#it was our first time meeting so like. no expectations for anything but all our convos were đđ»
Mr. Walz
Featuring Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz
Back in the late â90s, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, and now Vice President Kamala Harrisâ running mate, was a high school teacher and football coach in rural Minnesota. I attended Mankato West from 2000-2004, having Walz for 11th grade history. Being gay at the time, I initially expected to hate Walz, because he was a football coach and a hunter. But he was accepting and really friendly with me; with everyone really. Heâs genuinely the goofy teacher that was in the hallway greeting every kid every morning, giving high fives and fist bumps. He and his wife, also a teacher at the school, provided vital support during my formative years. And to be honest, I thought he was cute.
He was in his late 30s and about 21 years my senior at that time, about my height, which is just shy of five foot-nine. He was chiselled like most middle-aged men with a gut. He dressed conservatively, usually a short sleeve solid colored shirt with a tee shirt under it and trousers which seemed to be a few sizes too small. I couldnât help but find myself staring at his tightly held manhood, which showed a clear outline of his thick cock. That bulge had me daydreaming during our meets and school outings. I would jerk-off with this image in my mind every night.
After graduation, I didnât see my ex-teacher again until I attended a campaign dinner in Falcon Heights, Minnesota. He instantly recognized me, smiling broadly and gave me a big hug. Weâre talking 20-something years ago, and to have your 10th-grade geography teacher remember you after all of that time, it means something. I couldnât call him Gov. Walz, because he will forever be Mr. Walz.
We talked a bit then, and a couple times throughout the evening. He asked me about what I was up to, if I was dating, the usual chit chat. I was so giddy to see Mr. Walz that I confessed that I had a crush on him in high school. I told him I thought about him every night when I jack off. How I use a big carrot up my ass, and pretend it was his dick. And I told him I knew he would never like me, that way, but I had to tell him.
Surprisingly, he suggested I should come over to his hotel, later, placing his hotel room card on the edge of the sink right next to me.
"Wait here, I'll have an agent escort you to my room in an hour." He said before leaving. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one had, so I quickly grabbed the key.
Sure enough, an hour later, a secret service agent escorted me to his hotel. The journey upstairs was unbearable. Reporters to dodge, people for the agent to nod away. By the time I got to Mr. Walzâs room, I was afraid heâd think I wasnâtâ interested, but when I entered the room, he was ready and waiting. The lights were dim, Mr. Walz was in a hotel bathrobe, and heâd ordered porn on the television.
"Is this what you really want?" I asked.
"More then anything." He replied.
I made the first move, leaning in to kiss him and as soon as our lips met, his arms went around me. Quickly, he started unbuttoning my shirt, unzipping my pants, and basically tearing my clothes off as he moved his tongue around inside my mouth. His hand was on my hard dick, feeling and testing the size.
"Oh, yeah." He moaned, as he ran his hand down my tender, sensitive cock before squatting.
With his mouth at my crotch, he ran his tongue up all seven inches, before gently pushing me towards the bed. On the bed, our bodies melded into one. His hard dick was teasing mine, as once again, our tongues found the other's mouth. Hands everywhere, as we hugged and rocked each other. Kissing my way down his chest, I left a trail of saliva all the way to his cock. Taking him in my mouth, I began to suck while I swirled my tongue around his boner before he started thrusting into my throat, making me gag. I guess he got pretty turned on by what I was doing to him as he turned me around and put us into 69 position.
As Mr. Walz took my dick in his mouth, I took his dick in mine. I worked on it with such skill that he began moaning deep inside his throat as he sucked my dick. And he could really suck; he knew how to please a man. I began to feel him starting to breathe rapidly and shake. I knew he was going to explode soon. I was getting close as well.
Wanting Mr. Walz to fuck me, I quickly seperated, and rolled off the bed leaving him laying there completely naked with a huge hard-on. Hurrying to my pants, I pulled a tube of lubrication out of his pocket before I bounded back to the bed. After telling him I wanted him to fuck me, I tensely watched as Mr. Walz applied the lubricate to his cock, knowing the pain I was about to feel. I couldnât help but thinking back to my high school years when I first saw him. I had always wanted Mr. Walz to fuck me since then. Now was the time.
âYou got a nice tight asshole.â Mr. Walz told me as he rubbed some of the KY onto my asshole.
He lifted my legs and stared me straight in the eyes as he guided the head of his cock to my ass. As soon as his dick made contact, he immediately thrust all 8 inches into me. I gasped loudly, so loudly in fact that Iâm sure the people in the next room heard.
âIâm going to really open up your asshole.â Mr. Walz called out with a wicked smile on his face as he slowly started fucking me.
Noticing each time the fat head of his cock passed my hard prostate, pre-cum would squirt from the tip of my dick. He reached down and scooped it up with his finger, brought it to his mouth and licked it clean.
"Oh, man, that's good." He said, as he scooped up more, but I pulled his finger to his mouth, and sucked it in.
We smiled at each other before he leaned forward and kissed me deep, our tongues caressed each other, sharing my pre-cum. Then as we kissed he sent his cock plunging deeper into me. I arched my back as I was forced to take more cock deeper into my ass than ever before.
âYes, fuck me, Mr. Walz.â I found myself saying when he broke our embrace, âGive it to me, Mr. Walz. Make me yours!â
And he did just that. Mr. Walz started fucking me hard and fast. I took each of the strokes of his his old manhood willingly. I wanted to give him total pleasure and I could tell from the far away look in his eye that the old man was as lost in me as I was in him. I knew he was getting close, and I didnât want to stop him, so I didnât say a word about pulling out. Having only had sex with his wife for all those years, he didnât think of it either. Soon he was filling my ass with ropes of cum, and I felt it filling me up.
After we got off and caught our breath, he looked at me and we both started laughing and telling each other how glad we were that we'd just met up today.
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our bodies are oh so close and tight
written for @steddiesmuttyseptember week three, using the prompt 'rough'
Title from the song 'Paradise by the Dashboard Light' by Meatloaf
Also inspired by this tweet from @_cydonic: âyoung, bratty Steve who always calls for his father's car when he's working so that Mr Harrington's long-time, trusted driver Eddie can fuck him nasty in the back of the rolls đ„°â
Rating: E
âGoing somewhere, Steven?â his Mother asks as he walks past her in the living room, adjusting the sleeves of his navy blue blazer. She doesnât look up from her latest bodice-ripper romance book, so he knows he can be vague in his response.
âYes, Mother. Just out to meet the guys.â
âMmm, make sure you drive safely.â He can see her interest in the conversation is waning as her eyes keep moving over the words on the page. She even reaches for her glass of Chablis. It must be a very interesting passage.
âEddie will make sure that I get there in one piece,â Steve answers. There is no response to that. His Mother sips her wine, and is now fully engrossed again in her story.
Itâs just as well. He doesnât think sheâll even wait up for him. She never does.
And he doesnât know what time heâll come back home. Not that the Harringtonâs ever cared when their son came home. He tested it once: stayed out for three days, sleeping in a different girlâs bed every night. When he finally came home, they barely registered it.
This kind of parental neglect has been going on since Steve can remember. Their wealth let them spoil him with all the toys, experiences, cars and vacations a young man could want. There were a myriad of tutors, nannies, personal assistants as well. Their boy would never want for anything.
Except for affection and love from his parents. The Harringtonâs did not give this to their only child readily, and on some level they must have felt guilty over it, because they let him do whatever he wanted. Steve was spoiled and willful and bratty, and no one was around to check him on this attitude.
Until the Harringtonâs hired their chauffeur, that was.
Eddie Munson was like nothing and no one Steve had ever encountered before. He was in his mid-twenties, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. He had an air of something about him: a hint of danger that only Steve picked up on.
He also didnât take any shit from The Brat, as he had christened Steve.
The first time heâd tested Eddie was about six months after heâd been hired, almost three months ago now. Heâd walked over to the garage where the Harringtonâs cars were kept, just as Eddie was finishing wiping down the interior of the Rolls, his tongue poking out in concentration as he moved the damp rag over the steering wheel.
âI want you to drive me somewhere,â Steve said by way of greeting, brushing a piece of imaginary lint off of his blazer.
Eddie moved out of the driverâs seat, rag in hand. His hair, usually kept hidden by his chauffeurâs cap, was loose and long, brushing the tops of his shoulders. The white tank top he wore showed all the tattoos heâd kept hidden under his chauffeurâs jacket, along with the strong arms he had. âI just finished detailing the car, so itâll have to wait-â
Steve sighed heavily, as if this was the most inconvenient thing in the world. âI donât care. I want you to drive me-â
âNo,â Eddie said.
âNo?â Steve repeated, hazel eyes wide. No one had ever told him âNoâ before. âWho do you think-â
âI donât know who you think you are,â Eddie cut him off, voice even with a hint of anger, âbut Iâm not the one.â
âIâm your bossâs son, is who I am,â Steve answered, eyebrows furrowed as he came closer to Eddie.
âYouâre a brat, is what you are,â Eddie retorted.
Steve blinked dumbly, not sure what to do. This conversation was not going how heâd expected it to go. âWhat did you say?â he asked, moving so he was in Eddieâs personal space.
Eddie stayed where he was, which was also unexpected. So the two were almost chest to chest. âI said that youâre a brat.â He leaned in as he spoke. âJust because I drive you and your family around doesnât mean you get to treat me like shit.â
Steve blinked again, but this time at the closeness of their faces. He could see a spray of freckles across Eddieâs cheeks, how pink his lips were, the hint of red in his cheeks from his anger. It made something stir in his gut, an unexpected feeling of arousal.
It wasnât that Eddie was unattractive: he was actually pretty gorgeous to Steveâs mind. It wasnât even that he was a guy: Steve had experimented with a few guys in the past. He just hadnât ever expected to be attracted to someone who would speak to him like this. Like he wasnât important. Like he wasnât the spoiled and bratty son of the richest man in town.
âGet away,â Steve managed, pressing his hands on Eddieâs chest to shove him back. He managed to move the chauffeur about an inch before Eddie recovered and grabbed both of Steveâs wrists in his strong hands and pivoted so that he shoved Steveâs body up against the car. Eddieâs left thigh was between Steveâs legs, unaware that he was pressing against Steveâs crotch.
âDonât ever do that again,â Eddie growled, tightening his grip on Steveâs right wrist. âDo you understand me, brat?â
Steve breathed heavily but didnât answer. No one had ever been this rough with him before. And he found he kind of liked it. In response to Steveâs lack of one, Eddie pushed his body against Steveâs. The motion of him doing that produced delicious friction of Eddieâs thigh against his crotch that made Steve moan, closing his eyes at the feeling.
Eddieâs eyebrows raised at this development. âYou like that, huh, brat?â He asked. When Steve didnât immediately respond, Eddie moved his thigh again, feeling Steveâs erection clearly now. âYou like it when someone corrects your behavior?â He was whispering in Steveâs ear now, his whole body pressed against him.
âMaybeâŠâ Steve managed, his voice already sounding wrecked. He turned to look at Eddie, and felt a shiver run through him at the predatory look the chauffeur was giving him. âMaybe I do.â
âYou want me to correct your behavior, huh?â Eddie asked. âPut my hands on you? Punish you?â
âFuck,â Steve breathed, biting his lip at the imagery.
âFirst things first,â Eddie said, his left hand moving off of Steveâs right wrist, sliding down Steveâs body before he cupped Steveâs erection. He squeezed lightly, making Steve moan filthily, the sound echoing in the garage. âYou donât get to shove me around. Only I get to do that to you.â
âYes,â Steve breathed, hips moving against Eddieâs hand. âYes, God, I want that so much.â
âGood boy,â Eddie said, continuing to palm Steve through his pants. âSecond thing: if you piss me off, if you keep acting bratty, Iâm going to take it out of your ass.â As if to prove his point, Eddie moved them away from the car so he could give Steve a hard slap on the ass.
âOh my God,â Steve shouted, his cock kicking in his pants. Heâd never been spanked before, and didnât know if it was because it was new or because it was Eddie doing it, or both, but he felt like he could come in his pants from just that by itself.
