it was out of pity.

He has erased years of insecurity with one comment.

“Thanks for keeping me in your life,” she replies after a brief moment of silence.

“You’re like Trevor,” he teases. “You’re always around. It would be hard for me to get rid of you.”

She smiles up at him. “Except he would never fly across the country to see you,” she retorts. “Especially without at least telling you he was coming to see you.”

Jamie laughs. “No, he wouldn’t.”

They look at each other for a second before he walks past her. He has the picture frames in his hand as he walks into the living room. She follows him even though she is confused with what he’s doing.

He puts the picture of himself, Trevor, and (Y/N) on the coffee table under the lamp next to the couch. It’s the most public place in the entire place so it makes sense that that’s the picture that is put in the living room.

The picture of the two of them on Draft Day goes on a little table that leads to the hallway with both bedrooms and bathrooms. The table is under a little mirror that’s been hung up. A little less public but it also joins the other pictures that were taken that day. It looks like it belongs.

Jamie glances at her and walks back into his bedroom. She follows right behind him and stands in the doorway of his room. Her eyes are on the picture of the two of them at the 2021 World Juniors as it’s placed on Jamie’s bedside table.

“This one means the most to me so it deserves a little more privacy than the others,” Jamie tells her without a look in her direction. “You were there for me and picked me up when I was down. I didn’t want anyone else there but you. You were the one that convinced me silver was okay. The team worked hard to get to that moment. The medal was very well deserved because we did everything we could to make it to that game. I did everything I could to get the team to that game. We just came up a little bit short.”

She pouts and walks further into the room. He finally looks over at her. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she softly says to him. “I didn’t know that I was the person that convinced you it was okay to wear silver around your neck.”

“I needed silver because my gold medal was you,” Jamie shakily admits. His voice is soft. “You’re my gold medal.”

His words have her speechless. Her jaw drops in surprise. She has no idea why he’s saying this to her now.

He reaches out to her and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She takes a step forward and feels her heart race in her chest as she looks up at him. Her body shakes as she realizes that their relationship is changing.

A line that she never expected to cross is about to be crossed. She can see it in Jamie’s eyes as they examine her face, landing on her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nods because she doesn’t trust herself to speak. She is afraid that she’s going to admit how long she’s been in love with him if she says a single words.

So she nods, and Jamie leans down to capture her lips in a soft, hesitant kiss. He’s testing the waters to see if she’ll push him away.

She’ll never push him away.

Not when she finally has him like this. Not when she finally knows what it feels like to kiss Jamie Drysdale.

When she feels him begin to pull away, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans more into him to deepen the kiss instead of Jamie breaking it. Her fingers find a home in his hair.

She is scared he will regret it if the kiss breaks, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to see that look. It might break her if he looks at her like that if the kiss breaks.

Jamie cups her cheek and brushes his thumbs over her cheekbone. She melts against him with a sigh.

“(Y/N),” he mumbles after a second. “I need to breathe.”

That’s when she lets him pull away. The sight of his red, swollen lips and unruly hair is almost too much for her. There’s a hint of a smile on his face and something overcomes her.

“I love you,” she tells him. “I’ve loved you since that was taken.” She points in the direction of the picture on his bedside table. “It’s always been you, Jamie. That’s why I flew across the country on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to be with you today because I miss you and I love you.”

Jamie smiles and brushes his thumb over her own lips that are as red and swollen as his are. “I love you too,” he says. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I saw you at my first NHL game in my jersey. I’m very happy you came to the east coast to watch me play in the Stadium Series game this weekend. I was going to probably fly you out anyway.”

She laughs and shakes her head before burying her face in his chest. They’ve been in love with each other for years and are only now saying something about it after Jamie was traded to Philly and she’s stuck in Anaheim for right now.

“Only took me bringing you pictures to finally kiss me,” she teases.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up and come here.”

Their lips meet in a heated kiss. Everything they’ve been feeling is coming out in the kiss. Jamie tugs her until she is sitting on his lap while he’s sitting on the mattress. She drapes her arms over his shoulders.

It’s that moment when she realizes they put together a whole bed for no reason because there is now no way she is getting in that bed now.

She pushes him down until Jamie is lying flat on his back and their chests are flush against each other. Her hair creates a curtain around their faces despite his fingers curling in her locks.

“Wait, hold on,” Jamie says. She pulls back from the kiss. “Have something to ask you before we get distracted.”

“Hm?”

“Will you come to family skate on Friday before the game at MetLife?” he asks. “As my girlfriend?”

The biggest smile forms on her lips. “You’re going to have to give me skating lessons because despite watching you play hockey for years, I have no idea how to skate,” she tells him.

“I will give you skating lessons,” Jamie laughs. “You’ll come though?”

