#alex I love your piercings

[frescoisnotinthemilitary]

AHH this is awesome :)

@kaeriustehe @tapioca-milktea1978 @alixisdeadlol @worms-for-brains

no pressure my people

New Picrew tag game!

Here's mine! Tagging: @likelyscam @greiiliss @lex-the-lesbiann @apricior @twacn @dip-the-stick and literally anyone else who wants to join, the more the merrier!

[imagination-phantom]

I like mah angels big, I like em chunky~

He’s like a Totoro with his big tummy. x\\\D

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Emily..." Randall began, almost tearfully, but it was June and Wilhelm who spoke up over him-not to agree, not to rush her out the door and warn her not to come back, but instead to ask her to stay.

"Please," Wilhelm began, as June reached out to take the young woman's cold hand, stopping her as he continued, "W-Would you stay, just a little longer, lass? Really, we...we'd like it if you stayed. I-I promise, y-you're not intruding; Junie and I weren't able to sleep anyways..."

"You saved our son's life, and you brought him back home to us," June continued gently, as Randall sat up a little, just as surprised as Emily was at this sudden turn of events, this change in reaction in his parents. "We...we can't thank you enough for that. Please, won't you sit down? I...I think we have a lot to talk about...and a lot to apologize for."

At this, Randall's eyes widened further, as he looked between Emily, his mother, and his father, that surprise turning to a sort of tentative relief, as his mother encouraged Emily to make herself comfortable, while June moved to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea, to perhaps soothe their frazzled nerves. She hoped the young woman (not a monster, she thought to herself, but a young woman) would accept, and hear out what the Pace parents had to say.

[tragikomizm]

touya todoroki headcanons bc im in love with this man

have i finished watching mha? no. does that stop me from writing about dabi? no <3

──────────────────────

touya todoroki who once decided to dye his hair red and immediately regretted it. he dyed it black again after enji took thousands of photos of him

touya todoroki who askes you to name 5 songs after he saw you wearing band tshirt

touya todoroki who tells his siblings they’re adopted or were found in the trash

touya todoroki who always goes to fuyumi for love advice bc he’s a total loser

touya todoroki who loves underground midwest emo bands and thinks his music taste is superior (its not)

touya todoroki who’s still unemployed and lives with his parents

touya todoroki who told you that he’s in lesbians with you

touya todoroki who always cheats when they’re having a family game night

touya todoroki who sags his pants

touya todoroki who only wears beat up converse and dr martens (i can also see him having new rocks)

touya todoroki who plays bass

touya todoroki who pierced his nose himself after rei told him he can’t has piercings

touya todoroki who often skateboards with keigo

touya todoroki who plays every male manipulator game with his online friends (mostly with shiggy tho)

touya todoroki who definitely uses dabi as his nickname (he thinks he’s soo cool)

touya todoroki who’s a momma’s boy

touya todoroki who is a spit image of enji

touya todoroki who’s the most stereotypical male manipulator ever

touya todoroki who definitely had an opium phase (keigo uses his photos form that era to blackmail him lmao)

touya todoroki who manspreads all the time (he literally can’t seat normally)

touya todoroki who never saw a brush

touya todoroki who has minecraft server with his siblings

touya todoroki who listens to lil peep

touya todoroki who uses tiktok brainrot with natsuo daily (rei is tired of them)

touya todoroki who steals rei’s eye pencil

touya todoroki who’s your passanger princess

touya todoroki who wears his clothes as long as they pass the sniff test

touya todoroki who knows his hogwart house, greek god parent, mbti, birth chart and which type of bread he is

touya todoroki who gets offended if you don’t answer his tiktoks but won’t answer yours for weeks

touya todoroki who never wears matching socks

touya todoroki who can’t solve math problems for shit but will explain the entire plot of evangelion to you

touya todoroki who dated one or two girls before you and they both dumped him

touya todoroki who’s love language is annoying everyone around him

touya todoroki who consumed every media you ever mentioned

touya todoroki who wears every single bracelet fuyumi, natsuo and shoto made for him

touya todoroki who gives you flowers he stole from rei’s garden

touya todoroki who will come up to you and give you a rock bc it reminds him of you

touya todoroki who’s your trained photographer <3

──────────────────────

this is probably very ooc but im projecting. i need a man like him so bad its not even funny anymore

and hes very scott pilgrim/rodrick heffley coded. watch him fight your seven evil exes and cover baby for you <3

sorry for any mistakes my god why is posting so stressful lmao i literally feel like i made so many grammar mistakes 🔥🔥

btw if you know downtown mtv then theres this one scene where alex takes serena’s photos at the graveyard this is literally you and touya frfr

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: I am already back with a new fic for Sam. I am in a groupchat with some amazing people and I decided to write some ideas out that were thrown around. I hope you enjoy! Maybe I will do Alex or Elliott next... Anyway, thank you so much for your time! ✧

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3884 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: alcohol consumption, drunk sex, doggy style, cursing, unportected sex, drooling, exhibitionism, public setting, teasing, creampie, hornyness all around.

Sam’s mouth was watering, and the sole reason for it was you. Sam had fallen in love with you the moment you had stepped foot into Pelican Town yet had never managed to utter a single word about it. But now, the blonde was absolutely hammered, and that allowed him to shamelessly stare at you. Pupils blown, chest heaving and falling quickly, his eyes were focused on your ass while you were bent over the pool table, focused on your next shot in your game with Sebastian. The only thing that kept him from dropping on his knees and begging to be allowed to suck on those slender fingers wrapping around the cue was the fact that he still wasn’t sure if you liked him back.

When you wiggled your butt a little, a small groan passed his lips. It was desperate, and rough, making the attention of the room fall on him. “Are you okay, Sam?” You asked, worry in your voice. “Yeah…yeah…Yeah, ‘m fine… just gonn…you need help, dontcha? Winnin’ against Seb, I mean,” he slurred, pushing himself up on his legs, steadying himself using the pool table. Sebastian cocked his pierced brow; Sam sucked at pool when he wasn’t drunk, and now he was absolutely shitfaced. What help could he be?

Sam placed himself right behind you, pressing his crotch against you a bit, hoping – no, praying – that you didn’t catch on that he only did that to feel you against his growing buldge.

Though you were a smart girl. The feeling of his erection didn’t go unnoticed, but you kept up your pokerface. “I guess I could use a little help,” you murmured, voice coated in innocence. You leaned forward, smiling up at the oblivious Sebastian. “Sorry, I told you I haven’t played in ages,” you explained, directing the black-haired man’s attention back to the game. He shrugged nonchalantly, waving off your comment and watching you adjust the cue, but Sam had seemingly become hyper focused. He leaned over you, shaking hand gripping your wrist. He was so close, so close to you. He could smell you and feel you. If his mouth was watering before, now it was drooling. He had dreamed of this so often, having you bent over under him, and now he had, and you didn’t even notice his ulterior motives.

A thought that was disproved when he felt it. You pressed your ass against him, circling your hips just ever so slightly to cause friction. An accident? Sam didn’t care. The whine that slipped couldn’t be caught anymore; the despair obvious. The need to beg for you to at least let him feel you for one night, even just a single hour, maybe just put the tip in you if that was all you wanted to give, hanging onto his tongue by a thread. The only thing that kept him from speaking was a pair of attentive eyes that were placed on him.

“‘S…’s a bad position,“ Sam slurred in a weak attempt to explain himself, but he didn’t even really care. He cared about you, boxed in-between his wobbly arms. He could lean down, kiss your neck, suck on it. Leave his wet marks all over you – and who would stop him? “He’s right,” you mused, shifting yet again. This time you rubbed your ass from side to side as if to figure out how to stand, making sure to add pressure against his dick. Sam was creaming in his pants by now, his knees wobbling as he lowered his head. He licked his lips, hot breath hitting your neck.  The goosebumps that appeared made him want to drool all over you, but still, he cleared his throat and guided you into a sloppy shot. Trying to stay strong, not to make it too obvious. But fuck, your gentle grinding into his cock, the way you pressed into him – he swore his cock was about to burst right then and there for you, and if you kept it up, he’d cum in his pants in the saloon.

“Damn, Sam. You wanted to help her win, not make her lose. Maybe you should step back,” Sebastian grunted, an obvious edge to his voice, yet he would have never expected his best friend to actually growl at him in return. That was the only way the sound that radiated through the blonde’s chest could be described; it was deep and rough, almost threatening. Possessive, even.

While it shocked the other man, it sent a shock straight through your whole body. It was enough for you to put your cue away and stand up straight, giving Sebastian a small smile. “I think it’s time we get Sammy boy here to sleep.”

„Ugh, drunk like that? It’s best he sleeps on the couch here, Jodi’s gonna flip otherwise… and I doubt I can drag his drunk ass up the mountain.”

Perfect.

“I’ll take him to the farm, then. Until our ways part we are about halfway there, you can help me drag him.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically, but put the cue away, which probably signalled his agreement, or at least you decided to take it as such.

Both of you draped one of Sam’s arms over your shoulders and made the strenuous way up to your farm, Sebastian stubbornly staring ahead, while Sam was slumped between you. His cheeks were red, but the way you looked at him made him wheeze. The look that he gave you, so lustful and horny, eyes drowning in need, made your legs buckle every now and then, straining a grunt from Sebastian that now had to basically drag two whenever you did. “You sure you want him on your farm? I can stay over-“

“No,“ you interrupted, flashing him a quick, reassuring smile. “You’ve got to work with Robin tomorrow, and she will freak out if you’re not there. Besides, I have a guard dog, and if this fella acts up, he’ll be sent to the doghouse.”

Sebastian smiled a little and nodded, the thought of Sam sleeping in a small hut clearly bemusing him. Smacking his friend on the back, which almost sent the poor boy tumbling over, Sebastian turned. „Behave, you hear? Or I gotta whoop your ass.” With that and a wave, he began to make his way home.

“So…,” you began when Sebastian’s silhouette had blended into the deep night, looking at the blonde hanging onto your shoulder. “What was all that about?”

“All…hicc… what about?”

“In the bar. You drooled on my neck.”  

Sam giggled at that, tilting his head back as his laugh became deeper. “Yea…that-…that probably was ‚cause I really fuckin‘ love you…an‘…an‘ cum in my fist every night thinkin‘ of fuckin…fucking you.”

If that wasn’t drunken honesty, you didn’t know what else would be. “But  I didn’t know hoooow to tell youuuu. So, don’t tell on me, m’kay? Don’t want ya to..hate me, ya know.”

Chuckling quietly, you pushed a strand of hair out of his, face, dragging your lower lip between your teeth. “You know who you’re talking to, right”

“Mh..course. My little farmer princess.”

“And you know what I did to you in the bar?”

“Mhhhhm. Was so close to cummin‘. Still…still am.”

“Do you know what could mean, Sam?”

“That… you suck even more at pool than me?”

You snorted, head tipping back as you laughed. Yoba, he wanted to lick down your throat, down your body, devour your cunt. He wanted to taste you so, so bad. He could have bet that you had the prettiest pussy he would ever lay eyes on, and he would make sure to worship it. With slow licks, the fast ones, by spelling his name on your clit and with your legs over his shoulder so he could get into as much contact as possible.

“No, Sam. I’m into you. I have been for a while. Didn’t you ever notice me flirting? Not even when I told you you should show me what else those fingers can do than play guitar.”

Silence.

You could literally see the corks in Sam’s head reeling, trying to connect the dots of the information that had just been relied to him. “So…ya…like me back?”

You rolled your eyes, deciding that in this state, only actions seemed to count for Sam. Words took too long to process. You leaned down to kiss the man deeply - an opportunity he leaped at. His tongue immediately dragged over your lips, coating them with the taste of alcohol. The moan that left you was to his advantage, he shoved his tongue into your mouth clumsily, letting it run over yours, licking at it as if he was starving. His hands had found your body for support to stop himself from swaying back and forth. “Need ya…need ya so bad. This kay?“ He slurred against your mouth, pretty blue eyes staring at you, begging you without words.

You bit your lip and tried to steady Sam again, “Come on, let’s get to the farm, we can…we can-„ Sam’s mouth hit yours again, his teeth sinking into your lips gently. You moaned again, tugging at his hair, but your surroundings made you pull away and tug at him him. “Let’s get to the farm, I need you,” you ordered, setting a rather fast pace for drunken Sam.

