#thank you very much for this mental image

[reids-slut]

An Invisible Locket

Chapter 2: Deep Blue

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader // Secret relationship

Description: You work with your best friend and your boyfriend. The only problem is, nobody knows Spencer Reid is your boyfriend of over a year. When you find out that Spencer's getting sent out on a case immediately after getting back to Quantico, impulses take over. (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, oral sex (M & F receiving), PIV sex, unprotected sex within an established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion (in a pro-choice context, though Reader ends up choosing to stay pregnant), minor mentions of alcohol and cancer.

As for the crime subplot, much of it is very canon-typical (referenced child abuse & grooming by an extended family member (non-sexual), violence, blood/gore, drugs. As always, please feel free to let me know if I miss any CWs!

A/N: This fic is obviously heavy on the Spencer and Reader relationship, but it's also got a significant Garcia best friend plot line and crime plot line. This fic also features an unplanned Reader pregnancy. Reader debates abortion and is pro-choice, but ultimately ends up keeping the pregnancy. If any of that isn't up your alley, please feel free to skip this fic!

Names used: Baby, baby girl, good/sweet/pretty girl, daddy, good boy (once), my love.

Words (this chapter): 3.1 K

Words (total): 29.1 K

Racing up the two flights of stairs to your apartment door, a slightly out-of-breath Spencer double-checks the time. “48 minutes,” he notes.

“I hope you haven’t already used up all of your energy already, Dr. Reid.”

He smiles and scoffs, “Once I catch my breath, you’re gonna wish you hadn’t joked about that.”

You give him a quick kiss, turn your key, and push your door open.

Clothes are immediately coming off and being thrown onto the floor between sloppy kisses. Spencer sets a few alarms on his phone so that you aren’t late getting back.

You tell Spence to sit on the edge of the bed and get on your knees in front of him, feeling thankful for your soft, plush carpet.

“I need to give you some good visuals to think about since I don’t know how long you’ll be gone, baby.”

“I can’t imagine we’ll be gone for that long–,” you cut him off by taking his cock into your mouth. His head rolls back as his breath comes out stuttered. “Oh, fuck yes. Good girl.”

Spencer pushes your hair out of your face and rubs his thumb across your cheek. Meeting his eyes, you sense nothing but love and adoration. He tries to take a mental snapshot of you like this, on your knees, looking up at him while you suck his dick. It’s moments like these that Spencer really wishes he had a photographic memory.

“You look so fucking good taking me in your mouth, sweet girl.”

He leans back onto his wrists as he watches you work, becoming even harder in your mouth.

Looking up at him like this, chest heaving, jaw agape, brows pinched, pleasured distress painted across his face? This is an image you want to keep.

With every bob of your head, a breathy moan slips out of him. Music to your ears.

In the past, sucking dick wasn’t really your thing. The few exes that you went down on would just face-fuck you. It was never that enjoyable for you, but you did it for your partner because you just thought it was an act of service; one not meant to be pleasurable for you.

Going down on Spencer feels so different. His hands in your hair aren’t to force you down. The pads of his fingers perfectly massage your scalp. Hearing Spencer sing your praises, feeling him grow harder in your mouth, the slight saltiness of his pre-cum. It always has you throbbing.

He taps your shoulder and guides you to stand with him, kissing you passionately as your hands roam each other’s body. The taste of his cock mixes with the taste of his mouth in yours. His wet lips trail kisses up your jaw and down your neck. He can’t stop and you definitely don’t want him to.

A shiver shoots down your spine with every quiet moan and whimper he makes at your ear between kisses. His hands grip the flesh of your ass as he pulls you into his body, grinding your body against his hard, wet cock as you ache of emptiness.

Between kisses, he says, “Need you, baby. Please.”

You crawl onto your bed and lay face down, your pussy and ass bared to him at the edge of the bed. Spencer gently runs his fingers down your back. A chill of anticipation runs through you. A sharp moan escapes you as a flat palm hits your ass, barely enough to sting.

“You’re in that type of mood, huh?” you laugh.

Another spank to the same spot, ever so slightly harder, gets a whiny moan out of you.

“Tell me what you want,” he commands. Even when he shifts to being more dominant, Spencer always just sounds desperate for you.

“Fuck me, daddy?” Your words alone elicit a groan from him that has you arching your back to push your ass further towards him.

He lines his cock up and glides the head between your wet lips, coating himself in you.

“Are you sure, pretty girl?” His hands grip your hips, and he pushes himself into you just enough to not slip out. “Do you want daddy to fuck you like this?”

You moan and nod your head against the fabric of your comforter.

He sinks into you fast and hard, bottoming out. The fullness you’d been aching for hits you all at once, and you whine at the immense pleasure.

The dominance Spencer had exhibited moments prior slips momentarily as he reacts to your pussy wrapped around him.

“God, I love you. So good. Fuck, baby girl.”

He begins moving again as your bodies adjust, first just small movements. You reach your arm underneath you and rub small circles over your wet, throbbing clit.

“Yeah, you touching yourself for me, baby?” His thrusts speed up and he runs his hands down the sides of your body.

“Yes, daddy,” you moan, encouraging him.

“Such a good girl for me. You always look so fucking pretty taking daddy’s cock. Did you know that, my love?”

It doesn’t take much for you to cum today. You didn’t even get much warning, yourself. The sensation of his cock thrusting, repeatedly filling you while you play with your clit. The smack of his hips hitting your ass. His heavenly moans and praise filling your ears. It hits all at once as tears make your vision hazy.

“Daddy—Cumming. I’m—”

“Yes, baby girl. Don’t stop. Let it all out. Such a good girl cumming on daddy’s cock.”

The waves of your orgasm are strong on their own, but you’re also hit with all of the emotion you’ve been repeatedly shoving down and avoiding, bubbling up to the surface. Your body is just so overloaded right now that you’re shaking and moaning. It’s all too much, but you don’t want any less from him right now. He feels too fucking good, physically and emotionally.

“Come here,” he says, helping you reposition so that the upper half of your body is arched into him.

His arms wrap around you from behind, one hand cupping your boob while the other holds you in place at your waist.

In this position, he’s forced to thrust slower, but still hard. He leaves kisses at the back of your neck, behind your ear, and across the top of your shoulder. With each thrust, he’s sloppier.

“It’s so fucking hard not to cum, baby. Do you know how good that pussy feels when you’re cumming? How hard it is to not fill you up immediately? I wanted to feel all of it this time, though. I needed to fuck you through it because you’re being such a good girl for me, today.”

His breathy moans and whispers of praise do nothing to help your body come down from your orgasm. Your ass padding his thrusts changes the angle, the head of his cock stroking your g-spot. The hand that isn’t holding you at the waist flip-flops between caressing your neck and pinching your nipple. He knows your body so damn well. If you weren’t starting to worry about the time, you’d probably be close to cumming again.

Unfortunately, you can’t just say “fuck it” and stay in this bed forever, though, and you know you need to start wrapping this up.

Might as well enjoy the last of it.

“Have I been a good enough girl to get your cum, daddy?”

His hips buck into you hard.

“Fuck yes.” He stops. “But I need to see that perfect face when I do.”

He pulls out of you causing you to shutter from the sudden emptiness. You flip onto your back, butt at the edge of the bed and knees tucked up so you don’t fall off the edge of the mattress.

With your legs slung over his shoulders, he’s back inside you where he belongs. His thrusts build in pace, bringing himself close to that edge again.

“Is this how you want to fill me up, daddy?”

“God, yes. This pussy was made for me. You’re so fucking perfect.”

He leans over you, further pushing your legs down, and wraps his hands at the back of your head. With each deep thrust, he’s pulling your body into him.

“Made for you, baby,” you repeat.

“How the fuck are you mine?” he cries, like he truly can’t fathom it.

All it took was one please.

Looking into his beautiful eyes, you softly plead, “Spence, please cum for me, baby.”

And he lets go.

“Fuck,” he cries. His last thrusts are hard but sloppy. “Such a good girl, taking my cum.” Your nails rake down his back. “Oh my god, you feel so good, baby girl.”

His breaths come out as shuddered sighs. You pull him down to kiss you as the final few jerks work their way through his body.

He tastes so good. There has to be some psychological and/or physiological reason that you love the taste of him this much. You’ll have to ask Spencer about that later because, if anyone would know, it’s him.

Early in your relationship, you’d catch him reading articles and books about sex (which he didn’t need any help with) and relationships.

Hello, green flags.

“God, I probably smell horrible now,” Spencer gripes as he turns off the two alarms on his phone.

“Come here. Let me smell you.”

You lean into him, but don’t smell anything offensive.

“I mean, you smell fine to me, but to be fair, we both probably smell sweaty.” You pull out your best puppy-dog-eyed pout and put on a cringe-worthy cutesy voice. “I’m sorry for making you all messy, Spence.”

You break out into laughter as soon as he does. He brings his mouth to your ear and your smile falls. “Can you still feel my cum leaking out of you, baby? I think you might be the messy one out of the two of us. I want you to think about that when I’m on the jet and you’re still feeling my cum leaking out of you.”

He passionately kisses you while you’re still choking on his words.

As he pulls away from your lips and you snap out of your daze, you playfully swat his chest and whine, “Fuck you. Now I’m sad and I’m horny again.”

“Sad and horny is the Spencer Reid special, baby.”

You just roll your eyes at him.

After finding your pants near the front door and slipping them on again, you catch sight of the time. Spencer has to be back in 21 minutes at the latest, which may seem like a lot of time, but is far from it.

“Almost ready, Spence?” you yell back into the bedroom.

“I just have to put my shirt back on! I’m using a washcloth to wipe some of the sweat off me.”

“Okay, well, hurry with those buttons! I just need to put my shoes on and then I’m going to fix my hair and makeup in the car!”

***

On the very short car ride back with the AC on full blast, you two plan how to arrive back at work without raising suspicions. Spencer, being the expert on behavior between the two of you, quickly coaches you. You’ve been navigating this minefield of criminal profilers for well over a year, but the post-sex clarity says that the lunch break sexcapade was probably not the smartest idea.

“What about Penelope?” you ask, knowing you have to spend the rest of the day lying directly to her face again.

“Stick to your story. Internalize it as the truth to the best of your ability.”

Spencer grabs his go bag out of his trunk on the way in, and since it’s more important that he’s up there before you are, he heads back first. You follow a minute behind him.

Hotch turns the corner out of the bullpen and spots you as you get off the elevator. “Y/N, I’m glad I caught you before we leave.” He gestures for you to walk with him down the hallway, you have to speed walk to match his long stride. “Our flight to Gainesville is two hours. While we’re on the jet, I need you and Garcia to see if you can get anything from the tattoo database using the photos we got from the ME. Also, start on a ViCAP search, if you haven’t already.”

“Of course, sir. Before we left for lunch, Garcia had started digitizing the tattoos, so they’d be more effective when searching the database, and I started on the ViCAP search. We’ll get those finished A-S-A-P.”

“Good. Call me if you find anything.”

“Have a safe flight, sir!”

Hotch continues down the hall, leaving you just outside your office. Something tugs within you, wanting to turn around. Spencer’s just around the corner, probably sitting at his desk. Your heart pulls you in one direction, but logic and reasoning pull you in another as you grab the door handle in front of you.

You just got to see him. You need to stay focused on work.

***

Penelope’s working away at a frenzied pace, but noticeably, she doesn’t turn to greet you like she usually does.

“Status update, hot stuff?” you ask.

“Tattoo database has turned up nothing so far, but it’s still running. I need you to finish up with that ViCAP search.”

Her tone is sharp but holds an air of restrained pain. She’s extremely upset about something.

You tested the waters with your “status update” question and discovered that the waters were, in fact, radioactive.

“That’s what I’m getting back to right now,” you say, sitting down at your desk and logging in to your computer. This unease is heavy; crushing, almost. “Hey, Pen...?” She shows no sign of acknowledgement. “Do you want to tell me what’s up?”

“Nothing’s up,” she spits out, fully gluing her eyes to her monitor.

If she were upset about something to do with the case, she would have told you already. The FBI offers free and unlimited access to mental health care due to the nature of your job, but when you guys face something distressing, you always immediately lean on each other. You’ve cried into each other’s arms many times within these four walls.

“Do you feel up to a sleepover tonight?” you quietly ask her.

Since you made the move to Quantico, girl’s nights and/or sleepovers have become a fairly regular occurrence. The weight of what you deal with at work—though you know it’s important—would be crippling without some sort of outlet. Asking her for a sleepover is asking her to talk about whatever’s bugging her.

Since you’ve started dating Spencer, it’s been harder to balance your time between the two of them, especially since Penelope thinks you’re single. You’ve told a few white lies about needing to get caught up on sleep or feeling a bit under the weather to fit in more nights with Spencer when he’s not away on a case. His schedule has made things hard, but it’s so worth it.

Penelope stops typing at your question but continues staring at her monitor. Her voice is strained as she speaks; she’s on the verge of tears.

“I still love you and I always will, but I am really upset with you.” She swallows hard. An arrow shot straight through your heart would probably hurt less than this. “We need to focus on this case right now, though, and then I need to organize my thoughts. Come over at seven. But pick up my Ben & Jerry’s on the way because I’m out and I need some of that frozen, delicious goodness to cope.”

Cherry Garcia. Her favorite flavor and a staple of your movie nights. It’s a bit on the nose to be her favorite, but you suspect that’s a part of why she likes it so much. You make a mental note to stop at the corner store en route to her place.

She’s never been this upset or acted this hurt during any of your past fights. But you don’t even know what you did wrong.

It’s not like you missed her birthday, right? You mentally reaffirm both today’s date and Penelope’s birthday and, nope, definitely not about her birthday. She wasn’t mad this morning, right…?

You stop yourself as gears in your head begin to churn, looking for answers you know you won’t find right now.

You search for an item on your borderline-cluttered desk to calm yourself with. Glittery blue eyes immediately grab your attention. You grab a small plush cat that you’ve named Buttercup (because what type of monster doesn’t name every plushie they own?). While petting its soft fur, you focus in on the sparkly pools of turquoise and take a few deep breaths.

You nod at Buttercup, telepathically thanking it for its positive effect on your stress-levels and carefully place it back onto its perch—one of your computer speakers. This case is the most important thing right now.

Your ViCAP search comes up empty for any possibly-related cases, but shortly after, you have a new breadcrumb trail to follow when the Cedar Key Police Department reports another murder.

You and Penelope video call the team while they’re in the air to brief them on what you know about the newest victim. Until the team speaks with the local ME when they land, you won’t know have a ton to work with. In the meantime, you and Penelope will work with what you’ve got, digging into this victim’s background, their friends and family, and any cell phone and financial activity.

Seeing Spencer on the video call hurts extra today. It always hurts knowing that he’s flying away from you for (and, for who knows how long), but sneaking around with him earlier and Penelope being so upset has you more on edge than usual. You’re longing to be back in his arms where you know you’re safe and, more importantly, where you know that he’s safe.

The tension in your small office remains high throughout the day, but you both remain professional and focused on the case. As soon as the workday ends, Penelope locks up her desktop, packs her bag, and leaves. You make another mental note to grab a bottle of her favorite wine on the way. You have a gut feeling that tonight’s going to require more than just ice cream.

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[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, self doubt, body image, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Extra warning! The end of this chapter touches on mental health struggles and body image issues. It’s a little dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and do not interact.

Chapter 18 - Where Is She | ‘Ours’

You boarded the plane for your flight back to England with Trent, Teddy, and Dianne. It was nice you were able to spend time after the game and get to see your friends but you were also pretty tired. Teddy had just woken up from her afternoon nap when the plane took off.  She was so much more communicative now you couldn’t believe it but it was also really fun and exciting to watch her learn so you’d pepper her with silly questions all day and she loved talking. Most of the time it was babbles interspersed with a few words but you could understand what she was getting at.

“Where’s nana sitting, Ted?” You asked her as she stood looking around. Dianne was in a seat facing away from Teddy so it wasn’t inherently obvious. She was able to indicate that she knew exactly what you were talking about. She walked a little bit towards her and then pointed excitedly when she found Dianne. You laughed when she came running back towards you and Trent. 

“Mama! Mama!” She was adamant about getting your attention. She tugged on your shirt excitedly despite your focus already being on her. She looked up at you with her big brown eyes, the same ones as Trents. It felt like yesterday she was born and you could remember seeing her for the first time, seeing her striking resemblance to him for the first time. The fact that that same tiny little girl could stand and walk on her own now was insane. 