She nods and kisses him. “I’ll come.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

yourusername

liked by jamie.drysdale, philadelphiaflyers, and 193,872 others

yourusername life recently w my 🤍

view all 15,982 comments

fan1 JAMIE HAS A GIRLFRIEND ????

masonmctavish23 ig i forgive you for not answering my texts last week

yourusername we can hang out when i get back into cali on wednesday

masonmctavish23 good. i’m mad that jamie stole you from us

fan2 oh my god. this is so cute

fan3 you were at metlife ??? i think i walked past you at one point

yourusername i had on the drysdale jersey

trevorzegras oh this is all i’m gonna hear about when she gets back

leocarlssoon it’s about time. i was praying this would happen bc the way jamie talked about you was insane

jamie.drysdale let me live !!

philadelphiaflyers Thanks for coming out

jamie.drysdale skating w my girlfriend for the first time was the best feeling 🩵

yourusername being your girlfriend is the best feeling

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[aseaofyoongi]

behind pixels 1 | jjk

jjk x reader (f)

genre: sex worker au (jk)

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: with rising stress, being caught touching yourself and no satisfaction for your own imagination you decide to take your friends advice of using a certain little app for assistance.

warnings: not another college smut au . . you guessed it lol; foul language; sensual/dirty talk; masturbation; computer sex; strangers to sex worker jk helping you out for the night lol (pls stay safe of the world wide web yall); mentions of sexual intercourse - but ofc there is none; cum eating. . she licks her fingers after.. yeah; open ending and no preparation for a pt. 2 so dont hate me.

next part: behins pixels the sequel

word count: 3,3 thousand words

posted: april 8th, 2023

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BunnyBoy98 is typing…..

Is this your first time

here?

Sorta.

You can’t sorta be

here for the first time.

It's a yes or no question.

I thought this site was

no questions asked. No

strings attached?

You against conversation

or something? Desperate

to get right to it?

Not desperate. . but that is

what we’re here for.

Right bunny boy?

Right.

There was a second of silence in between messages. For a brief moment you interpreted his quietness as a goodbye but he was still online. . Perhaps, he thought you to be too straightforward and that turned him off entirely and he moved on to the next user.

Still, there was a faint hope within you that he would reply so you sat in the dead stillness of your room, lights turned off to avoid recognition, door locked with only your undergarments to hug your body.

Typically, this wouldn’t be the event to make-up your Friday night however stressed induced days. . and the simple fact that you were in a torment of arousal twenty-four seven with no further satisfaction stemming from the guidance your imagination had on your fingers.

BunnyBoy98 is typing…..

You sat up on the bed in anticipation of his reply even though you'd never admit it to the stranger on the other side of the screen. He was about to help you get off, so you were definitely at the gates of desperation. It trickled all throughout your body as if a rain cloud sat right above you drenching you in its honeyed ardor.

Your skin turned to goosebumps as the chat bubble continued appearing and disappearing again and again.

Fine. But at least

tell me how you

found me.

I wasn’t specifically

searching for you.

Then who?

Anyone really.

Ouch. You know

I actually felt a bit

special for a second.

You still should. You’re

description helped me

choose you.

Be honest, was it

the tattoos?

If I say maybe would

you be mad at me?

Not at all.

Then, yes.

Plus your description

says you have long hair.

Who was the

runner-up?

Someone named Tae. But

I remembered a friend

visits him often.

So you found out

about us through

a friend?

Yes.

We can do either a

video call or messages.

Which do you prefer?

Video call.

If you’re up for it.

I’m OK with it

as long as you are.

I’ll call you in 5.

I’ll be here.

The rippling anticipation waved through you like electric currents rumbling your entire being right off its course. Though, BunnyBoy98 was a complete stranger you were minutes away from stripping yourself of every bit of shame and vulnerability right before him.

You couldn’t believe you actually went through with it.

And it all began about a week prior. When your friend had walked in on you in a . . less than ideal situation. You succumbed to the pleasure of your favorite toy, legs stretched wide and completely bare on your bottom half. Overcome in the feeling as you maintain focus on chasing your own orgasm. You remember hearing the hinges on the door creak but you weren’t expecting anyone so you remained painting a fervor image behind your eyelids. Envisioning slender fingers being pumped in and out of you repeatedly.

There were beads of sweat strolling down your body as you were in position; about to be catapulted into outer space. The atmosphere you set for yourself was serene and the only sounds that could be heard were your occasional whimpers and the music that played softly in the background. Everything drove you closer and closer to where you wanted to be.

Where you needed to be.

You were so close then a gasp inundated the air around you. A gasp that most certainly did not come from you.

“What the fuck?” You shot your eyes open and quickly saw your friend buried into a corner near the door. She faced the wall but you could only imagine the revolted look on her face, “can you lock the door next time?”

“Oh my,” you quickly pulled the covers over your sweaty body, “can you knock next time?”

“I did knock,” she yelled back, “but you were a little busy.”

“So you just barge in?”

“I thought you might have been dead in the toilet or something,” she shrugged and turned back around to find you sprawled in your bed, “oh, you’re done?”

“What do you think?”

“I mean don’t stop on my account. We all do it,” she sat across from your bed and began spinning around on your computer chair, “I personally like to meet Tae when I’m in the mood but you know this all works too.”

“Who’s Tae?” you questioned sitting up in the bed; wrapping your bed sheets around your figure tightly.

“He’s from this app where guys kinda help girls get off,” she said it so casually you almost didn’t fully decipher the words escaping her lips.

“There’s an app for that?”

“It’s the twenty-first century there’s literally an app for everything.”