He whined, begged and pleaded, but in the end, he strolled with you, legs buckling and wobbling, and the lack of blood in his brain seemed to make the short path to your house even longer. The fabric of his clothes rubbed against his buldge so uncomfortably, and the way your hips swayed when you walked brought him close to tears. He wanted you. He had wanted you for so long, he couldn’t wait any longer.

The moment you reached the bus stop, Sam dropped to his knees, almost making you fall over due to the sudden weight shift. “Sam! What are you doing?”

“Fuck…fuck, please. ‘M beggin’ you. ‘M so fuckin’ hard…it hurts so bad…shit, you look so pretty for me,” he gasped, rutting against his hand that he had rested in his lap. The moonlight hit you so perfectly…you looked so amazing. Amazing enough for him to throw his head back, now gripping his length through his clothes. “Pretty please,“ he added, helplessly looking up at you. You bit your lower lip again, your own knees growing weak. You could feel the wetness pool between your legs, and it was hard for you to not just let him have his way with you.

“But what if anyone is gonna see us? We can’t risk being caught. It’s not that far anymore…”

“No! No one will see us!” Sam cried, “I promise…promise I’ll be quick. I’ll be quiet. Anythin‘, princess. Pretty please. I beg you. Please. I’ll be good. Just…please.”

You seriously doubted the value of a completely horny, drunk and in love person’s opinion, but before you knew it, you found yourself on your knees, kissing Sam sloppily.

The blonde immediately pounced on you, pressing his crotch into yours, his hands seemingly everywhere. “So pretty,” he panted against you, kissing down your jaw, down your neck, and then he already lapped at your throat. You seemingly felt him everywhere at once, making you moan out lowly.  That only urged Sam on more. He wanted more. He wanted to hear you, smell you, taste you, feel you. He wanted you. No, he needed you.

“You know how often I’ve dreamed of fucking you?”

It was just a murmur against your neck on which he greedily sucked. “How often I’ve dreamed of holdin‘ you in my arms? Pretty baby, makin‘ you all mine.”

Sam had seemingly sobered up a little but that didn’t help much – he was was already intoxicated by you again.

He tugged at your pants and at his at the same time, trying to get them both off at the same time, causing you to laugh out breathlessly. He gave up his attempt and back, licking over his lips.

“Need you so bad,” he repeated while he unbuckled his belt, struggling out of his pants.

You licked your lips and opened the button to your pants much slower, pushing them down your long legs centimetre by centimetre. Blue eyes were glued on you; Sam’s mouth hung open as he watched you, tongue hanging out just slightly. He was pretty sure you could see his dick throb against his already wet boxers, but fuck, who cared? He sure didn’t. The hunger in his eyes made you shiver, no man had ever looked at you like he did, and you were sure he was already fucking you in his head.

“The panties,” he stammered, making you grin to yourself. “The panties. Please, princess. Take them off. You’re so wet already, fuck, please, I- am pretty sure I’m gonna die if you don’t.”

“You mean these?” You teased, gripping at the waistband and letting it snap against your hips. The blonde groaned, the force of the sheer lust hitting him almost making him drop forward again.

“You want them off?”

He nodded, eyes yet again filled with tears. “Yoba, please, yes…need…need to see your pussy.”

“Then take them off.”

Sam was incredibly quick to move, much quicker than you had deemed in the range of possibility, he did have a lot of drinks, but he was on top of you the moment you gave the go. He pushed your shirt upwards and messily pulled your breasts from your bra, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. He trailed his tongue around it, before switching sides, his hand trailing towards your panties already. He let his finger glide along your slit over the fabric, growl escaping him upon feeling your wet spot. “All that teasing gotcha wet, huh?” He hissed, biting your nipple gently before he slowly licked down your cleavage, staying in-between your breasts for a moment longer, just inhaling deeply and leaving his love bites. You smelled so good, so sweet; it was hard to not get lost in his in his need. However, after a moment he picked up his journey again and licked down your stomach, until he finally reached the hem of your panties.

The night air began to fill with moans that tumbled out of your mouth, the eagerness you were treated with leaving your cunt pulsing. By now you felt a need similar to Sam’s, making you pretty sure you needed him all over you to ever think properly again, even though right now, you were far from it. He let his fingers run up to your exposed chest, gripping your nipples between pointer finger and thumb and rolling them gently. “Lift your butt,” he ordered, almost smiling to himself when you did. He gripped the lace of your panties with his teeth, slowly tugging them down. You shuddered when the cold night air hit your hot wetness, and Sam moaned lowly upon seeing your cunt.“ Look how beautiful. Such a sweet little cunt…all for me, isn’t it? All for my cock and me,” he rambled, having to sit back on his heels for a moment. The beauty of your almost naked body had him dangerously close to the edge, and he would have forever hated himself if his own dick cockblocked him right now.

“Sam-“

“Get on your hands and knees for me, pretty baby.”

You sucked in air through your teeth, eyes dragging down his body. He was hard as a rock, and you were sure his boxers were about to rip, so you slowly settled on your hands and knees. Maybe it was also because you just needed to be absolutely stuffed with cock.

You tried to wait patiently, even though your own need made that incredibly hard, but you couldn’t risk getting Sam distracted. His gaze seemed to burn holes into your back, making you shift around on your knees. Then you finally heard shifting and the gentle sound of skin smacking against skin.

“You are so ready for me, baby,” he murmured, his fingers spreading your drooling lips slowly. One of them pushed inside of you, low groan falling from his lips. He curled his finger and then thrusted it knuckle-deep, breathing in sharply upon feeling you basically pulling him in. You were so wet and warm… and he could finally get his dick into you. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was about to be ripped apart by the feelings tumbling around inside of him, and you were the only thing on this whole planet that would ease this ache he had for you.

You felt his finger leave you and whined, wiggling your ass in the air. Much to your surprise, a hand came down on your butt, forcing you to yelp out Sam’s name. “Teasin‘ me all night already,” he slurred, pressing his tip against your soaked hole. “And it worked…”

With that, he slowly pushed himself inside of you and the world seemed to disappear.

All he could hear was static, and the sound of his own heartbeat, mixing with your moans. He was pretty sure the world could explode and he wouldn’t have blinked an eye. All he could think about was how good you felt; despite only having the tip in, you sucked him in deeper already.

“This okay?”

You nodded eagerly, pushing back against his dick in a desperate attempt to get more. Yoba, you needed more. This time it was you that wanted to cry and beg for him, but Sam seemed to pick up your silent prayers.

His hips shoved forward eagerly; it seemed like your walls were made for his cock. You fit so snuck around him, cunt welcoming him with a wet sound. The two of you moaned and you had to rest your head on your arms to keep at least your butt up in the air for Sam, the promise of being quite long forgotten. Centimetre by centimetre Sam pushed inside of you, making sure to take his time, to really split you in two for him and only him. One of his hands was resting firmly on your hip, the other cupping one of your breasts. When he was balls deep inside of you, he abruptly stopped, his penis twitching violently inside of you. For a moment, you weren’t sure if he had just had his orgasm, and when you turned around you could see his eyes watering. You were about to ask, yet the thought was immediately cut off when Sam pulled back and rammed back into you.

Suddenly you could feel the weight of his upper body on your own as he angled himself to get better access to your sweet cunt.

“Mine, all mine,” Sam panted into your ear as he began to pick up a fast pace, humping you like an animal in heat. The sound of his balls smacking against your wet pussy and the way his pelvic bone hit your bare ass created sounds lewd enough for anyone within a kilometre to know what was happening. Neither of you cared.

You were a moaning mess beneath the blonde, and he was whimpering, close to sobbing your name. Sam sucked on your neck to mark you up, keep you away from dirty, greedy eyes such as his own, his cock bullying into you at a fast pace; your walls sucking him off so well. His eyes rolled in the back of his head when he felt you clench around him as he began to gently circle your clit.

“Like that, huh? Like when…I do this?” He snarled, licking his lips and kissing down your spine; a task that was rather hard given that his hard thrusts made your whole body shake.

“Sam!” You sobbed, trying to meet his thrusts desperately as if you just couldn’t get enough, and Sam was happy to deliver. He pressed you into his body and fucked into you as if his life depended on it, tongue hanging out and droplets of saliva falling on your back.

You swore you could see little fairies dance around you when Sam hit your sweet spot, this combined with his relentless spelling of his name on your clit made you approach the edge with fast steps.

Sam wasn’t much better – he was staring at his thick perverted cock vanishing into your pussy, spreading open your sweet little hole with each thrust. He loved to see how he forced wetness out of you with each thrust, and he swore to himself he’d make you cream.

“Sam, fuck, Sam! I’m gonna cu-cum!” You cried, the thought of if you could maybe wake someone with your needy cries for dick crossed your mind, but it quickly turned into arousal. You would love for people to hear how well Sam was fucking you, how mean he was to your cunt, snapping his hips back and forth mercilessly, accompanied by the sound of his skin smacking against your reddened ass that by now was sporting a red handprint. 

“Gonna cum, Sam, gonna cum!” You slurred, feeling his wet tongue trace patterns down the side of your neck again. White light flashed in front of your eyes, your toes curled up as you felt your face growing numb.

Sam’s whimpers and small groans had turned into dragged out whines, adoring how you let him fuck you out here near the bus stop. He wanted people to hear you. Show them you were his and his alone. He would have loved for each of the guys to see him ruining you, so they’d keep their hands off. Seeing how his cock vanished inside of you with each thrust, how his precum and your juices were mixing together, dribbling down his shaft. The thought of them seeing you sprawled out and crying for him and the feeling of you drooling all over his throbbing dick, begging for more was enough to push him over the edge.

His body tensed up, a cry of sheer pleasure was being bellowed into the night as his orgasm washed over him, his cock pressed deep inside of you. The feeling of his cum inside of you was too much. You sobbed his name, fingers wrapping around strands of grass as your body convulsed, the numbness that caught up to you soothing as you clenched around your lover’s dick, making it hard for Sam to move. The blonde gritted his teeth, his thrusts slowly slowing down as he hung his head; his breathing hard and laboured

You were lying beneath him, panting as well as your hand slowly searched for his. Upon finding it, you intertwined your fingers, and for a moment you two just sat there, Sam’s dick still buried inside of you, your hands interlocked.

“Round two when we reach the farm?” You whispered after a while, despite having his cum drip out of you as he pulled back slowly, making Sam smile like a lovesick puppy.

“Round two when we reach the farm.”

What the two of you didn’t notice was the text from Sebastian’s number that made the screens of your phones light up. Nice show. Make it less obvious that you want to fuck next time or send me videos so I can rewatch.

[forzalando]

you were in my dream

request: random playlist shuffle request from @maplesyrupsainz!! maddie - i already told you this but i wrote this because i love you hahaha and maybe i will add carlos back into the list of drivers i write for. tbd. we will see what the people think. i hope you like it, love you lots💛💛 song: you were in my dream by laur elle summary: you have a not-so-friendly dream about your best friend. enough said. pairing: carlos sainz x f!reader wc: 1.5k warnings: cursing, descriptions of steamy makeout, 17+

Carlos was, to put it mildly, very confused.

He had passed you a total of 17 times today while running around for media duties, (yes, he was counting) and each time you turned away from him as if he was a complete and total stranger.

You weren’t in a mood – he could see you chatting with Charles, briefly hugging Oscar, laughing with Lando and Max, all of which, admittedly, left a piercing pain in his chest and a disgusting jealous feeling swirling in his stomach.

After another hour without a word from you, Carlos made his way round to every person he’d seen you speak to that day – hoping that they might have some insight into what was going on.

Lando, of course, smiled as he saw his friend approaching, but soon noticed the frown on his face as he walked closer.

“Is she angry with me?” Carlos exhaled, not even a hello or how are you for his close friend.

“Is who angry with you?”

“Y/N! She has been ignoring me all day – I saw her with you, with Charles, with Oscar, with every person around. But me? It’s like I don’t exist.”

“She didn’t say anything specifically but now that you mention it, she did seem a bit flustered when I asked if she knew where you were.”

“Ay dios, what did I do? I walked her to her room last night after dinner and everything was perfectly fine!”

Meanwhile, you were hiding in the back of the Ferrari garage, a fairly secluded spot that you’d discovered earlier in the day. Successfully? Not at all – it only took Alexandra three minutes to find you sitting in a corner with a Ferrari jacket haphazardly thrown over your frame. She’d tried to coax you out, but only when Leo wiggled his way into your lap did you show any signs of life and break your silence to coo at the perfect little dog.

“There she is,” Alex smiled. “Now, tell me and Leo what you are doing hiding over here all by yourself?”