“Yes, baby?” You gently asked her, running your hand over her head careful not to ruin her two pigtails Dianne did this morning. Teddy told you Nana was down at the other end of the plane incredibly enthusiastically. 

“Teddy girl, did you find me? You’re so smart. How did you find me?” Dianne cooed, leaning over for Teddy to see her. Teddy giggled proud of herself. 

“Dada! Nana!” Teddy pointed at Dianne for Trent to look as well. It was important that Trent saw her amazing discovery. 

“Wow! Good girl, Ted.” Trent laughed. “Do you wanna go sit with Nana?” Trent asked her and her face lit up running back down towards Dianne who scooped her up into her lap.

“Come here, you.” Dianne cooed, situating Teddy on her lap. She looked at you and Trent who were exhausted. “So last night was fun?” She asked not having heard about it all day. You just kind of forgot to discuss any further once you were back with Teddy. 

“Too fun.” You giggled rolling your head to the side. She smiled and turned back around. Trent pinched your side at the cheek. You weren’t really referring to your dinner or the club, you were talking about your night once you got back to the hotel, that was too fun and you had the markings to prove it.  “I love you.” You whispered to Trent before you pressed a soft kiss onto his shoulder. 

“Come sit with me.” He smiled and pulled you into his lap. You giggled and cozied up to him giving him another kiss this time to his lips. “I love you so much more.” You rolled your eyes. He wasn’t saying this because he loved you so much more. He did love you but this was to ‘win’ the who loves the other more debate. You tapped at his chest. He smiled again and it made you pout it was so cute. He kissed your hair. You rested our head on his shoulder and Trent reached over you to fix the strap of your top that had fallen. You kissed his arm that was outstretched in front of you while he was fixing it. It was in these silences that you felt you could tell you loved each other more than you ever could put into words. He leaned back into the seat and sighed keeping one arm wrapped around your waist, the other just resting on his thigh. You traced the lines on his rested hand’s palm with your finger and smiled. You wish you could memorize every inch of him down to the pattern of these lines. You laid your palm over his, comparing your hand sizes. Yours being significantly much smaller. You giggled when he collapsed his fingers around yours suddenly. “What are you doing, silly girl?” he whispered. 

“I like your hands.” You whispered back to him inspecting his hand that was now laced with yours. The back of your hand was facing upwards so you could see your engagement ring tucked between his fingers. It made you swoon a little when you saw it paired with his hand. You got distracted from your assessment of his hands though when a tiredness continued to wash over you and only grow stronger.  You cuddled into him sleepily. You listened to his slow breathing and the hum of the plane lulling you into sleep. Trent followed you or maybe he had gone before you, you weren't sure.

“Your daddy loves your mummy so much. Did you know that?” Dianne cooed seeing you and Trent embraced and asleep. She remembered meeting you and being awestruck by your natural beauty. You weren’t like the other girls that had been around. There was a type of woman that circulated in the football community and she was sure they were all lovely people but there was something about your normalcy that put her at ease. Seeing Trent so affectionate was shocking. He never had the time or never cared to devote his attention to someone the way he did for you. She wondered what it was. What was the draw? Obviously over the years she got to know you and she watched her son fall madly in love with you. What made Dianne smile though was when Trent would share all the reasons he loved you. They were all incredibly insignificant human actions and yet he thought the things you did were ethereal. The way your lips curled with a smile while you took a drink from a glass listening to someone tell a story, the way your nose scrunched when it was too sunny, the way your hand fit perfectly in his, the way you would always fall asleep on him before a film would end. It was the color of your nails, the sound of your voice, the way you smelt. These are things everyone did or had but it was all so very different because it was you. You were what made him fall in love. She looked on as you two fit perfectly together in his seat. It was strange to look at Trent and see her little boy and yet there she was holding his little girl just the same age that she’d always imagined him to be. 

“Leaving so soon?” He cheekily asked with a dumb sleepy smile. You shook your head ‘no’ and scooted a little further from him. You woke up with still a bit of time left on the flight. You kissed Trent’s forehead and moved back to your own seat. Your movements initially waking him. You checked your phone for emails and texts, mundane things. When your phone pinged though it was like an alarm bell for Teddy. She noticed that you were finally awake. She was squirming in Dianne’s arms dying to get back to you and Trent. 

“Someone has been patiently waiting for mummy and daddy to wake up.” Dianne sang, letting Teddy run down the aisle of the plane. That was a lie. She wasn’t patient at all. She napped for a bit but all she wanted to do was spend time with you two. She loved Dianne but having you in such close proximity but not having your attention drove her nuts. 

“Oh thank you for waiting, sweet girl. Want to come sit with me?” You cooed as she eagerly climbed up onto your lap with little grunts of determination. You could’ve helped her but you figured she could do it on her own. She didn’t answer your question verbally but the little girl with her face smushed in your boobs was an answer in itself. You landed, Teddy cried, but you made it home eventually. 

“You know that man from Condé Nast emailed me.” You spoke to Trent aloud as you skirted around the kitchen island beginning to make dinner. Teddy was sitting with bright eyes excited watching you pull out all the food letting her try bits of it all for your meal. Trent sat at the island next to her on his phone checking the update from the England team about their upcoming travel details. 

“Oh yeah? What’d he say?” Trent asked you sincerely but kept his gaze on his phone. He was reading an email about their departure in a few days time. He needed to get to St. George’s and then they were flying to Norway for a friendly. 

“He just asked how I was, you and Teddy as well but really he was asking if I gave any thought to the piece he wants to write. He told me he wants it to be like a full spread. He’s already gotten the green light to run it. He obviously just needs me but… why me? Don't you think he can just use someone else?” You rambled for way too long and Trent was doing his best to follow your train of thought.  

“No one is you though. Baby, you’re one of one. Of course he’s interested in you… for an article.” Trent clarified and you gave him a sly smile. “Baby, I think it’d be nice for you. Maybe you should see it out.” Trent finally picked his head up and looked at you encouragingly. 

“Maybe…” You turned back to the stove and were quiet for a moment. “Maybe I’ll tell him after the wedding I’ll meet with him and we can go from there.” You told Trent but you also told yourself. You replied to his email later in the night and awaited his reply. He got back to you the next day and was ecstatic in his response. He even sent along his outline of what he wanted to discuss when you met eventually. It was a weird feeling, of feeling confident yet incredibly insecure. You spent days rereading his outline wondering what kind of questions he’d ask under each of the categories and how you would answer them. Trent left to head down south to St. Georges and like you had told Denise in Madrid, you had planned to fly to New York, taking Teddy with you. Teddy didn’t love to travel, mostly the taking off and landing really bothered her. If her ears popped it was a nightmare but she was getting a lot better at it given the frequency at which you were doing it. 

“Send her flowers or something that she likes.” You cooed looking into your phone. You were laying in your new Manhattan apartment courtesy of Trent. You had your mum handle a lot of the furnishings like the moldings and painting but now that you were there you finally could decorate it just how you and Trent wanted it to be so that was on your docket as well as wedding appointments for the week. Jude and Trent were together Facetiming you laid on the couch with Teddy cuddled up on your chest.

“I always send her flowers.” Jude responded in a very defeated tone. You watched Trent’s face pull into an adorable smirk trying his very best not to poke fun at Jude for keeping the fact that he had even been sending flowers to Lauren at all in the first place a secret. 

“Okay… well sorry? I didn’t know that because you’ve told us nothing!” you teasingly raised your voice at him fulfilling Trent’s desire to joke about this. Teddy rustled on your chest not thrilled with the volume of your voice. 

“No mama, shhhh.” Her face crumpled into a very unimpressed but simultaneously very cute pout. Her little hand pulled at the collar of your t-shirt. Trent laughed at Teddy reprimanding you. You kissed her forehead and apologized. 

“Laurennnnn” You sang bouncing Teddy on your hip as you shut the front door of her apartment after accepting flowers from the delivery man a few days later.

“What?” She asked you from the kitchen. She thought you just wanted her to listen to you, not come and find you. You settled and walked to the living room where you could see into her open kitchen. 

“Are you dating a certain Mr. Jude Bellingham?” You giggled in a mocking tone she didn’t appreciate. She rolled her eyes at your comment before she pulled her head out from the refrigerator after getting herself a seltzer water. 

“What?” She said preemptive to looking at you. Her face fell into a pout quickly seeing you holding a gorgeous floral arrangement. “Oh… Those are pretty. Are they from…” She paused like she didn’t want to say his name. She was so hesitant. So un-Lauren.

“Your boyfrrienddd!?!??!” You cooed cheekily, bouncing Teddy more who was loving your excitement. She clapped. You imagine she probably thought you guys were celebrating something and to a degree you should’ve been. 

“Y/N...”  Lauren dragged out your name silently asking you to not make a big deal. You threw your head to the side with a scoff. You were annoyed. How much more did she want from him? Lauren told you about their conversation in the club and about the evening they had following it but she said they kind of just proceeded as normal after that. Jude dropped her off at the airport's departures a couple of days after the match and kissed her goodbye. That was that. She didn’t know what they were referring to each other as now. She didn’t know if dating meant they could see other people and she didn't want to ask. Lauren couldn’t suppress her smile though as she took the flowers out of your hand and brought them to her kitchen table. She plucked the card tucked in them and bent over leaning her forearms on to the surface to read it.  She shut her eyes in a blissful way and ran her one hand over her face bashfully. Naturally you were curious what elicited such a reaction. You walked over and snatched the card from her in the same way she did to you years ago in your own apartment when Trent had sent you something.  

‘I want to take my girlfriend on holiday this summer. Let me know what she says xx JB’ 

“So what are you going to tell JB, huh?” You hummed inquisitively to her emphasizing the nickname you'd never heard before. Okay, it was very cute. Her response was merited and you understood why she was so smitten reading it. You handed her back the card. 

“It’s just what I put his contact as in my phone as when we first met on the holiday in Greece. I didn’t want to be weirded out texting that name or someone steal my phone and get his information. I don't know, it was stupid really but it became a joke between us and stuck.” Lauren kept trying to explain something she didn’t need to but you figured that was enough of the teasing. You were surprised that she had been so considerate or aware about keeping Jude ‘safe’ if someone were to find her phone. The fact that she was even thinking about that so early on made you think that maybe she had much more than a lustful crush to begin with. 

“Laur, it’s really sweet. I like it. You should call him, maybe. I’m sure they’re doing nothing right now.” You cooed with a soft smile. This was really good for her. You didn’t want to deter her from pursuing it. You were texting Trent about something not pertaining to this but you knew the boys were sitting around doing nothing at the England camp. 

“So you know they’re doing nothing clearly…” Lauren looked at you with a smug knowing look calling you out. 

“I do!” You giggled, finding it a little funny. “I didn’t do anything else though! Note, flowers, etc.. all JB.” You smiled and as much as she didn’t want to, Lauren smiled back. “And Laur, he’s so prettyyyyy.” You cooed with a pout. 

“He is really pretty.” Her smile only growing. She laughed and shook her head walking away from you and Teddy. “Stay down here for a second.” She instructed you before she ran upstairs to her lofted bedroom. You could obviously only hear her end of the conversation but that was enough to keep you intrigued. You sat on the bottom of the steps with Teddy ready to listen intently. 

“Hi… No, thank you… yeah, it was really sweet… your girlfriend said you need to do less but she’d want to go.” Lauren giggled. You’d seen her with Jude before, of course, plenty of times but it was always in really high energy places. At matches, clubs, parties, or around a ton of other people, especially other guys, it wasn’t a true reflection of them. Hearing Lauren’s voice go so soft and calm almost made you want to cry. You couldn’t believe they had kept this so low key. There was so much emotion behind her words. You were eager to ask Trent if he knew how much was going on. He would’ve told you if he did but you couldn’t believe how comfortable she was on the phone. “I wish I could kiss you…”  Your ears perked up again. She sounded so… loving. “Yeah, can’t wait to see you in two weeks… No, tell your mum I’ll send her the one I like, she’ll like it better…. Okay, bye JB.” She hung up and you heard her lay back flat onto her mattress. Jude had promised he’d ask Lauren to be his girlfriend in person officially but this was pretty cute and Lauren was infatuated.  You ran up the stairs giddy with a silly smile eliciting lots of giggles from Teddy. 

“What’s so funny cutie girl, huh?” Lauren cooed with a smile that was on her face you’d rarely see. She was beaming and it wasn’t caused by the little girl she grabbed out of your arms. You looked at her smug. “We’re not doing the approach you did. I want nothing, no one can know I exist in his world.” Lauren clarified to you without you even asking a question. 

“Yeah, okay. Good luck with that.” You laughed, shaking your head. Lauren laughed as well she knew it was farfetched especially considering the scale of Jude’s fame but she’d do her best. She collapsed into your lap bringing Teddy with her. She kissed Teddy’s cheek again and again. Teddy calling out ‘mama’ on repeat muddied in giggles for you to save her from Lauren’s kisses. 

“Oh my god! We can go to the world cupppppop together!!” You squealed excitedly about your revelation. As much as you loved going to the England games with Trent’s family, going with Lauren sounded like a lot of fun especially on quite literally the world's biggest stage. The next world cup was next year and now that Lauren was with Jude that would make it that much better.

“Isn’t that like treachery against the US?” Lauren joked with a coy smile. 

“Oh shut up!  Also, I’m a dual citizen, so are you, you're not English but nevertheless a dual citizen.” You attempted to rationalize supporting England in an international tournament with a very poor argument.  

“That doesn’t make me want to support England?” Lauren rebutted pretty fairly. She had no ties to England. Her parents were French so if anything she was going to support their native country but that wasn't really the point of your comments to begin with. 

“You don’t want to support…” you paused. “Your boyfriennddd?” You cheekily sang squeezing her side. You both let out an embarrassingly childish giggle as if this was the first time either of you were talking to a boy. Teddy was thrilled with the laughter. She laid on her tummy kicking her legs joining the giggles. 

“What the fuck!' Lauren whined then frantically covering Teddy's ears to prevent her from hearing Lauren's curse words. "You did this to me! This is so embarrassing. I’m down so bad.” Lauren laughed a little more covering her face with her hands embarrassed she had become so smitten by Jude. “You introduced us, you bitch! When he breaks my heart it'll be your fault.” You rolled your eyes. Jude was not going to hurt her, even if things were to fizzle out he was way too nice of a person to let it be messy. Lauren got a text from him and her phone screen glowed facing upward on her bed..

“Wait… Lauren he’s your fucking background!?!? You loser! Obviously this man’s your boyfriend. Who puts anyone but their significant other as their background like this! Oh my days!” You screamed at her. It was ridiculous she tried to play this off as long as she had and even more ridiculous she had gotten away with it. Your long distance relationship with her aiding and abetting her secrecy but it was out now and they were together now. 

You returned back home after your trip to the US and Trent did the same from international duty. You were so relieved to be back together. It often felt like your world stopped turning when you were apart. You talked constantly when you could but just being so physically distant was horrible. He came home early in the evening and you put Teddy down for sleep together. She was a little fussy wanting to stay up to be with him but eventually she couldn’t fight her own tiredness and she was out like a light. Trent stood behind you at the doorway of her room with his hands wrapped low around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder pressing his lips against your neck softly and slowly repeatedly. 

“You know, the past week all it’s been is ‘daddy, daddy, daddy.’ She missed you so much, T.” You cooed, turning around to face him. You cupped his cheek and looked deep into his eyes.

“Yeah? And what about mummy? Mummy miss me?” He asked cheekily, ghosting his lips over yours. His hands dropping lower off the small of your back down to your ass. 

“Yeah, missed daddy so much.” You draped your arms over his shoulders and hummed as he pulled you gently out of your daughter's doorway. Trent’s lips moved back to your neck. Slowly he dragged his tongue over your skin. The smell of him was completely intoxicating. “T…” You attempted to stifle a moan when he began to nibble on the most sensitive part of your neck. He picked you up and brought you into your bedroom. He shut the door and he laid you onto the mattress. You giggled as you bounced slightly from the force of the drop. He crawled over you beginning to kiss you again before he pulled away. 

“Who did you miss? Tell me.” He commanded as his big hands dragged the material of your shirt up revealing your bra. He pulled the cups of your bra down letting your tits fall out. Your nipples quickly hardening as he began to play with them. 

“Daddy.” You giggled initially jokingly but your voice transitioned fast into a moaned when he began to nibble on your earlobe and massage your tits slowly. 