You cleared your throat, “is it safe?”

“Are you interested?” she waggled her brows.

“No,” you scoffed, “did you need something?”

“I can’t come over just to spend time?” she shook her head, “I should’ve let you finish. Maybe you would have been in a better mood.”

“Fuck you,” you giggled.

“At least use this next time,” your phone dinged after she quickly sent you a text, “let me know how it goes.”

Her exit was barely audible. You were too preoccupied studying the link she sent for the app called ‘Eargasm An App for Women in Need.’

BunnyBoy98 is typing…..

I’m ready.

Can I call you?

Yeah.

You can call.

The ringtone echoing amongst your walls was taunting, and your nerves nearly fooled you into letting it ring. And while it took a lot of physical and mental strength to actually pick your hand up and move it towards the mouse pad you were finally able to press the green button lighting up your screen.

BunnyBoy98 sat up against a wall; glowing under blue LED lights. His black hair was long as detailed in his description and it sat right above his shoulders. Though it was hard to tell under the stark ambiance his eyes mimicked the tint of chocolate and his piercing stare was aimed at you on the other side of the screen. . Well, it was actually aimed at your dark screen. Though, it was selfish of you, as you hid cowardly behind your turned off camera you wished he would remove the black mask hiding the bottom half of his face.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you murmured, perhaps a bit scared that someone might hear this interaction play out although no one would. You made sure your door was locked this time and you didn’t even have a roommate. “Should I continue calling you BunnyBoy or is there something else you prefer to be called?”

“You can call me JK,” his voice was sultry, soothing, grave. Somehow a mixture of all three in one; it vibrated in your inner ear like some sort of an invasively soft tune, one you know you’d be replaying many times after tonight.

“Sorry about the dark screen,” you attempted to swallow down any ounce of nervousness, “I guess you can say I’m a bit nervous.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” his reassurance quickly eased your frazzled nerves, “though I’ll admit you did sound a bit more assertive over messages.”

“I tend to come off over-confident through texts,” you snickered, “it’s a natural flaw.”

“Confidence is sexy so I would say it’s a blessing.”

The word sexy sounded so enticing coming from his lips even as they were hidden behind that damned black cloth. You roamed through countless fantasies of the man sitting right before you, about the way he possibly looked without being covered; how his touch might feel on your scorching skin and the tone of his whispers closer in the proximity of your ear.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he voice was playful, but it was so hard to read his expression behind his covered face, “have you begun having fun without me?”

“No,” you mumbled, “I haven’t.”

“Good,” he said, “why don’t you tell me what you like.”

“Like during. .” you drifted off.

He nodded, tucking his hair behind his ear, “What else are we here for darling?”

“Yes. Of course,” you huffed, slapping your palm on your forehead undoubtedly astounded by your own stupidity, “Uh, I like. .” You gave it some thought but kept rounding the same corners leading to you cluelessness, “I’m not sure I know what I like.”

“Forgive me for being blunt but have you touched yourself recently?”

“That’s the exact reason why I ended up here.”

“You’re addicted to masturbating?” He whispered as if he was keeping some big secret.

“No!” you answered back quickly, “Not at all. I’ve just been a bit stressed lately and well. . something else happened.”

“What happened?”

“My friend kinda walked in on me,” you whispered.

“It happens to the best of us sadly,” he chuckled, a sound so beautiful and gentle it matched the soft tune of songbirds in the morning, “how about you begin by telling me about the last time you were aroused. Just walk me through whatever got you in the mood that day.”

You closed your eyes leaning your head against the headboard. Your thoughts traveled back to a couple of days prior when your body sunk into the mattress under the hex of your fingertips. You were stripped down bare but you recalled the way every inch of your body was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“I had just gotten home after my classes,” a small white lie was the price to pay to save any once of dignity you had left in the eyes of the stranger before you — in reality, that very day and every other day you’d found yourself under the amorous touches of your sinful fantasies whenever you saw him, the boy employed at the campus student center.

You didn’t know his name and in reality he only lived in your mind in small flashes. The first polaroid was composed of his cheeky smile framed by indents of his round cheeks. While other snap shots focused on the way he always wore in a half up half down style or a bun; others were centered around the numerous tattoos inked into his right arm, especially the snake sitting right above his wrist and the patchwork tattoos on the dorsal side of his hand.

“Were you thinking about someone?”

“Yes.”

“What were they doing?”

There was a rush of heat traveling through you as you recalled the way you dreamt up his touch against your body, the way his fingers left behind trails of goosebumps on your skin.

“First he began touching me softly,” It was like your body was on auto drive and before you knew it you set the laptop beside you on the bed and began getting comfortable on the bed.

“Was he touching you anywhere specific?”

You hummed in response, “he drew all kinds of figures into my inner thigh, kept inching closer and closer and then he would pull away abruptly.”

“Did you enjoy him pulling away?”

“Yes, it made me want it more.”

“Ok, I’m gonna ask you to do a couple of things. If you don’t want to do something just tell me. I’m here for your pleasure.”

You nodded, then realized he couldn’t see you, “Yea, that’s fine.”