You groaned and handed Leo over to his Mama, using your now free hands to hide your heating face. “Oh god, I should’ve just stayed at the hotel. I thought I would be fine, this is so embarrassing.”

“Que s'est-il passé? You didn’t seem unwell at dinner last night, did you get sick in your room?”

Alex’s frantic mix of French and English and her worried expression made you feel even more guilty – this was dramatic, so beyond dramatic, but you were in a downward spiral and maybe she was just what you needed to yank yourself out of it.

“No, I…I had a dream,” you muttered. “It’s so stupid, but I don’t know what to do! How to act! I’m genuinely freaking the fuck out, Alex.”

“A nightmare? Are you afraid? Oh, Y/N, that’s not stupid but you’re safe here. Do you want me to go get Carlos? He’ll want to know what’s going on – ”

“NO,” you shouted too forcefully. “No, please don’t go get him, I can’t even look at him right now. You have one dream about your best friend and suddenly you can’t function.”

“You dreamt about Carlos? I don’t understand, what did you – ” Alex’s voice trailed off, a look of realization crossing her face.

“Oh, oh,” she smirked. “Y/N, you naughty girl!”

“It wasn’t even like that, we were just making out on his couch, ok heavily making out on his couch, and I can’t look at him without my stomach flipping or fearing I’m going to start drooling. He’s one of my closest friends, I’ve never thought about him like…that.”

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes. “Never? Not once? In three years of friendship?”

“Maybe once or twice,” you mumbled guiltily. “God, what’s wrong with me? I can’t stop thinking about it – his arms, his mouth, everything, it felt so real.”

“Is now a good time to tell you that I think you have feelings for him and you’ve been pushing them down? Because you think he doesn’t feel the same? And this dream is just everything spilling over?”

Your mouth fell open and you scrambled for a retort – anything to say back to her to refute her claims, but all you could do was sigh and shake your head.

“I’m so pathetic,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Mi sol, don’t say such things,” a familiar voice chimed from behind you. Before you could get to your feet to make an excuse and bolt, Carlos plopped down next to you. “Now, no more running away from me, ¿bueno?”

“I’ll find you later,” Alex called out sweetly as she hurried away, Leo’s ears flopping comically as he barked back at you.

The heat of Carlos’s body next to yours made your stomach turn, his arms so close to you, almost as close as they were when they were wrapped around your body, holding you tightly against his chest, heavy breathing in your ear and –

“Y/N? Are you listening?” He nudged his shoulder against yours lightly, ripping the mental image away from you.

“Yes, I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me. Why are you so angry with me?”

Your face fell instantly – guilt creeping in and taking over from the other feelings. “Oh, Carlos, I’m not angry with you. I had a dream and you were in it but it’s unimportant, I was being…ridiculous. I’m sorry, mi querido.”

Carlos brightened at the use of the term of endearment – not uncommon at all between the two of you and a sure sign that everything was fine.

“You don’t have to apologize. If I made you uncomfortable in your dream and you needed space, that is perfectly fine. I just wish I would have known before I panicked.”

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you never could.”

“Well, then what was I doing?”

You swore the garage grew ten degrees hotter – a bead of sweat forming on your neck where hickeys would have been if your dream had been as real as it felt. A heavy swallow and a deep exhale, you looked everywhere but at him, suddenly intensely interested in the spare tires to your right.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his breath hot on your neck, his hand cupping your chin to turn your head gently towards him. “Dime.”

All it took was one quick flicker of your eyes down to his lips for a smirk to spread across his face. Before you could even breathe, his nose was bumping against yours and the closeness of him made your head spin. 

He kissed you so softly, gently, his hand cupping your face and his thumb gently rubbing back and forth. So different from what you’d shared in the depths of your mind the night before but surpassing it exponentially in every conceivable way – dreams would never come close to this, never compare to the reality in front of you.

A shout from somewhere in the garage caused the two of you to jolt apart, the sudden realization of where you were sinking in quickly. 

“How did I compare?” He asked cheekily, rising to his feet and offering a hand to pull you up after him. 

Your head was still spinning - your chest heaving from a fairly innocent kiss, god, you were wrecked. Carlos, however, took your silence as the exact opposite - doubt crept into his mind, worried that he’d read everything wrong and let his own feelings guide his actions. 

His sweet, doe brown eyes searched yours for something, anything, to ease his panic. And then, you smiled - wide, bright, blinding, and lovesick. 

“You were perfect,” you finally answered, a sigh of relief leaving Carlos at the sound of your voice. “But, I would’ve preferred the dream setting. Comfortable couch, no prying eyes, no Ferrari polo, among other things.”

“Other things?” Carlos pressed, a wicked grin on his face.

“Yeah, you told me you loved me,” you whispered.

His lips morphed into a soft smile - gone was the playfulness and tension, replaced by tenderness, adoration, and something saccharine. You felt his fingers brushing against yours and reached out to let him grasp your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you in this moment.

“I can do that,” he admitted bashfully. “But, not here. You deserve more than that. When I’m done we can go back to the hotel, grab dinner, and…talk.”

You smirked, mimicking his tone from before. “Talk?” 

“Among other things.”

The sound of your laughter followed Carlos as he walked towards his team, urging them respectfully to get him through the rest of his day as quickly as possible.

[formulawolff]

xix. when time stood still - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 3.4k

warnings: ANGST, so much angst, yearning, mutual pining, cursing, mentions of injury, mild violence, sexual innuendos, light smut (you'd have to squint to see it), age gap relationships, banter, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“have you seen this?”

“seen what?” you arch a brow, shoving a bite into your mouth.

“toto did an interview with sky sports,” alex scoots closer to you on the couch. you were to his right, lily cuddled up on his left, “should we all watch it together? it already has almost one million views.”

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you pick at your food, “that’s unusual. sky sports typically rakes in only thousands of views per video.”

“well we’ll just have to watch and see!” lily chirps, leaning forward so that she can drum along your arm with her hands, “chin up, buttercup! we’re about to watch your mans!”

alex presses play, holding the phone at an angle where the three of you could see clearly. the moment he appears on screen, your heart skips a beat.

he’s disheveled, his fluffy brunette locks sticking up on all ends, the first few buttons of his crisp mercedes polo undone, the fabric slightly wrinkled from the stressful events of qualifying. 

although it was cooling down significantly as the sun had set, he wore no jacket. the sleeves of his polo were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms, the veins prominent in the low light. there was an emotion in his gaze you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

lewis and george linger in the background, both of them waving fervently to the camera as rachel brooks begins the interview, clearing her throat. 

she begins with her introduction, your jaw going slack the second she mentions your relationship. she continues, pressing on with a flurry of invasive questions. toto appears just as shocked, remaining silent for nearly thirty seconds before speaking. 

“i initiated our relationship,” he starts, pausing briefly once more, “i approached her a few months ago in bahrain. if we’re being honest here, i had been crushing on her for quite some time. since the news broke of her signing to williams in december of 2022.”

alex’s thumb locates the pause button with lighting speed, stopping the video, “no. fucking. way.”

“that is so romantic!” lily squeals, kicking her feet, “alex, what are you doing? press play! i want to watch more.”

as the video resumes, you can’t help but notice lewis and george’s reactions, how their eyes are widened, lips parted as toto shifts in place, slightly swaying back and forth as rachel clarifies exactly how long he had been interested in you. he responds, focusing his attention directly to the camera, his eyes almost piercing through the lens. 

he mentions susie, quenching the blazing rumors that the two you were involved in an affair. he defends her name, stating that she is not the bitter ex-wife that the headlines claim she is. he affirms that she is the founder and helm of the f1 academy, the mother of their children, and an exceptional co-parent and business partner. 

you find yourself almost too invested in the words, leaning over a few more inches so that you can savor the way his voice is brimmed with passion, bursting with nothing but adoration as he catches his breath. 

that’s when he mentions you.

your heart flutters, a dizzying sensation taking hold as he utters the words i love that american girl.

“oh shit,” alex murmurs under his breath, “you have that man in a chokehold.”

“shhh!” lily hushes him, putting a finger to his lips, “there’s still more!”

rachel glances towards the camera as toto spins on his heel, starting to walk away. she calls out him, eager to dissect his previous sentiment. 

“you said that you loved that american driver. do you mind elaborating on that?”

toto turns, now in the center of the frame, “yes, i did. i love her. there are many whispers that i am just using her, that she is just a little pawn in my game to ultimately sign her to mercedes. that is not the case. it is complete and utter bullshit. she is my entire world. i would never take advantage of her in that manner. i respect her too much to do that. 

now that all of your pressing questions are answered, i have one thing to ask. will you all just leave us be? no more hot gossip. no more lies. let me love my american girl. that’s all. i will not be elaborating further, ms. brooks. thank you.”

that’s when rachel blinks, the hand holding the microphone quivering. 

was it from excitement? from a rush of adrenaline because she was able to pry more information out of him? the exhilaration of knowing that this was going to create a media frenzy?

the camera pans to her, the reporter bearing a smug, shit-eating grin. 

“well, now we know how the illustrious mercedes team principal really feels about the williams driver. perhaps tomorrow we will be able to reach her for an exclusive, one-on-one interview. perhaps will we see another post-race kiss? stay tuned to sky sports f1 for more updates here in montreal, canada! have a great evening! we will see you on the race track bright and early for more coverage!” 

the video cuts out, suggestions popping up on the screen for more related content. for a minute, you sit there, completely and utterly in disbelief at what you just witnessed. alex elbows you, bringing you back to earth. 

“you okay?”

“yeah,” you nod, heat burning in your cheeks, “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“and neither were we!” lily springs up from the couch, making her way over to you. 

she knees alex gently, “move, move, move! i need to talk to my girl.”

“am i included in girl talk?” he teases, obliging to her request, “i want to know all of the tea! she never told me about her time in monte carlo.”

“why not?” lily’s lip juts out as she settles next to you, “hey, what’s on your mind?”

your lower lip trembles, tears blurring your vision, “i-i just miss him.”

“oh lovebug,” lily coos, wrapping tender arms around your frame, “is james still being weird about everything?”

“weird is an understatement,” alex whistles, shaking his head, “he’s on insane levels of a strict father figure at the moment. he almost took her phone yesterday because he was under the impression that she was texting toto.”

“nuh uh!” lily’s eyes widen in shock, disgust painting her features, “alex told me that part of it was due to the team’s reputation? the pr teams want you guys to maintain your distance?”

there’s now a steady stream falling down your cheeks, “y-yeah.”

“oh honey,” lily rubs your back as wails bubble up in the back of your throat, “alex, get her phone for me?”

“why?” he inquires, yet hands her your phone, “her passcode is zero-three-zero-nine-two-four.”

“isn’t that the date you won your first grand prix?” lily’s fingers fly across the screen. 

“yes,” alex answers for you, placing a box of tissues on your lap, “lily, what are you doing?”

“calling toto wolff,” her chin tilts upward, towards alex, “duh! who else would i be calling?”

a few paddocks down, toto wolff paces in his office, his drivers situated in the two plush chairs, scrolling away on their phones. 

there is a thick layer of frustration lingering in the air, clouding around the team principal. 

it was not the heated, fiery rage of losing a race or a car malfunctioning. it was more like the fury of wanting something you cannot have. the desperation of it, the way it tugged and pulled at his weary heart. resentment for the mercedes pr team was accumulating by the second, the team principal firing blazing strings of curses under his breath. 

“everyone is going bonkers over that interview, mate,” lewis’ lips are curled into a devious smirk, the driver flashing his screen, “you should see what they’re saying about you.”

“all good things i hope,” toto snorts, rolling his eyes, “in retrospect, i should have just kept my mouth shut.”

on his desk, the inbox of his work email was flooded with furious messages from the pr team, demanding that he keep his lips sealed for the remainder of the weekend. the team principal was to shoot down any pressing inquiries regarding the williams driver. they even went so far to create scenarios that provided examples of the “proper responses.” answers that he was required to give since he only “embarrassed the team and mercedes brand even further.”

“they’re loving every single second,” george tuts, skimming over the comments, “someone said, ‘well now i get it. that man really put his job on the line to admit how much he loves her. w for the american girl, and w interview.’”

“someone by the user ‘mercedesgirl’ posted,” lewis snickers, suppressing his laughter, “‘you know what? good for them. she gets to be railed by the one and only toto wolff. he probably fucks her so hard she can’t see straight. also, no man talks about a woman like that in front of a camera without being absolutely whipped. he loves that girl.’”