Eddie bit his lip at the display before him. He had his bossâs son in the palm of his hand, quite literally. He didnât know Steve had it in him to be this pliable, this slutty. He found he really liked the power he had over him. âThird thing,â he said, his right hand moving in circles over Steveâs cheeks. âIâm the only one who gets to fuck you from now on. Iâm the only one youâll spread for. My pretty little whore.â He punctuated this by giving Steveâs earlobe a bite at the same time as he slipped his hand inside Steveâs pants, stroking his thick cock quickly. âSay it,â Eddie demanded, spanking Steve again as he stroked him.
âOnly you,â Steve panted, head tilted forward, his right hand gripping the driverâs side mirror. He shoved his pants down with his left hand, his cock and Eddieâs hand wrapped around it springing free. The slick sounds of his precum sliding up and down his cock could be heard. âOnly you get to fuck me,â he continued. âEddie, fuck, Iâm gonna come soon.â
âI can see,â Eddie breathed. He pushed his own pants down so his erection could be taken care of too. He wrapped his right hand around his cock and began stroking himself, getting off on getting Steve off. âNext time, Iâm going to fuck you in the backseat, and you better not get cum all over the leather, or Iâll have to punish you.â
âEddie!â Steve shouted as he came hard, gripping the mirror tightly as he bent forward. His cum dribbled over Eddieâs hands, some of it dripping onto the garage floor.
âGod youâre so fucking hot,â Eddie groaned, forcing himself to stop stroking himself. He brought his hand up and licked all of Steveâs release into his mouth.
âI want more,â Steve pleaded. He looked up at Eddie, lust and longing written all over his face. âI want to be in the backseat with you now.â
Eddie pulled Steve in for a kiss, his tongue sliding into Steveâs hot mouth. âYou ever been fucked before, brat?â
âOnce,â Steve breathed, gripping Eddieâs tank top as they kissed. âI think youâll be better at it, though.â
Eddie smirked. âDamn right.â He slapped Steveâs bare ass again before he said, âGet in the backseat and bend over.â
Steve kissed his once more before he complied, opening the back door and sliding in so he was facing the passenger side door. He grabbed the edge of the leather seat, and arched his back, waiting for Eddie.
Eddie slid in after Steve, closing the door behind him. âFuck, your ass looks so good.â He ran a hand over his cheeks, pleased to note the pink spots where heâd spanked Steve. âI have to have a taste.â
Steve cried out, gripping hard to the seat as Eddie spread his cheeks and began tonguing his asshole. No one had ever done this to him, and it was a revelation in pleasure. He felt the wetness of Eddieâs spit, his tongue working inside Steve, punching in and out of him. âEddie!â he moaned. âGod, fuck, it feels so good!â
âThis is just the warm up,â Eddie murmured, almost losing himself in eating Steve out. âYou taste so fucking delicious. Some day Iâm going to eat you out all night.â He felt Steveâs hole clench around his tongue at this. âSounds like you want that too, huh?â
âWant that, want you, want all of you. God, please, Eddie. Please fuck me!â
Eddie grinned, giving Steve one final lick before he straightened up. âSince you asked so nicelyâŠâ he murmured. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the little tub of Vaseline he kept there. It helped keep his hands smooth and soft after he worked on the car. Eddie uncapped it and scooped out a generous amount on his right pointer and middle fingers.
âThisâll be cold,â he warned Steve as he rubbed the lubricant over his hole. He slid both fingers inside Steve slowly, adding lubricant and getting him adjusted quicker. He heard the little hiss of pain Steve made and removed his fingers as quickly as he could. âAre you okay?â he asked. âDo you want me to stop?â
âIf you stop, Iâll shove you again,â was the answer. Steve turned his head from where it was currently pressed against the seat, giving Eddie a knowing grin.
Eddie grinned back, returning to the task at hand of getting Steveâs hole nice and lubed and stretched for him. âThereâs that brattiness we talked about,â he said, adding more Vaseline to his fingers as he slipped a third one inside of Steve. He slowly fucked Steve on his fingers, feeling him clench each time. âSomeone should fuck it out if you.â
âIs that gonna be you?â Steve asked, practically drooling all over the leather.
âDoes my little brat want that? Maybe I want to hear you beg a little first,â Eddie said, pulling his fingers out. He rubbed some Vaseline along his cock, which was red and aching from being ignored for so long. âAnd loudly. I want to make sure I hear you.â
âPlease fuck me, Eddie,â Steve begged, the desperation in his voice taking on a fever pitch. Part of him knew that begging was part of the roleplay theyâd stumbled onto, but he also was desperate to feel the other man inside him. âPlease, please, pleas- oh fuck, yes!â
On the last âpleaseâ, Eddie began to push inside Steve, groaning loudly at how tight and hot he was. He slid in slowly and then slid back slowly, almost pulling out. âIs it good? Is it okay?â he asked, his own voice ragged, his hands clutching desperately at Steveâs hips.
âDonât stop!â Steve begged, pushing back.
It was all Eddie needed. He thrust back inside of Steve, setting a rough rhythm as he fucked him. âYouâre so tight,â he breathed. âSuch a tight little whore. Canât get enough of me, can you?â He heard Steve gasp, felt him clench around him. âSay it,â he ordered, delivering a slap to Steveâs ass again.
âI canât get enough!â Steve yelled, a desperation in his voice. He was leaking precum everywhere all over the seat. Eddieâs words about punishing him if he got cum all over the backseat reverberating through his head. âI want all of you. Only you, please. Please Eddie!â He didnât know what he was begging for at this point, but that didnât matter as long as Eddie didnât stop fucking him.
Eddie felt a shudder run through him, his hips snapping hard against Steveâs as he kept fucking him. âIâm gonna cum in your tight hole,â he panted. âIâm gonna fill you up, make you mine.â He reached between Steveâs legs and began stroking his hard cock, trying to match the rhythm of each stroke to each thrust. âIâm gonna ruin you for anyone else.â
âOnly want your cock, your hands, your mouth, oh fuck, Eddie! Eddie, Iâm-!â Steveâs words cut off as he came hard while Eddie stroked him, thick ropes of cum spurting out of him.
Eddie gripped Steveâs hip tight with his other hand, the rhythm heâd built up beginning to falter. âTake all of it,â he groaned as he went over the edge, coming so hard inside Steve that he saw white. His whole body shuddered at his release. âGod, Steve,â he gasped, trying to catch his breath. âYouâre fucking incredible.â
âSo are you,â Steve panted, trying to catch his breath. He liked the way his name sounded in Eddieâs mouth. âI want some more.â
Eddie groaned as he pulled out, licking his lips at the sight of his cum leaking out of Steve. âYouâll get some more, brat.â He pinched Steveâs cheek, grinning at the outraged yelp he gave. âFirst, I gotta clean the car up before this becomes an issue.â
Steve pushed himself up onto his knees, a dull ache in his backside. âSo much for the detailing. I got cum all overâŠâ he trailed off as he felt Eddieâs arm wrap around his waist.
âIt lets me know I did a good job,â Eddie whispered in his ear, giving his earlobe a light bite. âAnd I lied: I hadnât finished detailing the car.â
Steve turned his head to look at Eddie. âWhyâd you lie?â
âBecause you were being bratty like usual,â Eddie answered. âAre you mad that I lied?â
âNo,â Steve said, fully turning to kiss Eddie on the mouth. âEspecially not after this.â He deepened the kiss, placing his right hand on Eddie's face.
Eddie broke the kiss to ask, âDid you actually want me to drive you anywhere?â
âI did, but I think I can have a better evening if I stay here with you,â Steve said, giving Eddieâs lower lip a small bite.
âBrat,â Eddie replied, spanking Steve on the ass again, a grin on his face. âGo upstairs and get washed up. Once I clean the car, Iâll be up.â
âBut donât you want to shower with me?â Steve whined, kissing Eddie on the neck, the jaw, everywhere but his mouth. He gasped when Eddie gripped his hair and tilted his head back.
âDo what I say,â Eddie growled, licking a line up Steveâs neck. âI havenât finished punishing you yet.â
Steve groaned with longing. âOkay,â he breathed, following Eddie out of the car after they both pulled their pants back up.
He was about to go upstairs when Eddie grabbed him by the blazer and pulled him in for a blistering kiss. His hands roamed everywhere on Steve, and when he pulled back, nuzzling their noses together, he started to say, âIf itâs too weird or too muchâŠâ
âI guess Iâll wait to shower with you after all,â Steve quipped as he pulled out of Eddieâs grasp, a big grin on his face. As he walked upstairs to Eddieâs apartment he heard behind him: âThat ass better be on display when I come up there.â
âWhy donât you make me?â Steve called back as he hurried up the stairs, already beginning to shed his clothes.
-
Now back in the present, Steve waits outside at the edge of the walkway. Soon enough, he sees a pair of headlights coming down the driveway, circling and pulling to a stop right in front of him.
Eddie, his Eddie, steps out from the driverâs seat and walks around to the other side, opening the right back passenger door for Steve. âYour chariot, my liege,â he jokes.
âCute,â Steve replies, running his fingers across the waistband of Eddieâs pants. He is rewarded when Eddie bites his lip, trying to keep his composure. Steve slips his hand further down to palm him over his pants.
Eddie gasps loudly, glaring at Steve as he slides coolly into the car. âBrat,â he hisses. It is said with all the love and affection Steve has always craved.
And it solidifies his decision to tell Eddie he loves him tonight.
After a few spankings, of course.
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if there's one thing i hate more than slackers in group projects its goddamn hypocrites
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Nanny Danny
âThat is a whole ass baby,â was the only thought running through Lex Luthorâs head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.
Heâd been pleased when heâd read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman. Heâd wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but thisâŠ
It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips andâŠdid he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that babyâs face?! No. No. Babies this small didnât smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. Heâd heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures heâd been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.
âSo as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and weâre planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-â
âTake him out.â
âSir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. Thereâs no need to-â
âI said, take him out. The project is cancelled.â
âWhat?! Mr. Luthor you canât!â
âI think youâll find I can. Now get me my son.â
*****
Two years later
âCall them againâ
âSir, Iâve called them seven times. They wonât answer.â
âThen call another agency!â
âThere isnât another agency, Sirâ
Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didnât notice him being bested by his own secretary.
He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, âThen what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while Iâm at it for the next board meeting?â
âIâm not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. Iâm telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most wonât even answer. Youâve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your sonâsâŠspecial needs.â
Lex snorted. âSpecial needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.â
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. âThank you forâŠclarifying the situation, Marjorie. If thereâs nothing else, you can leave.â
His secretary didnât move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file. Â âDid you have a suggestion?â
Looking pleased with herself she responded, âActually, yes, I did.â
âWell?â
She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, âWhat am I looking at here?â
âThis,â she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, âis the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.â
She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. âThese are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parentâs home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.â
âHmm,â Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.
âFinally,â she said handing him the last set of papers directly, âthis would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didnât hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.â She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.
âIs this ice?â
âYes, it is. Itâs several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.â
âThis machine was moved?â
âIt was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.â
Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.
âHave HR send Mr. Fenton up. Iâd like to offer him a promotion.â
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i feel like iâm going insane like this is going too well
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Bakugou cums so fast and hard the first time he has sex.
Yall be like: âHe lasts long!â âHe lets you finish first.â
He would love to! But I imagine he actually didnât last for shit.
Bakugou had forgotten to use the tricks that everyone had told him.
âThink about something gross so you donât cum fast!â Not possible, you felt too good for him to think about anything but you.
âBeat off before it happens, the sexâll last longer.â It happened spontaneously, he had no time.
âJust hold it in through your bladder!â HOW?! Thats the only one he remembered to try and yet it still failed.
He felt so embarrassed when his afterglow wore off. He thought that you wouldnât wanna have sex with him anymore. He knew better, but he decided that you would go tell all your friends about how easily the great Bakugou Katsuki cums.
He apologizes to you with a scowl on his face (not directed towards you, it was for himself).
âI didnât mean for it to be that fast. Mâsorry.â
He finally meets your eyes when you grab his face, kissing him.
âKatsuki, itâs okay. Itâs our first time. I didnât expect you to last forever. If anything, itâs a compliment. Just means Iâm that good.â
Bakugou internally sighs, the panic swaying away from him.