A strain of the jitters ate away at your nerves and you weren’t sure if you’d ever come down from that rollercoaster of anxiety. You were sitting at the peak in a single-person cart waiting to be plummeted down the valley of the tracks leading you to the finale; the culmination of an enticing ride.

“Are you naked?”

“Somewhat.”

“Take it all off.”

Even in the stillness of darkness removing your bra and panties made you feel entirely vulnerable. You were technically alone but JK was right there just a couple of pixels away.

“Close your eyes, doll. I want you to begin touching yourself just wherever it feels good,” he instructed and you weren’t sure if it was your mind playing tricks on you but you could’ve sworn his voice became more bass, “start high and slowly make your way down to your breasts. When you’re there let me know.”

His words were tainted with sin meanwhile he still sat back nonchalantly. You'd imagined he was satisfied in the way your soft whimpers overtook the air as you began pinching your perked nipples but you couldn’t tell for sure not while he still wore his mask.

“I’m assuming you’ve made it.” he chuckled.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“You’re not very good at following instructions. Are you, doll?” he rolled up the sleeves of his crewneck, finally exposing the infamous tattoos he detailed in his description. They were like pieces of artwork adorning his entire arm, not a single spot was left visible—and as much as you tried to get a better look at them for some reason you found it impossible to focus on just one.

“Sorry,” you muttered once again, “I was caught up in the moment I guess.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he offered, “but I need you to be vocal since I can’t exactly see you.”

“I’ll be more vocal. I promise,” you said, still toying with your nipples in between your fingers, “right now my hands are still at my tits.”

“Are you bored of that yet, doll?” the onset of his tumultuous utter; it was thunderous, like music for the soul, “you wanna aim lower?”

“Yes.”

“With the tips of your fingers I want you to move down your cleavage,” he said, “and stop right at your pelvis.”

Quickly, it felt like the evening had rushed by and the sun had been relocated right beside your bed. Though you complied with his command any form of coherent words became jammed in your throat incapable of rolling off your tongue.

The way your fingers slid past your folds earned a string of whimpers from your lips earning a satisfied titter from JK on the other side of the screen.

“Nice and slow, doll,” JK said, “be gentle but I want you to apply a bit of pressure every time your fingers meet your clit.”

JK’s voice was no longer muffled from the laptop’s static microphone. Instead in this version of your altered reality he was laying right beside you on your bed, and his fingers substituted yours against your cunt. His touch contained something yours simply did not possess, composed of a sort of spell that left you babbling moans. And as his fingers traced whichever incoherence they wanted into your clit you felt closer to your pinnacle.

“Fuck,” he stuttered, “I love the way you say my name.”

The bubbling daringness dazed with pleasure drove you to chant his name over and over in between your pants and obscenities. “You have no idea the things I would do for you to fuck me right now,” It was your best attempt at trying to break past his professional shell — His head fell back against the wall as his adam’s apple bobbed up and up, his eyes were shut tightly and his hands fidgeted with something off frame.

“You have no idea how much I’d love to fuck you but this is a contactless doll,” his breathing became uneven, “I’m afraid we could never meet. You could never know who I am and I could never know who you are.”

“N-never say never,” the contract enforced by the site was clear and simple, both parties must grant their consent to the meeting online without disclosing their identities. For safety measures you understood the implications of the rules applied but what of it when you genuinely just wanted to meet the dulcet stranger and ride along him for the wildest time of your life.

“Just focus on the feeling,” his voice was rugged; raspy as a result of the groans he sang into the air, “Focus on that shiver taking your back hostage and that very knot tightening in your core. I want you to only let your thoughts be consumed by that very feeling.”

You sat up using your elbow for support, still thriving to maintain the mental image of having JK near in curated colors. Again, you were in the presence of the man dipping the mattress beside you as he laid down with eyes to scorching their umber tone surrounding you in warmth.

“Now, finger yourself.”

The squelching sound of your finger pushing past your entrance had JK sitting up straight like he was intrigued by your facile compliance but you thought it was obvious that by now there was very little you wouldn’t do as long as it came from him.

“I wish I could see you doll,” he confessed, “I bet you look heavenly with your fingers inside of you.”

“C-contactless r-remember,” The motion living up to your satisfaction was hastened —you became divulged in the feeling of your walls on your fingers. You felt soft, warm, tight. All of the sensations combined to create a feeling so addicting your fingers developed a mind of their own as you drove themselves in and out of you with ease.

“Right. .”

“Fuck, this f-feels,” you swallowed to ease the desert developing in the back of your throat, “it feels s-so fucking good.”

“If I were there,” he mumbled, barely audible but your ears still perked up at the lulls of his voice, “First, I would serenade every inch of your skin. Your body would be the portrait I’d paint with my lips.”

“Mhm. .”

“I would cherish your body so well. Eat you out until your legs shake and fuck you until you’re a candid mess.”

“O-oh, fuck! JK don’t stop.”

“I would fuck you so well, doll.”

“I-I’m so close,” your arm became numbed yet, you kept fucking yourself with your fingers still succumbing to the fantasy of having JK in replacement of your own hand.

The temperature in your room draws beads of sweat on your body and the more you strive to reach your high the more scorching the temperature becomes. The creaking of your bed accentuated the speed of your movements, it was like a song featuring your constant moans.