“oh really?” toto raises a brow, folding his arms over his chest, “i mean, they’re not–”

a vibration in his pocket interrupts him, lewis and george both setting their phones on their laps, intrigued by the potential caller. 

pulling it out of his pocket, he quickly glances at the screen. 

my golden girl 

swiping across the cool surface, he brings the phone to his ear, “hallo, baby.”

“oh!” the voice on the other end is not familiar, “hi! um, it’s lily he, one of your girlfriend’s close friends.”

hmm. this was odd.

“i was wondering if there was any possible way we could get her over to the mercedes paddock? or your hotel room? she’s in shambles right now over that interview and i think she really could use some of your snuggles or something.”

“is she crying?” toto could pick out the quiet cries in the background, his heart sinking, “do you know why she’s so upset?”

“not really. i think she might be stressed out with everything going on with james and your pr teams,” the voice is light, airy and delicate, “but i think she could really use some time with you. in private. are you busy?” 

that prick. 

what else could he have possibly done or said?

“no,” toto’s eyes dart towards his drivers, “i’m not busy at all, actually. does she want to spend the night with me? i can tell you which things to pack in an overnight bag.”

lewis leans back in the chair, hands on his head as george puckers his lips, making kissy faces. 

“just text me!” lily chirps, “i’ll get her ass in the shower. maybe if she knows she’s going to see you, she’ll perk up. see you soon!”

the line clicks dead, toto pointing a finger at both of his drivers, “you two! out!”

“come on,” lewis groans, “we don’t get to see your precious baby? what if i want to say hi?”

“unfortunately for you,” toto scoffs, crossing over to his desk, “i have places to be.”

“do you want me to call theodore?” george offers, rising to his feet, “i can get the car arranged so no one notices the two of you together.”

“that’s not a terrible idea,” toto dips his head, turning to lewis, “are you going to be helpful or are you going to just sit there and continue to terrorize me?”

“i can help, i can help,” the driver waves a hand, “what do you need me to do?”

“i need you to escort her over here to the paddock or to the car,” shoving an arm into his jacket, the team principal scoops his keys off the desk, frantically gathering his belongings, “will you be able to do that for me?”

“aye aye, captain!” lewis salutes, “you need me to text her?”

“please,” toto whirls around, searching the space, ensuring nothing important was left behind. 

who knew that a simple rendezvous would require such meticulous planning?

well, it seemed when your pr teams desperately tried to keep the two of you apart, your friends would be the ones to step in. 

especially when the two of you were two desperate, yearning messes. 

and when it came to that, toto was eternally grateful. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“i missed you.”

one hand rests on the small of your back, the other kneading into your shoulder blade as your head is nuzzled into his chest, traces of his cologne flooding your nostrils. a simple heather gray t-shirt clings to his top half, boxers hanging on his hips. 

you’re in one of his crewnecks, the garment nearly framing your figure effortlessly. your lashes flutter as tender kisses pepper all over your face, covering your nose, apples of your cheeks, jawline, temple, and forehead. 

“i missed you more, schatzi,” he murmurs, “do you feel better now?”

you had reunited with the team principal in his lavish hotel room approximately an hour ago, lewis hitching a ride with you so that it didn’t raise any eyebrows. george was the one who coordinated theodore’s arrival to your motorhome, meticulously choosing a time in which you wouldn’t be stopped by any lingering members of the williams crew. 

it was quite ridiculous, really. the hoops you had to leap through in order to spend just a few hours with your beloved team principal. 

yet, it was worth it.

so beyond worth it.

the embrace you were greeted with was unlike one you had ever encountered before. toto’s arms nearly swept you off your feet, lifting you a few inches above the ground as he held you tightly against his chest, squeezing with so much force you couldn’t breathe. strings of german filled your ears, bursting with nothing but love and adoration. 

it was like he hadn’t seen you in weeks. 

yet, you were on the same wavelength, nearly erupting into tears once again as he whisked you into his room. 

there was a coziness that rippled in your heart as the two of you laid together, oh so joyful to be reunited once more. 

“so much better,” your lashes flutter, eyelids heavy with exhaustion, “this probably isn’t our smartest idea.”

“i think we’ve made plenty of dumb decisions,” a chuckle rumbles in his chest as he drapes the comforter over you, fluffing it so that it covered any exposed area, “are you nervous for the race tomorrow? the bottom half of the grid is not where i expected you to be.”

“it is what it is,” you exhale, “i could barely get any grip on my tires.”

“it was pretty slick out there. were you distracted by other things?”

“maybe,” you mutter, burying your head into the fabric, “i don’t really want to talk about racing right now.”

“i understand,” he hand drifts, wandering to your rib-cage, “lily mentioned something about james earlier. i just want to know if he had anything to do with your qualifying lap, that’s all.”

his touch his light, nearly feathery as his fingertips drag along, “i mean, i did get into it with him a few times. nothing serious, really.”

“let me know if it’s anything that i need to address, all right?” his hands envelops your breast, his palm radiating warmth as he squeezes, “i want to ensure that you’re not being harassed or anything. i can handle it, but it would destroy me if you were mistreated over something like this.”

“you worry too much,” your breath hitches in your throat as he rolls your nipple between two fingers.

“it’s my job,” his mouth hovers by your ear, “if anything happened to you? oh god. i don’t know what i would do. lately, every time you step foot onto that track, i think my heart rate elevates. i just get so nervous that you may get hurt or something even far wo–”

tilting your chin, you glance upward, pressing a finger to his lips, “i’ll be okay, baby. that’s why the safety regulations are in place. to protect me.”

in the dim light, you notice the glossiness in his gaze, misty even as he responds, the words barely audible. 

“that is true. but you mean everything to me. the safety regulations aren’t enough. i need to be the one protecting you. from everything. i hope you know i’m counting down the days.”

“counting down the days till what exactly?” the pad of your thumb wipes away a tear as it falls. 

“i’m counting down the days until you’re at mercedes. the day when we’ll be able to be together for the rest of our lives. the day where i’ll finally be able to go forward with our future.”

“our future?” your heart swells as he leans in.

“yes, our future. the future in which i’ll be able to make you my wife.” 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“and it’s lights out here in montreal! the canadian grand prix is underway!”

“push, push.” the command floods in, “you should be able to overtake magnussen.” 

“got it,” you swallow thickly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, “let’s fucking do this.”

as george flew out from the pole position, max hot on his tail, your mind hones in from the chaos of the starting stretch, focusing on the task at hand. 

if you were able to overtake kevin magnussen, then you would more than likely be able to do the same to the ferrari boys as well. that would prove to be a challenge, as both of them were vastly competitive, but the determination set your heart ablaze, goading you to step on that pedal. 

this was it, the canadian grand prix. 

one of the crucial races. just another rung up the ladder to that final destination. 

the world driver’s championship.

and by god, you were going to get there by any means possible. 

yet, kevin was hellbent on maintaining his position, veering in your path. 

on the track, every inch was necessary in order to overtake another car. if you miscalculated the distance by even a hair, the results could be catastrophic. 

cursing under your breath, you alleviate the pressure on the pedal, “he’s not giving me any fucking room guys.”

“you’ll have your opportunity,” james’ voice chimes in, “just be patient, american girl.”

“well i want it now,” you counter, gritting your teeth, “how the fuck am i supposed to be the world champion if i can’t even manage a fucking pod–”

that’s when a horrific crunching noise cuts you off, the world around you slowing as you’re propelled several feet into the air, the wind whistling. 

it was like everything all around was frozen, your car rolling, barreling towards the barrier. blood roars in your ears as you gasp for breath, the panic crashing over you like a tidal wave.

oh god. 

this was it. 

squeezing your eyes shut, you brace for impact, one last image flashing across your mind as the car collides against the rigid surface.

toto and his beautiful eyes, the mocha depths glittering like stars as he dimples form, bearing a wide, radiant grin as his nose scrunches.

that damn smile. 

it was going to be the death of you. 

i love you. 

you hear a voice. his voice. so rich and brassy, thick with the accent you had grown to absolutely adore.

that’s was the last thing you hear before everything goes dark. 

in the stands, fans jump to their feet, their attention lasered in on the scene before them. alex albon of williams racing screeches to a halt, scrambling out of his car.

he stumbles slightly the first few steps, desperate to reach his fellow driver, buried among the wreckage. he shouts across the track, his field of vision blurred as his voice falters. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck! i’m coming! i’m coming for you! hold on!”

calls come buzzing across the radio waves. 

“red flag! we need the fucking red flag!”

“red flag! fuck! where is the safety car?”

“where is the fucking safety car?”

“hello! we need a red flag!”

“where is the medic? we need a fucking medic!”

in the mercedes paddock, a team principal rips off his headphones, his chest heaving as he frantically makes his way towards the entrance of the garage, scanning the track. 

he makes out the outline of alex albon, desperately tugging you out of a pile of crumpled metal and tires. 

as his line of sight falls on you, all he can see is the way your head rolls, limbs lolling as he lays you on the ground, his pleas crying out.

“where the fuck is the medic? she needs help!”

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let me know if you would like to be added for chapters xx. & xxi! as always, thank you all for the endless support on this series! the compliments, comments, and asks i have received over the course of the past month or so have meant the world to me! i love you all so much! <3

[burntsaltsblog]

cruelty - billy butcher x reader

༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻

details: butcher is being a real ass, so you decide to run away for a bit <3

༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻

"Well, if ya' tried putting effort into any of these missions, then the rest of us wouldn't have to carry you around like dead weight."

Butcher's words hung in the air before piercing me. I met his gaze, waiting to see if he'd display even a tiny ounce of regret, but his face remained stoic, and his eyes bore into mine unapologetically.

No one said anything, and a tense silence encompassed the group. Everyone was waiting to see if I had a rebuttal to defend myself against Butcher's harsh accusation.

But I had nothing to say. For weeks, Butcher had been unusually nasty towards me, a complete switch from our old dynamic. Instead of his praise that I'd grown used to, he'd hurl nothing but criticism and bitter insults my way. And what made it worse was that he was charming to everyone else. Well, as charming as Butcher was capable of being.

The whole situation was disheartening and confusing because he and I used to be quite close. Yes, we had a significant age gap between us. But those years didn't hinder our ability to connect over our love of bizarre humor and sarcasm.

The rest of the boys assumed that we had had some misunderstanding or disagreement, but nothing of the sort had transpired. I had tried approaching Butcher to coax the reasoning for his cruelty out of him, but he brushed me off, refusing to give me the time of day.

But today was the last straw. I refused to linger any longer in an environment where I wasn't wanted or appreciated. Wordlessly and full of resolve, I turned on my heel and headed for the comfort of my room.

"Kid, wait," MM called, trying to fix the situation, but it was useless. I slammed my bedroom door behind me and slowly sank to the floor.

I didn't bother stopping my tears as they shamefully slid down my face. Through my blurred vision, I pulled out my phone and composed a text to an old friend.  

Me:

Hey, do you still need help this weekend?

I used to be a drug dealer and ran in various questionable circles to support myself before I joined The Boys. But I still had friends from my former life that I kept in touch with, and every once in a while, I'd dip my toe back into the drug scene when they needed help with an extra burdensome deal. And right now, I was desperate for any excuse to get out of here.

Alex:

Have you changed your mind about joining?

Me:

Yeah, I have. It's an out-of-town one, right?

Alex:

Yup. We'll be gone for at least three days, so pack a bag. And you can crash here tonight because we have to head out early in the morning.

Grateful for the impromptu getaway, I packed my small duffle bag with my spare pair of black jeans, sweaters since it was getting cold outside, and other essentials like face wash and my phone charger.

Considering it was just past midnight, I didn't have to wait long before I heard the guys mumble goodnight to each other from the other side of my door before they all retreated to their respective rooms.

I waited five minutes to be safe before opening my door and peering out. The common room in our bunker under the pawn shop was empty, and I took it as an opportunity to sneak out. I tiptoed up the old wooden stairs and breathed a sigh of relief after bolting through the old store and out the door, letting the chilly New York air blow across my face.

The walk to Alex's apartment was short because I was already close to that side of town. And I arrived soon enough with my duffle bag in tow.

"You look like shit," Alex said, opening their apartment door and quickly letting me in.

"Well, hello to you too."

Alex snorted as they pulled me in for a hug before directing me towards the couch I would be sleeping on that night.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite!" They called, heading into their room to rest for the night.

I dumped my bag on the floor and fell onto the couch. It squeaked loudly in protest, and I felt several springs dig into my spine. But I wasn't complaining. Anything was better than sharing a wall with Butcher, knowing the hate he now carried for me. Besides, he snored terribly loud, which the entire group complained about daily.