“Yeah? You want daddy to take care of you?” He whispered with a conniving grin, grinding on top of you. You couldn’t believe this man had you like this. Begging for daddy? Who were you? Well, you were his. You were his and you loved every second of this. 

“I think you do, baby.” He cooed, moving his kisses from your ear to your neck, across your jaw, over to your lips. “I think you like it when I come home and have you like this. You pretend you don’t like saying it but I think it gets you off, hmm?” Do you get turned on calling me daddy?” He mocked you with an incredibly and unfairly handsome face. You two were kidding around with the whole 'daddy' thing but also if you were being honest... it kind of did. You shook your head definitely and unconvincingly, unable to keep a sly smile at bay. He reached between your two bodies beginning to play with your clit. Your arousal was dripping and you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing your hips up into his hand desperately. He pulled back and sat on his heels in front of you. He pulled his shirt off over his head and you felt yourself somehow manage to get even more wet than before. You reached forward greedily towards him grabbing at his sweatpants. “Nah, nah, nah, baby. I’m in charge here, you know that.” He smiled at you. He slinked off his sweats before he pinned both of your hands above your head with his one hand. Your heart faltered, excited he was in this kind of mood. You loved when he took control. Trent slapped his cock against your entrance a few times. His cock covered with your slick. He dragged his length through your folds before he slowly pushed inside of you. You gripped his hand above you holding yours. 

“Fuck, T…” You whined, not exactly ready to be stretched so suddenly by him. It was the perfect type of pleasurable pain though. He began to thrust into you slow giving you some time to adjust but not nearly enough. “Oh my god, you feel so good.” You squirmed under him, wiggling your hands to try to break out of his hold. You needed to cover your mouth. You weren’t sure you were going to be able to be quiet and you didn’t want to wake Teddy. 

“I fucking needed you, baby.” He grunted. “Needed you so bad all day.” Every push and pull of his cock made you reel in pleasure. He reminded you with every thrust you were his. Trent wanted to fuck you all night but with the way your pussy was tightening around him he knew he wouldn’t last all that long. He bent over and latched onto one of your nipples. He licked and sucked them, finally dropping the grip of his hands from above your head. You moaned when he let that hand drop between you again and his fingers returned to your clit.  “Can you cum f’me, baby? Cum f’me, beautiful.” He asked you and almost like magic, you felt your high crash over you like a tidal wave. Every inch of you lit up. You snatched your hand down in an attempt to cover your mouth and muffle your whines. Trent continued to thrust into you relentlessly extending the pleasure. 

“Oh T…” you whimpered coming down. The way you said his name made the impossible possible. His cock even harder than before. The aftershocks of your orgasm lingering building a damn of tears on your lash line. “I love you so much. Please cum inside me, baby.” You begged him and his eyes lit up, his perfect pout slightly agape, his skin shiny with a sheen of sweat. He was absolutely drool worthy fucking you into oblivion. You gripped his hair desperately wanting more of the way his length perfectly hit deep inside you again and again. 

“You have no idea how much I love you, baby. Gonna cum, yeah? Cum with me.” He muffled against your skin leaving kisses along your jawline. “Cum f’me one more time.” He asked you before he pressed his forehead against yours and you felt him release inside you. He carried on fucking you, continuing through the length of his high. The sounds of his cock pumping in and out of your soaked pussy leaking of his cum was all incredibly lewd. Your own orgasm quickly following feeling him throb inside of you. It was blinding white and completely and utterly addictive.

“Mmmm, my baby.” You giggled out of breath feeling his weight crush you as he laid on top of you before he pulled out and collapsed over to the side of you. You watched his chest rise and fall before crawling back over to him. Needing to be closer once again fully satisfied. You giggled kissing his neck. “That was good, daddy.” You teased him.

“Alright, enough…” he laughed at you pulling you into him a little more and dragging the now crumpled sheets back over the two of you. He cheekily whispered to you why you couldn’t call him that for a little while. 

“All mine, forever.” You cooed pressing a final kiss to his lips before you fell asleep completely worn out on his chest. 

It was late April and very sweetly Winnie had organized a Bridal shower for you in Liverpool. She, Lauren and your mum all flew over. A few of your aunts as well. Dianne, of course and some of her friends. A couple of other wags from the Liverpool and England teams were invited. It was small but still sizable. Maybe it was a family thing but Winnie had a knack for throwing parties. I guess maybe all three of you did; your mum, Winnie, and yourself. It was gorgeous. It was all very boho but girlie. A brunch in your back garden. Winnie captured the whole scene on her film camera and you were already so excited to see those photos. Photography was Winnie’s life. She worked as a model when she was around 17 till a couple years ago when she met someone who introduced her to it as a possible career and then she studied it at university. She was really talented but frankly, you think she liked the power it gave her holding onto all these memories to develop and dole out. At the end of the lovely brunch Winnie had gotten cupcakes that were perfectly delicious as they were beautiful. Of course, you had to let Teddy have a few bites of yours at the party. She was insistent. 

“Mama, yum!” She looked at your greedily eating it. You weren’t sure though if she ate it or just mushed it around but either way it made her happy. When you got home though she was begging for more. You gave her a tiny bit more, you were a sucker and she had you wrapped around her tiny little finger but regardless she devoured it. Icing everywhere, naturally. You were itching for her to be finished so you could clean up the mess she was making in your kitchen.  

“Can you come here, baby, please?”  You cooed, turning around to look at Teddy. She was able to climb on and off chairs without help now so you thought it was important to ask her to do these things on her own. She had a very happy smile on her face but it was paired with very very sticky hands from all the icing.  She ran towards you, hands out eager for a hug. “Wait, wait, wait, Ted!” You giggled. “Come here, let me wash your hands first then I’ll give you the biggest cuddle, yeah?” 

“Mama, wash pleabs!” she stretched her arms up to you. You picked her up and held her out to watch her hands over the sink. You were wearing a white linen corseted maxi dress with flower detailing. It was gorgeous in your opinion but definitely something you didn’t exactly want Teddy’s very cute, yet very grubby hands on. You hadn’t had a chance to change from the shower yet. 

“Wow, am I lucky or what?” Trent cooed coming home from training into the kitchen to see you holding Teddy. The way you were bent over the sink holding her was a sight. The corseted top of the dress had your tits practically spilling out. Since having Teddy your boobs were bigger to say the least and Trent wasn’t exactly complaining.

“Hiii baby.” You sang seeing him coming in. He came over and took Teddy from you now enjoying the fruits of your labor with her newly clean hands. Her palms grabbing at his face eagerly pushing her lips out awaiting her kiss from her daddy.

“Gimme a big kiss, Ted. Mwah! Did you know you have the most beautiful mummy ever?”  You swatted at Trent dismissing his silly comment. 

“My mama!” Teddy cooed, reaching back out to you in his arms. The more she talked the more she liked to tell you how you and Trent were hers. Her mummy and daddy and every single time without fail it made you just want to squish her in the tightest possible hug loving that she was all yours. It got late so you laid Teddy down for sleep. Marcel and George came over to watch a series, Trent and they had started the other week in the cinema. You came in later on. Frankly, you had no interest in the show they were watching but you wanted a cuddle with Trent. You snuck into the dark room half way into an episode and slinked onto the couch Trent was on cozying up to him. He didn’t say anything. He just kissed your hair and situated the blanket he was under over both of you. After about one full episode you were falling asleep on him. 

“Why don’t you go upstairs to bed, baby? I’ll be up in a little.” Trent quietly whispered to you, running his hand over your head. You shook your head ‘no’ not very keen on leaving your very comfortable position right now. “Okay, so you just want me to carry you up when I go?” Trent let out a silent breathy laugh. You cuddled further into him adamant that you were not going to move and your silence was his answer. Yes, he was going to have to do just that. As you fell further into sleep you pawed at his chest letting out a sleepy whine of his name. He smiled and peeked around to see if Marcel or George had noticed or heard your whimper. Neither had. The show was quite loud and Trent was amazed you were even able to sleep in the noise. “I’m right here, baby.” He coddled you pulling you tighter to him pressing a kiss to your forehead. Two episodes in and a few bickering conversations between the boys later,  you were fast asleep. 

“Daddy...” You let out a quiet mumble in your sleep. If there wasn’t a lull in the dialogue of the show they were watching Marcel and George probably wouldn’t have heard you. Trent smiled looking down at you, assuming this was the same as earlier. You were talking in your sleep thinking about the father of your daughter not in an overtly sexy way but that didn’t matter to the other boys. It was still being said and they still heard it. Trent thought it was endearing, they did not.

“Oh my days, bro… No… we’re not doing this.” George snapped his head to look back towards you two. Marcel of course quickly followed. Hearing your brother or friend being called daddy when their child wasn’t around definitely was a little jarring and probably merited the response Trent received. 

“I swear to god I’m not touching her!” Trent quipped quickly coming to defend himself. George would never let go of the blanket cinema incident and hearing you whine ‘daddy’ behind him in the dark room was not something he wanted. Trent held his hands up in innocence. The boys didn’t care, they were not in the mood to put up with you and Trent’s nonsense while they were trying to watch a show. They eventually just mocked Trent for a good long while until they had to rewind the show after missing some key plot point but they moved on, they watched another episode, George headed home, and Marcel opted to sleep over. Trent carried you upstairs when he finally decided to get to bed. He held you in his arms but he felt a weird sense of sadness wash over him when he picked you up. You looked frail. He knew you were taking a lot better care of yourself since you had the fight after Teddy had been born but it wasn’t lost on him how thin you had gotten. He could always pick you up easily, that wasn’t really it. It was the way you were wearing yourself down. The stress of the wedding and Teddy maybe was just getting too much. His eyes narrowed, laying your sleeping frame down in your bed. He was worried but you said you were fine, you had been acting fine, you’d been eating fine. He told himself you were fine but he promised himself he was going to keep an extra close eye on you, noticing it so clearly now. 

Winnie came back to England to stay with you a month or so later for the week ahead of the FA Cup final. It was almost the end of another season. This one seemed to fly by. Each game nestled between the wedding planning and your growing baby's milestones. Each match week buzzed by without a thought. Liverpool was set to finish 3rd in the League which was fine, not ideal, but they qualified for Champions League next season. Back in early March they had won the Carabao Cup but they really wanted a 2nd trophy so the FA Cup had become more important than you initially had thought. The final was down at Wembley in London and Jadon had planned to meet you there. It was a little bit of a double edged sword for him having his season basically over now knocked out of all his club’s other tournaments only with league play left but he figured he’d come home to London and see Winnie and simultaneously catch the game with you all. 

“Mama, up!” Teddy yelled for you standing in your kitchen with Winnie. She was so vocal now even if she was being a bit demanding it was still pretty cute to see her becoming her own person, developing her personality.   

“Okay! Okay! Needy girl. Goodness.” You laughed, picking her up and placing her on your hip.  

“What’s that?” She asked you curiously. Pointing repeatedly at a box of biscuits you had recently bought from the store till you answered her. She definitely could comprehend more words than she could say and she needed to know about everything. To say she was curious was an understatement. She would just point repeatedly at something until you named it for her. She’d file all the information you’d tell her away for later. ‘Nngh.” Teddy grunted trying to reach for a biscuit on the counter. “Biscuit, mama!” she begged looking at you like you were somehow wronging her for not already giving one to her.

“Yeah? You want a biscuit, huh? Hungry girl.” You cooed. You gave her a small piece placing her back down and told her to sit while she ate it. You had to get on your way down to Wembley soon and needed to drop Teddy off at Dianne’s which was always going to be a little bit of an ordeal. She was well behaved and listened well but being away from both mummy and daddy was not exactly her favorite thing, no matter how much she loved her nana. 

“Can we show Win where your shoes are?” You asked her excitedly after she finished eating. Teddy knew right where her shoes were in the mudroom. She scampered off echoing your excitement giggling with a squeal. She went to go and grab them when you asked her to, picking up her tiny little samba trainers and running back to Winnie eager to show her just how smart she was. Winnie naturally gassing Teddy up about how amazing she was for doing so, helping her put her shoes on. Trent had gone earlier the day to London with the team to prepare for the competition. To Winnie’s delight, Jadon had planned a night out for them and invited you along. You agreed to go to dinner without thinking much of it. Dianne wasn’t traveling for the game so she had offered to take Teddy for the night. It was meant to be a fun time, it was meant to be a good time, it was meant to be a night out before you watched your fiance win another trophy. After a tearful goodbye to Teddy, you and Winnie got on your way. You had a great dinner with Jadon and Winnie at a chic restaurant tucked away at a table in the back. It was really nice. You got to know Jadon a bit more, taking mental notes on what you were going to report back to Trent about their relationship. You and Winnie probably drank too much. Okay, in retrospect, you drank way too much. A friend of Jadon’s texted him that they had a table at a club nearby in Shoreditch about half way through your dinner. At that point you had a bottle of wine, maybe two, you can’t remember but you didn’t have Teddy, Trent was already off to bed ahead of the match, it couldn’t hurt to have a night out with your sister and whatever Jadon was to her. Then you found yourself surrounded by people your age living completely different lives. The club was dark. It was body to body yet you felt completely alone. You were planning to walk down the aisle and teaching your daughter how to talk and here everyone around you was talking about who was fucking who in the bathroom.

“Yo, this your new bird, Sanch?” One boy asked eyes narrowing on Winnie’s frame. She was in leather pants and a black tank top with no bra. Her waist impossibly small. She looked good. Winnie always looked good. 

“Yeah she’s with me.” Jadon confirm content and a bit smug with the way Winnie looked and the fact that she was with him. 

“That bird's leng, mate, who is that with her?” Another friend asked him, eyeing up you as Winnie whispered in your ear. 

“Nah, mate. She’s spoken for. That’s Trent Alexander-Arnold’s gal.” The friends Jadon was speaking to eyes widened as they processed who you were. You were in a black bralette and cargo pants. The lights from the club illuminating the rise of your highlighted collarbones and shoulder blades. You laughed at something Winnie said but went quiet quickly after she told you she was going to talk to Jadon. She draped her arms around his shoulders, her lips quick to find his neck. You felt silly feeling so alone when she left. Your phone pinged again and again but you couldn’t clear your vision enough to read it. Trent texting you again and again. 

‘Y/N, where are you? Did you make it back to the hotel?’ 'Baby, can you please answer... Just trying to make sure you're okay.'

You had said goodnight to Trent before your entrees at dinner had even arrived. He tried to sleep, he really did but he couldn’t knowing you were out and weren’t responding. It wasn’t like you. The thought of you out in London being the caliber of drunk where you were not responding to him was making him sick. And just like that, your phone died and your location disappeared off his find my friends app. The table you were at probably wasn’t a scene you should’ve been in but you couldn’t pull yourself out of it. Winnie and Jadon were tangled up somewhere else in the roped off area and would check in sporadically but you didn’t even know where you were. This wasn’t smart, you were a mum. It kept ringing in your head again and again. ‘You are a mum.'

“Erm… Yeah, Hi… can you get away from her? Thank youuu.” Winnie cooed with a slight drag of her words physically moving a man away from you. You were slumped on a velvety couch surveying over the crowds of people in the club. The masses blurring together. You hadn’t even noticed the fourth man of the night trying to talk to you. “Y/N, you need to get back to the hotel…” Winnie cooed softly in your ear grabbing at your arm,

“Win, I’m fine.” You slurred. Jadon came up behind Winnie and looked at you. He had deterred the first three men of the night. Men would come up with propositions and drinks in hand sitting next to you. Far too close for anyone’s liking including your own. You’d told the first one you were taken, the second you told you had a baby, by the third you couldn’t see straight, you weren’t sure what was said. 

“Y/N, babe, maybe let’s get some water or something and get you back home, yeah?” Jadon leaned over and brushed some of your hair off your shoulder. You looked at both of them slightly confused why they were so concerned. You stood up on wobbly legs. Winnie kept hold of your arm to try to steady you. 