“Until you’re babbling nonsense, and your headboard is marking up the wall and the neighbors finally know my name.”

JK’s words were laced with a delectable nectar, so sweet, a once off taste wasn’t enough and as you pleaded for more and he complied, continuing to fill your ears with sinful promises you crashed hard. Coming in spurts of white coating your fingers.

“I have a surprise for you,” you panted in between almost every word, “you ready?”

He nodded.

Call it post orgasm tipsiness but after sitting up a bit and adjusting the laptop to leave anything that wasn’t your mouth out of frame you turned on your camera for the very first time that night, pushing your glistening fingers which once invaded your walls past your swollen lips.

His hands rose to his hair and he slithered his fingers through it lightly before gripping his roots into his fists looking a fair amount aroused and frustrated. The tattoos you desperately wanted a peek of were finally on full display. After turning off your camera once again and JK began uttering praises your way, you began scanning the ink on his arm from his forearm up slowly. The artwork adorned his skin beautifully.

As you neared his wrists you noticed a very similar serpentine snake—one who you have stared at too often.

“Typically, things here are a bit different,” you finally registered his voice, “you would turn on your camera and I would provide more detailed assistance but I hope you still had a good time. I did.”

“Yeah,” your mind was in outer space, “I had a really good time.”

“Don’t shy away from visiting me again, OK?”

“Yeah,” you said, “bye, JK.”

Once the camera was off and you shut your laptop tightly, coming to the realization.

JK was him.

The boy, your boy from the student center.

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an: i was bored and im so sorry lol

reblogs, likes, comments, replies are always appreciated 🫶🏽

[firstdivisiongirl]

Hello I lovee your headcanons and i cant help but want more 😭 so could I request some headcanons for Izana, Ran, Hanma, and Kakucho (add whichever character you'd like too OR if its a lot, you can choose whoever you want to do, but mostly make Izana pls🙏) about their ideal types? How they'd like his partner to be, their physics, their personality... Yeah.

Thank you sm I hope it's not too much or anything

Hell. Thanks for the request. This isn’t too much at all. I did take out Ran, but only because there was no Rindou and they’re a package deal. I also couldn’t honestly think of anything for Ran. But I hope you enjoy it!

Izana Kurokawa, Kakucho Hitto, and Shuji Hanma's Ideal Types

Izana Kurokawa:

I cannot say this enough.  Karen ruined this man’s view on how to treat people.

Destroyed it

That being said, if he wanted someone, he would want someone really sweet

But also tough

Like a Hori from Horimiya type

Or Nami from One Piece

Super nice, but will also smack someone if they has too

Looks wouldn’t be a big priority for him

Except no blondes

Too much like Karen

He wants someone who is good at listening and agrees with him

No disagrees with the king

That sounded inappropriate…

But all in all he wants someone who is a good listener, nice, but can also fight

Kakucho Hitto:

Now for the sweetest boy

He wants someone who doesn’t have anything to do with gang life

His little piece of normalice

They have to be a good person

They need a huge moral compass

Like Izana, doesn’t care so much about looks

Looks aren’t what makes a person great

Wants someone who is smiling

And loves kids

He seems like the guy who would want a family

And wouldn’t waste time dating someone he didn’t see a future with.

So basically he wants a good person who he can see spending the rest of his life with

Shuji Hanma:

Oh Shuji!

You are a unique one.

To be honest, I think he would initially think he wants someone as crazy as him

It would make life exciting

But he would fall for the person who is the opposite him

Like super sweet and sees the world in color unlike him

Like the other two, looks don’t really bother him that much

But, he wants someone short

Why?  Because he’s a tease

He wants someone who will let him make choices too

Since working with Kisaki, he doesn’t get to make the calls

So he wants someone who will listen to his opinion and let him make decisions sometimes

He just wants someone who will make the world colorful instead of gray like it is now

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

[i4oba]

nct dream’s ideal types / MARK version! ✿..

[aka who i think would suit the members :D]

i feel like, since mark is pretty laid back most of the time, someone a little more.. adventurous? would suit him a lot, just to get him out of the comfort zone

i’m not talking literally, you don’t have to be indiana jones or something, just someone who’s open to try many many new things ? constantly seeking some type of rush from everything New (if that makes sense)

i can totally envision him with someone who’s like… it may sound weird, but doesn’t view themself as “pretty” or “attractive” yk… i’m not talking about the usual lack of confidence tho

it’s just that they never really prioritize their looks and all. i mean, of course they would CARE but wouldn’t think it’s that important

i also think that someone, who’s always deemed as “weird” and “unusual” would TOTALLY be something mark would go for

not only because of the doses of something extraordinary but because he’s interested. you can pique his interest if you say something so outta pocket that would normally cause a few harsh replies

i feel like mark is the type that doesn’t want to be limited, who knows he has limitless potential, not just talent wise but overall, as in… he knows he’s got greater purposes on this world

hence why i said a partner who’s curious enough to bring that out of him—sometimes he can get caught up on work and stuff so he needs Relax time, but not like the laying down and not doing anything kind

the type where you go round and round, finding the deeper meaning of things, such as talking about philosophical questions etcetera

that’s why i partly feel like he would be into someone who’s really really smart. he would love the constant feeling of fascination whenever his partner would say some random, niche fact on a topic he’s never heard of

he’s the type of guy, in my eyes, who loves to absorb knowledge and always tries to do so, which makes place for a partner who’s able to kind of stimulate him in that way?