After some extensive tossing and turning, I fell into a fitful sleep.

༺༻

"Rise and shine, motherfucker!" Alex yelled.

I jerked awake before immediately falling onto the floor. The decades-old carpet did little to cushion the blow, and I groaned loudly as my head throbbed in protest.

I peered up at Alex from my place on the floor and saw them holding two coffee cups. "Want some?"

"Yes, please." I rose gingery before sitting back on the sofa and accepting one of the steaming mugs. I took a small sip and nodded thanks to my friend.

"We need to get on the road in twenty minutes because our first client expects us to arrive at eight tonight. And I don’t want to be late so we can make a good first impression."

"I think the eighteen pounds of coke you're selling them should help win their approval," I said, taking an enormous gulp of the caffeinated beverage.

"Speaking of coke, I need you to help load it into the car. Come on."

༺༻

"You gonna answer that?" Alex asked from the driver's seat on our way to Bardstown, Kentucky.

"No. It's probably just spam."

Alex glanced from the road ahead to give me a knowing look. "I don't think any spam caller would ever waste their time calling the same person two hundred times."

"It's not my fault they're dedicated to their job," I mumbled.

My friend chuckled, shaking their head.

I rolled my eyes and finally peered at my phone after ignoring its constant ringing for six hours. Hughie had texted me a wapping eighty-seven times and called me fifty-one times, which wasn't surprising because he did tend to be a phone stalker. I scrolled through his messages, landing on the most recent one sent three minutes ago.

Hughie:

Look, I get that you're pissed at Butcher, and that's probably why you left. But please let us know that you're safe. We're freaking out over here.

I sighed heavily before I forced my fingers to type out a response.

Me:

I'm fine. I'm out of town helping a friend. Sorry to worry you. I'll be back on Monday.

I pondered over the words before deciding to go ahead and send it. It was a little colder and more direct than how I usually communicated, especially to Hughie. But I knew he'd understand.

Hughie's reply came within seconds. But before I could read it, the notification of an incoming call covered my screen. A lump formed in my throat when I saw Butcher's name flashing in front of my eyes. My thumb hovered over the 'accept' button before I shook my head and hurriedly declined the call. I am sure he only called to yell at me for disappearing, and I wasn't in the mood to be reprimanded by him.

"I can drive the rest of the way," I offered, returning my focus to Alex.

"No thanks, I'm good," They responded like I knew they would. Alex was very particular about driving and refused to get into an operating motor vehicle unless they were the one behind the wheel. I respected that, but it still felt like the right thing to do was offer so it didn't look like I was putting the burden of transportation on them.

My phone vibrated, notifying me that I'd received another text, and I reluctantly viewed the message.

Butcher:

I know you ignored my call.

Ok? And the sky is also blue. I'm so glad he's able to notice the obvious. At least there's nothing wrong with him in that department.

Just as I decided to ignore his text, his name lit up on my phone again, signaling another incoming call. I slumped in my seat, and groaned under my breath. Again, my finger pushed the red icon, sending him straight to voicemail. Not even a second later, Butcher began to call for the third time.

"You know," said Alex, "If you answered the phone, they might stop calling."

"I'd answer if it was anyone else. I refuse to talk to this particular person."

"Alright, have it your way," they muttered, changing lanes.

We fell quiet, and the only sound was my phone as it buzzed with a final text.

Butcher:

Please come back.

༺༻

"I'd say that was pretty successful," I declared as we pulled into our Kentucky motel the next day. We had just finished our final deal, and while it was a little tedious, Alex's client ended up being happy overall with their purchase and promised they'd do business again.

"Yeah, thank God," Alex replied, cutting the engine after pulling into a parking spot. "I'm just grateful you were there. I think your presence was a great influence. You're still a legend in the drug community," they smirked.

I laughed lightly. "I'm happy to help anytime."

"Watch out because I will hold you to that promise."

We piled out of the car, and I waited out front while Alex headed in to get the key to our room. It was just past one in the morning, and I glanced over my shoulder, staying on high alert.

Alex exited the front entrance and dangled a key triumphantly. After entering our room, we each fell onto a twin-sized bed, and I watched as Alex almost instantly fell asleep.

I curled up on the wrinkled comforter for a few minutes before sitting up and rummaging through my bag for my phone; it had died a couple of hours ago, and now was my first opportunity to charge it.

I had received a text from Hughie asking if I was ok, to which I replied that I was, and I hadn't heard from Butcher since I'd blocked him last night when he proceeded to call me every thirty seconds, disrupting my sleep.

With nothing else to do, I slipped my jeans off, stashed my handheld in the bedside drawer, rolled under the covers, and attempted to sleep.

༺༻

"That was fun. We should do it again sometime," Alex said as they pulled up to the pawn shop.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, it felt like old times."

We hugged before I got out of the car and looked up at the one building I wanted to avoid more than anything. Three days wasn't long enough, and I genuinely considered asking Alex if they wanted a roommate. But their jeep was already speeding down the road, so I had no choice but to enter the pawn shop and descend the familiar steps.

"You're back!" yelped Hughie as he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me. I stumbled back before gaining my balance and returning the hug. "Yeah," I replied lamely.

I nodded to Frenchie and MM before they both turned to Hughie. "You ready?" MM asked, and Hughie replied that he was.

"D'accord, let's go," Frenchie said, and the three of them passed me as they headed upstairs and out of the pawn shop, leaving me alone with Butcher, who stood by the couch.

"Y'alright?"

I ignored his question and headed for the solitude of my room.

"Oi, I'm fuckin' talking to you." Butcher barked, and I heard his boots stomp in my direction. He wrapped a large hand around my arm, spinning me around. "Don't ever fuckin' do that again, ya' hear? You 'bout did me fuckin' head in, running off like that."

Butcher's face was inches from mine, and his warm breath fanned out across my cheeks and neck, causing goosebumps to flare. "I guess you forgot that I can take care of myself," I muttered bitterly as I wrenched my arm from his grasp and pushed the door open to my bedroom. Much to my dismay, Butcher followed me in.

"What's with the fuckin' attitude?" he demanded, crossing his arms. "You're acting like a right twat."

I whirled around as I threw my bag onto the floor, my nostrils flaring. "Oh, so you're allowed to have an attitude, but I'm not?" I glared daggers at him. "Get out."

"No. We're gonna talk," Butcher pressed, standing his ground.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Well, too fuckin' bad, sweetheart. I ain’t leaving until you tell me what kind of stick is up your bum, and why the bloody hell you fucked off for three days without telling anyone."

"It's a free country, and I'm allowed to go where I please," I shot back. "Besides, I figured I'd give you all a break from carrying my dead weight around. I hear it can be quite tiring."

Butcher's mouth opened before he closed it, taking a beat before speaking, "S’that’s what this is about, eh? The fact that I called you dead weight the other night? No offense, love. But if a comment like that was enough to drive ya' out of town, you've gotten too sensitive."

"It wasn't just that one comment, William. It's the fact that you've been terrible to me for weeks now, and the shittiest part of it all is that I have no idea what I've done to deserve it!" I exclaimed, panting slightly as my shoulders rose and fell. Butcher raised a brow, and I scoffed, flopping on the bed. "Forget it. Now, would you mind kindly fucking off and leaving me alone?"

I turned away, and Bucther sighed quietly. A couple of seconds passed before the bed dipped behind me.

"M'sorry, alright?" he said quietly.

"Whatever, I don't even care anymore," I muttered, picking at the skin on the side of my nail.

"Yes, ya’ do."

My stomach flipped as Butcher carefully reached up and brushed the hair off my shoulder. "I didn't realize I was hurting ya' so much. I thought I was doing what was best."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, turning back to face him. A calloused finger traced my cheek before his hand fell limply in his lap. Even though Butcher never slept more than a couple of hours a night, this was the first time I'd seen him look truly tired.

"I needed to push you away, and I figured a bit of tough love would do the trick." Butcher's hazel eyes met mine. "I realize I may've gone a bit too far."

"But why would you want to push me away? I thought we worked well together." My voice grew softer. "I thought you liked me."

"Oh, love, my feelings for you go way beyond like."

My thoughts became jumbled as I tried to comprehend what Butcher was saying, and I struggled to form a response, but it all ceased when he cupped my face in his hand. I instinctually leaned into his touch, and my eyes drooped, feeling serenity from the simple contact.

"M'sorry. M'so fucking sorry," Butcher apologized again. But this time, I saw emotion in his eyes. "You're the most precious thing in my life, and the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt ya'."

His lips gently grazed my forehead, placing a soft kiss there before continuing. “I'm no good for ya', doll. God only knows I'd fuck up an angel like you. In me own messed up head, pushing you away was the only way I could protect ya'."

"That's not true," I whispered, shaking my head, but Butcher didn't look convinced. "And even if it were true, I wouldn't care because I'm no saint either."

It was quiet between us, and our breaths were the only thing filling the small space. My gaze roamed Butcher's face before it fell on his lips, and I swallowed audibly.

"I want you, Billy."

Butcher looked torn. There was a deep crease between his brows, and his breathing grew quick as the seconds ticked by.

"I'll ruin you." His voice was rough, full of gravel.

"I'm already ruined."

Butcher's resolve began to fray before it split wide open, and his lips crashed into mine.

༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻

not my best work, but i hope you enjoyed it!

-xoxo

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (5 - The Truth)

Chapter Summary: A nuisance at your workplace forces you to re-evaluate your entire existence in Westview—and Wanda's hand, too. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.8k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: Gaslighting

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's commented on the story so far. Please, bear with me! // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It doesn’t make any sense.

Geraldine had just stepped out to grab lunch for both of you. “Back in a jiffy!” she'd chirped before leaving. Now, an email sits in your inbox, unread, but the subject tells you everything you need to know. 

Resignation letter, it says, effective immediately.

You stare at the screen, stunned. Geraldine loved her job. If something was wrong, she would’ve said something—wouldn’t she?

You try calling her number, but it goes straight to voicemail. Growing uneasy, you decide to ask around the office.

“Hey guys, have you seen Geraldine?” you ask a group of your coworkers near the copier.

They shrug. “Last I saw, she was heading out for lunch,” one of them offers.

Frowning, you make your way to the lobby. Maybe the receptionist noticed something.

“Did Geraldine pass by here recently?” you ask.

She looks up. “Yeah, about an hour ago.”

“Was she with anyone?”

“I didn't notice, sorry.”

“Sure, no worries.” You head to the security desk next. The guard gives you a smile and a warm greeting before noticing the crease on your brows.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Hey, Norm. I’m looking for Geraldine. She went out for lunch and then sent in her resignation. Did you see her leave?”

Norm rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, I did see her talking to someone outside earlier.”

“Who?”

“A woman. Late twenties, about 5'7". Red hair, pretty. Looked like they knew each other.”

Redheads around that age aren’t exactly common in town—certainly not ones who could be mistaken for your wife.

“Did you catch her name?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, stepping away from the desk.

Even if it is Wanda, it’s hard to connect her directly to Geraldine’s sudden resignation. Wanda has her moments of jealousy—which has been frequent as of late—but would she really go as far as to push someone out of their job over it?

Back in your office, you open Geraldine’s resignation email again, scanning for any hint you might have missed. That’s when you notice an attachment you hadn’t seen before. Curious, you click it.

An official-looking document appears on your screen, bearing a logo you don’t recognize: a circle with a sword piercing through it.

At the top, bold letters read: S.W.O.R.D. Alert: Westview Anomaly

Your eyes skim down the page.

*"To all Westview residents,

This is an urgent notice from the Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division (S.W.O.R.D.).

An anomaly has been detected in your area. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain indoors and avoid any attempts to leave town until further notice.

We are working diligently to resolve the situation.

Thank you for your cooperation."*

You lean back in your chair, your mouth twisted into a humorless smile. Is this some kind of joke?

“What’s that?” a voice asks from behind you.

Before you can close the window, Alex, your co-worker is already bent over, eyes scanning the message. As he reads, his face pales, eyes widening with something between fear and recognition.

“Alex?”

He stumbles back, his movements jittery, like a cornered animal. “No… I-I can’t. Please, no more,” he mutters under his breath.

“W-What's wrong?” You take a cautious step forward, reaching out, but he jerks away from your hand like it burns.

Suddenly, he seizes the lapels of your jacket, gripping them so tightly his knuckles blanch. 

“Please, I beg you,” he implores. “Make her stop.”

“Stop who? What are you talking about?”