“Where are you going? Let me go with you.” Winnie cooed trying to talk to you but you were the type of drunk that you couldn’t hear and you could barely see. Light's were on... nobody was home. You said nothing and just went off to the bathroom. Winnie looked at Jadon concerned but he tried to reassure her everything was okay. You all were drunk, it was hard for anyone to have a clear head at this point. This was a mess. The sound of the club's music and bass was shaking your entire body. It didn’t take much for you to get drunk but you were completely gone. You thought you knew where you were going, the route to the bathroom but suddenly you found yourself outside practically gasping for air. You started crying unable to catch your breath. You looked down at your body and felt sick. You were completely alone yet surrounded by the millions of people in the city of London. You got sick in front of yourself narrowly avoiding your heels. Winnie called and called your phone but it was dead, she couldn't reach you. It was then she began to panic. Why didn’t she go with you? You slid your back down the exposed brick wall outside. You could feel the cement filling between each brick drag on your skin peeling your skin. You were balling your eyes out. You had no gauge of where you were. You went from your sister holding your arm to standing outside shivering confused, hating yourself not only for every decision you made tonight, but every poor one you made in your entire life. You leaned your head back onto the wall and closed your eyes. Tears still managing to seep out. It wasn’t until a black cab stopped in front of you out on the street that you snapped back to reality, barely. You had no idea how long you were outside alone for.  An older man rolled down his car window. He looked like the typical cabbie. 

“Hun, you alright? Can I bring you somewhere?” He cooed softly in the loud city night. You picked your head up and locked eyes with him. This was a 50/50. This could be a guardian angel or an incredibly dangerous situation. You were a mum! Yet here you were climbing into the back of a cab. You didn’t give him much. You muffled out ‘Four Seasons’ to him thankfully remembering that was where you were staying in between fits of tears. He peppered you with questions trying to get more information about which one, were you okay, all sorts of things. None of which you were able to answer. He helped you out of the cab arriving at what the man had hoped to be the correct location. You nodded your head. He wrapped his arm around you to support you as you steadied yourself in your heels. In any other state you would probably have been skeeved out but at the moment you just wanted to disappear.

“Where is she? I haven’t heard from her, Win. Where are you?” Trent frantically asked Winnie pacing in his hotel room as the night rolled into the morning. 

“She went back to her hotel. I’m still out with Jay. I’ll text her but I bet she’s already asleep, T. Which by the way you should be too! Don’t worry, okay?” Winnie cooed with tears beginning to fill her lash line. She feigned a confidence and comfort she couldn’t have felt further from. She felt sick. Why did she just lie to Trent? She knew she shouldn’t have but she didn’t know what else to do. She was past the point of panic. She collapsed into Jadon crying. “Why did I let her go? You don’t understand. She shouldn’t be alone.” Winnie cried as Jadon dragged her out of the club taken aback by the shift in their night. 

“Win, she’s alright. She went home. We’ll go to her hotel right now. Promise, she’s a big girl. She’s fine. Probably just felt sick and booked it.” Jadon tried to calm her down but it really wasn’t going to help. 

“Jay… you don’t get it. She’s… She’s not okay, alright?” Winnie began to cry more. Jadon’s eyes narrowed confused what was happening here. He wouldn’t have let the night get as rowdy as it had if someone told him something was off. If Winnie or Trent or you even had given him any indication prior to this very moment that you maybe weren’t the healthiest at the moment. “She just has a hard time. She doesn’t exactly have the best health and things can get really bad if she drinks too much.  God! I’m so fucking stupid. I know better than this. I need to find her.” Winnie balled her fists and shut her eyes tight.

“What you saying? Health? In what way?” Jadon asked Winnie whilst ordering them an uber. Winnie ran her hands over her face flustered. As drunk as she was, as much as she liked and trusted Jadon, unloading her family's past and trauma on him felt like a lot to do in the current moment. She didn’t know where to even begin to be fair. 

Hours went by and Trent couldn’t sleep. Where were you? Were you with someone else? You weren’t, you had some strange cabbie drop you back at the hotel and that was it but he didn't know that. Honestly, you barely even knew that was what was happening. Thank god, frankly. In some fashion or another you made it back up to your hotel room. It took you about 20 minutes to even get the door open with your key card but you did it. You were hysterical curled up in the bathtub of the shower. You were shaking and crying uncontrollably. In retrospect you had no idea what came over you. It was like suddenly you were 18 wishing you never existed. Like you had never met Trent, like Teddy was never born. You felt disgusting and worthless. All you wanted was to vanish off the face of the earth. You hated yourself for a million different reasons. So that was it. That was your night until it was morning and Winnie was pounding on your hotel room door frantically. 

“Y/N what the actual fuck!” She screamed. “What the fuck?” She was fuming. Your neck hurt so fucking bad from passing out in the bathtub, your eyes were almost swollen shut from all the tears. 

“Honestly… We have to talk about last night but we need to go right now because your fucking fiancé has a game you’re supposed to be at… Jesus Y/N what the fuck.” She yelled at your seething. 

“Win…” You whimpered out, beginning to start to cry again. You slid down the wall of the entryway of your room feeling the hotel wallpaper against your back stinging the scratches left by the brick wall from last night. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore.

“Y/N… what’s going on?” She cooed sympathetically. The way she looked at you made you feel like you were little girls again. Like you were in your house in the hallway between your bedrooms. 

“I can’t do it. I’m a bad mum. I’m not cut out for this. It’s too much.” You looked at her pleading for help. You felt desperate. You felt defeated. It was like the last shot of liquor opened a channel in your brain you had been trying for ages to close and suddenly it was thrashed open. 

“It’s not. You’re doing great. Please.” She looked at you with so much pity. Winnie had heard you say that before. She remembered being 16 and hearing you cry in your bedroom. ‘It was all too much’  It was customary in your family to ignore things like this. To put on a brave face and never let anyone know, much less anyone know that you weren’t perfect the way your mum had wanted you to be perceived in society. It wasn’t lost on people closest to you the trajectory of your life in the last few years might've been difficult. You’d made a valiant effort before meeting Trent to avoid the public eye. It was a lot of pressure on you but when you met him, you’d do anything for him and it worried Winnie if she was being honest. 

“I can’t be in this body anymore, Winnie.” You had felt this way your entire life but suddenly under the lights of a London club it flooded your mind in a way you hadn’t had a moment to consider in the chaos since becoming a mum. You weren’t good enough to be with Trent, You weren’t good enough to be Teddy’s mum. You weren’t good enough. You needed to escape. To describe this as a panic attack wouldn’t have done it justice. You were manic. Trent had the ability to pacify you. You’d never felt healthier than you did in the last few years with him and yet after you had Teddy it was like someone flicked a switch off in your brain. 

“Y/N, I know. I know, it’s really hard. I know life hasn’t been easy on you. It’s been really fucking heavy but you do not have an option here. You are here with me. You cannot fucking leave me. You promised me, Y/N.” Winnie’s eyes welled up. “You promised you’d never leave me. You can’t leave your baby, you can’t leave T… God, T.. I lied last night, Y/N. We don’t lie to him. Where did you go? I was so worried.” She began to babble tears rolling down her face as she paced in front of you. “Y/N, please! I can’t go through this again. I’ve almost lost you before please god please don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to Teddy.” Winnie cried, dropping in front of you. She remembered being 16 and you promised her you would be okay and then she remembered being 18 getting a call from Lauren confirming the exact opposite. She grabbed your arm, being able to wrap her hand around your bicep entirely. She felt sick.  

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 18 xx

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #taa66 #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #oursfic #trent alexander arnold smut

[draconic-absurdism]

Hey, quick question (that I'm sending before I go to sleep) how do you draw those pool rooms /liminal spaces (poll edition) I can't figure it out and I saw that you did them and they looked really good!

Yo, you caught me at the perfect time!!! I haven't been active on Tumblr in a while due to mental health stuff, but here I am! Thank you so much for the kind words :]

I draw these as studies based on photos most of the time! Some of them are very closely referenced while others take a lot of artistic liberty

(The original poolrooms renders are by Jared Pike btw!)

I start by blocking out the background colors very simply. I don't use the straight line tool most of the time; imperfect lines are part of the charm. Just using your eye to lay out roughly where the shapes go, use edges & estimated perspective to create depth, and bucket fill in areas of color as you go

I slowly move toward the foreground and add the character at the very end- this usually makes them look out of place in the scene, which works great as an effect for a liminal space. Sometimes you don't need a character at all

The idea is to suggest detail without having to paint complex lighting! It also works for non-pool liminal spaces

I draw textured water by doing something like this:

It's deceptively simple! Sometimes I'll go back and add really thin white rings inside the bigger white circles for extra detail. I'm trying to minmax art to get impactful effects with the least amount of time spent. Some people might argue that makes it low effort or less meaningful, but some people might argue anything at all! Ultimately the value of art is what it means to you

My liminal series is based on really sporadic intense bouts of emotion which can't be refined over long hours without losing their original meaning. I work until I feel in my gut that it's done, no matter how "finished" it actually looks in the end. It might be 20 minutes or 4 hours

One instance where I recommend using the straight line tool is for making grid patterns!

For the glowing lights, I use a 'shine' or 'glow' or 'screen' effect layer (it might have a different name depending on your drawing program). Having everything be solid colorblocks except for a few glowing lights makes for some fun jarring contrast!

Pinterest has a really good selection of liminal space photography to study from, unfortunately a lot of it goes uncredited, but you can usually find the source with Google image search. I seek out liminal spaces that speak to me for some reason. The suburb ones represent the bloody paranoid failure of individualist imperialist America. Dark hotel hallways invite you into an unknown and uncertain future. The pool ones are both isolation and wholeness, comfort and discomfort, the pain on your skin when the water is a bit too cold despite the calm vibes of summer. Find what motifs speak to you, they'll mean something different to everyone

#my art #the backrooms #liminal spaces #liminalcore #furry #anthro #weirdfur

[bewarethecircles]

Neil Gaiman: "in season 2 the fan-favorite angel/demon couple will fall in love, overcome great adversity, and eventually defy heaven and hell to run off together to the stars :)"

Fans: "cool! I can't wait, does Aziraphale confess first or does Crowley?'

Neil, holding Gabriel and Beelzebub figures and making them kiss: "Does who do what now?"

#obviously this is a joke/simplification because neil cares very much about aziraphale and crowley but the mental image was too fun to resist #mr gaiman if you see this i love you thank you for making the show #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy #good omens spoilers

[ghostcashewart]

Hi I just wanted to say that I love your design for murderbot-- it's like you crystalized a vague idea I had about the characters into visual form. Your art is beautiful and I hope you have a good day!

thank you so much!! 😄 i'm so glad my designs for them resonate with you!

i had vague ideas while reading that i spent some time working out before i started posting anything (mostly with a lot of citations and rough diagrams lol) there's been development since this, but here's a sheet of my initial work on figuring out what my version of secunit looks like!

#this made me very happy thank you!!!! #i wasn't initially planning on posting this concept page but the “vague idea” bit reminded me that i also v much started with a vague idea #it's been a whole process!! #answered #mental-about-you-too #asks #murderbot #the murderbot diaries #tmbd #tmbd fanart #tmbd art #murderbot art #murderbot fanart #secunit #the murderbot diaries art #the murderbot diaries fanart #image description in alt #martha wells #art #fanart

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Can we maybe get come more Cain please? There’s just smth about him😳

Prepare ur booty for the drabbles coming your way

#the requests for cain motivate me #i have very specific mental images for each of my guys #and i love cain because he's my strong fluffy guy #so much muscle #under a good layer of soft #he's got to stay warm! #i need heat #thank you for interacting with me

[prosebushpatch]

Since Christmas is around the corner, I wanted to talk a little bit about one of the most well-known Christmas Redemption Arcs and my favorite thing about A Christmas Carol. Enjoy!

#rose and rambles #okay so i wasn't sure how to better center the image preview #and im laughing a little at how it kind of centers on the ghost of Christmas present's chest lol #you're welcome #A Christmas Carol #Charles Dickens #The Man Who Invented Christmas #okay if you haven't seen the man who invented Christmas but like delving into the creative process and how an author and art shape #each other THEN BOY HAVE I GOT A MOVIE FOR YOU #i like it at least it gives me a lot to chew on #anyway thank you so much to everyone who reads and reblogs and likes and comments ;w; <333 #it really does mean a lot im very grateful #I hope the holidays are treating you well #i know ive been in a slump and if you're pretty burnt out and missing the cheer the season used to bring #i really hope that changes soon #that this holiday and new year brings hope and smiles #no matter how hushed #and if it doesn't then know that im mentally sitting on a stoop with you and we can just stargaze quietly #somehow that unbridled joy and celebration will find us again and for now that is enough

[gentlethorns]

fuck dude i have got to find a job where i can be self-employed and creative. i cannot be in fucking retail hell anymore

#she bork #tbd #like now i don't deal w customers which is cool but now that i work at like a big retail store and not a little mall outlet the pressure is #insane. and i have bosses who never say good job or thank you and who have set me up to fail by throwing a department on me that i was not #hired to run or trained for and frankly don't have time to run properly either. so every week just starts w me in our weekly meeting being a #fucking piñata like 'why didn't you get this done 🤨 you need to manage your time better 🤨 you're losing sales 🤨' and i'm like i'm trying!!!! #what more can i do!!!!!! and then the side of it i actually kind of enjoy (which is what i was originally hired to do) is very very hard on #my body bc it's a very physical job (i run the team that unloads the trucks every day and like i'm usually helping unload bc i'm not just #gonna stand there and watch while my team busts their asses lol) and now i'm finding out that it's actually not normal to wake up every day #w your joints screaming and stiff and that i might have a chronic condition (doctor is thinking some sort of chronic inflammatory arthritis #but i won't know if my imaging and blood tests showed anything until like mid-june) and i'm like. so even the part of my job that i don't #mind as much is not good bc it's like actively destroying my body. okay sick 🤠 and i don't wanna quit bc i've only been there for like #eight months and this job would be really valuable on a resume but i don't want it to look like i'm a job hopper or like i'm fickle or #unreliable. so i'm stuck here for a while i think. but the pressure is destroying me mentally and i know i need to find a position somewhere #else that is 1. not fucking goddamn retail bc retail will always be hell and 2. not management bc i don't see myself ever really getting #into upper management but lower/middle management gets shit on the most so if i go somewhere else and end up in middle management i'll be #right back to wanting to kill myself in a matter of months. basically i'm tired of expectations and pressure and stress and i'm tired of #waking up at fucking 2:30 every morning just to go in and get shit on and destroy my body all over something that in the end i do not fuckin #care about. i need to make art and be held accountable by only myself. idk i've been toying w the idea of learning how to tattoo and trying #to start establishing some artistic skill so maybe eventually i can do that? not now bc the economy sucks and that's scary lol and anyway i #have to give myself some time to actually learn the skill and perfect a style. but it makes decent money (at least before the expense of #supplies and taxes) and allows you to travel and still work and also it would be fun. and i could tattoo myself so it would cut some #expenses for me since i cannot stay away from the damn needle. idk lol i need to save some money before i buy a tattoo gun or anything but #i'm considering it bc i am going fucking crazy rn and ik this feeling will leave me eventually but i also know it will come back bc it #always does. and i'm tired of just surviving and just making it through every day and every week like i want to be happy and this is just #not doing it for me anymore #ugh fuck why couldn't i have been born w a brain that likes numbers and code and technology. i love being an artist but it makes finding a #sustainable career really difficult bc i feel so restless and miserable when i'm stuck in a passionless job but my passions are not #particularly profitable. hate it here why wasn't i born a capybara no job no responsibility just squint and squeak and sun

[sttoru]

“tsk. has nobody taught you how to eat?” sukuna scoffs, gnawing on a big of piece of meat whilst watching you eat your own meal next to him. the corners of your lips are very messy.

you can’t help it. the food the maids had prepared is too delicious to eat without gusto. you’re alone with sukuna so you don’t mind your table manners all that much. nor does he.

“right back at you, my lord.” you retort in a sassy tone. a hand reaches out to tug at your hair before firmly flicking your forehead. a reminder of your place.

sukuna yanks off a piece of meat from the bone with his sharp fangs. he glances down at you with an amused yet dangerous look, “get too bratty with me ‘n you’ll end up as my dinner next.”

you chuckle. you’re used to his threats by now, knowing he won’t go that far, though you don’t push your luck any further.

the unexpected feeling of a wet tongue sweeping off the sauce from your mouth makes you cringe. you notice how sukuna had formed a mouth on one of his hands and decided to just clean you up that way, “ew. get that away.”

“ew? you should be grateful for that, woman.” sukuna huffs, continuing to eat nonchalantly whilst you’re struggling to fight off his hand from your face. “i can also use somethin’ else to clean up y’r dirty mess.”

the king of curses grins menacingly as the huge tongue on his abdomen rolls out. you shiver at the mental image of that massive thing slobbering all over your face to get the sauce off.