if you know what i mean LMFAO

i feel like opening up fully for mark, would take a bit longer…? and he would absolutely stay in this “bro zone” kind of situation as well, so someone chill has to be the one he finds

he’s all about keeping it lowkey and if you’re impatient… well, your loss

and it’s not because he’s ashamed of you or something, it’s just that it’s more comfortable for him? in a way? feelings can be a little bit scary sometimes so you gotta leave him to handle it himself

so the keyword here is Patience

you cannot rush things!!!!!!!

especially since i genuinely believe that he… wouldn’t necessary look for love, you know

i can totally envision him just befriending someone and then comes all the cliché, him falling in love blah blah

he’s SO friends to lovers in my eyes, what can i say… falling for the bros is NOT on the list LMFAO and then here we go

but you know, it’s easier like that, and he works sooo hard, he never really focuses on finding a partner, not dating that actively because he’s busy

(i can totally see him panicking when he first realizes that he’s in love with one of his closest friends… he would be Shocked AHAH)

so yeah, developing feelings for him would definitely not take that much of time?? in my opinion?? it’s just him accepting it kinda, you know

being chill and pretty cool is something he would definitely find attractive, especially because, i think??? he doesn’t care about looks that much

he’s the type of guy who’s all about what’s on the inside :) so he needs someone who’s got the same mindset????

that’s a big thing for him anyways.. he wants to feel secure? like he’s not alone!

don’t leave him alone!!!!!!! he’s a cutie patootie, he needs love!!!!!!! even if he doesn’t show it!!!!!!!! he Does need it!!!!!

have so much love for him, be easy going and open minded and honestly, you’ve goz mark lee on his knees :,)

FEEL FREE TO DISAGREE THOUGH!!! this is only my perception of him! :)

& for some visual representation — STYLEBOARDS! :) <3

[thisismeracing]

Charlieverse | CL16

― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader ― Word count: 2.1k ― Warnings: mentions of alcohol and Halloween costumes (clowns, werewolves, and others).  ― Summary: When Yn decided to go to a Halloween party with her best friend, Charles Leclerc, she did not consider that some of the fantasies would be so close to reality that they would terrify her. But one thing Yn had no idea about too, was Charles’ feelings for her. All Hallow’s Eve is not the most romantic scenario to confess your feelings, but it might be just the perfect one for them.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

There are many sayings about how sharing is caring, and how life feels bigger and better when you do so.

Charles knew this all too well.

He was used to sharing everything with you since he was a kid.

It all started after you forgot your snack at home. He was only five years old then, but he had two brothers so he knew exactly what to do. Little Charles offered to share his bag of colored goldfish and grapes with you. The next day you shared your coloring pencils with him. It started with simple things, and it grew as you both grew older. All through the school years, Charles and you were inseparable, even with his crazy racing schedule. You would take notes for him, he would bring you stories, and you would study together until late hours. You shared your fears, deepest feelings, and even the shame of being underdressed when invited to a party such as now.

“I had no idea people would go this hard,” you state, watching as the Taxi driver came to a halt in front of the big doors. Gathered in front of the mansion were people dressed as all kinds of gore Halloween beings, some of the makeup seeming too real to your liking.

“We can go back home and change if you want,” there’s Charles' tranquil voice. He is always the one to keep his patience even if the world is ending, and you love that about him.

You shake your head, “We would never find something else in time, plus, we’re together, so… here’s to another good story,” you point to your matching costumes, and Charles smiles.

You’re both wearing Spiderman costumes. Though it felt like the best choice, the easiest one, you should have guessed it was too easy and, therefore, not ideal.

Charles gives you one last wink before putting on his mask. You do the same just as he opens the door for you, and hand in hand you walk through the crowd into the house. You cling to your best friend’s arm trying to stay as far away as possible from some of the costumes.

“You sure you’re ok over there?” Charles asks when you’re halfway to the kitchen, and you tighten your grip on his hand.

You nod, “Yeah, just.. That werewolf costume seems too realistic.” And there’s no need for you to explain to him. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand, his favorite track, his most played song. Charles knows that someone planted a seed of fear about some creatures when you were little, and some of the stories have stayed with you even after you grew. It is a bit curious how despite your fears, you still love Halloween, at least the kind of parties you go to where people will dress in a way that clearly shows that they are human beings and meant no harm.

Were you supposed to guess that a certain crazy clown costume was a mere costume after seeing people being killed by those?

You wouldn’t stay to answer that question.

When you finally reach the kitchen, both of you take off the mask to your friends, hugging and making your rounds. Charles grabs you two a drink and you choose to stay there instead of mingling and risking bumping into scary figures.

“Can you get me another of these?” You mouth to Charles pointing at your empty cup. From across the kitchen, he nods, and a few seconds later he’s in front of you with a full cup.