ââŠWanna go again?â
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âš I GAY STARGAZED âš
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so high school | lando norris
summary: no one imagined that the rising popstar of the moment and the papaya f1 driver would be dating until an album release and a very much awaited maiden win takes everyone by surprise
fc: maia reficco
request: here
a/n: whenever you guys request something based on a taylor song a fairy is born <3
â
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yourusername the tortured poets department is out tonight đđ€đ§ž
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username new music from my queen finally !!!
username iâve only had two weeks to prepare for this since she announced it iâm not okay
gracieabrams đ€đ€đ€
yourusername đ€đ€đ€
username i already know itâs gonna be album of the year
username mother blessing us with new music
username is this gonna make me cry or not? i need to be prepared
sabrinacarpenter iconic of you (liked by yourusername)
username breakup album or iâm in love album?
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yourusername i love you, itâs ruining my life
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username WTF MV ALREADY??
username ITâS HAPPENING
username omg this fucking song đ yn youâre going to JAIL
username thatâs how you open a motherfucking album
taylorswift actually sick!
yourusername learned from the best!
username i love youđ«”đœ itâs ruining my life (these fucking songs manđ©)
landonorris đ€
username HUH?
username and what is he doing here đ€Ł
TAKE A TOUR OF THE MCLAREN TEAM HUB WITH LANDO NORRIS & OSCAR PIASTRI posted by mclaren on youtube
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username LANDO LISTENS TO Y/N??
username not only that but repeatedly according to oscar???
username guys is it wrong for me to ship lando and y/nđ€
username weâre living of crumbs istg
username oh i know my man listens to the alchemy to hype him up
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landonorris pre-miamiđ§ž
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username hello there
username donât look at the camera challenge
username prayer chain for lando to win in miami đđœââïž
username stay delusional
username so whenâs our wedding?
username these likes between lando and yn are a bit flirty or is it just me?
username theyâre just likes on a social media app đ
username AND a comment he did on her post
username AND him listening to her music before races
username you sound a bit insane but iâm digging this theory
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yourusername my honest reaction to the ttpd reception đ€ whatâs your favorite currently?
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username GIRL YOUâRE SO PRETTY
username down bad, mbobhft, loml, all of them
username THE BLACK DOG !!!
maxverstappen1 down bad (liked by yourusername)
username hello?
username the flowersss đ
username literally every song on the album i physically canât listen to anything else
oliviarodrigo fresh out the slammer is crazy (liked by yourusername)
username guilty as sin? was ⊠an experience
username girlie just casually dropping album of the year and asking us to choose a favorite?
landonorris the alchemy and so high school (liked by yourusername)
username HELLO?
username no one talking about f1 drivers randomly commenting their favorite songs đ
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f1 not much here, just your favorite celebs attending the miami grand prix
tagged kendalljenner, davidbeckham and yourusername
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username my girl yn!!!
username yn at the paddock was not what i expected to see at all
username missed the opportunity to caption this âi'm an aston martin that you steered straight into the ditchâ
username lowkey i need to see a yn lando meet up
username kings of flirting through ig likes!
username promote that album queen
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landonorris FUCKING P1 đ€đ§Ą
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username WTF THEY WERE A COUPLE THIS WHOLE TIME?
username so proud!! very well deserved
username well this all makes so much more sense nowđ
mclaren first of manyđ§Ą
username when they recreated âthe alchemyâđ€
username pls it was so cute to see him run straight to her as soon as he got out of the carđ©
landonorris that song was written about me actually
username bro hard launching on a race post
username well he lowkey hard launch on international television after kissing her in front of everyone!
yourusername so proud of you!đ§Ą
landonorris đ€
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understand? pt. 1 | Â·Ë àŒ spencer reid ,,
summary - youâre a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and thereâs a doctor who wants to impress you.
genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and heâs attracted to that
warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.
w/c - 1.4k
a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so thatâs what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!
req - hi pia đđđ©·đ how r u? i hope youâre feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! iâve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia đ lots n lots of kisses for u!
This was not what you expected.Â
You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didnât know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it.Â
âY/n L/n? Iâm Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.âÂ
You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldnât get attached to any of them as youâd only be assisting them for one case.
Maybe they just didnât warm up to new people.Â
âIâll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if youâre settled down.â He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, itâs assertive yet comforting.Â
âYes, of course. I canât wait.â You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.
Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.
âEveryone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. Sheâll be assisting us with the Becker case youâve all been informed of. Sheâll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but sheâll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldnât notice otherwise.âÂ
You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child.Â
âThis is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.âÂ
The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly.Â
Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you werenât a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you werenât a trained profiler after all, just a translator. Â
There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor.Â
You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didnât like you.Â
âAre you okay? You seem uneasy,â he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.
âIâm fine.â You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the teamâs findings.Â
Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction.Â
âWhatâs up? Pretty girl got your tongue?â Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.
âFor someone who specialises in languages she doesnât talk much.âÂ
Morgan smirked, âMaybe not to you.â
âI didnât do anything wrong though.â Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.
âYouâve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didnât even greet her this morning.â Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. âI watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.âÂ
The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the planeâs window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencerâs attention was your intelligence.
He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencerâs face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state.
âAgent Y/n L/n.â Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways.Â
âHow many languages do you speak?â The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didnât allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone.
âUm, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.â You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again
âDid you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?âÂ
Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man,
âAnd Latin and Russian,â Spencer turned his head up to you, âBut I can understand more.âÂ
You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and werenât just heartless officers.
There wasnât any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on.
âThatâs impressive, Doctor Reid.â You reply genuinely.Â
âI mean itâs nothing compared to you though,â his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, âyour brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary peopleâs language networks only turn on and off.âÂ
Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, âThank you.â You didnât really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it.Â
âDonât worry too much, Reid.â Morgan called, grabbing Spencerâs attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. âShe digs it, I can tell. But sheâs just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesnât know how to small talk.âÂ
You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred.
Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.
Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.
taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld
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au where you were married to Cpt John MacTavish, but wake up to find yourself married to Sergeant Johnny MacTavish (original vs remake Soap)
âNo,â you state coldly. The shock was still sinking in.
âNo, Price. Thatâs not my husband.â
Priceâs gaze puzzles. âYou asked for Johnny MacTavish, this is Johnny. Our Johnny.â He gestures to your supposed husband, who is taking this all in himself, but he sits just staring at you.
Johnny, who couldnât stop admiring your face, your body, your ring on your fourth finger. He gave you that. Well, sort of.
Johnny, who was your husband. You, his wife. He had a wife in another life. Gods, what a catch you are, how did he manage to bag you? he thinks.
Wait. Gods, does that mean he gets you too?
âI asked for my John, my John MacTavish, my husband. He-â You state and finally look, really look at the man before you, this Johnny.
âHeâs too young, itâs not the same. Itâs- itâs off.â You look back down to the floor, youâre utterly confused. One moment youâre in bed at home, the next youâre on base in a room thatâs designated for âMacTavishâ. At first you thought it was a dream, so of course you went asking for your husband just to see his face again.
You didnât expect to actually see him, well- a younger version of your husband, much less an alive one. You had to pinch yourself, you really were here. This was real.
Maybe it was a second chance, maybe it was a cruel trick of fate. You couldnât tell just yet. You were hesitant, scared.
But Johnny on the other hand, he was having a hard time keeping still and his hands to himself with the likes of you in front of him.
âCapâ, can ye give us a moment?â Johnny asked his superior, who happily obliged. Price eyed you as if to warn you not to do anything stupid, but still be backed out of the room.
You could still barely look at Johnny. Heâs your husband, but so much younger, heâs still just as handsome, heâs technically yours but- it was all too weird. Would he even want you? What if he had someone else already?
âBonnie? Will ya look at me?â Johnny comes straight up to you, holding your hands in his. His fingers playing with your wedding ring, he already loves the idea of it, of you as his. That ring to call you his and his alone. Never did he think heâd have anything remotely close to this, so he considers you a blessing if anything.
You reluctantly keep your head down so Johnny brings one hand to cup your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face.
The sight of his concerned face nearly breaks your heart. It hurts to see him yet itâs everything youâve ever dreamed of since his passing. To have him before you again. Itâs all so overwhelming you canât help but tear up.
âNo need for that, bonnie.â He smiles as he cups your cheeks. It feels so good to have his skin on yours again, you close your eyes at the feeling.
âIf youâll have me, Iâll certainly have you. Even if ye are a cougar now.â He jokes and your eyes shoot open at his words. You hit him lightly out of annoyance, but he just smiles. You canât help but begrudgingly smile back, rolling your eyes.
Same sense of humour. Maybe he is your husband after all.
âI missed you so much, Johnny.â You admit, bringing your fingers to graze across his face. To actually feel him again, it really feels like youâre getting your second chance at love.
ââTs nice to finally meet my missus.â He says softly as he brings his forehead to rest against yours, but itâs you who brings your lips to meet his, losing yourself in his touch after all these years aloneâŠ
Then it hits you that this younger version of your husband might have even more stamina and strength- so naturally you waste no time getting him back into his quarters and testing that theory.
At first you feel a little nervous that Johnny might not like what he sees. After all, you are a couple years older than he is now, but heâs utterly entranced as you stand bare before him. His hands all over your body, exploring every crevice, kissing you up and down. He canât get enough.
âMy wifeâs so beautifulâ, âmy wifeâs all mineâ, âgonna make ya feel so good, show ya what a good husband Iâll make for ya.â
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UNFINISHED BUSINESS âââ paige bueckers
i donât wanna fight, but you got the wrong vibes. let me get you right, itâs how i apologize. â¶
synopsis: she broke it off, but has since had a hard time leaving her alone⊠especially when having to see her in person.
pairing: paige bueckers x fem oc
warnings: smut with plot, p eating ( p is literally EATING ), fingering, thigh riding, and slight angst.
notes: this is ridiculously long. in honor of her fit here, enjoy.. i loved writing this almost as much as i love the song lol. lmk if i should make a part two or maybe a series!
Nervous, excited, and borderline bald from tugging at my hairâthese were all the things I had felt the moment I stepped into the WNBA 2024 All-Star Game.
I would be seeing Paige tonight. Paige would be seeing me tonight. Paige knew I knew she would be seeing me tonight, and I knew Paige knew she would be seeing me tonight.
When Paige and I first started hooking up, it was never supposed to be anything serious. She was sidelined with a torn ACL, and I knew she was in a dark place, struggling with everything that came with being forced off the court. I think thatâs why it started, honestly. She needed an escape, something to make her forget for a little while, and I was there.
Paige and I have known of each other for years, though. We both came up in the basketball world at the same time, our names being tossed around in the same circles since high school. Weâd cross paths at AAU tournaments and national showcases, always on different teams but always aware of each other.
Back then, our support for each other was more from a distance, and it wasnât until college that things started to shift. We crossed paths more often, whether it was at games, media events. The rivalry between our schools added a new layer to our interactions, but by then, we had leveled up from distant competitors to something more like casual friends.
Those moments were what led us to where we eventually ended up. The more we talked, the more we realized how much we actually had in commonâour experiences, our struggles, the pressure to perform, and the constant scrutiny. It felt natural, easy, to let our guard down with each other, which is why when her injury happened and everything else in her life felt like it was falling apart, I wasnât surprised when we fell into it.
We had an agreement. Not one that was ever talked about soberly, but the way it happened just fell into place so perfectly that we didnât need to. Weâd meet up when it was needed, no commitments, no expectations. Just two people finding comfort in each other, filling a void that we couldnât fill on our own. It was convenient, effortless, and most importantly, it worked for the both of us. I guess I figured if I kept things casual, I wouldnât get caught up in something messy. I didnât want to be the one to complicate her life even more.
Weâd cross paths after games, during off-season, or whenever our schedules aligned, slipping into each otherâs lives for a few hours at a time. She knew how to keep me at armâs length, just close enough to keep me coming back but far enough to never let me in too deep. She knew exactly how to make me feel needed without ever giving too much of herself away. It was maddening, reallyâhow she could be so vulnerable one minute, showing me sides of herself that no one else got to see, and then switch off just as quickly.