“yeah no.. err, thank you. i’ll just get a napkin.”

#sttoru writes. #oki bye i needed to write this dumb thing down before i forgot about it #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff

[todayisafridaynight]

just sayin i posted the masadai ff on ao3 /RUNS

IS YOURS CHANDELIER FAM ME AND THE BOYS READ IT AND LOVED IT

for the lovelies interested... here ye be...

#snap chats #very much obsessed with the mental image of daigo cornering masato while he's in his chair. might steal that #I JEST BUT IT IS A REALLY GOOD MENTAL IMAGE #see bestie i told you it'd be delicious <3 lovely even <3 im applauding and crying and becoming inspired <3 #FOREVER a fan of daigo being interested in masato because masato's such a hard ass #which is such a contrast to how everyone around daigo tends to gravitate to him and suck up him #i think its good... wonderful even.... its rotting my brain oh god i have to finish these commissions NOW i need to be ill #BUT OF COURSE THANK YOU FOR WRITING AND SHARING BESTIE 11/10

[mystra-midnight]

— CALL ME LITTLE SUNSHINE | part i

pairing: rockstar ! eddie x innocent ! reader

tags: pet names. dirty talk. making-out. fingering. oral; (fem receiving). marking; (hickeys). loss of virginity. corruption kink. semi-public sex. eddie is entirely pussy whipped.

w/c: 6.7k.

a/n: welcome to part one! it's been a hot minute since i've posted anything as thought out and in-depth as this so if you could take a few minutes to reblog or comment some feedback, i'd very much appreciate it. ♥

"Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin!"

The ever-growing crowd had been calling for the band the entire time you'd been waiting in line, which, after looking at the watch tucked beneath the sleeve of your cardigan, had been almost an hour and a half. The chanting had gotten so loud that, at some point, you'd stopped being able to hear yourself think, instead relying on Steve's large hand clasped around your own to tell you when to shuffle forward.

You felt out of place, unlike Steve and Robin. Everywhere you looked, people were dressed in leather and chains; piercings here, there, and everywhere; fishnets; big black platform boots; heavy make-up; and tattoos. And then there was you, dressed in a simple summer dress, hugging a knitted cardigan around your shoulders, wearing strappy sandals, and looking like someone right out of the Stepford Wives.

Other people noticed; you'd swear it, though no one said anything. As you looked between people, you caught a few of them looking at you, their expressions a motley of emotions that made you shift uncomfortably. Metal music had never been a particular favourite of yours, and concerts like this—where people were packed in like sardines—definitely weren't your preferred scene. The thought of being alone, snuggled beneath a blanket, and enjoying a glass of Moscato was much more appealing.

But you'd promised Steve and Robin that you'd come.

Well, no, not exactly. You hadn't promised either of them anything; instead, you'd given in to their constant whining. Steve and Robin had hung themselves from your legs as though they were dramatic, tantruming toddlers, pouting, and begging you to go with them. And after promising to cook dinner every night for a week—no, wait, a month!—your resolve finally broke.

That was how you found yourself finally walking through the double doors of the stadium. A gust from the air conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, blowing your hair into your eyes and lip gloss, but it was a welcomed relief.

"I think that took literally forever." Your feet were already aching, and the thought of standing for another two hours was mentally and physically exhausting. Sure, you'd listened to some of Corroded Coffin's songs and thought they were good, but you weren't looking forward to standing in a sweaty crowd.

"Right. That was crazy, and they only have two scanners going. It's going to take forever to get everyone inside." Steve replied. His fingers tightened around yours when he felt your strides slowing, and he turned to notice your attention was on the merchandise display a few feet away. Following your gaze, he found the band tees hung up on a pinboard, images pressed onto the fronts and backs of each one. Some showed the band's tour dates and the cities they were scheduled to stop in, while others had stylised versions of Eddie's face.

Steve practically beamed with pride. He was proud of how far Eddie had come since they'd met—from school freak to famous rockstar. It was a big change, but a well-deserved one, given all the shit he'd been through. Somehow, he'd remained modest and hadn't forgotten where he'd come from; he'd gotten his uncle out of the trailer and into a two-bedroom apartment; he thanked his uncle and friends during every interview; he'd even forgiven his childhood bullies, though he never forgot what they'd done to him.

"Come on," he said while tugging your hand. "We should get in before the show starts," he said when you hesitated, teeth tugging on your lower lip as you continued to eye the shirts, bandanas, and posters on display. It was called the Upside Down Tour, and the band had released a limited-edition shirt for the tour.

"I want to get a shirt; this is the first concert like this I've ever been to. I want something to remember it." You explained. You wriggled your fingers in his, hinting that you wanted him to let go. If you'd have blinked, you might have missed it, but you swore that Steve and Robin shared a look—the kind that carried secret conversations and amusement.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, painful and sudden, while your mind raced to a dozen terrible thoughts. What if they regretted bringing you along, even though they'd practically begged you to go? What if they were angry? Fuck, what if they hated you? You must have looked like you were about to pass out because Steve took pity on you, reassuringly squeezing your hand as he stepped closer.

"Shit, sorry," he apologised with a crooked smile. "It's all good. We can pick one up after the show, okay? We need to get inside before security locks the doors."

"Oh," you answered. You ducked your head to hide your face, which felt like it was burning with embarrassment. You suddenly felt childish for letting your anxiety get the better of you, especially given that this was Steve and Robin, who had been nothing but kind from the moment you'd first met them. "Of course. After the show."

As though she sensed your distress, which she more than likely did because you radiated emotions like the sun radiated heat, Robin grabbed your other hand, lacing her fingers with yours, and gave you a sympathetic smile that mimicked the one on Steve's face. You loved them, but sometimes you hated them. So often, Robin and Steve seemed to be on the same page, on the same mental wavelength, having entire conversations with the lofting of a brow or half-smirk while you were on your own, a stranger looking in.

You tried not to think about it and tried desperately not to let negative emotions get the better of you tonight. You were at a concert with two amazing people, about to see a fantastic band play live. It was going to be a good night. Steve showed his ticket to one of the women managing the traffic flow, who motioned down a steep staircase into a standing pit right in front of the stage.

As you predicted, the crowd was already massive; there were too many people to fit comfortably within the stadium, but no one would complain as long as everyone behaved. And everyone would behave if they were able to see the band play. It wasn't long before the lights went down, and the crowd's cheering rose to a thunderous crescendo.

You felt the violent vibrations of the bass guitar as the bassist began the opening rift—how it rattled the ivory cage around your lungs until your entire body swayed to the rhythm. A sudden fireworks explosion dazzled and blinded you as the crowd rushed forward. Then the atmosphere turned electric, casting a weaving web on the crowd and drawing them in.

When the smoke settled, you saw the band had taken their places on stage, dressed in black denim, leather, chains, tattoos, and wild hair. They preened beneath the attention of their peers as the frontman and lead singer, Eddie Munson, moved to stand before a microphone. "I hope you're ready to rock, Hawkins, 'cause we're not stopping until the cops come knocking!"

Steve grabbed your wrist and dragged you in front of him, pushing you closer to the stage. That was how you found yourself standing front and centre. One of his hands grabbed your hip firmly, ready to break the fingers of any other wandering hands. He wrapped his other arm around Robin's shoulders, holding her to him as they sang along to a song you didn't know the words to.

It wasn't your proximity to him or the bruising grip of his fingers that warmed your blood, but the singer on stage. You'd seen pictures of Eddie in the trashy magazine you picked up from the gas station occasionally; each one seemed to be a different headline, each as scandalous as the last. Corroded Coffin's singer caught with another woman? Eddie Munson, Satanic Priest! Some of them were ridiculous, and none of them had been particularly entertaining, especially when, in every interview, he seemed humble, perhaps even flustered by the fame.

The sight of him on stage sent heat dripping down your cheeks and into your neck, spiralling through your veins to gather at your core.

He looked like a devil but had the face of an angel—wild curls bounced around his face, you caught glimpses of his inked skin, and there was a perfect trail of hair on his abdomen. He strummed at his guitar strings as though it were his lover, plucking the cords with perfectly practised movements. You wondered what else his fingers could do, and a wild blush crept into your face.

As though your thoughts weren't mortifying enough, he seemed to have noticed. His eyes found yours in the crowd, as if he could see straight into your brain and was plucking the fantasies from your mind.

The world slowed to a crawl and faded until it was just the two of you and your racing thoughts. You drank in the sight of him. You caught glimpses of his tattoos, watched how droplets of sweat rolled down the hollow of his throat as the heat of the stage lights bore down on him, and watched how his lips moved as he sang, the rasps of his voice enough to make you tremble.

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, almost afraid to look away; you wanted this moment to go on forever and ever. But as abruptly as it began, the fantasy ended when he looked out across the crowd, and as he did, the world snapped back into place. Your heart was racing, and your breath was erratic.

You felt silly having been caught up in such an intense moment with a perfect stranger, even if he was handsome and famous—a perfect mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment. You glanced at Robin and Steve, hoping they hadn't noticed your captivated state. They hadn't.

The two were still singing and enjoying the music, bouncing up and down as a guitar solo swept through the speakers. Worrying your lip between your teeth, you looked back at the stage, trying valiantly to refocus on the music. After a while, the guitar's pounding bass and electrifying energy were enough to pull you back into the moment.

You felt captivated, as though whatever dark spell he was weaving had fallen upon you, too. His performance was filled with raw emotion and a rebellious spirit, with the lyrics resonating with something deep inside you, echoing your desires, and enticing a wildness to spark in your veins.

You stole another glance at him, and his eyes again met yours. It was almost as if the universe had conspired to connect you two in a chaotic sea of people. With a sudden burst of courage you didn't think yourself capable of, you gave a bashful smile and lifted your hand, waving at him.

He saw and acknowledged you with a knowing smile, to your surprise and amusement. It felt like a dirty secret. You would swear that your face was on fire from how hard you were blushing, your fingers wringing together nervously at the front of your dress.

It seems silly. In fact, you knew it was silly, childish, and stupid.

You didn't know him, and he didn't know you. You knew the media's version of him—the stylised rockstar who'd grown up poor, defied the odds, and came out on top—the playboy who had a different girl every other week and who'd been caught having sex with fans in odd places. But what you'd felt, however brief, had ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach. You felt it smouldering as you were lost in the music and its wild energy.

The last guitar riff played, and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. You expected the crowd to thin down now that the show was finished, but they remained, hooting and hollering, vying for his attention.

"He was incredible!" You shouted as you turned to Steve, straining to be heard above the crowd. He gave you a funny expression and tilted his head to the side, causing a stir of hair to fall into his face.

"What?" 

"I said," you shouted while moving closer to him. "That was incredible!"

This time, he heard you, chuckling under his breath and holding you in place when you tried to slip through the crowd. And then you saw Eddie standing at the edge of the stage, a security guard at his side. You could see they were talking, now if only you'd learned to read lips. Except you didn't need to read lips to know he was pointing right at the three of you.

Your heart stopped mid-beat, your mouth running dry, as a second security guard approached the three of you. From where you were frozen in time, you didn't see Steve and Robin grinning at each other or the glint in their eyes.

You were star-struck, staring at the security guard as if he'd grown a second head. And he might as well have because things like this didn't happen. Maybe it happened in the movies, but not real life and you weren't some perfectly poised beauty. You were a real woman with feelings; they were all over the place right now.

You grabbed Steve's arm when he stepped away, pulling him to a stop. He looked down at you with a furrowed brow. "What the hell is going on?" you hissed at him, not angry but entirely surprised and uncertain. He gave you a dashing and daring smile.

"Think he just invited us backstage."

"What?"

You'd tried to convince yourself that this was a wild dream. You even pinched yourself—twice. Things like this didn't happen to ordinary people, especially people like you. The shy woman who had to have a drink in her hand, the woman who took sips to fill the silence when talking became overwhelming, the woman who stammered and blushed with little more than a wink from a handsome man.

But it was happening. And now there you were, backstage, with Steve and Robin at your side, staring at a door with the band's name written in block letters. You could hear people milling about inside.

The security guard knocked, and you heard the muffled sound of movement, followed by something being knocked over and a chorus of laughter. Finally, the door was hauled open.

"Eddie!"

Robin's outburst startled you. She pushed past you and Steve, then the security guard, and threw herself at the man. You gawked at them, eyes wide as your soul burst to life, heart skipping several beats when he spun her in a circle. Robin's feet didn't touch the ground as they laughed. 

You couldn't believe it.

There, standing not even five feet away, was the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie-fucking-Munson—the very same man you'd been eye-fucking on stage not even an hour ago. A part of you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you whole. Another part screamed at you to cling to him as Robin had done.

"Hey," Steve whispered, leaning slightly closer to your ear. "Are you doing okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"What?" You replied, your voice rising an octave in panic. Your gaze whirled between Steve and the duo, who seemed oblivious to your presence, and then back again. "Yes, well, no! You didn't tell me you knew him!"

"Who? Eddie?" He asked.

"That guy, right there, the famous guy hugging our friend?" You were incredulous, your arm flailing in their direction, much to Robin's amusement and Eddie's confusion. "Yes, him! You two know him?"

"What about Eddie?"

The sudden appearance of his voice made you squeak in surprise. His voice was dark, deep, and delectable, like chocolate, and hoarse. It felt like liquid heat pouring down your spine, flooding every intersecting bone until you trembled. Eddie smiled, and his cheeks dimpled in a way that had you blushing wildly.

You stared as Steve and Eddie swept each other into a bear hug, slapping each other on the back and again on the arm as they came apart. Robin gave you a playful poke in the side, bringing your attention back to her.

"What about Eddie?" She asked, which inevitably brought all of their attention to you. You shifted beneath the weight of their combined stare. Your eyes found Eddie's, and you looked away quickly.

"Yeah, what about Eddie, girl?" He playfully added.

"Nothing! It's just that—um—well, I didn't know you—uh—that they knew you. That's all." You say, stumbling over the words like an awkward teenager. You mentally kicked yourself, but in truth, you'd never been good at talking to people. You'd always been a little shy, and everyone made fun of you before Steve and Robin slowly started coaxing you out of your shell.

And it wasn't as though he knew you. He probably hadn't seen you in the crowd. Now that you think about it, Eddie was just as likely to be smiling at them, not you, when he was on stage. But that didn't do anything to pull the blush out of your face or stop the way you shuffled under the gaze of the trio.

"Oh, yeah," Eddie said with an awkward laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Your eyes went a little buggy when his shirt rode up, revealing that trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his jeans.

You looked away quickly before he could catch you staring, finding something on the wall that suddenly fascinated you. He didn't notice, or at least didn't say anything if he did. "Yeah, yeah, the three of us went to high school together. It seems like a lifetime ago."

Robin stared at him, her expression incredulous. "It was, like, five years ago, Eds. Don't you dare make me older than I am!" She said as the back of her hand connected with his stomach. Eddie huffed as he doubled over dramatically, clutching his stomach and coughing as though she'd just punched the air from his lungs. You laughed despite yourself, momentarily drawing his attention to you; he flashed you a dazzling smile before hustling the three of you inside. 

It would have been spacious inside the room if it wasn't filled with boxes of merchandise, band equipment, and the rest of the band. The little composure you'd managed to hold onto disappeared when Steve and Robin rushed inside, similarly greeting the others, hugging and laughing like old friends. 

You lingered at the door, unsure what to do with yourself, when you felt a hand against the small of your back, fingertips tapping just above the curve of your ass, high enough to be respectful but low enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.

"Come on, sweetheart. They don't bite," Eddie said with a laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear. You felt his breath against your neck, the warmth of it making you shiver as he caught a glimpse of your cleavage before you hugged your cardigan around yourself. 

"Well, I might," he added. "If you ask nicely."

He didn't wait to see your reaction, but from the beaming smile plastered on his face, he'd heard your squeak of surprise. Instead, Eddie flounced into the room, joining Steve, Robin, and the others as you followed.

Once official introductions were made, you sat at the end of one of the couches next to Eddie, who seemed entirely unaware of your nervous inner turmoil. Occasionally, his thigh brushed against yours, jostling you in his excitable state as the group recalled their high school years.

"You were quite the ladies' man in high school, Steve. Don't act bashful now," the drummer, Gareth, said with a booming laugh. You found yourself smiling and laughing with him, amused by the way Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and tried to deflect. 