“They were out of ice, is it ok if we share this one?” he asks over the music and you nod. You’re sitting on the counter, and when Charles turns to your friends he stands right between your legs. One of your hands goes to his shoulders, and you keep talking about your costume as if your heart weren’t hammering inside your ribcage, almost coming out from your throat the second his hand finds your knee, holding it so your anxious bounce can cease.

You gulp trying to keep your attention on whatever your friend is talking about because all your mind can focus on is your best friend’s hand on you, his body radiating warmth into yours. And not that it is unusual for Charles to touch it, quite the opposite, he loves to hug and kiss those he cares about, but it’s just lately your heart seemed to wish for a different kind of sharing.

It wants to share the secret touches. It wants to claim hungry kisses, tears of happiness, loud silences, and whispered mysteries. It is as if your heart created a reality where you had all of this with Charles.

Your own Charlie-verse.

The party keeps going in full swing, and Charles never leaves your side for over thirty minutes. He comes and goes always checking if you’re ok and if you want to go with him, but you choose the safety of the counter and your crowd of friends. The conversation is good, and so is the booze, from the kitchen you can see a bit of the living room and the pool area through the glass doors.

And it’s only when part of the girls decide to go dancing that you hop off the counter, and grab Charles’ hands following him in the direction of another crowd of friends. You’re tipsy enough to lace your fingers with his and to tighten your grip when you pass people dressed as clowns, werewolves, and with fake open wounds.

You end up in the pool area in front of Charles, he holds your body protectively against his, while his other hand has a cup you’re still sharing. The conversation is between the group, but every once in a while something will catch his attention and he’ll whisper about it in your ear, to which you’ll slightly turn your head, chuckle, and then answer him.

Though you felt a bit out of place at first with how everyone’s costumes seemed so extra compared to yours, you and Charles have had a lot of fun. So much so that you have given up going back home and decided to share a cab to his apartment.

Half of the ride a tipsy Charles is lecturing you with his “I told you so” about how he suggested you slept at his place and you denied it before the party. You just rest your head on his shoulder and pretend you are listening to his non-stop rant.

As it happens, the driver seems a bit uninterested in Charles’ rant because he turns the music on, and the last song that starts playing when he makes the curve into Charles’ street is Michael Jackson. You shriek and start jumping on the car seat.

“Chérie, it’s late,” your best friend tries to reason, but you just giggle.

“You have soundproof walls.”

“But not windows,” he tries again, and you playfully roll your eyes before getting out of the car wishing the driver a good night.

“Annie, are you okay?” you start to sing as you reach the elevators, and Charles just fakes a sigh, holding you close by the waist.

“So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?” you sing loudly until you reach the penthouse.

“Love, that’s not Smooth Criminal’s dance, that’s Thriller…” Charles holds back his laughter when you start a made-up choreography in his living room. “Oh mon dieu, you’re so precious.”

You giggle, smacking a loud kiss on his warm cheeks. While you make your track to the bathroom Charles goes to the kitchen.

“I’m using the guest bathroom! Go shower on the main one, you stinky!” you scream from the corridors and you hear his scoff, almost able to picture his eye roll.

You go through your shower on autopilot, brushing your teeth, and reaching for one of Charles’ shirts that are on the guest bedroom bed. Your visits have been so frequent you have everything you need there, but tonight you didn’t want one of your pajamas, you want to indulge in the daydream that your mind is harnessing.

When you reach your favorite Monegasque bedroom you can hear the shower still running, so you settle in the middle of his bed, staring at the ceiling. Somewhere in your head, there’s still music playing and your body seems to have kept a bit of the buzzing from the party. The distant noises coming from the open windows, along with the wind hitting the curtains lull you into a soft slumber, that only goes away when a door closes, you guess it's his closet, you smell his body wash and shampoo before he steps close to you.

There’s too much happening inside your head, so you choose to stay in silence while your best friend watches you attentively, eyes finding yours in a beat.

Charles, on the other hand, doesn’t have much in his head. He only has you. Your smell, your laugh, your voice, your body on his bed wearing his shirt.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” his mouth works faster than his brain does, and just like that you’re staring at him in confusion.

It’s like his brain is shortcircuited.

Charles gets up from the bed.

He walks to the door, then turns around and comes back to your side. There’s a crease between his brows and you have known him long enough to identify it as worry.

“Sharls, what’s going on?”

“I’m not drunk ok? Before you say anything, I’m not drunk, I’m just tipsy like you,” he starts and you nod from your spot on the bed. “I am so sorry, but I have to tell you this, and I’ll completely understand if you don’t feel the same, but I have to take this out of my chest, Yn.”

Sensing how serious the situation is you sit up, legs crossed one over the other, hands tucked under them.

“I- uhm… See- It’s like this, I-”

“Charles,” you call.