The more we hooked up, the more I started to realize I was getting too close. I could see it in the way sheâd look at me sometimes, like she knew I was starting to care too much. And the worst part was, she didnât seem to mind pushing me right to that edge. Sheâd say something that made my heart race, or sheâd touch me in a way that felt like it meant something, only to pull back and remind me of our status. She was always in control, always the one with the upper hand, and I hated how easily I let her have it.
And then it was all done. She cut things off with a cold finality that I still canât even believe. No explanation, no soft letdownâjust a sudden, brutal end. It was like she knew exactly when Iâd reached that point and she didnât hesitate to remind me that it was never supposed to mean anything at all.
âIâm gonna go grab some snacks, alright? Try to look a little more happy for the jumbotron,â JuJu teases, getting up from her seat. I gasped, barely having any time to process her insult as she scooted between me to get to the stadium stairs.
âVery funny,â I muttered, watching her walk away.
Alone now, I focused on the game, doing an extremely good job at hiding the gnawing in my chest. Iâd say I have a good poker face, but Paige would agree to disagree. My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts. It was her and sheâd finally found you. She was on the other side of the arena, clearly getting a kick out of having you in her view.
you mad at me or just deep in thought?
I rolled my eyes back to the deep depths of hell. Another text from her.
you look good tonight
you too. howâs the game?
As soon as I hit send, I regret it. I should have ignored her. I should have said something snarky.
Her reply comes almost immediately.
could be better. thought about coming over
what stopped you?
You watched her text bubble practically stutter, making you quirk an eyebrow.
juju. i didnât wanna make it awkward.
lol. okay.
actually, scratch that. leave w me.
I shifted in my seat, my hands suddenly clutching my phone a little tighter.
paige, no.
why not?
I shut off my phone just in time for JuJuâs return, watching as she squeezed through mounds of people to get back to me. She handed me a cherry slurpee, which would however be gone in ten minutes.
âThanks, sugar,â you teased her, wrapping your lips around the straw and taking a nice, long sip. She shook her head at me as she focused on the game again, nachos in hand. Ping.
Tell her donât get too comfortable đ
I could even feel her eyes boring into me from the other side. I could picture the stupid smirk or gummy smile sheâd have. I turned my ringer off and silenced Paigeâs notifications before slipping my phone into my back pocket and reverting my attention back to the game. Itâs almost over.
Fast forward to the final buzzer, and Juju and I made our way down to the court, weaving through the crowd of fans and players. I always loved the energy in a room of womenâs basketball players and fansâ there were always a million things going on at once. As we reached the court, we spotted Caitlin, who was already deep in conversation with a couple of other players.
âGreat game, Cait,â I said, pulling her into a light hug. âGuess nobody busts your butt as good as SC, huh?â I pulled back first, resting my hands on my hips. I could say Iâve known Caitlin as long as I have Paige, but Cait doesnât know me the way Paige does.
Caitlin laughed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. âYeah, yeah, Miss Championship. but donât get too cocky now.â
Juju laughed alongside me, adding a quick comment about how USC would give her a run for her money next time. The conversation flowed easily, a mix of post-game analysis and friendly banter. I scanned the court for a brief moment, knowing exactly who I was looking for.
Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flauâjae and Paige making their way over. I braced myself, knowing the cameras would be all over this reunion, and the media would have a field day with it. Paige looked as confident as ever, her stride always one that grabbed attention.
âHey, yâall,â Paige said, her voice smooth, effortless. She exchanged hugs and high-fives with everyone, her presence commanding attention as always. When she reached me, she didnât hesitate to pull me into a hug, her hand resting on my hip before snaking around to my lower back.
And then I felt itâher hand slipping lower, fingers grazing the fabric of my mini skirt. I could hear the smirk in her voice as she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. âGood to see you.â Just close enough to keep me coming back.
I pulled back slightly, meeting her eyes. There was that smirk. My heart was pounding, a mix of frustration and something else I didnât want to acknowledge. âYou too,â I managed, keeping my tone as neutral as possible, pulling back with a tight-lipped grin that looked friendly enough to anyone who didnât know what was going on. Which was everyone.
The group continued chatting, oblivious, obviously. Youâd found out the one thing you hated about being around Paige was the overwhelming current of being the only ones in the room who knew how each other was feeling. Paige, ever the actor, kept up her usual easygoing demeanor, but I could feel her gaze on me, like she was waiting for something. I tried to focus on the conversation, but it was impossible with her so close, the warmth of her hand still lingering on my skin.
When the small talk finally wound down, and the others started drifting away, Paige moved closer, her eyes locked on mine. She leaned in again, her voice low, almost a whisper. âCâmon. Meet me,â she coaxed, her breath warm against my ear. Her fingers brushed lightly against my side, tracing a path.
I hesitated, the resolve Iâd built up over the past hour crumbling under the weight of her presence. She was testing me, pushing every button she knew she could. And damn it, it was working.
I finally nodded, barely audible. âOkay.â
It was all she needed. A single, one-word confirmation that I wanted her as bad as she does. She took my phone out of my pocket for me, placing it my hand as she said her goodbyes to everyone else, leaving me there. I suppose it was smarter for her to do that anyway.
Shortly after Paigeâs departure, I made my way out as well. JuJu wasnât a tough barrier to get past. I told her to finish up her conversations, and that Iâd see her back at the hotel. I wasnât quite show how long my excuse would suffice, but I hoped sheâd find her way to the bar or something after.
I donât know why I listened. Watched my fingers click on her contact and give the driver her hotelâs address. It was like I was compelled from the moment sheâd touched me, and to be honest, I donât think Iâd be surprised if that was the case.
The Uber ride felt interminable, each passing moment only heightening the anticipation and anxiety. I could barely focus on the city lights flashing by outside, my mind consumed with the impending confrontation and whatever would follow.
Finally, I was able to make my way to her room, feeling the cool air of the hallway against my skin as I knocked on the door. When Paige answered, her smile was as infuriatingly charming as ever, and she pulled me inside with a warm, yet testing glint in her eye.
The moment the door clicked shut behind us, Paigeâs demeanor shifted. Before I could voice any protest, her lips were on mine, kissing me with an urgency that made my heart race. I barely had time to process the sudden change before she deepened the kiss, her hands roaming possessively over my back.
I tried to pull away, my mind still reeling from the fact that I was even here, but her grip tightened, pulling me closer. âPaige,â I murmured against her lips, trying to catch my breath. âWe need to talkââ but as much as I tried to voice it, I knew that isnât what we both really planned to do.
She silenced me with another intense kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair, guiding my head to tilt for better access. Her touch was relentless, her body pressing against mine with all the need in her body. âI donât wanna fight,â she whispered between kisses, her breath hot and heavy against my skin. âJusâ wanna be close to you.â She breathed in my scent, and I melted.
The words were almost lost in the heated moment, but I could feel the sincerity. She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, her gaze smoldering with an intensity that made me rethink actually standing on business. She waited, trying to see if I was really against this. I licked my lips, glancing at hers.
I didnât stand a chance.
Her lips found mine again, and the world narrowed to the press of our bodies. Our kisses were feverish and desperate, each touch holding some type of meaning. Paigeâs hands roamed over my skin like there were so many options in a candy store and she couldnât pick just one. In this case, one spot to focus on. Her mouth trailed down my collarbone, leaving a path of pinkish marks.
Our bodies were pressed together and refusing to let go. Paige guided me towards the bed, her hands never leaving my body, her lips continuing their assault on my skin. When she finally lowered me onto the bed, I was needy and breathless and finally feeling a little more realistic.
âP, Iâm still mad,â I tried to insist, though my voice wavered as I watched her begin to undress. She unzipped her Nike vest slowly, the sound of the fabric sliding down her body making my pulse quicken. It fell to the floor, and she ripped off her shirt with a sudden, breathless intensity, revealing her sports bra. The sight of her, partially unclothed and vulnerable in front of me again left me speechless.
âI know,â she murmurs, her head slightly tilted as she looked at me all-knowingly. âAnd imaâ make it up to you, I promise. Just let me get you right.â Her fingers trailed up my bare legs, eliciting a small gasp from my lips. She tugged at the hem of my skirt, pulling the fabric down and grabbing my panties in the process. I watched her do it, in utter disbelief that this was how I was spending my night.
Her fingers graze teasingly against my kneecaps, sending shivers through my body, before she gently but firmly peels my legs apart. I look down at her. âYouâre just trying to distract me,â I say, but thereâs no heat behind the words.
Paige smirks, a knowing look in her eyes as she falls to her knees, her hands sliding over my thighs. âMaybe,â she admits, her voice dropping into a low, sultry tone as she tucks her lip between her teeth. âBut you canât say you donât want this too.â
Sheâs right, and we both know it. The way sheâs touching me, the way her eyes are locked onto mine with that look. The same one that knows sheâs getting her way tonight. My worries seem so distant now, nothing more than a whisper of irritation in the back of my mind, easily drowned out by the way Paigeâs hands are moving.
I begin to say something, but she easily cuts me off by diving into me with no warning, immediately humming against my cunt in satisfaction. Her eyebrows were furrowed as her tongue made some deliberate strokes, seemingly in disbelief of the way I tasted. She looks up at me as she delves in, a sight beautiful enough for the Louvre but way too sinful.
She says something I canât hear, but I do catch a, âCanât leave you alone, ever. Fuck.â
âYeah?â I muster out, my breath a careless whisper.
Paige smiles against me, loving the cocky tone in my voice as she responds with a fast nod, the movement making me gasp. âYeah.â
From there, every moan and gasp from me seems to fuel her desire, making her work even harder to drive me wild. Her hands grip my hips firmly, keeping me in place as her mouth and tongue continue their relentless assault. In the haze of ecstasy, all I can focus on is the feeling of her between my legs, making good on her promise to get me right, leaving me utterly consumed by the pleasure sheâs giving.
I come, loud enough that the neighbors might know Paigeâs name, but she keeps going. It becomes too much, enough for me to whine and pull away, scooting a little bit higher on the bed. She isnât going for it, though, and immediately brings me back to her mouth, wrapping my legs in her thick arms.
âWhere you trynaâ go, princess?â she teases. The sensation of her mouth and fingers on me is so intoxicating that I can barely respond before she pulls back entirely, rising to her feet. She begins to peel off her pants, her movements slow, leaving me breathless and frustrated.
âSeriously?â I complain.
âChill,â she responds with a husky chuckle, towering over me in the sexiest way explainable. Itâs like she contemplates something in her head for a moment, leaving me dripping wet and needy before her.
Finally, Paige steps closer, her hands sliding down to her sports bra. With a teasing glance, she pulls it off, revealing her bare chest. My eyes widen as I take in her form, unable to tear my gaze away. She then sits back down, positioning herself comfortably on the edge of the bed. âWant you to get on my thigh, baby, mâkay?â And there was no room for argument.
I crawl toward her, a mixture of urgency and anticipation in my movements. Once Iâm seated on her thigh, I start to ride it slowly, the friction sending waves of pleasure through me. I truly canât believe we havenât done this before. The way she flexes, the way I can feel her muscle.. itâs all too much.
I roll my head back, needing more. My hands find Paigeâs boxers, slipping into them with ease as she watches, her eyes moving more than her actual head. My fingers find their way to her core, exploring.
Paigeâs breath hitches, her fingers gripping my hip as she watches me intently. âYou like that, donât you?â she breathes, her voice filled with a mixture of desire and all things Paige. âYouâve got me exactly where you want me.â
I stare at her. My body and arm moving repeatedly, my hair a bit puffy at this rate, and a panting mess. Paige raises her thumb to my plump and parted lips, slipping it in. I moan out, forced to suck around it as I squeeze my eyes shut.
Paige is in a trance, completely focused on the warmth around her thumb and how your small fingers disappear into her. âSo, so, so good. Love seeing you above me, baby. So pretty.â I couldnât understand how she could say things like these, and happen to not mean them, but it was the last thing on my mind.
âMfmfmm, Iâm gonna come. Again.â
Paigeâs response is a series of breathy moans, her hands gripping my hips tightly as she keeps me pressed down, every thrust and touch pushing us both closer to the edge.