"I remember Robin telling me that the girls used to call him King Steve." You added. Gareth howled with laughter at how Steve flushed a deeper shade of pink. You smiled at him, pretty and sweet, but should have known he wouldn't let that slight go unanswered. You hardly had time to steel yourself before he returned fire.

"Hey now," he said, his smile positively devilish. "Don't start throwing shade if you can't handle the sun, sweets. Because I could tell some stories about you, too. Well, no, I couldn't. I don't think I've ever heard those bed springs squeak."

You choked on a mouthful of beer, coughing as you glared at him in horror. "Steven Joseph Harrington!" Your face burned at the revelation of a secret you'd shared with him one drunk and wild night. Using his full government name was enough for him to know he'd crossed a line, but the laughter of his friends encouraged him.

"I can't help it if that's the truth, you know," he said with a shrug.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Eddie shouted, shaking his hand wildly to get everyone's attention, especially yours. You squirmed in your seat, pushing yourself hard against the arm of the couch to try and escape his intense stare when he rounded on you. 

"Never? As in never, ever?"

At that moment, you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you. It wasn't that you were embarrassed to be a virgin, but the attention made you uncomfortable. You'd never been the type of woman to want a one-night stand with a stranger. Steve had offered once when you'd both been drunk and confessing secrets, but you'd never felt the itch.

And it wasn't that you considered your virginity to be a cherished and sacred part of yourself. But you'd never wanted to be that vulnerable with someone unless you trusted them entirely. 

"Bullshit." Eddie spat, not nasty, but disbelieving. "You've gotta be shitting me. A pretty thing like you hasn't ever had sex? I know you're lying."

You stared at your hands resting in your lap, fingers wringing the hem of your dress until the stitching threatened to fray. From across the room, you heard the vague sound of Robin talking, mumbling something about you being as ripe as a cherry. She purposely popped her lips, and you wanted to die.

"Jesus Christ," you managed to choke out. "Yes, okay, I'm a total virgin. Can we talk about something else, please?"

The universe appeared to take mercy on you because the conversation changed topics at breakneck speed. One moment, Eddie was gawking at you; the next, he was focused entirely upon Jeff, who'd bought up something called the Hellfire Club. You took the opportunity to down the rest of your beer, letting the flavour of it wash away the taste of embarrassed tears.

The night went on in relative peace. You drank with them, listening to their wild stories of high school shenanigans and offering your own when prompted. You hadn't realised how much time had passed until you glanced at your watch and gawked: two in the morning.

"So, never?" Eddie asked without warning, his voice soft and almost innocent, breaking the silence that had blossomed within the room. You pulled your cardigan around your shoulders as though the thin material could shield you from his gaze. The others had fallen asleep, either drunk or high or just beyond exhausted. It was just the two of you.

Just you and Eddie.

"Look," you said with a sigh, your face burning again. "I really don't want to talk about that."

He held his hands in the universal sign of hold up. "I'm not judging you, sweetheart. I'm just curious. A pretty thing like you has to have a trail of broken hearts behind her."

You laughed despite yourself and relaxed back onto the couch, enjoying the warmth radiating from him. He was so close that you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, the way he traced his lips with the tip of his tongue, the way the fabric of his jeans stretched across his lap, the bulge there. . .

You snapped your head away when he caught your staring.

"It's not like that. I've had boyfriends. I've just never felt comfortable doing anything with them. Not that they were bad people. I didn't want to do it because everyone was doing it. Then I got busy, and dating stopped happening. You understand? Of course you do. You're famous; I doubt you have much time for dating. Not that anyone wouldn't want to date you."

You were rambling, the words falling from your lips like verbal vomit, and you couldn't stop. Eddie silenced you, moving without warning to close the distance lingering between the two of you. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, his fingers rough and warm, pulling you into the wall of his chest so that he could slot his mouth against yours.

Eddie Munson tasted like cigarette smoke and alcohol, dark desire wrapped in leather. Eddie Munson smelled like adrenaline and sex, a woman's wet dream. Before you knew what you were doing, you kissed him back, desperate for more.

Eddie led you into an adjacent room, his fingers enveloping yours, providing a comforting anchor. The soft snores of the others faded into a distant hum as he closed the door. Your gaze traced the contours of his back, the curve of his shoulders, the way his studded jacket draped over them, the weight of his chunky black boots and the ruggedness of his ripped jeans. The belt cinched around his narrow waist, crowned with a buckle shaped like a bat, adding a touch of mystery to his rugged charm.

He turned abruptly, his hand slamming against the door beside your head, eliciting a startled yelp from you. Eddie pressed against you, your hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt. Caught between the desire to pull him closer and the instinct to push him away, you found yourself staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Your heart pounded against its ivory prison, the uncertainty of the moment adding to its frantic beat.

"E—Eddie?" You managed to stammer his name, your voice impossibly quiet, overflowing with uncertainty and a mix of fear and desire. He didn't seem to mind. He smiled at you, his breath washing over your mouth and nose like a sweet rum, leaving you light-headed. You squeezed your thighs together as tight as you could, desperate to stifle the growing heat at your core.

He felt it, your nervous shifting and the wild beating of your heart as he cruised a hand along your body, from your hip and then over your breast to clutch the back of your neck. He rubbed his thumb over your racing pulse. "Has anyone ever kissed you like this before? Pushed you against a wall, touched you, told you how beautiful you are?"

Your face burned. Eddie knew that you'd been kissed before; you'd told him as much. But you'd also told him you were a virgin. At twenty-four, you'd almost grown out of being embarrassed by the fact. 

"No," you answered in a low exhale, trying to duck your head to avoid his smouldering stare. His eyes were blown with lust, almost black as coal, as he pushed his thumb against your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

He leaned in closer, the feel of him like a weighted blanket on your chest, making it harder to breathe but in a pleasant way. It made your head fuzzy, like floating in a beautiful daydream, except his lips ghosted over yours. The faintest of touches had reality snapping into place around you.

"Never, ever?" Eddie whispered, his lips brushing, tugging, teasing yours. He was so close that he'd invaded all your senses until all you saw, heard, and breathed was him. He held fast when he wanted to move. Eddie waited for someone to give in to desire and bring the other into the flames. He wanted and needed it to be you.

The tiny whimper you made shot through him, racing through his blood like a bolt of electricity until his cock throbbed. And then you took the plunge, a hand at the back of his neck, the other hauling him in by that pretty studded jacket so you could brush your mouth against his.

It was all he needed—a silent confession, unspoken permission.

Eddie pushed against you until you felt the studs of his leather jacket and his dangling chains pressing into you through your clothing, your dress suddenly restrictive and in the way. His hands were everywhere, cupping your face, running through your hair. And then he dropped to his knees with a thud, pressing kisses down your stomach, leaving wet marks against the fabric of your dress as he ran his hands up the backs of your legs.

"No one ever touched you like this?"

You felt like you were going up in flames. His touch was fire licking your skin, beautiful and pure, leaving you trembling. His hands moved up the back of your thighs, and when his mouth found your belly button, tongue swirling once, then twice, you grabbed him by the shoulders to steady yourself.

"Words, sweet girl. I need you to answer," he said in a husky tone, pinching the back of your thigh to bring you out of your mind and into the moment. He looked at you from beneath his impossibly dark lashes, his eyes dark, twinkling with mischief.

"Never," you managed to gasp when his hands began drifting high, pushing your dress up until he could bunch it at your hips. And then he was face-to-face with your panties, groaning dramatically, making a sound that would make a pornstar blush. 

"Have mercy," Eddie moaned, his breath hot against your mound even through the barrier of clothing. His eyes moved back to yours, and you flushed with embarrassment. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. "Even your fucking panties are adorable. That little bow? I'm going to take my time unwrapping this present."

Yet, despite this admission, he didn't take his time.

His mouth landed on your clothed cunt without a preamble. Your knees shook and threatened to give out as he worked his tongue against the wet fabric, tasting your arousal and letting it slide down his throat like a fine wine. Eddie found that virgins were quick to get wet. His calloused fingers kneaded the globes of your arse, pulling you closer, his talented tongue pushing your panties into your slit so he could tease your clit with gentle licks.

You bit your knuckles to stifle the sounds of your moans as pleasure snaked through your veins, creeping through your bloodstream until you broke into a sweat.

"Put your hands in my hair," he demanded with a rough voice, and like a mindless fool, you complied. His hair was a mess of wild curls that you pulled on, sinking your fingers deep into his plush locks when he started to work your panties down your thighs. "Good girl."

"Oh god." As the fabric pooled at your ankles, your head hit the door with a soft thud. You were like putty in his hands—willing to walk through the fires of hell if it meant he'd keep touching you. Eddie freed one of your ankles and threw your leg over his shoulder, bringing you closer.

Words could not describe the feeling of his tongue against your slick folds or the sensation of the tip flicking against your clit. It was like lightning arched through the sky to melt the skin from your bones. You were burning up. And he'd lit the match.

Eddie was loud and messy, lewd. The sounds that clawed up his throat were pornographic. Each wet schlick of his mouth was accompanied by a throaty moan as he sucked your clit and teased your throbbing hole with the tip of his tongue.

It was an out-of-body experience—you never realised you could feel this good. Eddie held you by the back of the thighs, his grip firm, pulling you onto his tongue until your flesh goosepipmpled beneath his touch. You could have collapsed when he withdrew, a line of saliva connecting the tip of his tongue to your clit.

"Words, pretty girl. You gotta use them, or I'm going to stop."

You whined desperately, weaving your fingers deeper into his wild hair. "Please don't stop, Eddie. . ."

"Then talk to me. Let me hear those pretty sounds."

He waited only a moment, his dark eyes staring into yours with the intensity of the sun. He took in your flushed cheeks and shallow breaths that made your chest heave. Then he resumed his meal. The sound you made in response was embarrassing—at least, it should have been. You should have wanted the ground to split open and swallow you. But you didn't.

"It's good," you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut as he ran the flat of his tongue along your slit, the tip flicking your clit in a delicious way that made your hips twitch; forward, then back, like you wanted him to eat you alive but also to escape. 

The feeling was exquisite—like nothing you had ever felt—knocking the air from your lungs, making the muscles in your legs tense and your core weep. Your whole body jerked under his tongue, a shiver shaking your spine, your bones turning to jelly as he licked and sucked your drenched cunt. "Oh god. . . I think. . . I—I'm close."

You'd had orgasms before, but nothing quite like this. It was a slow build, each swipe of Eddie's tongue amplifying the pressure between your hips, sending jolts of electricity through your veins until your nerves crackled and popped. It was difficult to describe; you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue, but they melted away with each moan he drew from your lips.

And then it spread out through your body, a searing warmth that threatened once more to melt the skin from your bones.

"You're so wet, sweetness, m'fucking drowning here," Eddie said. Even though his words were vulgar, the low growl with which he spoke sent you tumbling down the other side of pleasure. The first wave zinged through you, knocking the air from your lungs and sparking every one of your nerves to life.

You bit your knuckles hard until you tasted blood, but the flavour was quickly lost as the second wave seared through your limbs. Eddie didn't stop—not once. Each swipe of his tongue against your clit, each push of it into your virginal hole, sent wisps of fire shooting through your veins, adding stars and galaxies bursting to life behind your scrunched-shut eyes.

When you returned to earth, you found yourself trembling, his strong hands the pillars that kept you upright. Eddie kissed his way back up your body, slowly working your dress up as he went until he could pull it over your head. He threw it over his shoulder, the fabric a distant memory as it hit the ground, lost and now forgotten.

"No one ever made you cum before, have they?" He whispered, his breath hot, his smirk feral, as he teased his lips along the slope of your neck. You whined when your bare cunt rubbed against his dark denim jeans, the rough drag of the rips and tears against your lips sending you hurtling toward the sky once more.

"No," you managed to say before catching his mouth for a wild, clumsy kiss. Eddie happily obliged, pushing his tongue into your mouth and licking your teeth so you tasted yourself.

"Touch me. . ."

"What do good girls say?"

"Please."

You would die if he didn't touch you in the next three seconds. You would collapse to the ground, melt into a puddle at his feet, and literally die.

Thankfully, he took pity on you. 

Eddie kissed you deeply, with the fire of a thousand suns; his hot breath stole through your lungs when he swallowed your moans, leaving you on the verge of combustion. You felt lost in him, touching him here, there, and everywhere as you tried to strip him. Eddie didn't let you. He grabbed your wrists and held them at the small of your back, and he moved you both across the room.

Your lips never once parted. The moment was composed of hot breaths, searing kisses, and teasing bites, weakening your knees terribly. Eddie fell back into a high chair in front of the make-up mirrors. You were desperate to climb into his lap, to wind your legs around him and leech the warmth from his chest, but instead, he turned you and pulled you into his lap, back to chest.

"Eddie," you whispered his name in a sigh, heady with desire. "I want more. . ."

He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, smiling in response. His lips were wet, his mouth wanting as he lowered it to your next, sucking a mark into your plush skin. "Open your eyes, sweetness."

Eddie hooked your knees over his thighs, spreading you open and exposing you to the mirror. The tips of his fingers ghosted along the crease of your inner thigh, making your breath hitch in anticipation. "You're beautiful," he said with a hum, nuzzling his nose into your hair. You caught his eyes in the reflection and saw the stark desire that had turned his pupils black, the hunger.

And you saw the expression mirrored in your own reflection. Your skin was flushed the subtlest shade of pink, pussy glistening with arousal. Eddie honestly thought you were the prettiest thing he'd ever fucking seen; so sweet, so innocent.

The stretch of his thick fingers was immediately exquisite, the slick of your arousal coating them entirely. Eddie watched the mirror, transfixed by the way it dropped from around his fingers, sliding down the curve of your ass to darken his denim jeans.

He felt you clench around him, tension seeping through your body as the pain collided with pleasure, twisting through your veins like snakes, intertwined, threatening to consume you from the inside out. You cried out when he crooked them, hips rising in search of more; his other hand cruised up your body, the soft swell of your stomach, cupping a tit in the palm of his hand, thumb teasing your nipple into a hardened peak.

Eddie growled against your neck. He was as hard as a rock, and each jolt of your hips had your arse rutting against his aching cock. You reached back to grab his hair, winding your fingers through his wild curls as the pleasure mounted. You were a guitar, and he had years of practice. He watched the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way you couldn't sit still as he fucked his fingers in and out of your cunt, the way you clawed at his jeans.

You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the way you moan, loud, wantonly, like a whore. You felt dirty—like this was a scandalous secret. The thought of being found was erotically terrifying.

"You getting close, sweetness?" Eddie asked; no, he growled the words against your neck, teeth clipping the sensitive skin. "I can feel it. You're squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Are you thinking about my cock? How much better it'll feel than my fingers?"

As though to emphasise his words, his thrust against you, his erection hard against the globes of your arse, leaving him moaning as his own muscles twisted with desire, pure liquid heat pouring through his bones.

"Cum for me, baby."

He wasn't asking; no, he was demanding.

tag list ::

@micheledawn1975 | @maxstecc

—interest in being tagged in future chapters? send me a message!

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #rockstar!eddie x innocent!reader #call me little sunshine #call me little sunshine - part one

[mariasont]

can you do aaron x wife reader who also works in the bau with him & on a case a police officer openly flirts with aaron in front of the team and reader so she stakes her claim on her husband && the team ( mostly derek & pen ) are teasing the two of them for it ??

Marked Territory - A.H

A/N: AHHHHH thinking ab claiming aaron hotchner as ur man has me giggling & kicking me feet

THANK you sooooo much for requesting angel <3 hope you like it!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

wk: 1.2k

pairings: aaron hotchner x wife!bau!fem!reader

warnings: heavy makeout, jealously

You stood a few feet away with a watchful gaze, arms locked across your chest. The consultant was laying it on thick, her eyelashes sweeping up and down in a practiced rhythm aimed at Aaron. It made you want to throw up. You couldn't help but let out a soft, almost inaudible scoff. The consultant's laughter pierced the quiet, an exaggerated display that felt out of place. Her hand rested on Aaron's arm a moment too long. Your glare could have set the room on fire, you were sure of it, and it only seemed to intensify when Aaron offered a polite, yet distant smile in return.

"Careful there, sugar," Derek joked, sliding into place beside you as he nudged your side. "You're about two seconds from turning this into a crime scene."

You offered a half-glance towards him, "I suppose I can't fault her taste," you said with a forced lightness, even as a twinge of jealously coiled tightly within you, your attention fixed on the hand that dared to claim familiarity with Aaron. "But good taste doesn't come with good sense, apparently."