His eyes dart around, wild and frantic. “She’s doing this. Controlling everything.”

“Alex, you're not making any sense.”

He grabs your arm, eyes pleading. “Please, you have to make her stop!”

“Who? Who am I supposed to stop?” you ask weakly. Deep down, you have a sinking feeling about who he's referring to, but you can't—or won't—acknowledge it.

Wanda is a good person.

She wouldn’t—couldn’t—do this.

If this is some kind of elaborate prank the entire office has set up for you, you swear you'll be the next one handing in your resignation first thing tomorrow.

But instead of the charade ending or Alex cracking a grin, he becomes even more hysterical.

“You have to help us! She’ll only listen to you. I can’t take this anymore—I feel everything she feels—”

You whip your head around and shout, “Are you guys seeing this?!”

No one—not a single soul—acknowledges you. They go about their business like you and Alex don’t even exist. Alex’s hands move from your jacket to your shoulders until he's gripping them hard, pushing you with surprising strength, his eyes panicked and unblinking as he begs you over and over for help. 

When he shoves you again, something in you snaps. You push back, hard.

Perhaps, too hard. 

Alex stumbles, losing his grip. He crashes to the floor, the back of his head colliding with the armrest of a nearby chair with a sickening whack.

“Oh my god! Alex, I’m sorry!”

You drop to your knees beside him, helping him sit up and checking for any sign of injury. He groans, rubbing the back of his head where it hit the chair, then turns to you with a dazed expression.

“What happened?” he asks, wincing slightly. “Why am I on the floor?”

You stare at him in disbelief. “You... you don't remember?”

He blinks, confusion clouding his eyes. “Remember what? Did I miss something?”

“You—” you start, then stop yourself. The frantic look in his eyes from moments ago, his desperate pleas—it’s like it never happened. “Y-You lost your balance,” you say carefully, watching him for any sign of recognition. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He laughs nervously. “Oh, great. That’s embarrassing.”

You nod, forcing a smile. It doesn’t sit right with you—lying to him—but the thought of him slipping back into that earlier state terrifies you. Part of you is relieved to see him acting normal again, yet you can’t shake the feeling that something is seriously wrong.

You help him to his feet, though your own legs feel wobbly. “Maybe you should sit down for a bit,” you suggest.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, brushing himself off. “Actually, I could go for a coffee and a bagel. Want to join me?”

You glance quickly at the monitor of your computer. The message from S.W.O.R.D. is still there, glaring proof that the last two minutes weren’t just in your head. Right?

“I—uh, sure,” you stammer. Maybe a walk will help clear your head—or at least help you figure out how to deal with this. “Let me grab my wallet.”

–

Monica Rambeau is back in the real world, but reality feels no less surreal. 

She spends half her day in a makeshift clinic just outside the nightmare she barely escaped, repeatedly telling Hayward she’s fine—ready to work, even—but her clearance is being held off for some reason.

Perched on a flimsy cot, Monica fiddles with the hospital bracelet still looped around her wrist. How could she even begin to explain what it was like? Being trapped in that town, her thoughts—no, her very self—locked away in some distant corner of her mind. She’d been a prisoner, forced to watch herself perform a role she couldn’t control.

Worse, she hadn’t just been aware of Wanda’s grief, guilt, anger, and longing—she’d felt them. They’d coursed through her like her own emotions, impossible to separate, impossible to ignore.

“How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Headaches?” The doctor asks her.

Monica musters a tight smile. “I'm fine, really.” But it's not entirely true. Her head throbs—not from any physical pain, but from the collision of two conflicting realities vying for space in her mind: the life she knows as Monica, and the fabricated existence of Geraldine—no matter how fleeting that life had been.

“So, am I cleared?” Monica asks.

“We need to review all your lab results first.”

“And my uniform?”

“It’s still in analysis.”

“I need to get back out there,” Monica murmurs. The doctor says nothing, retreating to her charts.

Jimmy steps into the tent, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Mighty glad to have you back, Captain. How are you feeling?”

“Like myself,” Monica answers, though she’s not entirely sure she believes it.

“Thank heavens for that.”

Monica’s notices a woman standing beside Jimmy, someone she hasn’t seen before.

“Uh, what’s the latest?” she asks, eyeing the bundle in the woman’s arms—clothes, from the look of it. Something other than another hospital gown, hopefully.

The woman answers, “There’s a briefing in ten. Pants are encouraged.” She hands Monica the aforementioned pants and Monica sighs in relief. Finally, some proper clothes.

“This is Dr. Darcy Lewis,” Jimmy says. “She’s the one who discovered the broadcast.” 

Monica’s about to introduce herself when Darcy beats her to it, adding that she’s a huge fan of hers. 

Before Monica can comment on that, the doctor approaches, holding a tablet. “We need to take these again,” she says, showing Monica the imaging results.

“Those are blank,” Darcy points out with a curious tilt of her head. The doctor explains the need for another blood draw and more tests, but Monica refuses. 

“No, no, no. We’re done here,” she says with finality, before sliding off the gurney and heading toward her new uniform.

—

Nothing unusual happens for the rest of the day. Wanda is in the kitchen, as always—just like every other time you come home. She spends her days cooking, cleaning, keeping everything perfect. Not that you’re complaining, but there was a time when Wanda had hobbies. She used to keep a guitar in her room back at the Avengers compound—

Avengers?

What the hell is an ‘Avengers’? 

And, more importantly, where did that thought come from?

“You're home early!” Wanda says, waltzing into the living room, an apron tied around her waist—exactly as you’d expected.

“Yeah, I wasn't feeling well,” you say, your eyes tracking her carefully.

She crosses over to you in concern. “Oh no, what's wrong?”

“Just a rough day,” you murmur. “Where are the boys?”

“They’re at Agnes’s,” she says with a small smile. “I thought we could have a nice dinner—just the two of us. It’s been a while since we had a proper date.”

You nod slowly. “That sounds nice.”

“Perfect!” Wanda beams. “I’ll just finish up in the kitchen. It’ll only take a few more minutes.”

As she turns away, you’re unable to stop yourself from dragging this out any longer. 

“Wanda, wait.”

She stops, glancing back at you. “Yes?”

You take a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

Rubbing your temples, the frustrations of the past week crash down all at once. “Can we sit down? Please, just come here.”

She obediently takes a seat beside you, her expression unreadable.

“Wanda, something strange is happening,” you say, having a hard time meeting her eyes as you say this. 

“Like what?” You hear Wanda ask beside you, her voice surprisingly even.

“Alex had some kind of breakdown. He was begging me to 'stop her.' When I asked who he meant, he wouldn't say. And Geraldine—she just up and quit without a word.”

“That sounds serious. Maybe he should see someone,” Wanda says. 

“I think that…” You trail off, gathering courage before turning to face her. 

Wanda’s still smiling like nothing’s wrong, her features so exquisitely composed that it's hard to tell whether she has anything to do with this or if you've been unfairly suspicious of her. 

But her eyes tell you something else. All you see is a storm brewing. She has never been able to hide her emotions from you, no matter how hard she tries. Wanda’s eyes have always given her away.

“I think that he was talking about you,” you say slowly, testing the waters. Wanda’s temper isn’t something you shy away from—it’s part of who she is—but right now, you’re treading lightly.

She laughs nervously. “Me? That's ridiculous.”

“Wanda,” you say softly. “I love you. But I need to know the truth.”

She stands abruptly, turning her back to you. “I think you're exhausted. You should go ahead and take a shower—”

You get to your feet as well. “Don't dismiss me! I feel like I'm losing my mind.”

She whirls around, eyes glistening. “What do you want me to say?”

“The fucking truth!”

Wanda flinches, and you freeze, immediately covering your mouth. You’ve never sworn in front of her before—not even during your worst arguments. Which, strangely, you can’t quite recall right now. You know you’ve had fights. Wanda’s had hobbies. You’ve traveled beyond Westview. These memories feel real, even as the details slip through your grasp like water.

She studies you for a long, silent moment, something clearly churning behind her eyes. Once you've simmered down, you know you should probably say sorry for lashing out like that.

“Wanda, I didn’t mean to—”

“The truth,” she cuts in sharply, “is that you're overworked and stressed. You've been distant, imagining things that aren't real.”

“Don't turn this around on me,” you retort, feeling your anger rising again. “Ever since the Harvest Festival, you know things have been off. When Agnes asked me about places I've been outside of Westview, I realized—I couldn't remember anything. It's like my life started the day we moved here.”

She forces a laugh, brittle and unnatural. “That's absurd. We've been here for years. Memories fade. It's normal.”

“No, Wanda, it's not normal,” you say through gritted teeth. “I can't recall our wedding, our honeymoon, the day the twins were born. It's all—”

“The albums are downstairs, Y/N, but we’ll get to them once you’re feeling better. Stress can do strange things to the mind, and—”

“Stop deflecting!” you snarl, your fists clenching at your sides. “It’s not just Alex, or Geraldine. People are acting weird, Wanda. And I think you know why.”

Her arms fold tightly across her chest, a wall going up between you. “I don't have to listen to this,” she says.

“Yes, you do!” You step closer, your voice softening as you try a different approach. “Wanda, I'm scared. I feel like I'm losing my grip on reality.”

She sighs deeply. “I understand you're feeling overwhelmed. But accusing me of... what exactly? Manipulating everyone? I can’t believe you’d even consider it.”

“Should I not have?” you whisper. “I got an email from an organization called S.W.O.R.D. about a ‘Westview Anomaly’. They think something's seriously wrong here.”

Wanda scoffs, rolling her eyes. “An email? It’s probably just spam. I don’t need to be working in an office to know better than to open suspicious messages.”

Tears prick your eyes. Why is she being like this? Why does it feel like she’s making you question your own sanity?

“Wanda, please.”

She places her hands on your shoulder, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Maybe you should rest. We can talk about this later.”

“No!” You shove her hands away with more force than intended, startling her. “Why won't you talk to me?”

Wanda’s expression hardens. Without a word, she turns on her heel and starts walking away.

“Because you’re being irrational,” she finally throws over her shoulder. “You’re not yourself.”

“Maybe because I don't know who I am anymore!”

Wanda stops in her tracks, slowly turning back to face you. “What do you mean?”

“I can't remember my life before Westview,” you say, your voice trembling. “I have no memories beyond this town. Is this all real? Are the boys? Am I—”

Wanda closes the distance between you in an instant. “You’re very real.” Her hands find your face, cradling it with a tenderness that almost feels like an apology. “You’re Y/N. You’re my wife, the mother of my children. You’re my everything.”

“I…” you murmur, your gaze dropping to the floor. You wish her reassurances could sweep away all your doubts and fears, but they just don't.

They’re not enough.

“How do I fix this?” Wanda's voice cracks, her hands dropping to her sides.

You’re desperate to believe her, to feel the truth in her touch, so you reach out. Your hands find her waist, fingers gripping softly as if the contact could tether her to you. As if holding her could make her words real.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” you plead, pulling her closer to you. “Please.”

Wanda looks at you, and you can see the internal struggle play across her face. After a moment, she takes a shaky breath, exhaling like it costs her something.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Wanda’s always underestimated how much you get her, how deeply you care and are willing to understand whatever she’s keeping inside. You’ve been the only one who really got her, next to Pietro. But this is different. 

This truth she’s holding could shatter everything. Telling you could mean losing you again—and maybe for the very last time.

Her eyes lift to meet yours again, and there’s a faint smile on her lips. For a split-second, you think she's about to give you what you’re asking, but then—

“It’s better if you don’t know,” Wanda says softly. 

Before you can protest, her hands cradle your temples, and her eyes burn crimson. A warm sensation washes over you, and your vision blurs.

“Wanda?” you manage, a note of alarm creeping into your voice. 

But the world is already blurring, dissolving into a haze, the memories of this conversation fading like a forgotten dream. 

When you blink, she’s smiling at you from the kitchen doorway, her hair tied back and an apron dusted with flour wrapped snugly around her waist.

“You're home early!” she exclaims brightly.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you reply, feeling a bit disoriented.

Her smile widens. “Perfect timing,” she says, turning back toward the stove. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Where are the boys?” you ask.

“They're at a friend's house for the evening,” she replies. “I thought we could have a nice dinner, just the two of us.”

You nod slowly. “That sounds nice.”

She returns to the kitchen, and you sink into the couch, rubbing your temples. A nagging feeling tugs at the back of your mind, like you’re forgetting something important.  It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself. Just exhaustion.

In the kitchen, Wanda quickly dabs a tear from her cheek and takes a deep breath.