As she finally shudders, her release crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body trembling violently. The sensation of her coming around my fingers makes my own climax come shortly after. I cry out, my own pleasure peaking as I grind against her, my fingers thrusting in and out.
Our combined releases feel explosive, a storm of heat and passion that has us both gasping and moaning. I feel her tremors against my fingers as I continue to move, riding out the last waves of ecstasy before finally collapsing against her, both of us spent and tangled together in a sated, sweaty mess.
I think Iâll regret this in the morning. But right now? Iâve never been happier.
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A Rekindled Kind of Love
Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary - Spencer and Y/n hadn't talked since the Summer before college and then he sees her name as the only survivor in their latest serial killer case.
Warning - violence, drinking
Words - 3.6K
A/n - It's be a while! I've had a surge of inspiration lately since becoming a little obsessed with character ai lol and thought to write this one into a little one-shot.
masterlist
Spencer was lying if he ever called any day at the BAU normal. Between serial killers, sadists, and everything else in between, the boy had a blurred definition of normal. So, he expected anything - or so he thought. When he entered the meeting room that morning, he hadn't expected the name of Y/N Y/L/N to pop up.
"We've got three victims and, weirdly, one survivor." Garcia started to explain, clicking through the victim's dead bodies, the woman squirming at just a glance of the photos. "Whoever this sicko is, he's going after journalists. His latest victim, Y/n Y/l/n, was actually able to get away before he had a chance to kill her."
Spencer stopped. His gaze snapped up as Garcia clicked once more and he caught sight of the girl he once knew. Only now was she older, and her expression was stern. The unsub had left her features tainted, early bruises and several cuts littering over her. "She's pretty distraught says doctors, but she's alive and well."
He couldn't stop staring at her, memories of high school, of that last summer, of their blissfully ignorant friendship fueling his feelings. This was not normal. None of what he felt was normal - not for him away. "He stabs them?" Emily observed, all of the team had yet to clock onto the haze Spencer had suddenly found himself in.
Garcia hummed, "Yep, as many times as it takes before they...you know...die."
"He's aggressive, he's got no remorse for these victims," JJ spoke, glancing between her file at the screen in front of her.
"Not only are they all journalists, but they're female journalists too." Rossi added. "There's got to be some reason for that too."
Hotch nodded, "Either way, we should take Y/n into our care. She's the first to get away, I doubt he's happy about that-"
The shaggy-haired boy couldn't seem to take it. The way Y/n had gotten herself mixed in like she was any other victim, like she wasn't once the most important person in Spencer's life. "Excuse me," The boy stood abruptly, not giving any reasoning to the team before he practically ran out, gasping for breath.
The team were left with nothing. Their expressions moulding into ones of confusion, and puzzlement, "What's up with him?" Morgan was the first to question. But it was only met with the same uncertain expressions and a shrug from Hotch.
Morgan took it upon himself to stand, following Spencer out into the adjacent hallway where Spencer was panic pacing. A hand swooped through his hair as his thoughts raced. "Hey, kid, slow down," Morgan soothed. He hadn't realised the arrival of Derek until he spoke. Spencer turned, swallowing the lump which had since grown in his throat. "The hells going on with you?"
He took a breath. He evened his lungs and took a moment before confiding, "I- erm- I know her, Y/n Y/l/n, the survivor." He explained and that was enough for Morgan to understand. "Well, I suppose I knew her, we lost contact when we went to college, but we had been friends."
Morgan gazed back into the meeting room, "Reid, it's okay. She's okay, you know? She survived."
His head shook, "It doesn't matter. You heard Hotch, she's still a target." She wasn't safe and that fact was only nagging at Spencer.
"Alright, alright, how about I talk to Hotch? We'll go to the hospital, you make sure she's okay yourself?" Reid had barely agreed before Morgan walked back into that meeting room.
Of course, he wanted to make sure she was okay. But that also meant seeing her, after all these years. Spencer didn't know what had changed - if anything had. And he didn't know which option was scarier. Either way, he soon found himself at the hospital, waiting at the reception desk as a doctor went to find her.
His feet were tapping, his nerves obvious to Morgan. "Reid, calm down, she's gonna be alright," He said, but no words from Morgan or a doctor was going to help. He needed to see her.
"It's not just that I'm worried about." What if everything had changed? What if nothing had? What if-
He turned and found his eyes on her. She still had that same look. That same smile, the same soft gaze, the same ease about her that Spencer craved. But this was the very moment he feared.
She wandered up to him, quickening her pace as much as she was able to considering her state. "Spencer," She said his name like a sigh of relief. Before he realised it, her arms were wrapped around his neck, melting into his touch as if no time had passed.
"Hi," He breathed into her ear; she was safe. The hug didn't last long enough. How could it? They had 12 years of missed hugs.
"I can't believe you're here, the doctor said a profiler and then said it was Doctor Reid and I-" She trailed on, "I don't know why I was so surprised. Of course, you made it big."
Spencer shrugged, "I wouldn't call this big." The boy became sheepish, almost flushed and Derek Morgan had certainly taken notice. "I'm sorry I stopped calling and I should have-"
"Oh, Spence, save it," She chuckled lightly, "I could have picked up that phone just as well as you had. I just wish we could have met under different circumstances."
He nodded, "Yeah, well about that," Spencer turned to bring Derek into the conversation, "This is Agent Morgan, he's erm gonna help."
Morgan sent his usual cheeky smirk as he did with any pretty lady, "It's good to meet you, sweetheart. Glad to hear you're feeling better too."
Spencer hadn't expected anything less from the man. "Look, I don't know if the doctor explained it to you, but we're under the belief that this unsub may still be targeting you."
"Unsub?" She reiterated.
"The killer that went after you." Morgan answered, "Unknown subject, unsub for short."
"We erm- we have to take you in, make sure you're safe kind of thing," Spencer explained, fidgeting with his fingers as she glanced between them and the girl in front of her.
Her pupils grew worrisome, "You think I'm still in danger?"
Spencer hated that word. Even the thought of Y/n in danger made his spine shiver. "You're the first to get away, we erm- we don't think he'll be very happy about it. He could lash out, many unsubs, new unsubs especially, a victim getting away could be like a double stressor, he could be on a rampage, he could be doing nothing but think about getting to you." He realised he was rambling and his words were only worrying the girl more, "Sorry, I just, I want to make sure you're safe."
But Y/n understood, "It's alright, Spence. I'll go grab my things."
With that, a rush filled the girl as she turned her back on the two agents, wandering back into the hospital room she had come from. Spencer's eyes hadn't left from where her figure was once standing. This was personal for him - even if he hadn't seen the girl for years now. "She's not just someone from high school, is she?" Morgan realised as he observed Spencer.
He turned to him as if he had just left the trail of thoughts in his mind, "Hm?" He turned back to look at Morgan.
His response had only made Morgan smile, "Y/n, she seems more to you than that."
"It was..." The boy thought back to it, to that Summer, he didn't know how else to describe it, what they had, her. "Complicated."
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:*
12 Years Prior, Las Vegas
Y/n always had something Spener didn't: Popularity. Well, in a way. Spencer was cast away from many of his peers. A social reject. While, Y/n was a social butterfly of sorts. She took to a crowd with ease. The type of girl that could make friends with anyone.
The boy had certainly hit the jackpot when he was assigned to tutor her. Over the course of several sessions, they had bonded over literature, future college plans and, surprisingly, Y/n's distaste to certain 'jocks' - as the social hierarchy liked to describe them as.
She was the only reason Spencer turned up to the end of year house party. Crowds weren't his thing, drinking neither. But she...she was worth it.
"Spencer!" The girl gleamed as he wandered into the house.Â
He didn't belong at all. His shoulders were stiff, his glasses at the edge of his nose. But, despite such, Y/n still took him into a longing hug. "H- Hi." He greeted, his eyes flickering all over the place. From the demolished kitchen to the living room where drunken teens were dancing on top of couches and coffee tables.
Her brow raised, "Come on, we'll get you a drink." Her hand slipped into his, bringing the boy back to his attention: her. "You do drink right?" She checked as she guided him towards said demolished kitchen.
"Erm, not a heavy drinker but, sure I can have one."
"You sure?" She spoke ever so softly, "You know you don't have to."
"Just one." He offered her a smile.
She grasped a few bottles: vodka, rum, tequila. "Pick your poison."
Spencer had simply shrugged, a chuckle at the tip of his tongue, "I'll have whatever you're having."
"Rum it is!"
She poured the two the same drink - almost half liquor, half mixer. Spencer coughed when he swallowed, causing the girl to giggle, "Too much?"
But Spencer simply shook his head, "Just perfect," He almost joked as he leaned onto the kitchen counter next to the girl, "I almost didn't come," He admitted.
"I don't blame you," He gazed down at her answer, his expression urging her to add some context. "Ashley James puked up after two drinks, Kacy and Liam broke up, now Liam's making out with Polly. It's just...a mess." Her eyes rolled. "But then again, what was I expecting?"
Spencer smiled at her. She was good at knowing like everything. While he was filled with facts and statistics, Y/n knew everything about everyone. Within one look, she knew your secrets. Maybe that's why she was so good with people. "We can go somewhere else if you want?" He suggested.
His question brought along an idea for the girl. With her free hand, she took Spencer's and led him out into the back garden. Whoever lived here was almost rich. Well, rich enough for a pool and a pretty big outdoor area. "Come on," Y/n urged him as she pulled the boy towards the edge of the pool.
She slipped her shoes off, sitting down and letting her legs dangle into the fresh water. Spencer watched her for a moment before joining her, the two sipping on their drinks. "Better?" She asked him.
He nodded, "Much."
"At least we've got Summer now, no more being forced to see them assholes." She joked.
Spencer's brows narrowed in thought, "You mean the assholes that you were friends with until you met me?"
"Well you got me there, Spence." She shrugged, "Social survival, that's what I call it. It's not as if there won't be similar people in college. I mean, fucking sororities, semi-pro football leagues, frats?"
"I'm sure you'll fit in amazingly at Princeton." His smile seemed to falter at his own words.
She gazed at the boy who seemed captivated by the slowly swaying water below them, "We'll still call you know, text, just cause we're in different places, doesn't mean anything, Spencer." Y/n attempted to comfort him.
"That's what everyone says but, I don't know." He shook his head, ignoring a thought.
But she noticed it; she noticed everything, "But what?"
He huffed and stared over at her, his eyes pooling in admiration. "You're one of the best things to have happened to me in a long time you know," He offered her a smile, "I couldn't even imagine losing you."
The girl bit her lip. Something was on her mind and Spencer had noticed. He too noticed everything about her. But he didn't ask. Partly, because he didn't have the chance to. Her eyes flickered to his lips. Then to his eyes. And before Spencer could realise, she had leant in, her lips at his. Without even realising, she had changed everything for the boy.
â§ïœ„ïŸ: *â§ïœ„ïŸ:*
Spencer accompanied the woman towards a private, interview room. He would offer support and comfort but at the same time, he had a job to do. A part of that was questioning. She was the only person to know this unsub. As difficult as it would be for her, he would have to ask them questions.
"Hey," Emily spoke as he entered the room, two coffees in hand: one for Spencer and one for Y/n. "Coffee orders are here," She smiled as she placed them at the table between the two. "I'm Emily, Reid says you're an old friend."
Her eyes flickered to the man before she shook Emily's hand, "Something like that yeah."
"Well, we're here if you need anything, alright?" She said, "You're in good hands here, especially with our Doctor Reid."
With that, Emily left to join the rest of the team who were busy compiling a profile. Which left her and Spencer. This was the part he wasn't looking forward to. "I've erm, I've got to ask you some questions, it'll help us understand this unsub, help us find him." He explained. When she nodded, the boy continued, "I'm going to ask you to close your eyes, alright? And then I'm just going to go through the night you were attacked. Is that okay?"
She swallowed the lump which had grown in her throat, "Yeah," She muttered.
Y/n followed the instructions and let her eyelids close before Spencer started the exercise, "Okay, just go back to that night. You were on 9th Street, correct?"
"Yes."
"It was getting late, but it was summer, think about the air, was it still warm? What sort of things could hear, anything?"