“I’m in love with you,” he spills in a single sentence, but then he keeps going. “I love you so fucking much it’s starting to hurt the fact that I’ve been keeping it from you. And I don’t even know when it started, but I’m so used to sharing everything with you, I just.. I wanted us to share more. I wanted to share my bed with you, and my clothes, and-” he points with his fingers before you could say something, “And I know we already share those things, but I want to do it differently. I want to share romantically. I want to share my heart with you, Chérie, all of it. But I’ll understand if you’re confused or overwhelmed by my outburst, in fact… shit… I should have waited in case you wanted to go home right? Please, tell me that if you don’t feel the same you’ll at least get the farthest guest bedroom, I promise I won’t bother you, we’ll pretend it didn’t happen in the morning and I-”

“No,” you interrupt.

“Pardon?”

“I said no, I won’t sleep in the farthest guest bedroom.”

“Oh- then let me drive you, just…– fuck I can’t I drank… uhm I’ll–”

“No, Charles, stop,” you get on your knees on the mattress and reach for his arm, bringing his body close to yours.

“No, I’m not sleeping in the guest bedroom because we’re sharing a bed tonight. No, I’m not mad about your admission, I’m sharing my heart with you too. Romantically,” you confess.

His shoulders drop in relief, and you giggle, threading your fingers on his soft strands. Charles mutters something you can’t understand because you’re too focused on how his face seems different from this angle, after all the confessed words. He’s still your Charles, but he’s also a new Charles, and this knowledge brings a new feeling to your heart and stomach.

When his lips find yours, soft and warm, a contrast with his cold hands on your jaw and waist, he presses your bodies closer and hums in pleasure. You smile, unable to contain your happiness. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, and when the air has made itself scarce, you part the kiss, foreheads still touching.

“So, Charlie, are you okay? Are you okay, Charlie?”

Charles throws his head back and laughs.

He knows how insufferable you could get once a song gets stuck in your head.

“I was struck down. You’re such a smooth criminal, Chérie. Stealing hearts around so easily.”

It is your turn to laugh.

“That was cheesy, but I loved it,” you mumble before pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I love you.”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, lovelies! I hope you liked the piece, I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia on Tumblr) for proof and beta-reading this <3.  Let me know your thoughts on this piece *mwah*.  

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[literaila]

*mischievous laugh* mueheheh

hypothetically, what if reader dies? 😈 what will poor megumi and tsumiki do now? what would gojo do too? 🥸

um… hello??? what is wrong with—

okay, so let’s start off with the simplest reaction. megumi is out for vengeance.

it’s clear that he’s got a bit of a… sadistic nature to him (undefined by whatever morals normal people have, yeah whatever). but why is he strong if not to protect the world from evil things? why does he have power if he’s not supposed to use it?

so, you being a jujutsu sorcerer, it’s likely that you died fighting a curse. if that’s the case, megumi is hunting that curse down and eliminating it in an instant. and then he keeps going. he’s going to kill every curse he can find, because you shouldn’t have died.

if anyone doesn’t deserve to die, it’s you.

and while megumi can hear your words in his head, telling him to protect others, to take care of people, to stay with his family… if you’re gone, what does it matter?

megumi will live in his anger. he doesn’t need depression or acceptance. what he needs is you, and if he can’t have you anymore…

and then there’s tsumiki. she wouldn’t feel angry, like megumi, but lost.

it’s obvious that she believes there’s a sort of destiny within the world. she thinks that all bad things happen so that the good things, the truly good things, can come next. she believes that you have to feel pain to feel pleasure. she trusts this idea.

before you die, tsumiki isn’t afraid of anything.

but after you die, she loses her purpose. her ideals, her faith in the world.

she goes from the trusting little girl who would believe satoru if he told her that he was really a robot with a human heart inside of him, from the girl who took everything at face value, believed that all people should protect each other, help each other—

she goes from your little girl to something entirely different.

what’s the point of this? she wonders. if her mom had to die to bring her to you and satoru, she understands. if she and megumi had to take care of themselves for a year—living in some apartment that didn’t have running water—just to find a real family, then it was worth it.

but what’s worth it if you’re dead? what’s the point to losing another mom, another person that tsumiki was supposed to help take care of?

she can’t do anything, though. she’s always been the most powerless of her family members. and after you die, she’s not your little girl anymore.

she’s just lost.

and, of course, satoru.

i think he shares the same grief that both megumi and tsumiki feel—anger, denial—but he’s older than them. he loves you differently than they ever could.

there was a time when satoru had pushed you away just to get back to that place where he was nothing but strong. where his feelings had no bearing in his power, where emotions didn’t matter as long as he was the honored one.

but, really, if it takes you dying to get back to that place—then satoru never wants to be strong again.

when suguru died, satoru was committed to carrying out his plans. to protecting sorcerers from a world forged against them. he wanted to train a generation of sorcerers who didn’t have to worry about dying with regrets, who could take care of themselves along with all of the non-sorcerers in the world.

to eradicate cursed energy, in whatever capacity.

but when you die, satoru loses all that purpose. why should he care about the world when he no longer has to protect you from it?

why should he care at all?

so, just like after riko died, satoru is back to being nothing but a vessel for power. he doesn’t care who he kills, what he kills, as long as it has some meaning, some pointless purpose that doesn’t matter to him.

but, it only takes one memory of you to snap him out of it. he can almost feel you clawing at his chest, your voice begging him to take care of them.

so, eventually, satoru finds his way home. he’s got two other people to protect.

and he’ll be damned if anything happens to them.