Penelope swept in with a gasp that could rival a Greek chorus, her eyes wide with a feigned shock. "Wow, I could practically taste your fury from down the hall! Mrs. Hotchner, are we in strategy mode, or should I grab some popcorn?"

You rolled your eyes with a dismissive wave. "You two are ridiculous. What do you expect me to do? Drag her by her hair? Please, I trust Aaron," you stated firmly, because, well, you did. This, however, didn't stop the tiny spark of irritation that flickered within, unbidden and unwelcome, but you squashed it with a laugh. "Besides, if I started a catfight every time someone flirted with him, I'd need my own filing cabinet for all the assault charges."

A glance was all it took for Garcia and Morgan to share their amusement. "Sure, sure," Garcia drawled, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

Morgan's eyebrow arched in silent agreement as he smiled knowingly. "Of course, you're calm. But we both know if that bubble of anger pops, it's going to be one hell of a show."

You tried to ignore it; you really did. You buried your nose in your work, determined to keep your mind off that infuriating woman. You shuffled papers, dove into your case files, and tapped away at your computer with a vigor that doesn't go unnoticed by the team. Every time you caught a glimpse of Aaron, there she was--the consultant--hovering like a shadow. It's almost comical how she mirrored his every move, but you were not laughing.

You found reasons to be anywhere but where Aaron was, taking your coffee break when he's in the break room, opting for the stairs when he took the elevator. It's a dance of avoidance that has you mentally exhausted, but you're trying to channel your inner zen, and being around that woman is doing you no favors.

The office air is thick with tension, a tangible presence that envelops your desk, your focus splintering with every laugh and hushed conversation that drifts over from Aaron's direction. You're the very image of concentration until you see it--the consultant, her proximity invasive, her hand lingering on his shoulder with a familiarity that sears through your veneer of calm. It's the tripping point, the moment your restraint fractures.

You stand, a fluid motion that betrays her anger that charged the room with an energy that has the whole team's attention snapping to you. They recognize the signs--the firm line of your jaw, the fire in your eyes--a rare display that signals an unstoppable force is about to be set in motion.

"Hotch," the name is a clear, firm declaration across the room, a tone you usually reserved for the field. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

The room falls still, a collective breath held by the team as Aaron excuses himself and follows you into his office. The door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving just the two of you. His gaze meets yours, a furrow of worry creasing his brow as he takes in the tempest swirling in your stance.

"Honey, are you alright?" he asks, the professional facade giving way to a soft undertone of worry, as he takes a deliberate step towards you, his eyes searching yours for signs of distress.

With a swift assurance of privacy, your eyes lock on the drawn blinds, and you waste no time diminishing the space between you, hands clasping up to his neck with an urgency that pulls him down to you. Your lips found his in a fervent collision, coaxing a surprised murmur from him. He softly pulled back, his chuckle deep and knowing, as his hands encircled your waist. 

"Honey--I, we're in the office."

His words may have carried a hint of reprimand, but the gentle exploration of his hands across your back drawing you nearer seemed to contradict him. An innocent smile graced your lips as your fingers wove through his hair, eliciting his head tilting back in contentment. "Just missed you is all."

An eyebrow lifted in amused acknowledgement. "Mm, is that so?"

Gently tugging his head closer, your lips crashed against his with a desperate intensity, your hands gripping him as if he were a lifeline.

With deliberate strokes, you raked your fingers through his hair, creating artful disarray. Your hands glided to his tie, tugging it just enough to break the perfect line, then across his jacket, crumpling the fabric with feigned carelessness. Each touch a strategic step in enhancing his unkempt image.

A gentle exhale escaped you as he pressed you back against the desk's edge, his hands forming a cage around you, both protective and possessive.  Your lips curved into a smirk, your teeth capturing his bottom lip and tugging with a teasing pressure, probably a little harder than you should have, causing him to pull back. "Christ, sweetheart."

Instinctively, your hand rose to trace his bottom lip, smoothing over the swollenness your teeth had caused. A soft smile graced your features as you took in the delightful disarray of his appearance. With a satisfied nod, you left a featherlight kiss on his cheek and glided towards the door. "I love you, Mr. Hotchner."

His eyebrows knit together in loving exasperation as he observed your retreat, his hand absentmindedly caressing his lip. God, you kept life interesting. "I love you more, Mrs. Hotchner."

Emerging from Hotch's office, your hair perfectly disordered, a small smirk etched on your lips. You watch as the consultant's eyes stretch wide, a flush of embarrassment covering her cheeks. With a sly wink tossed her way, you glide towards Penelope and Morgan.

"Well, well, well," Morgan drawled, a sly grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold, arms folded confidently over his chest. "I had a feeling those claws were just waiting for the right moment to strike."

"That's our girl! Showing the world whose boss without breaking a sweat." Penelope chirped. "Well, I mean, maybe a little sweat. I'm seriously striving not to speculate about what you two were doing in there."

A playful smirk dances on your lips as you peer over your shoulder at Hotch's door. "Just wait for it," you tease, fingers poised for the dramatic reveal as you count down. "3, 2, 1.."

Right on cue, Hotch steps out, looking every bit as ruffled as you'd intended. His tie hangs crooked, his suit crumpled, and you didn't miss the dark red tint around his bottom lip. The sound of Morgan and Penelope's laughter filled the air as you offered a nonchalant shrug. 

"It's all in the day's work, besties. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch #hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x your #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fic

[mrs-weasley-reid]

Hi , can you do one fic where Spencer and the reader who has to go under cover as a stripper and Spencer gets jealous when she gives the unsub a lap dance. Sorry if it's too much trouble

Purple Silk and Laces

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Warning: NOT SMUT (sorry to disappoint) sexual innuendos so we cool, I guess, but still MDNI!!! lap dance (duh) on the UnSub. curses. a pinch of mental feminine rage honestly lol. jealous!spencer (double duh). tell me if I missed anything because I didn't proofread! A/N: part of me had a cardiac arrest and died writing this because sflkjnwjkfbwrijgbf got me giggling and shit. I imagined season 7 Spencer. Anyway, I'm not sure if I depicted what anon imagined, but tell me your thoughts!

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

A flimsy curtain slides to reveal such a sight Spencer never dared imagine, not so much as letting it form in his head—not during work hours anyway.

Pink blush burst all over the skin on his face, neck, and ears. Very much thankful for the distance he's established, or so help his impulse—he just might jump and take you then and there.

Dainty fingers fasten the purple silk belt just above your waist, and the urge to replace your hands with his creates a fuzzy clot in his throat. Twenty-thousand words per minute turn into the shape of you. Each micromovement plucks in his line of sight. You're a prey, and he's a mighty lion—hungry and close to going berserk.

You have always been a beauty. A sight to behold. No doubt about that. In Spencer's mind, you're much more of a goddess than anything he's ever believed in. Something so out of reach yet accessible for him.

But at that moment, in the dressing room, in front of half of the BAU team, you're a lewd image killing him softly with the sake of public decency.

Spencer gulps the imaginary hairball that obstructs the breath from escaping his throat, clenching his fist to contain the blood rushing through his veins. He can't possibly let himself slip and ruin everything over his failure to keep his dick off his shoulders. Much less do something stupid in front of his team and, most importantly, in front of you.

He blinks and crashes down back to earth at the sound of Derek's playful, raunchy whistle. He glares at the hunky agent, gritting his teeth with silent indignance.

"Not trying to be rude, but," Derek starts as his eyes trail from your head to toe, "What's a guy like me got to do to get a chance with a lady like you?" His brows bounce on his forehead. A flirty smirk danced over his face.

With a cheeky smile and a hand reaching for his chin, you lean close to him—somehow both galvanizing and obscene in Spencer's point of view, neither a good feeling— "Kill me." Your lips drop upside down, shoving his face with your palm.

Derek recoils from the force of your hand. The fact that you are a federal agent trained to obliterate murderers comes back into his knowledge. "Least you got the role to a T—" He raises his hands defensively while he shuts his mouth under your dagger glare. He knows better than to try and get another rise out of you when you're already grumpy enough.

Emily coughs a laugh at the interaction as she helps you plug an earpiece inside your ear and tries her best not to cop a feel while she does her best to set up a small microphone between your left breast and an awful excuse of a bra.

Going undercover is nothing new to a seasoned profiler like you. Granted, you're second to the youngest member of the team next to Spencer, but you have your fair share of gut-wrenching trauma. This case is nothing compared to any of them.

Still, you wish it consisted of far more clothing than the patches of laces that barely covered the pout of your nipples and sheathed the crack of your ass. The silky 'robe' the ladies at the establishment called feels more like a slap of cheap toilet paper covering the little dignity you have left.

You make a pact that the UnSub better be down on his knees while you cuff his dirty ass. It certainly sparks your skin with rage, contrary to the blasting AC in the dressing room.

"We'll be on high alert. Remember, you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." Hotch counsels by the door, standing like an ashamed tree stuck on the floor. He's got a guilty look on his face, and he's been keeping himself from glancing past below your neck.

You won't hold it against him, or Derek—or Spencer in the corner of the room as if you haven't noticed the way his face looks like he's been slapped into oblivion. Anyone who's got a cock (and even a cunt) wouldn't manage the sight of a woman closer to naked than clothed. If Emily was in your position, you don't doubt you'd be jaw-dropped, too.

A grimace adorns your lips, "I'm wearing the littlest lingerie I've ever seen in my entire life, Hotch. I think I'm way past feeling comfortable, don't you think?" You slump on the couch, slipping on the pair of terrifying heels one of the strippers lent you.

"Most likely, the UnSub is impotent, so he might ask you for more than a show and pay you for a lap dance..." The words die in Spencer's throat as your eyes catch his. He hates how the mere look from you makes him twitch on his seat, and he's roughly fifteen feet away—he thinks.

You trace your brows with your thumb and index finger, sighing. After a few moments of questioning the complexity of the case and your situation, you sigh again, louder this time.

"A lap dance wouldn't hurt. I mean, what could go wrong?" Everything. A wry laugh echoes past your lips. It's decided. This case is on top of the worst ones you encountered yet.

Spencer looks away in hopes that no one has noticed him gawking. He really shouldn't be feeling hot and heavy when you're about to show skin in front of a man who's killed five women in six days. Now's not the time.

Derek chuckles, though the undertone of worry and guilt hits the high pitch in your attentive ears. "If only the UnSub preferred abs, I would have taken your place." He's trying to lift up your mood, and you're grateful for it.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

The club lights blind you.

You trace your frame at the beat of the music, taking in the rhythm while keeping your eyes sharp with every move.

Five men already threw their savings at you, whistling and shouting crude comments about your body. You mentally salute all the women who take the job by choice—or circumstances. Because all you wanted to do was hurl your stomach out and shoot each one of those men, execution style.

Like a bright spotlight, your eyes land on one guy at the bar. Spencer. His jaw is tense, and his hold chokes the glass of Shirley Temple in his hand as he watches you with fixed eyes.

A surge of electricity flushes you with goosebumps like the time you stupidly accidentally poked your finger in your car's power outlet while driving. You've never felt so exposed to the way he's staring at you. With a thick gulp, you shift your eyes away from him.

Then, your line of sight falls on a suspicious figure, two drunk perverts away from the stage. You hook your leg and spin around the pole like you've been practicing the trick your entire life.

"My twelve o'clock, blue shirt," You state with your back behind the audience. You ignore the fact that everyone's got a nice view of your ass right now.

Hotch's voice echoes in your ear, "Alright, one of the ladies will replace you in one—"

Kiara, a sweet lady, taps your shoulder with a dramatic show. She runs her hand down your stomach, and the animalistic crowd goes rabidly wild.

"Be careful, please," She reminds you before she shoves you off the stage to steal the show.

In an instant, the man you suspect waits next to the stairs. You aren't sure when he started heading towards you, but he fits the profile like a glove.

He's definitely attractive. Not Spencer Reid attractive, but enough to understand why the victims fell for his charms. You feel giddy at the thought of the doctor but force yourself to focus on the task at hand.

"You danced so well," You fight all your senses from decking the dirty smile off his face and give him a sultry one of your own.

Pressing your body onto his, you play with his collar, "I can give you a better view for a good price." He nods, placing a callused hand on the soft of your back.

Just like the plan, you lead the UnSub to one of the arc leather seats, sitting him down by his thighs as you provocatively fall on your knees, then standing back up with your back resembling a bow.

Crescent temporary scars sting Spencer's palm. The sight is like a sucker punch for him. Your hips swaying, grinding on someone that's not him. The UnSub's hands tracing your figure.

He feels livid. Dizzy of murderous thoughts that an FBI agent should not have. But he does and can't wait to get the green light from Hotch.

Despite the sick feeling in your gut, you did your best to see the task through, making filthy conversation with the UnSub like it's a walk in the park.

"So, any man in your life?"

There it is.

A narcissistic, pitiful man cheated by his lover due to his impotence.

You hide a smirk. "Will you give me a hefty tip if I say yes?" He stays silent, so you flash a mischievous smile before turning back around to grind on his nonexistent bulge. Not like it changes the fact that you're grinding on a killer, but it gives you a tinge of relief.

"He's better off sleeping at night not knowing, and—" In the midst of the flashing lights and heavy crowd, your eyes meet Spencer's. A tickle flutters in your stomach. "It's not like he's any good of use. The guy can't get it up to save his life, which reminds me..." You turn back to face the UnSub, staring at the area of his crotch with an odious giggle, "Does your friend need a little help?'

The UnSub yanks your wrist—bruising. "Don't fucking laugh," He growls at you.

Bullseye.

Strike a nerve.

"Oh, please, don't blame me for your silly problem," You roll your eyes, getting a rise out of him. You hear Hotch instructing you to back away as the team slowly moves in, but you just can't let the anger and disgust go. "Just when I thought I got a hot one—"

Cold metal kisses your skin, and you remember that state you're in. Gunless and almost naked. You mentally curse.

He pins you down on his lap, hovering close to your ear. "One wrong move and I'll fuck you up. You understand?" His breath burns your skin.

The next motions happen so fast you don't get the chance to process the way Spencer almost flew to your spot and snatched you from the UnSub like you're a prize possession in his name.

Guns drawn.

UnSub cuffed.

Blood drools.

Your orientation momentarily comes back at the stinging feeling of disinfectant against the thin slice on your right waist. Then, suddenly, you're on your flight back to Virginia—with more coverage.

Sitting in what is supposed to be a breath of fresh air, the tension between you and Spencer is suffocating the least. He hasn't said anything to you since his random thought about the UnSub's impotence in the dressing room. You figure he's avoiding you, even.

A sigh passes your lips.

You and Spencer have been dating for a while now. It's not on the surface, and surprisingly, despite working with a herd of profilers, no one has sniffed you out yet.

The relationship is very new. A lot of things to figure out between the nature of your relationship, but never has he ignored you the way he's doing right now.

And when you twist the knob open to his apartment, Spencer's not waiting by the door like usual, rummaging through his shelves for a book to read.

You cross your arms against your chest, "Alright, Spence. What is wrong?"

"What do you mean?" He doesn't even look at you, making a show of tracing each book's spine as if he hasn't read them more than five times.

"Really? You're gonna do that to me, Spencer?"

"Do what?"

"You know what? Whatever. I'm too tired for this." When he doesn't say anything, you grab your purse and start heading for the door.

"Yeah, maybe you can lap dance your way back home."

A pause.

Blinking at his image, "What?" Your eyes widen—one of them twitching with fury.

It's not like Spencer to say such a stupid thing. You've had arguments, but he's never acted so stubbornly.

"You've got two seconds to convince me that I heard you wrong, or so help me—"

"Or what? Find another guy to flirt with? Call Morgan?" Spencer holds his fists with tight grips, gazing at you with a shot of insecurity you have never seen him express.

Oh.

The fury dissipates instantly, and a different kind of fire sparks as if he's suddenly under a different light. A good one. One that electrifies your entire body into an ecstatic wave.

"You're jealous."

A statement.

Loud and clear.

Spencer furrows his brows like you'd just said something scientifically impossible. "W-What?" He stutters, and the smirk on your lips only grows.

"You"—One step—"Are"—Another step—"Jealous."

You're three steps before him now, holding eye contact. "You're jealous and of a serial killer, to say the least." You tuck your lower lip between your teeth.

"What are you talking about?" He scoffs. Your stare overwhelms his senses, but he's not backing out yet.