She thought back to it. Y/n had just finished her work week, she was walking home from the Subway. "There's a group of girls on the other side of the road, they're giggling. Drunk, I assume."
"That's good, that's really good." Spencer praised, "Then when did you realise something was off?"
Her brows furrowed and she thought about it, the pit in her stomach growing, "Someone- someone was yelling. A man. I thought he was like bible bashing so I wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying."
"Think." Spencer jumped in, "Listen to him, pick any words, any phrases that stick out to you."
And she did so. Her mind ran through the memory, "Something, something about an agenda, the- the snowflake agenda? It's ruining America it's-" She cut herself off as the memory reached the worst part. "That's when he grabbed me." Her voice quickened, her breaths soon becoming uneven. "He had a knife to my neck- he pulled me to an ally. I- Spencer."
Her hand reached out over the table instinctively, "It's okay," He too had become panicked just seeing her's. "I'm here, it's over, you can open your eyes."
When she finally did, she took one breath. A sigh of relief that she was okay. And then, a single tear dropped from her eyeline. Spencer couldn't take it. He stood and she followed suit, "Come here," He spoke before taking her into a tight hug. "You're safe, I promise."Â
She pulled away just slightly but never dared to break touch, "The only reason I got away was because I had pepper spray in my bag," She explained.Â
Spencer thought on that and then an idea came to mind. "Come with me," The boy took a hold of her hand, guiding the girl through the bullpen towards the meeting room where the rest of the team had been.
The round table was scattered with files and papers. Garcia typed away at her laptop while the rest were debriefing. At the entrance of the pair, they glanced up.Â
Before they could ask any questions, Spencer started rambling, never daring to let go of Y/n's hand. "The unsub was protesting on the street, he's some kind of right-wing enthusiast. He was going on about the left-wing 'agenda', about how it's ruining America." He explained. "Not only that, but Y/n used pepper spray on him."
Like that, they had something, "He would have had to go to the hospital?" JJ thought.
"Or at least bought some kind of medical supplies."
"Yeah, saline wipes or there's a nasal spray that helps the pain." Spencer went on to explain.
From there, Hotch turned to Garcia, "Cross check avid right-wing protesters in the D.C. areas, men with low criminal offences, things like hate crime. Then look at anyone whose been admitted for treatment of pepper spray or has bought any medical supplies to treat it."
Like that, the aggressive typing ensued. The team were all waiting, Y/n still at Spencer's side, anxious for the name of her attacker to be revealed. "I've got it, Tony Jones."
When Hotch stood from his chair, the rest of the team started to follow. "Send us the address, Garcia."
"Already done it, Sir."
Each of the team members stood, one by one walking passed Y/n. That was apart from Garcia who was still glued to her laptop, sending the address to the rest of the team. Spencer was about to turn when Y/n reached for the boy's hand once again. Her eyes filled with nothing but worry. "Do you have to go?"
Her question had made his heart ache. His eyes flickered to Garcia who was already glancing at the two, "I- I probably should but, but Garcia will stay with you." He offered.
Y/n looked back at the extravagant woman who was smiling, "Of course, I've got loads of things I can show you in my office!" She gleamed.
Y/n returned the smile before turning back to Spencer, "You'll be careful, right?"
The boy nodded, "Of course," He replied before taking her in his arms once again. But this time, when he pulled away ever so slightly, it was to place a gentle kiss to her forehead.
And like that, a soft smile, a goodbye, was passed between the two before Spencer turned away to join the rest of the team. She stared out the door of the conference room until Spencer slipped away. From there, she turned, a weak smile given to Garcia as she came to join her at the round table.
The other woman had watched the interaction and, while she wasn't a profiler, she wasn't oblivious to the world of loving. "He really cares about you, doesn't he?" She asked. Though, Garcia already knew the answer.
"I care about him just as much," Even after all this time, a piece of her heart still belonged to Spencer Reid - it always would.
"You're not just an old friend, are you?"
Y/n swallowed, glimmers of that high school Summer filling her brain. "It was, complicated." She described. "We erm, only really had a Summer as..." How could she describe it? "More than friends, I guess. And then we were both shipped off to college. And I mean, we lost contact. As a lot of people do." And 12 years later here she was.
Garcia offered her a smile, "You still love him, don't you?"
The girl giggled but gave a nod, "I don't think I ever stopped."
"Well, if my time with Doctor Reid has taught me anything, the way he is with you, I mean it's like no other." Her hand brushed at her shoulder gently, "I don't think your feeling is one-sided."
That would stick in her head for the next hour. While Spencer and the rest of the team were arresting Tony Jones, Garcia was giving the girl a tour of her office. Everything wonderful and weird. And while she tried her best to pay attention, her mind kept being dragged over to Spencer. If he was safe, if he was coming back...if, once again, everything had changed.
She knew one thing: she would make sure they didn't lose contact this time around.
When the boy finally returned, he practically rushed through the BAU to find her. She was at Garcia's side as they exited her office, "Y/n," He called.
The girl's head snapped to him, her pace quickening as she came to reach him, "Did you?"
He nodded, "He's at the station, don't worry." He assured.
"Oh, good, yeah," She spoke before a sigh fell from her lips. "So, I mean, what happens now? Do I just go home?" The idea of such, while stupid to think so, was almost disappointing. Going home meant she wasn't in Spencer's company any longer. And that wasn't something she wasn't to lose just yet.
But Spencer's reaction was a similar one, "I can walk you home, if you want of course."
Her smile grew, "I'd like that."
"I'll just erm," He gestured to his FBI vest, "I'll only be a second."
And so she watched him leave for barely a minute, coming back in his shirt. He took her hand, led her into the lift and pressed for the ground floor. A moment of silence. A moment of thought. One of which was urgring Y/n on.
She glanced over at the boy, "You know I always think everything happens for a reason." Her nerves suddenly flooded her body as she realised what she was about to admit, "And as much as getting jumped was not fun, I'm glad it brought me back to you, Spencer."
Y/n turned to face him, barely any space between them, "I missed you."
"I missed you too, Spence."
With that, Y/n made the leap. She closed that gap, their lips meeting every so soft, ever so longing. Like they had both been waiting for this moment for 12 years. And when they pulled away, her hands cupping his face and his placed at her waist, it was like they were 18 again. "Promise we'll keep in contact now?" He almost joked.
And she chuckled, "Promise."
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Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says itâthe first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.
It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.
It's justânot enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend andâthat's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.
He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.
Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.
So he sticks with âboyfriendâ and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, itâs not like he has an alternative.
Itâs a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. Theyâre at the farmerâs market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how heâd manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how sheâd invited him to a beginnerâs apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like sheâd been expecting him, and says âOh, this must be the husband! Iâve heard so much about you.â
Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long.Â
Dean clears his throat. âUh, yeah. The husband, thatâs me! Ha ha.â Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. âSorry,â Dean shifts. âJust didnât, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.âÂ
The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. âOh, only good things. Here,â she hands him a business card. âYou should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.â She leans in, almost conspiratorial. âBeekeeping can be wonderful for couples.â
Itâs at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. âThank you, Janet.â (oh. Janet.) âDean works late on Wednesdays, but Iâm very excited to see you all.â Heâs pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Deanâs hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls âSee you Wednesday!â after them.
Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.
"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.
Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.
"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.
"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.
He turns the keys. He drives them home.
Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).
Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.
It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"
Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."
"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."
"You didn't correct her?"
"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.
"Uh huh."
"It felt trivial."
"To tell her we're not married?"
"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.
Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."
"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.
Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.
"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"
Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"
Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."
Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."
Across the table, Cas grins at him.
"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.
"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."
"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."
They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.
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BDSMaid - Chapter 1
Masterlist || AO3
Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader
Rating: 18+
Chapter Summary: To save money for law school, you accept a job at Maid Discretely; a high end, anonymous cleaning service. You arenât supposed to know whose home youâre cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in, more than just your curiosity peaks.Â
CW: Author chooses not to use warnings in this chapter in order to avoid spoilers. While I never want to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume.
AN: Oh boy, here we go! I'm in a straight PANIC getting ready to post this. I hope it meets all your expectations, I was not at all expecting that reaction to the teaser post. Love you all and thank you for all your support. Please share or comment, I have a praise kink LOL. Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters. Dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Thank you @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk and @burntheedges for being my little cheerleaders over this, ily!!
Chapter Word Count: 4.4k
You stare down at the very intimidating legal document you have clasped in your clammy hands. There are so many big legal sounding words that seem to be mocking you with their importance. Somehow there are clauses that have sub clauses that are then further broken down into sub-subclauses. It feels heavy to be handed this on a Monday morning. Truthfully, this doesnât seem like something a soon-to-be twenty-one year old woman who literally just graduated college, albeit a semester early, should be allowed to sign without parents and a lawyer present.Â
This is just supposed to be a simple job working part time as a maid for your best friend's familyâs cleaning company. A job where she promised easy money and part time hours that you set for yourself. The perfect opportunity for you to be able to save money AND set aside lots of study time for your upcoming LSAT rewrite. You passed it a few months ago and applied to a bunch of law schools, but you arenât going to waste these next few months waiting around. You know how competitive law schools can be, so youâre preparing to be better just in case you donât get in.
Your eyes scan words that your brain canât seem to comprehend. The internal panic starts to bubble in your chest, someone who has law aspirations should know what these words mean.
This is just supposed to be easy. Cleaning. Vacuuming. Washing floors. Simple things.Â
But now, as you sit in this shiny, fancy downtown office building looking at your full legal name typed beside a bunch of âinitial hereâ and âsign hereâ lines on a nondisclosure agreement youâre starting to feel like this is anything but simple.Â
âOur clientele is VERY exclusive,â your childhood best friend Jamie says. She looks very professional and grown up sitting behind her glass desk. Her long, toned legs are crossed, the slit along the side of her crisp, white pencil skirt showing off her tanned upper thigh. Sheâs paired her white skirt with a baby pink silky blouse that's perfectly tucked into the high waist of the skirt. Her long, dark silky hair is twisted into a jeweled claw clip. Even though youâre the same age she has an air of sophistication and grace, even with winged eyeliner, a matte pink lip, and a slender rose gold septum ring that sits tight to her little button nose. She almost screams old Hollywood in the middle of Austin, Texas.Â
She continues, âYou wonât know the names of the clients and they will never be home. If they do come home, leave immediately, and try your best not to be seen or heard. Then you can fill out in the company app what you did and didnât manage to get done.âÂ
You put the paper down on her perfect desk so she canât see your hands shaking. How can you work at that desk all day and not get a single fingerprint or smudge on it? Thereâs a very good chance that I am not cut out for this. This is fancy. And expensive. Iâm neither of those things.Â
âWhat am I gonna be walking in on at these houses, Jamie?â You ask, swallowing the fiberglass thatâs suddenly prickling at your throat.Â
Jamie shakes her head and laughs, saying your name through her melodic giggles. âMost likely nothing. Weâve never had an encounter or run in with a client. They pick times for cleaners to come when they arenât home.â She leans back in her high backed chair and continues, âBut the clients are big deals. Politicians. Judges. Athletes. The odd celebrity. They donât want anyone in their home that will snoop or snap pictures. Hence the NDA.âÂ
âWell, why didnât you start with that!â You laugh. âJesus, I thought Iâd be walking into like a virginal sacrifice or some shit!âÂ
âWell, there was that one timeâŠâ Your face drops and she immediately starts laughing again. âIâm kidding. Relax. Look, youâll probably get three homes a week, each house will take six to eight hours. The hourly pay is twenty dollars plus whatever tip theyâll leave you in these black envelopes.âÂ
She puts a perfectly polished finger on a stack of black envelopes with a red âMaid Discretelyâ logo on it and continues, âIn my experience, the tips are around five hundred, completely tax free. This is a good gig! Youâll be in law school becoming smarter than all of us in no time. Fuck, youâll be writing insane contracts like those before we know it.âÂ
She stands, one hand resting on the desk while the other slides the paper towards you with a closed pen. She drops the writing apparatus on top of it, the metal casing of the pen clanging loudly on her glass desk. You let out an exasperated sigh, dramatically clicking the pen before signing the NDA. Jamie claps her hands excitedly then snatches the contract away before you can rip it up and says, âLetâs get your uniform and supplies!â
She hands you a few fitted white polo style t-shirts, black dress pants, white Keds (that she scolds are for inside the houses only), a caddy full of high end cleaning supplies, a top of the line Dyson vacuum and everything else youâll need.