“Everything will be okay,” she whispers to herself, just as the oven dings to signal that dinner is ready.

—

The briefing concluded on a sour note.

Hayward has officially escalated the situation, branding Wanda a hostile entity and moving toward full confrontation. Monica, Jimmy, and Darcy protest vehemently, but their objections are dismissed without a second thought. 

It’s hard to justify the reality of Wanda's influence over the town: controlling the residents like puppets, violating their rights every second—it’s not an act of benevolence.

Monica, however, knows grief intimately. She regrets opening up to Hayward about her experiences in Westview, naively believing he might empathize with Wanda’s pain. Instead, he’s weaponized it, twisting her insights to justify his growing hostility. She realizes now just how misplaced her trust was.

“By the way, there’s something we’ve been meaning to ask,” Jimmy says as they are leaving the tent. “Do you happen to know Wanda’s wife in there? Y/N?”

Monica freezes for half a beat before glancing at him. “Yeah, but I didn’t meet her until I was pulled into the Hex. Why?”

“You know she’s dead, right?” Darcy says bluntly.

“I—” Monica's expression darkens with surprise. It's been just a few weeks since she returned from the Snap, vanishing for five years, and she's still trying to catch up on who else has come back and who hasn't.

Darcy picks up the thread of conversation as they walk. “What was Y/N like? Did you get a sense of her personality inside the Hex?”

Monica takes a moment to think. To be honest, she’d worried about you ever since Wanda cast her out. Knowing now that you’re dead should bring some closure, ease her concern—but that only made her regret coming back here without solid answers.

“From what I saw, she seemed like a wonderful person—kind, gentle,” Monica says.

“And she's under Wanda's control, right?” Darcy asks.

Monica shakes her head. “I don't think so. I believe Wanda had everyone in town playing a role, but not her family. I don't have concrete proof, but I could tell they were real.”

“So, it really was Y/N in there? It wasn't someone else just wearing her face?” Darcy presses in disbelief. 

The idea is staggering. Wanda is immensely powerful—everyone saw what she could do with the Hex, reshaping reality itself. But bringing someone back from the dead? That seems like a step too far, even for her. Doesn’t it?

“I honestly don’t know,” Monica sighs, feeling the fatigue settle deep in her bones. “With Wanda, it’s hard to say what’s possible anymore.”

“Do you think talking to Wanda would get her to release the town?” Jimmy wonders.

“We can’t say for certain. All I know is that Wanda had the ability to cast me out. We can’t even confirm if she’s doing it alone. Hayward’s jumped to conclusions, and I hate the direction we’re going with this,” Monica says.

Darcy arches an eyebrow. “Hold up. Are you saying you think Wanda has an accomplice in there?”

“I’m just trying to cover all bases,” Monica says. “Maybe someone else knows what’s going on here and they’re stirring the pot too. We can't rule anything out.”

She turns to Jimmy. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe we can find a way to resolve this diplomatically. I truly believe Wanda means well. She’s just... been through so much, like all of us.”

Jimmy nods in agreement while Darcy shrugs, still skeptical but on board with the plan.

“How do you suggest we do that?” Darcy asks.

“By learning more about Y/N,” Monica says. “Think about it—remember how Wanda reacted at the deli? She was worried about Y/N, right before she threw me out of the Hex. I think Y/N figuring out the truth about their life in Westview is the key to all of this.”

“Wait, what deli?” Darcy grumbles, throwing her hands up like she’s just missed the season finale of her favorite show. And in a way, she has. “That never showed up on the broadcast!”

“Maybe Wanda's editing the footage real-time?” Jimmy suggests.

Monica nods. “It’s possible.”

“Well, Jimmy and I have scoured everything on Y/N,” Darcy interjects, pulling out her pad and scrolling through her notes. “All we found was a measly file in Stark’s database—barely more than a footnote.”

Monica crosses her arms and ponders for a moment. “I think I might know someone who can help,” she finally says.

Jimmy and Darcy exchange a look before speaking in unison. “Who?”

“You’ll see,” she says cryptically, dialing a number as she walks away.

[dilemmars]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾.⠀( the base violence necessary for change , 9.3k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this third chapter, there's a lot going on. mentions of death, injuries, prostitution, blood, fights, and a brief suicidal thought at the end. please do not read if you're uncomfortable with it.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀third chapter out! i'm so sorry thta it took me another full day to post a new chapter. i haven't even watched act 3 yet because i lit have no time, but i managed to finish this. it is very sad. i'm sorry about that too. but next chapter will be slightly more relaxed, with less drama, i promise. happy sunday 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

It's hard to know what your last breath will be, but sometimes you can feel the moment lurking, like a shadow looming over you, icy and heavy. Crouched on that rooftop, the air had a strange edge to it, as if each breath cut inside. The mist rising from the streets scratched at your throat, but it wasn't just mist. It was the weight of the inevitable.

You paused, frowning, as the usual swaying of the wooden sign of Benzo's caused your gaze to wander towards the entrance of the shop. And before you could comprehend what was happening, the scream came as a jolt, tearing through the silence of the night. It was as if the sound pierced your skin, sinking into your flesh, clinging to your bones. The kind of scream you can't help but hear, a gasp ripped from a throat. A hopeless, desperate voice that forces you to imagine the pain behind it. One last breath, and a body slumped to the ground.

And then, you caught a glimpse of him. A blurred figure, moving with a ferocity that seemed unnatural, unloading a punch on another uniformed officer, the glare of his gaze utterly animalistic. You cowered over the edge of the building, struggling not to look away, and flinched at the brutality of the pounding. The Enforcers all looked the same, with the metal mask and the blue cap, but the creature that had attacked them was familiar. It seemed less human with every movement, a mass of disfigured flesh and purplish meandering veins, but the curve of its chin, the soft wave of its hair... you had been so close to its face that you had come to memorise it.

Deckard. You recognised the sharp turn of his movements, accentuated in that state. You had felt his violence in your own skin, you knew it. Altered into a violent beast, he still retained some of that cruel strength, no doubt hindered by the way his body had grown and deformed. You saw him ignore the authoritative warning of a third Enforcer, and approach her at superhuman speed. In the blink of an eye, the police collapsed at his feet, like a drunk by a tavern door. Her blood spilled down the wall of the tent, sloshing everywhere, and you followed it with your eyes as it slid between the stones, thick, after Deckard had torn her flesh to the bone.

The force of his attack hit you like a shot in your chest, and you clutched at the concrete beneath your hands as if you could somehow anchor yourself to the past. There was silence in the weathered street. You could only hear your ragged breathing, quickening under your skin, and Deckard's silent footsteps as he disappeared. Night had fallen on Zaun like a blanket on your bed, and you felt it on your shoulders, suffocating you. You looked down again, where the rickety bodies of the agents lay like broken dolls on the pavement, their stiff fingers still gripping their pistols, and you could faintly distinguish the movement of someone approaching them in the shadows.

Measuring his pace, as if calculating every step he took, a fourth Enforcer approached the bodies of the fallen agents, his service gun in his hand, and he hesitated. For a moment you wanted to say something to him, to warn him perhaps, that there was a beast loose in the darkness, tell him to run away while he could, but a movement in the dusk stopped you. He was not alone. Behind him, shoulder to shoulder at the entrance to the shop, two frozen figures watched the scene. You felt a knot in your chest as you recognised them: Vander and Benzo. Their stances looked sharp, like a taut bow about to shoot an arrow, ready to defend themselves if necessary.

You leaned forward, caught between the urge to descend and the helplessness of knowing you could do nothing from up there, but something stopped you. You saw something dancing in the fog, the soft walk of a distorted silhouette slowly approaching from the other side of the street. You tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, a shiver that was not only cold, but that also contained more than just that, the fear locked in your ribcage, rising up to feel it pulsing in your throat.

And then, the glow of embers in the night: a kaleidoscope of shadows and flames, pierced by a scar, so different from its twin that they looked like the eyes of two different people. The face, sharp, pale, and an imperturbable pace, so sure of himself that the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

‘Silco?’ Benzo, hesitant, confused at first, turned rabid as he brandished the old silver candlestick in the direction of the unknown man. ‘You animal,’ he said, coming closer, stumbling, ’go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of.’

You couldn't see the venomous smile that tugged at Silco's thin lips, but you did hear the desperate tone torn from Vander's throat as he raised his hands towards his friend, cuffed, useless, trying to prevent the inevitable, ‘Benzo, stay back!’

‘You never did know when to walk away,’ Silco's voice, velvety, echoed down the street, emptying the silence, and your heart stopped inside your chest as Benzo tried to pounce on him.

The motion was too fast for the human eye. One instant, Benzo had raged forward, steadfast, defying the impassive man of mist. The next, Deckard's raw strength had brought Benzo down in a bundle of violet swirls, the body of the one who had cared for you since you were a child lying lifeless on the ground. The creaking of his bones echoed wet and dry at the same time, like tree branches snapping under too much weight, the blood surging beneath his shoulders, as if fleeing from the veins it was ceasing to flow through.

From the rooftop, it all seemed painfully distant. You brought a trembling hand to your mouth, a scream dying in your throat, watching Deckard keep his hand on Benzo's neck. His crooked fingers seemed to tingle from feeling the violence of death again, waiting, hovering over Benzo to check that he was gone, and you heard Vander's torn whimper, his legs buckling under his weight, under the weight of loss.

‘Stubborn to the end,’ muttered Silco, relishing each word with reverence.

But then the Enforcer left standing dropped his arms, defeated, betrayed, half-face covered by the mask they wore so as not to breathe Zaun's toxic air, and questioned Silco angrily, ‘What the hell have you done? This wasn't the deal!’

The echo of his words expanded, vibrating inside your head as if searching for a place to linger, and you stood still, watching from the shadows as that chilling scene unfolded, kneeling on the edge of the building, utterly overwhelmed.

‘Deal's changed.’

Silco's words reverberated on the cobblestone floor of the poorly lit street, ringing in your ears, as you tried to clear your mind. You took a breath of air, which cut, cold, down your throat, and looked down. You could still hear his voice, ominously calm and low, and the clink of coins clattering on the floor. A deal. Between the topside and the underground. You frowned, realising that there were no fire stairs on that front, and accentuated your frown as you tried to understand why someone from Zaun would want to ally himself with an Enforcer, of all people.

Before you could even try to slide down the wall, however, leaping from window to window as you had done in the past, you heard Deckard's heavy footsteps on the cobblestone floor, and you raised your head. He was slowly approaching Vander, with no sign of a reaction from the owner of The Last Drop, letting out a low growl as the beast finally took up a position in front of him. His arm swung once like the pendulum of an old clock, and the punch blew against Vander's face with a low, muffled thud, causing him to stagger under its weight.

Your throat closed as you watched him anchor his legs to the ground to keep from falling. You saw him drop his shoulders, defeated, as if he had forgotten his own strength, and he stood just as still as you did whilst Deckard shoved his hand through Vander's hair, grabbing him violently and pulling him to the ground. You watched him, because you were unable to do anything else, as if fear had slid liquid across your skin until it solidified around your ankles, the monstrous creature dragging Vander across the ground. 

It was the certainty. Vander, who had picked you up off the street at your weakest moment, who had taught you how to defend yourself, who had shown you the resilience that characterised him like a class while learning how to make Powder's favourite juice, had been reduced to a shadow of his former self by a punch. What could you have done to stop it? To stand between Vander and the one who had abused you as much as he had wanted? To face Deckard's vicious eyes once more, risking losing him all the same?

It wouldn't have helped.

You watched them walk, Silco's figure turning away from the chaos of shadows and death he left behind him, while Deckard followed close behind, gripping Vander's hair with a bruising strength. Your fingers itched. You had braided that hair many times, elaborate and funny designs as you grew up, but those hands were treating it cruelly, a monster freed of any kind of sentience. And it hurt. Watching them disappear into the fog, the Enforcer staggering down the street to the other side, it stung like an open wound. You bit your cheek, holding back the tears that threatened to slide down your skin, and felt the blood on your tongue like a foul aftertaste.

And then you heard it. The cry, choked and broken, that pierced your chest like a sharp knife. You stood up, waking the legs that had felt numb against the concrete edge of the rooftop, and moved on instinct, ignoring the insignificant discomfort of your ankle every time you leaned on it.