"But you are," You bite back a grin, entertained by the way his body stiffens the closer you get.

Spencer shakes his head, an excuse to break eye contact. "No. That's impossible. I don't get jealous." The protrusion on his throat quivers.

You raise an eyebrow, "Okay, so, you don't mind if I take Derek's invitation to hang out tonight?" You reach inside your bag, fishing out your phone. "I think if I call him now he'd still be—"

He engulfs both your hand and phone with one hand, "Don't." Spencer gulps—the third one in two minutes. He lets out a heavy sigh when you grin at him, softening his grasp. "Fine, I was—am jealous." His cheeks glow red, widening your shit-eating grin.

Spencer turns his head away from you, but you're quick to hold his chin and make him face you back, pecking his lips—a redder face before you.

"It was part of the job, Spence. Believe me, I wanted to shoot him so bad." You reason gently, yet the buzzing between your thighs makes you swallow the thick emptiness in your throat.

He lowers your hands and off his skin, running his hands over his face. "I know!" Spencer groans, turning away from the embarrassment that's beginning to eat him. "I just—I hated that the he got to experience you like that. It pisses me off!"

Spencer's rambling now, throwing statistics and facts and how it somehow correlates to you.

Although you're busy yourself, plucking each button of your shirt through each slit. And when he spins back, his mouth shuts up—still agape.

He's speechless, eyes fixed on you.

Your shirt droops on your arms, revealing the same lacey cloth latched on your breasts.

Spencer blinks rapidly, unsure whether to breathe or completely deprive his lungs of air supply, "Y-you kept it?"

"Are you still feeling jealous?"

"A l-little, yeah..." You didn't miss his quick glance below your waist to the spot you're craving him the most. And you can hear the question that's running in his head.

With a soft giggle, you audibly answer, "Yes, I kept that too."

Spencer thinks he should be jealous more often as he swoops you off your feet and brings both of you to his bedroom.

#spencer reid #ssa spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencerreid #fem!reader #criminal minds #criminalminds #cm #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you

[babumakeanart]

BITTERSWEET AFTER MATCH IS RELEASED!

You can play the game ON ITCH.IO

Despite taking long breaks because of my mental issues and sicknesses + college it is finally here! 

This game was created over a year and a half with:

6662 words

115 images altogether

What a journey it was!

Thank you to everybody who supported me and helped me with this project of mine! It was truly a pleasure!

Let me know what you think, what moment you liked in the game, and if you want to see more projects like these!

If you like what I do, throw a coin into the cup: ko-fi!

Reblogs are very much appreciated!

#bittersweet after match #fangame #dragon age 2 #dragon age #DA2 #fenris #hawke #fenhawke #art #my art #fanart

[ddarker-dreams]

play fighting — chrollo lucilfer.

Hot cocoa is a staple when cooler weather starts setting in. 

By your reckoning, it could find a place on every tier of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. A warm, decadent cup with wisps of steam rising from the swirling surface. This mouthwatering mental image is what led you to the kitchenette. Dutifully following the package’s instructions, you rip into the chocolatey package by the serrated edge and get to work. 

All the while, a pair of inquisitive eyes track your every movement. You can’t imagine why the sight of you in fluffy pajamas pulling milk from the fridge has Chrollo’s rapt attention. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping on his own concoction. Earl gray tea, if the scent is of any indication. 

Your masterpiece is almost complete. Now, for the finishing touch — marshmallows. 

Alas. You’ve encountered a problem. The marshmallows are stored in a cabinet that evades your reach. To make matters worse, Chrollo has perched himself right where you’d need to climb up. Should you list clairvoyance among his many capabilities? Logically, you know that feat eludes him, but your suspicions remain.

“Is something the matter, dear?” 

Ah, you forgot that you’ve been silently squinting at him while the gears in your head spin. Round and round they go, never producing a viable solution. 

“No, not at all,” you dismiss. His gaze never leaves yours, even as he takes another sip of his drink. You can see it in his eyes, that ‘oh, really?’ look. You don’t appreciate that look, for you receive it often, thanks to your shenanigans. 

“Your drink’s getting cold,” he points out. 

Very astute of him. 

The way you see it, this can go a few ways. One, you could ask for his help in procuring your garnish. You could, but… he regards you with such bemusement, finding pleasure in every little thing you do. You’re tired of the court jester role. Asking him for something almost always guarantees that you’ll be putting on a metaphorical cap and bells. 

So you cling to your pride. You stand close enough for your shoulder to brush against his, as your target necessitates such sacrifice. Straining while on your tiptoes, your fingertips brush against the damnable cabinet handle, gold and mocking. Vigilant as your efforts are, they’re ultimately fruitless. Your prize remains just out of reach.

Huffing, you turn to face Chrollo, who has no right to look as innocent as he does. 

“Could you…” you trail off and shoo him with your hands. You hope that gets the message across. 

“Can I ask why? I feel perfectly content here.” 

Of course he does. 

You’re unsure what spurs on your next action. Pettiness? Irritation? Righteous anger? Who knows. You rest both your palms flat against his bicep and push, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle, which, in truth, is a fitting description. He doesn’t so much as budge. The full weight of your body and strength combined amounts to nothing. You can’t comprehend how hard his muscles feel beneath his shirt, it’s like you’re touching a wall. 

Although it’s quiet, you hear it. A breathy chuckle escapes his lips. 

Your equilibrium is thrown into chaos as you go from your nice, secure spot on the floor to being lifted high. Two large hands settle right above your hips, holding you in place. Your reflexes kick in and you squirm. Fortunately, Chrollo’s grasp doesn’t falter. You realize what he’s getting at and make quick work of opening the cabinet and getting your stupid marshmallows. He brings you down. You only relax when your soles touch solid ground. 

Chrollo gives your hips a playful squeeze. 

“Try again,” he whispers near your ear.

You want nothing more than to scamper off, but his body envelops you, cutting off any escape. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place, clutching a bag of marshmallows, your Hello Kitty slippers askew.

You sigh.

Life certainly has its challenges. 

Should you start with elbowing him or stomping down on his feet…? 

#this isn't even play fighting. darling is ready to throw hands for real #yandere chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #chrollo brainrot #scara and blade will be next . #my stuff

[ch4mpagnedrought]

friendly game

[full series]

mdni ! art, tashi, patrick

summary: pinning two of the greatest tennis players of our future will not work with you and tashi, in fact, you’ve learnt to share your prizes.

deep breaths. you take deep breaths when taking your racket out of its bag, all five fingers wrapping around the grip tightly, that is so intensely watched by two pairs of curious eyes from above in the stands, inaudibly gawking at the way your black tennis dress, sporting a small nike logo above your left breast, flourishes from around your thighs to expose the surfaces of your skin that don’t see the sun very often.

maybe the single most important game at the 2006 US open, between two upcoming tennis prodigies that also happen to be best friends. an oxymoron on the court really, tashi’s in white, you in black, her in adidas, you in nike, her hair in a tight braid, yours slicked into a low bun. eyes are torn completely apart as the both of you travel across the court, rebutting every single one of each others moves like a choreographed dance, the jaws of your audience slacked open. everybody remains paralysed, leaving the squeaks of your shoes and the heavy grunts of your labour to echo across the stands—until hands grip onto neighbouring knees and the final shot is swung.

“yes!” you shriek, throwing your racket to the ground in ecstasy, letting it bounce back behind you and the strings to shrivel from the force. from across the court, tashi heaves with squinted eyes, watching your celebration with parted lips and stepping closer to the net where you meet her—your arms wrapping around each others glistening shoulders and chests pressing firmly against one another, “good game” she tilts her head to whisper her appraisals and you hum a sweet note, flashing her a smile while the two men blink down at you. their minds completely empty apart from a state of euphoria, seeing two of the most beautiful women they had ever laid their eyes on embrace after a game that was essentially life or death. already replaying the erotic extensions of your legs at every side step, hips swivelling and slender arms extending to shape an image from within the deepest depths of their minds.

the same way that they stood completely still and fixated onto the images of you at the celebratory party hosted for you and tashi. the blonde haired boy taking sips of his drink between all the thoughts that expel from the image of you, mid underhand serve, and run through his mind. while the other faces an image of tashi, mid overhead, and tries not to make it obvious that his gaze slips into imagining anything other than what is underneath those clothes she endorses.

even when you notice their toying eyes, approaching you sat knee-to-knee with tashi at a table having just spent the last twenty minutes dancing with one another that hadn’t gone unnoticed by them either, “art donaldson and patrick zweig, right?” their eyes are momentary frozen wide before art exhales an exasperated breath, choking up on nothing. “in the flesh” patrick mumbles, fidgeting with the rim of his coke bottle. your eyes dart from one boy to another, left to right, both of their shoulders tensing as they watch tashi’s lips uncurl from the pink straw of her orange drink, guiding the bottle towards your own lips, pressing the straw into your mouth nonchalantly to share a sip of the beverage, and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“that, that game…it was seriously breathtaking” art chokes out to the both of you, looking down admirably at you and noticing the small freckles the sun has peppered on your nose that hadn’t been visible from the top of the stands. tashi thanks him, putting the straw back into her own mouth and projecting a mental image of you and her swapping more than saliva into patrick’s mind.

his feet shuffle on the spot, shaking away the thought, “you dealt with the loss much better than i would’ve.” lightheartedly he jokes, gesturing towards tashi and sending her a small smile, “how do you two stay friends?”

“we’ve been friends since childhood,” tashi takes a glance at you, but you’re already looking back, “there’s no bad blood, we learn from eachother.” the palm of her hand flattens on your thigh momentarily, leaning back further into the couch. patrick and art huff, elbowing one another, “just like us.”

they flatter the two of you, showering you with compliments, all while trying to make it seem as if they hadn’t been discussing what exactly they would say to you for the past couple hours, until you and tashi were standing in front of their hotel room door, silently leaning closer to hear whatever was going on inside. “they don’t have time to come here” a muffled voice speaks from behind the door, and another groans loudly.

you and tashi share a small smirk, holding back laughter when she knocks on the door to hear a sudden ruckus.

“hi” “hey” they sing simultaneously, mouths agape like two little dogs, panting at the sight of a treat, or drooling at the ring of a bell. neither you nor tashi even have the time to greet them, patrick opening the door a little wider and beckoning you inside, coming together on the floor of the questionably coloured carpet with a single can of beer in the middle.

patrick leans back onto his hands. “so, when did you two become friends?” tashi points a finger between the two, wrapping her arms around her knees and tilting her head in curiosity. “we’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve” he answers, and art glances down at his crossed legs with a nervous smile. you nod your head, whispering a small “cute” under your breath and brushing patrick’s wrist with your fingers when taking the beer he offers, making the hairs on his arms stand upright. the beer is warm and bitter, and you pass the can to tashi after leaving a wet imprint of your lips that art would try to discreetly swipe his tongue over only moments later.

“you share girls often?” you ask and patrick’s brows quirk up, corner of his mouth tilting upwards. “this is our first time.” art says, pinkish blush spreading across his nose and the apples of his cheeks that implies his mind is drifting somewhere else. “why? are we not your type?” tashi laughs, leaning over towards art and tucking her hair behind her ears, his eyes following her closely, “aren’t you two everybody’s type?”

the boys shift in their positions, patrick lifting his hips up into the air briefly to get a little more comfortable and art pressing his hands into his knees, sharing a glance between them. all of the breath you exhale meshes into a palpable energy, and your gaze switches between art and patrick in a way they’ve already grown to love, their faces twitching with an eager awkwardness, “are you each other’s type?”

art chuckles out, “no…no.” he denies with a head shake, patrick peering over his shoulder at him silently, “no, we’ve never done anything like that.”

your’s and tashi’s eyes meet briefly, lips turning up into a smile.

“well…” patrick begins and art immediately jerks his head towards him, hoping that he wasn’t about to say the one thing he didn’t want to share, “i mean…”

“patrick, no.”

“don’t be shy, you have to tell us now” you tempt, a playful glint in the glance you give art.

patrick clears his throat, “you know, i just, taught art how to jerk off” he explains casually art’s right of passage while he holds his head in shame, painting an image of him being covered in his own ejaculation, over his stomach and legs like he had just “spilled milk” all over himself.

“that was a really adorable story” tashi hums, placing a hand on your shoulder to hoist herself up from the floor, and reaching out to help you up too. two pairs of eyes follow you around intently, admiring the tips of your fingers that swipe over various objects in their hotel room and feeling a little embarrassed about how obvious it is that they cleaned it only around 10 minutes ago. random pairs of boxers making an appearance from underneath the two single beds that they had pushed together, and an alarming amount of cigarette ash on the surface of the drawers.

tashi’s hand finds your wrist and guides you onto their bed where you take a seat patiently, criss-crossed, waiting for one of the boys to catch on and join you, while they are utterly immersed in the idea that the two of you are real and really in their bed.

silently, you usher them towards you with a tilt of the head, both of them jumping to their feet, basically leaping onto the bed so all four of you make a square, knees very slightly brushing against one another. theres a silent anticipation, tension weaving around all of you and luring your bodies closer. you take a quick look at each of their faces, their dilated pupils and irregular breaths, and move your lips closer to art’s, watching him inhale deeply like he wants to take all the air from your lungs for himself. then patrick, that selfishly attempts to lean his face closer before you can pull away.

you look towards tashi, who inches her face closer to yours, lips parted slightly and meeting in the middle for a kiss. in your peripheral vision, it’s hard not the notice the way that art and patrick are restraining themselves from punching a fist into the air out of joy, loud and shallow breaths caressing your cheeks. your mouth opens wider, leaning in deeper to consume every part of tashi’s lips in a hungry craze while her hand reaches into your hair to pull you closer. the two other men that keenly wait had slipped out of mind, still staring with a captivated stillness when you pull away from one another.

all you have to do is lean back onto your hands for art to pounce onto the side of your neck that becomes exposed, while patrick leans in to plant a kiss onto tashi’s jaw. on the surface their lips travel across the curve of your necks, heads fallen back, suctioning until they can taste the flavour of your perfume that lingers on your skin, while your hands exchange messily beneath; art’s touch feathering on your arm and reaching for tashi’s shoulder, and patricks arms intertwining with art’s to extend and touch your’s and tashi’s thighs.

patrick nuzzles his lips into divot the beneath tashi’s ear, journeying across her shoulder and onto your own in one smooth line, nearly head-butting with art when he shuffles to grace tashi with the same tender attention.

your hands scrunch into patrick’s dark hair, body involuntarily aching until you draw him closer to your face by the chin to connect with his lips. he balances himself in front of you, planting his hands at your sides to allow him to move even closer to you all while tashi hums into art’s gently mingling lips.

pulling back from patrick, you move onto art’s swollen mouth that glistens with lip gloss, tasting the remnants of tashi and yourself on them. all four of your faces coming together in the middle, so close that there is a dangerous lack of oxygen.

tongues pressing flat on top of another, swiping over bottom lips to feel every ridge and an accumulation of hot air. you become lightheaded at the different hands that grope over your figure, being pulled in by the back of your neck. there’s a contrast in the way each one of them kisses; tashi’s lips are familiar and firm, patrick’s are similar in their starved manner, and art’s yearn to take every molecule you are made of and ingest it.

tashi catches on immediately to the way that your left hand squeezes hers and pulls back to leave only art and patrick breathlessly grasping onto the others torso, noses pressing against each other at every tilt of the head and tongues slipping astray. the moment is only short, you and tashi glancing at one another, unbothered at whether they have noticed that you’re gone or secretly fulfilling a guilty hankering.

“okay.” tashi says, slapping her palms across her legs and sending a smile at the two boys. bottom lips slicked with one another’s saliva they remain frozen, only inches apart.

“goodnight, we have an early morning tomorrow.” you buzz, patrick and art separating only to let you slide past them on the bed, tashi following close behind and you wrapping your arms around her bicep absentmindedly.

neither one of them are able to make a sound, mouthing a “goodnight” that isn’t audible, admiring the way both of your curly brown hair sways behind you, walking out in the matching shorts they wonder if you ever swap.

they look at one another, then at the imprints in the floral blanket that your bodies left, scrunches where exactly you sat that they are both ready to smush their faces into. all while you and tashi stand outside of their hotel room once again, tuning in to the muffled dialogue about art’s grandmother before scurrying down the hotel hallway—hand in hand.

#challengers #challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig fic #tashi duncan #tashi duncan smut #tashi duncan x you #tashi duncan fic