She ends your meeting with instructions on how the company's scheduling and tracking app works. "Essentially, you set the days and times youâre available and it will populate for you. Youâll have addresses, dates and times, as well as tasks to be done, all nicely laid out for you. If a client likes you, they can request you for additional shifts, but for continuity purposes you should get the same couple houses that youâll rotate through throughout the month."
You nod along, mostly surprised to hear the girl who did a keg stand just a few days ago sound so professional, using words like 'continuity purposes'.
The next day you have your first official shift. Tuesday from nine to three and youâre scheduled at a mansion in a neighborhood youâve never heard of and you most definitely wouldnât fit in to. Jamie is already waiting there for you when you pull up. She explained yesterday that sheâd help you with the first one and then you are on your own after that. Well, not completely alone. Your iPhone is loaded full of smutty audio books, murder podcasts, and law books to listen to as you clean.Â
Jamie was right, you think to yourself as you scroll to the latest romance novel youâve downloaded and grab your AirPods, this is a good gig.
The house is absolutely massive, and you highly doubt youâll be done in six hours. You gather all your stuff and head up to the house. Jamie shows you where the company supplied key box is and how to open it from the app. As you grab the key Jamie excitedly says, âThis used to be my client. He always leaves a huge tip!â
You unlock the large front glass door and enter into a white marble foyer. The windows on the first floor are easily ten feet tall and allow in so much natural light. Gold and obsidian swirls in the marble reflect along the walls, dancing in the sunlight. To the left of the front door is a large open kitchen that might be bigger than your entire apartment. The marble of the expansive countertop is the same colour as the foyer. All the cabinetry is matte black with brushed gold handles. The kitchen opens into a lavish living room, a massive fireplace and TV sits on the far back left wall, encompassed by a very cozy looking white sectional.Â
To the right of the front door, starting furthest away from where you stand in awe, is a door to a huge half bathroom, followed by a long table with a bowl for keys and mail, and then the door that leads to the garage. About fifty feet in front of you is a grand staircase that branches out to the left and right. Beyond the staircase you can see into the backyard. This is by far the nicest house youâve ever been in.
As both you and Jamie slip into your keds she says, âUpstairs to the left are a few bedrooms and the office. I usually started there and then went to the right side where he has a huge entertainment area. Then I would clean down here since he doesnât cook very often and itâs usually just a quick wipe down.â
Just as you start to panic over how youâre supposed to remember all this she nudges you and adds, âBut thatâs all in the app for you, most of the clients are very particular so theyâll lay out exactly what order you should be cleaning in, as well as any other extra things they need done.âÂ
She helps you carry all your stuff upstairs and then watches you work. Sure enough, the app says to start in the office so you do just that. Careful not to disturb the few piles of paperwork you dust the desk and shelves and then wipe down the windows and computer screen. You vacuum the hardwood and plush rug last and after Jamie gives you an approving nod, you move onto the next room.
You continue like that, going from room to room, your friend, and now boss, occasionally giving feedback or leaving to answer a phone call or respond to an email. The job is easy enough; repeating the same steps in each room over and over again. Itâs the exact type of work you exceed at. You enjoy having clear sets of instructions and expectations, and a prioritized list where you can start at the top and work down. Youâve always excelled at following meticulous directions in school. Your life maybe not so much. When it comes to dating or your parents you arenât one to do what youâre told.
When one oâclock rolls around you just have one bathroom upstairs and the already pristine downstairs to tend to, but Jamie coaxes you into taking your break, which is another thing youâre bad at. You were raised not to take breaks, taking a break or doing nothing means you're lazy. You should be working all the time, and pushing yourself to accomplish things. As a child youâd push and push yourself to be the best, honor roll ceremonies were the only time your dad would show up. Heâd smile and brag about you to whoever was around.
âItâs important that you take all your supplies to your car with you when you eat your lunch. Never eat in their homes and never park on their driveways.â You nod and hoist all your stuff to the front step. âMake sure you lock up like youâre leaving too.âÂ
âHow am I doing so far?â You ask as you lock the door, your stomach growling loudly as if it needs to prove to her how hard youâre working. You hadnât realized how much of an appetite youâd gain just from cleaning. The few stale crackers and small can of tuna you managed to find in your cupboard this morning doesnât seem like itâs going to be enough.Â
âReally well! I actually think I might leave you to finish up. Donât forget to take whatever he left for you out of the black envelope on the kitchen counter.â She doesnât look up at you, her fingers tapping out an email on her shiny iphone screen. She doesnât have her phone in a case and you can only imagine the level of self confidence you have to have to carry around an expensive item unprotected like that.
âIs it weird that thereâs no pictures or anything of the family that lives here?â You say curiously as you both walk towards your parked vehicles.Â
âNo,â she says flatly. âI think itâs just one person here and thatâs pretty normal for the houses youâll be cleaning. Lots of them are rarely home or only home to sleep.âÂ
You gawk at the massive house from across the street as you throw all your supplies in the back of your used and rusted SUV. One person lives here. Alone. How is this possible? Heâs clearly doing well for himself. Either heâs really lonely or a complete asshole.Â
After you eat, you head back inside to finish up cleaning. The entire house looks like a show home. Not a single thing out of place. The kitchen seems staged, void of life aside from a tiny droplet of coffee on the countertop beside the Italian coffee maker, and a tiny brown stegosaurus toy that sits on top of it. Two minutes before the end of your shift you do a final sweep to make sure you havenât left anything behind and then slip open the black envelope. Inside you find seven one hundred dollars and a note that just says âTY - JMâ.
As you log your day in the company app you canât believe you just made seven hundred freaking dollars to clean up after a man who makes no messes. You excitedly check your upcoming schedule and it looks like youâll be back here in two more weeks. You could potentially be getting fourteen hundred dollars a month from this elusive âJMâ. A man with no pictures or personal touches in his shiny white, black and gold mansion.
Itâs been almost two weeks since your first clean at JMâs house. Your other clients were good tippers, usually between four to five hundred, but youâve been looking forward to going back. You know youâre not supposed to know who the clients are, but you couldnât help but google JM to try to figure out who he is and how he has so much money. In hindsight, you guess all your clients have money, but something about him has alerted your curiosity. He seems like smoke, or a ghost, in his own home. Your other clients had some sort of semblance of life in their houses. A dent in the pillow. An open newspaper on the kitchen table. A coffee cup dropped in the sink before they headed off to whatever fancy job they have to afford such a massive house. A toilet seat left up or a smudge of toothpaste on the mirror.Â
But not JM.Â
No, the only thing JM left was a tiny droplet of coffee. Coffee that was probably imported straight from Italy. Youâre almost ashamed of the amount of times youâve wondered about that stegosaurus toy. It seems so out of place in his house of clean lines and sterility.Â
Youâre just settling in to enjoy a Sunday night of sushi, rosĂ© and Bridgerton with your roommate when your phone bings, a little red notification bubble popping up on the Maid Discretely app. You have an added shift request for JM tomorrow. Instead of one six hour shift on Tuesday you now have two six hour shifts. You accept the request and scroll through the tasks. Heâs requested you to wipe the baseboards and lightswitches on the main floor, a deep scrub of every bathroom, as well as doing the inside of the fridge, stove and microwave. There are also instructions for washing the sheets in the main bedroom, and spraying down the patio furniture around the pool.
Only a millionaire in Texas would ask for his pool furniture to be cleaned in February.Â
Shortly after you accept the shift you get a text from Jamie:
Saw you accepted the shift. The client asked for the normal clean on the first day, please. Extras the next day. Thanks.
The following morning you head to the large, bright mansion. Parking across the street and hauling all your stuff in. It feels a bit weird to be here on a Monday and you have a feeling youâll be reminding yourself all day that it is indeed Monday and not Tuesday.
You get all your stuff together, change into your indoor company issued keds and head up the stairs. The pink and orange hues of the sunrise glitters off the white marble tiles, glints of gold and sparkling black reflecting off of it. You take a second to look down from the landing as you pop in your airpods. It really is a beautiful home, and itâs too bad that whoever lives here is either lonely or an asshole, but for a split second you let yourself pretend that you and JM just finished making love and heâs now in the kitchen making you an espresso or a latte with that insanely fancy coffee machine in the kitchen. You shake your head at yourself. You didnât find anything when googling, which isnât surprising since two letters arenât much to go on, but this house seems to draw you in, like itâs calling to you. Itâs strange, itâs almost like you have a crush on this house and you couldnât help but make a whole persona for whoever lives here. Even with its clean lines and lack of life, something about it settles in your gut, it feels like home.Â
You scroll your podcast app trying to pick what episode you want to listen to and head down the hall, you canât seem to decide so you pocket your phone without starting anything and reach for the matte black handle of the office door. Youâre expecting to see JMâs tidy office with a few stacks of paperwork in one corner, but the sight you find before you has all the blood rush from your head and your stomach dropping right out of your body. Your jaw drops and you freeze in utter shock and fear. Â
Instead of the usual stacks of paper, thereâs an icy blond haired woman tied to the desk. Sheâs completely naked and on her back with her legs spread wide. Her ankles are tied to the legs of the desk with a scratchy looking rope, her wrists wrapped in matching rope and resting above her head. Her nipples are almost purple underneath the clothespin attached to them. You freeze, just the lewd wet noises of her pussy being worked furiously by the mysterious, fully clothed JM. His deep, commanding, gravel filled voice reverberates through the office. âLittle fuckin' slut. Gonna split you in two.â
The woman lets out an unashamed cry of pleasure. Your entire body seems to go numb as your caddy falls from your hand, crashing loudly against the hardwood flooring. His head whips to the side, the icy blonde woman letting out a scream and trying to cover herself up. Your hands cover your mouth and even though you canât feel your legs you spin and run for the stairs.
âFuck. Fuck. Wait,â JM calls after you.
One of your AirPods falls from your ear as you run, youâre tempted to stop and grab it but you need to get out of here. Jamieâs voice echoes through your skull, âtry your hardest not to be seen or heardâ.Â
He catches up to you as you reach the front entryway, his strong hand pushing the door closed. You can feel the heat of his body against your back. Youâre shaking - both from being terrified and embarrassed. You have so many thoughts running through your mind. This will get you fired, or worse, you could have just possibly lost the company a client. Fuck. You arenât supposed to know who lives here and you certainly arenât supposed to see them doing that.Â
âPlease wait,â he says softly behind you and the heat of his broad body sends a chill down your spine.
The blood is rushing through your ears as your heart pounds in your throat. You donât like confrontation and even with the softness in his voice, youâre sure heâs about to scream at you. You feel sick, and when you replay the words he said to the woman upstairs, and the sound of her moan that made you drop your caddy you start to feel dizzy and nervous.
Your hand falls from the handle of the front door and the brick wall of a man behind you steps back. You spin slowly to face him but keep your eyes on the floor.Â
âIâm sorry,â you murmur, linking your fingers in front of you and focusing all your attention on the cuticle of your right thumb.
âNo, please. This is my fault.â You trail your eyes from the floor to him. He's in perfectly pressed black dress pants paired with a white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his forearms and heâs holding his hands up in front of himself as if to show you he isnât armed or as a way to say 'youâre safe here'.Â
You flick your eyes up to his face and heâs looking at you softly, the morning sunrise lighting up his tanned face and salt and pepper hair. JM is probably twice your age, but he is incredibly handsome.Â
âI am so sorry. I mustâa got my days mixed up when I booked you.â He says, a soft southern accent sneaking out.Â
âIâm going to get fired,â you respond shakily.
âNo,â he says stepping forward, you subsequently take a step back, pressing your body against the glass front door. Something about this man makes you nervous, but not in the same way women are trained to be nervous of strange men that are almost twice their size. âNo. This is my fault. Please, let me explain. I jusâ gotta - well, can I go deal withâŠâ his head cocks towards the stairs, âAnd then let me explain. Please?âÂ
You look at him, his handsome face all soft and apologetic. His dark brown and amber eyes dance around your face and without realizing you're even doing it, you nod your head.Â
âThank you,â he drops his hands at his side, visibly relaxing at your decision not to run. âSit at the island for me. Iâll be back.âÂ
He watches you as you pad over to the island. The tall bar chair squeaks on the tile floor as you pull it out. He peels his eyes from you and heads upstairs. When you sit you have to stop from moaning out, the pressure of your body weight there sends a wave of rolling pleasure through you.
What the fuck?Â
Itâs a dull, throbbing ache followed by a small gush of thick wetness. Did you mistake a feeling of arousal for dizziness and nervousness upstairs? Were you turned on by what you just witnessed?Â
Certainly not. Thereâs no way! He was, well, he wasnât being nice to that woman.Â
Soon you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and towards the foyer, his body blocks her from your view as they talk at the front door. They speak in hushed voices, all youâre able to make out is her saying thank you followed by the sound of a soft kiss and then sheâs gone.Â
She thanked him? It seems like he should be thanking her.Â
He wanders into the kitchen and your throat goes impossibly dry. As if he can read your every need, he grabs a glass from the cabinet, puts it under the water dispenser on his fridge door and then slides the glass across the large island to you. You have to lift off the chair to reach it, whispering a thank you before taking a sip.Â
JM leans against the countertop beside the fridge and watches you take a long drink. You put the glass down with a quiet clink and then fold your hands in your lap. His eye contact is intense, not in a creepy way, itâs almost like heâs assessing you. You find it hard to look at him so you avert your gaze to the glass.Â
He clears his throat gently before he starts. âI jusâ want to say how sorry I am. You didnât consent to seeinâ any of that and I canât imagine how awful that was for you.â His voice is so calm and soft.Â
You flick your eyes up to him, âNo, this is my fault. I am not suppose-â
JM shakes his head and holds up one hand, signaling you to stop. âNo. This was me. I got my days mixed up. Meant to book ya for next week. This ainât on you. This was my mistake. If itâs ok for me to ask, whatâs your name?âÂ
You mumble your name into your glass and down the rest of your water. You figure youâre probably fired either way so who cares if he knows who you are. His face ticks up slightly, almost like heâs proud of you for drinking, and says your name back to you.Â
âI ainât gonna say anythinâ to your boss and I understand if you want to leave for the day. Iâll pay ya either way. I also understand if you say somethinâ to them and I canât be a client anymore. It was unacceptable for me to be doinâ that when youâre supposed to be here. There ainât any other way to word it. I was inappropriate and wrong.â He steps forward and holds his hand out so you slide the glass across to him.Â
He refills it and puts it back for you to grab. âNo,â you say, your voice cracking. After clearing your throat you continue, âNo, I appreciate your apology but Iâm not going to say anything.âÂ
He watches you again as you drain the glass, the same look of pride flashes across his eyes, âIâll - umm - Iâll be in my office. You can uh,â he runs a hand through his scruff, âYou just do whatever you need. Iâll stay outta your way.âÂ
He disappears before you can say anything else. You head up the stairs after a few minutes to find your cleaning caddy sitting in the hall with everything placed neatly where it belongs. His office door is closed and you can hear the deep rumble of his voice while heâs on a call. You grab your things, head into the master bedroom and begin cleaning.Â
A few hours later while youâre sitting in your car eating lunch, the garage door opens and JM goes whipping past you in the sexiest blacked out sports car youâve ever seen. He doesnât even look over you as he speeds by. Your heart sinks, it's unexplainable but being in that house with him there, even after what you witnessed, felt more comfortable than being alone. JM must have some sort of magic touch, how you went from nervous and embarrassed to calm and comforted with just the look on his face and few words is beyond you.
After wiping down the kitchen you are all done for the day. You grab the black and red envelope off the kitchen counter and open it, peering in nervously. Thereâs a piece of matte black paper on top. You slide it out gently, the paper feels expensive between your fingers. As you unfold it you reveal a shiny black JMK logo at the top. In neat gold lettering is his writing.
âPlease know how sorry I am. Your consent is more important than anything. I broke that. Just hope I didn't break your trust. -Joel Miller.â
At the bottom of the envelope are ten crisp one hundred dollar bills.Â
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â© â§âË â©ă09:08 AM â GOJO SATORU.
contents. manga spoilers, satoru keeps the scars bc thatâs character development ok, post canon, insecure! gojo / reverse comfort, you sit on his lap, ig angst to fluff, embarrassingly cheesy look away pls :,)
satoru, since heâs come home with those scars, has always evaded your hand. youâve tried a few times, have reached out to cup those cheeks you miss holdingâbut heâs managed to grab your hand and kiss it every time.
itâs smoothâlike everything else he does, satoru dodges your touch smoothly. with an easy grin. with a teasing glint. itâs slick and all too natural, and almost undetectable. but you know him better. you know him better than anyone has had the pleasure of knowing him, you like to think. and you know that satoru doesnât let your hand meet his cheek, not even the edge of his jaw, on purpose.
âgood morning,â you smile, reaching forward to lay a hand over his face. satoru, with his eyes still closed (as expected), grabs your hand and plants a soft kiss to the back as he hums.
youâre almost certain he can sense the way your lips tug into a frown.
âmorninâ sweetheart,â he says lowly, âwatching me sleep? thatâs a bit creepy,â he teases.
âi canât help it,â you hum, âyouâre too handsome.â
this is rareâgiving satoru compliments easily is rare. usually, you make him work for them, keep him waiting on the tips of toes before finally giving him that praise you know will go straight to his inflated ego. but sometimes, like now, you think he deserves to hear itâunfiltered and raw and filled with truth.
satoru is handsome. always has been. always will be.
âaw,â he cracks an eye open, âmaybe i should let myself get scratched up a bit more. maybe youâll talk nice to me more often.â
âi mean it, toru,â you frown, insisting, âyouâre handsome. so handsome.â
your hand reaches for his face again. he turns his head this time, feigning a yawn as he stretches before sitting up. thereâs a slight bit of tension in the air now, his lips tighter in his smile as he hums before turning to you and poking your nose.
âwell, arenât you sweet,â he smiles almost bitterly.
you havenât seen his smile reach his eyes for a while. he doesnât meet your gaze through the mirror in the mornings as you brush your teeth together anymore, doesnât wink at your reflection and make you roll your eyes. he doesnât spam your camera roll with pictures of himself anymore when youâre in the bathroom, doesnât leave you with those silly faces and smug grins that make good wallpapers. he doesnât even crack those annoying jokes anymore, doesnât whine for you to admit heâs the most handsome guy youâve ever had the pleasure of meeting as his face digs into your neck.
instead, satoru dodges your touch. he kisses you briefer these days, avoids looking in the mirror, smiles like he has toânot like he finds a reason to.
âyou donât believe me?â you ask gently, furrowing your brows, âyou know iâd never lie to you.â
âi didnât say that, did i?â he asks, waving a hand casually. âcâmon letâs go brush our teeth. you donât wanna kill me with that morning breath do youââ
âsatoru, youâre still handsome, you know,â you say gently. you decide to rip the bandaid off as you add, âeven with these.â
for the first time, your hand manages to reach for his face without him pulling away. you think itâs more out of surprise than anything, that itâs because he wasnât expecting you to be so straightforward instead of trying to be subtle like usual. for a second, you think he might just put his infinity upâbut he doesnât ever. not around you.
but you can see it, the way his knuckles twitch a little like heâs clenching them. the way heâs so still, itâs almost like heâs willing himself not to tense. the way he doesnât even lean into your touch like he always does.
he doesnât want your hand on his face, but you stroke a thumb over a scar anyway, cupping his cheek as you study his face up close.
itâs still himâstill satoru with that sharp nose and those rosy cheeks, still satoru with those long lashes and perfect jawline. thereâs rough, marred bits of skin that meet soft, supple ones. you feel over the dips of where each scar starts slowly, committing each one to memory.
theyâre newer parts of him, ones you donât know very well yet, ones that remind you of the ugliest parts of the worldâbut theyâre a part of satoru now, and anything thatâs a part of satoru can never be ugly. no matter where they come from, no matter what theyâre a reminder of.
not if itâs him.
âyou think so?â he asks with a tight grin, âis my money maker still money making?â
âdonât be greedy,â you quip, âyou have plenty of money.â and then, softly, you add, âbut iâd pay a good fortune or two to wake up to this every day.â
âgood thing i give it to you for free,â he hums, âiâm generous, you know?â
âwhat a catch,â you grin, âgenerous, strong, rich,â you list, making an amused grin stretch across his lips, âhandsome,â you add. his smile falters a bit at that. âsatoru, iâm serious.â
âoh, i love when you get all serious,â he whistles. heâs deflectingâyou expect him to, but youâre not backing down. one leg swings over his hips, and then youâre climbing onto his lap, right there where he canât avoid you. but he finds his attention to your lips, still smooth as ever as he avoids meeting your eyes.
âsatoruââ
âoh? you want to do this already? itâs barelyââ he makes a show of glancing at the clock before turning back to you with a suggestive grin, âânine am. but i guess we can have a little fun beforeââ
âi donât care about these, you know,â you murmur, pulling your head back when he leans in for a kiss. your finger lightly traces the scar by his left cheekbone, making him frown.
âsee? youâre basically admitting you have to look past them,â he groans frustratedlyâitâs the first time satoruâs acknowledges his scars. itâs the first time heâs finally let himself look upset without trying to hide it behind a forced grin and a dry chuckle.
âi donât,â you frown, âsure, theyâre new,â you admit softly, âand i donât like being reminded you got hurt. but theyâre not uglyâyouâre always pretty.â
âthereâs so many,â he mumbles, âtheyâre everywhere.â
âi think theyâre cool,â you shrug, âthey make you look tougher. less like a spoiled princess.â
âhey,â he pouts, âiâm not spoiled.â
âyouâre a bit spoiled,â you chuckle, playing with the hair at the nape of his neckâhis lips quirk up, and you canât help but notice how real it looks for once. âbut i suppose you deserve it. not because youâre handsome though. because you deserve good thingsâjust for being you,â you insist.
his lips are quivering a bit, and heâs blinking faster now. you ignore it, though, taking your sweet time as you lean down and kiss along the edges of every scar on his face, tracing your lips along where the old skin meets new.
âthatâs cheesy,â he mutters, ânow you sound like a therapist.â
âi mean it,â you say firmly, âand i meant it when i said youâre handsome too.â
âhandsomest guy youâve ever met, right?â he bats his lashesâtheyâre a bit hopeful, though, and you smile as you gently kiss the corner of his mouth before nodding.
âdefinitely,â you nod, âyouâre the prettiest.â
âam i?â he grins, ânow iâm more spoiled. whoâs fault is that really?â
âiâll allow it for today,â you snort, âtoday you can be spoiled. iâll humble you tomorrow.â
âweâll see,â he hums.
your hands cup his cheeks as you lean down for a kiss, and satoruâs hands clasp over them gently, holding them in placeâand when you kiss him delicately, like the sun meets the moon as your lips touch, like your world revolves around him as you pull him closer, you think satoru is unfairly handsome.
and youâll have to remind him that a bit more often.
heâs my liddol sourpatch :(
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Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.
He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.
He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.
They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.
"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.
"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"
He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.
"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.
"Had a show?"
"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.
Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.
"Don't--"
"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.
"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"
"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.
"Like you ever could."
Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.
"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"
Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.
Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"
The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.
--
When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.
They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.
Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.
--
In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.
Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"
"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.
"Steve."
"Robin."
They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"
"I don't want either of you to get hurt."
Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."
"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"
He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."
And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.
Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"
"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.
They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.
As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.
Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.
But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.
He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.
--
They aren't as close after that.
Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.
Until Eddie stops returning his calls.
He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.
"Steve? What are you--"
"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"
Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."
He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.
"Eddie, I--"
"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"
Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.
"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.
He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.
The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.
The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.
It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.
--
Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.
It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.
"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.
"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"
"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."
Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."
"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"
"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."
"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."
"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."
Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.
They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.
"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."
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