It was Vi. You slid across the roof, your feet seeking support on the nearest window ledge, hanging on to it to climb down to the next, and continued descending. You followed the heartbreaking sound of Vi's voice, drowning out her own sobs, and swallowed all the emotions you didn't want to feel, focused on finding your girlfriend. The polish of your nails peeled as you buried your fingers in joints between bricks, clinging to them to keep from falling to the ground, and you closed your eyes tightly before you took the last leap, placing most of your weight on your good foot as you landed on the ground.

You rose to your feet, a shiver running through your skin, as you heard the piercing cry of frustration, and turned to face it with a jolt. It had come from Benzo's shop. Had she been there all that time? You frowned, restless, and turned towards the massacre, clenching your jaw and staring straight ahead. You had to get Vi out of there. That was your priority. You couldn't afford to look at the ground, to collapse. Every breath you took, the air sounded slightly ragged, as if you were about to scream but held back, and you clenched your hands into fists as you dodged the bodies sprawled on the floor.

Your first step into Benzo's shop was hesitant, like an unconfident fawn's. You didn't want to think that it was the first time you would enter the place knowing that its owner would never come back to wait for you behind the counter, but the certainty came back to you again and again, as if brought by the tide. There was almost no light, the little oil lamps that were scattered around the shelves were off, as if they held a mourning you had not yet faced, and the darkness brought with it a feeling of coldness that dug into your bones.

‘Vi,’ you whispered, your choked voice faintly spilling across the room. ‘Vi!’ you repeated, louder.

You heard your name, low, dazed, almost vanishing into thin air, and tried to follow it. It was the storage room. She had been locked in the storeroom.

‘Wait!’ you said, rushing to the counter, ‘I'll get you out!’

You tried to piece together what had happened, your hand searching in the gloom for the spare key Benzo always kept in the wooden drawers. It was in Vi's nature to have tried to fix everything herself. It was inherent in her, to carry as much of the burden as possible so that her siblings —and even you, if you got into trouble— wouldn't have to suffer the consequences. You didn't know how she could have warned the Enforcers, but you knew they had come to Benzo's shop for her. You knew it as clearly as you knew you would have done the same for her if it had happened.

But if Vander had shown up, it was also because he had discovered her. And if he had been wearing the handcuffs, it had been him who had locked her in the storeroom. To stop her from doing another stupid thing. Maybe Vander wasn't her biological father, but a strained smile tugged at your lips at the thought that they were more alike than they allowed themselves to think they were.

When your fingertips brushed against the metal frame of the key, you grabbed onto it, running the few meters between the countertop and the door behind which Vi stood. Your hands trembled as you slid it into its lock, holding your breath as you tried a second time, and you turned it on its axis twice, as you had done so many times in the past, pulling the heavy door off its hinges so that you could wrap your arms around Vi's body.

She clung to you tightly, choking her sobs in the crook of your neck, and the silence grew heavy around you, empty of hope. You felt Vi's hands squeeze your shirt, squeezing your body against hers, her warm tears sliding down your skin. You looked up at the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh between your lips, and ran your hand up her back until it was tangled in her hair. Her shoulders shook under your touch to the rhythm of her own sobs, and you stayed still beside her for as long as she needed, allowing her to collapse.

‘Did you see what happened?’ you finally murmured against her hair, as her breathing slowly regulated.

‘Not much,’ she replied, her voice broken by tears, pulling away from you to rub her hands across her face. ‘Did you?’

‘It was Benzo...’ you began, and you hated the way you faltered before continuing. ‘They killed Benzo. And the Enforcers, some of them...’

‘And Vander?’

‘He's alive,’ you said, sliding your hand down his arm. ‘They took him.’

And your breath hitched as you realised.

He was alive. They had taken him, but he was still alive. Your mind was scrambling, trying to plan an impulse that came to you like a tug at your heart, watching the tears glisten on Vi's freckled cheeks. You couldn't let her lose someone else. Piltover had taken enough from her. Vander was still alive, you told yourself. He was still breathing, his chest was rising and falling, even if he hadn't had the strength to rise and confront them. He was alive, and you still had a chance to fight for him.

Your face took on a more worried tinge, ‘We need to find out where they've taken him.’

Vi looked up at you, her unfocused eyes darting across your face, but she nodded.

‘I know where,’ muttered a voice behind you. You turned abruptly, brow furrowed in distrust, and felt the pain wither against your ribcage. Ekko.

Little Ekko, never as small as he looked at that moment, his shoulders slumped forward and his crystallised gaze fixed on you. You took a step forward, ready to take him in your arms, but it was he who crossed the distance between you, taking refuge in your embrace. The pained expression on his face melted into tears as you snaked your hands around his back, and your own lump in your throat threatened to unravel as you felt him cry against your chest.

‘They killed him,’ he murmured, over and over against your skin, choking back his own tears.

‘I know, kid,’ you replied, unable to understand what you were supposed to do at that moment. You felt the warmth of unshed drops in your own eyes, and fought against them, burying your face in his hair as you felt one slide down your cheek. ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry.’

‘We'll get them, Ekko,’ Vi promised, resting one hand on your back, stroking you comfortingly, and another on the boy's shoulder.

He parted slowly, rubbing his hand over his cheeks as Vi had done a few minutes before, and looked at the two of you, trying to gather the energy to speak. You couldn't stop to think what it must have felt like, watching Benzo die like that and still finding the strength to follow the perpetrators, the murderers, just so you could have a glimmer of hope of getting Vander back. He had been very brave.

‘It should be quick,’ you said, cradling his face in your hand, the pain shining in your gaze. ‘An hour and a half, maybe, tops two hours.’ You slid your gaze slightly to Vi, who was watching you with her brows furrowed in a helpless gesture, and added, ‘If we're not back then, please, go to my Mom's, yeah?’

Your mother would know what to do. She always did. She would take care of Ekko.

‘But...,’ he stammered, and you decided to ignore the way his chin began to tremble again, new tears gathering in his almond-shaped dark eyes.

‘No buts, Ekko,’ you replied, interrupting him gently. You took a breath of air, tangling your fingers in his short pale hair, pulling him to your body, and held him tightly in your arms. ‘I need you to be safe, please,’ you implored.

‘I don't want to lose you,’ he murmured against the fabric of your shirt, and you felt every movement of his lips, your own face struggling not to cry. 

You looked up, blinking back tears, sighing the lump in your throat, ‘You won't,’ you told him, stroking his white curls, ‘you have my word. I'll come back in one piece.’

You forced yourself to pull away from him, your hands on his shoulders, and slid your thumb over his cheeks to wipe away the strands of tears that had leaked from his eyes, trying to muster the courage to flash a crooked smile. It wasn't easy, but you couldn't afford to look weak. Not in front of him, not when he needed you more than ever.

‘Besides,’ you whispered, unbuttoning your waistcoat, holding the pocket watch between your fingers, resting it against his chest in a graceful motion, ‘who's going to look after my watch while I'm gone?’

‘Are you going to let me keep it?’ he asked, cupping it in his two hands as if it were a treasure. He slid his fingertips over the silver curve of its circumference, over the twelve chipped numbers you had drawn above it - all Roman numerals - and looked up at you.

‘Forever,’ you promised, nodding solemnly.

He pounced on you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and you melted into his embrace with closed eyes, memorising every detail. Vi joined in a sigh, wrapping her strong arms around you, and for a moment you remained buried under your own skin, wishing that it was all a nightmare and that when you opened your eyes, the rapid breathing, tears and screams were just part of yet another of your childish games.

Reality was far crueler than a kid's imagination.

You felt Vi's hand intertwined with yours like a shackle pulling you back to consciousness, the faint discomfort of your ankle keeping you sane as she led you to The Last Drop. You hadn't exchanged a word since you had left Ekko in the same room of broken glass you had fled from that morning, hidden in the rafters of the ceiling, and both of remained trapped in your minds, thoughts running at too much speed.

It was difficult to face such a situation. As inhabitants of Zaun, loss was part of your DNA. You came into the world crying for the loss of your future, a future that had been taken from you at the founding of the city, and you mourned the violence that you would inevitably encounter, ever-present in the streets of the underground. Vi had endured the death of her biological parents, as had Powder and the rest of the Vander children, and you had been born without knowing who your father was, growing up surrounded by brutality.

You didn't know what your girlfriend was thinking, but you tried to remember if you'd ever spent enough time in the docks to have been able to investigate the large building that loomed over the water, as if it were floating. Ekko had claimed to see the man of mist and Deckard disappear within its tall brick walls, but had refused to come any closer. You had left a soft kiss on his forehead as a farewell, and in a glance you and Vi had known what to do.

Vander had trained you for such a moment. He had spent years teaching you how to defend yourselves, practising boxing with you, training you to take care of your own. You had always assumed it would be complicated, any fight was. But as much as Vander had been a proponent of using violence, in his past, you had also learned peace. It was clear that Silco would not accept a dialogue, a bargain of any kind. He had negotiated with that Enforcer for Vander. Vander had been his target.

The importance of acting was to do it right. And if you sneaked in and out, as you'd done so many times before to get some food, you'd all sleep on the top floor of The Last Drop that night, listening to Vander's snoring, the sheets moving every time Powder rolled over in her bed, and Vi's body warm against yours.

The bar was dead silent when you slipped in through the back door, and you assumed Vander would have closed up before he went to find Vi. You waited a few moments for her as she went inside to fetch the gauntlets Vander always kept hanging over the counter, and slipped down the stairs to the small room in the basement of the building when she returned with a shake of her head. Someone had taken them.

‘Vi?’ uttered Claggor, turning to you as she opened the door. He added your name, avoiding the hint of a question. You tried to force a smile as you realised that they had always assumed that if one of you was there, the other would appear shortly after.

Vi came down the stairs two at a time, ignoring the two boys, and slid her eyes around the room, searching for the gauntlets, ‘Where are the...?’

You sat on one of the steps, listening to the soft thump of Powder's body as she pounced on her older sister, and pulled your trousers up to your knee, untying your laces at full speed. Whenever Vi was set on something, she acted on instinct and with great speed. You didn't know if she would look for something more —except perhaps other weapons— but you delegated finding them to her. You had little time to slow down the way your ankle was going to worsen its condition irremediably in the remainder of the night.

Nor did you have much more strength than she did to explain what had happened.

You pulled off the bandages you carried in your pocket, resting them on the old wood of the stairs, as you heard Vi's quickened breathing echo through the room, pulling your injured foot up a step to remove your boot. You looked up when you heard Mylo protest, ‘Hey, those are Vander's,’ he said, grabbing Vi by the wrist. ‘Slow down. What is going on?’

‘Benzo's dead,’ she muttered, and you closed your eyes for a moment, before continuing to untie the tight knot in your shoes. 

‘Dead?’ Claggor repeated, and you wondered if you were better off waiting outside. You removed your sock, shook your head, took a breath of air, and picked up the bandages, placing your foot on the knee of your other leg.

‘They took Vander.’

‘Who took Vander?’ added Claggor, as you began to wrap the bandage around your ankle, taut, inflexible on your skin, tense enough so that when you came back your joints wouldn't resent it. You did it angrily, trying to bury all the emotions you had managed to control so far.

‘I don't know,’ you heard Vi reply, and her voice sounded slightly closer as she turned to include you in the conversation, ’we're gonna help him.’

‘We're going with you,’ Mylo replied, almost as if he was hurt that it hadn't occurred to you earlier.

You put your sock back on when the bandages felt like a second skin over your foot, and tied your boots tightly. A bloody sprain wasn't going to stop you from rescuing Vander. It wasn't going to stop you from bringing him back, safely, home. You weren't going to let it. You looked up, sighing, and tried to intervene.

‘Whatever killed Benzo...’ you said, and your breath caught in your throat.

‘It was nothing like I've ever seen,’ Vi continued, and her voice trembled as much as yours. ‘It tore him apart.’

You saw the way her shoulders tensed before even the first sob slipped from her mouth, but you didn't have a chance to approach her before her brothers, who embraced her warmly, all united by stubbornness and impotence. Vi put her hands to her face, covering the obstinate tears she did not want to let fall down her cheeks, and you knew she had come to the same conclusion as you. They were both going to want to go with you, and you were going to need their help, no matter how much Vi wanted to keep them safe.

‘You're not doing this alone,’ Claggor stated, determined.

‘He's our father too,’ Mylo added, his hand tracing circles on Vi's back. ’Do we know where they took him?’

‘Ekko followed them,’ you interjected, clearing your throat as Vi stowed what her brothers had left on the table in one of the backpacks you always left lying around. ‘The old cannery next to the docks. He said...’

You looked up from the backpack, calming yourself once you realised it had been the boys who had taken the gauntlets, but the muscles in your back tensed again as you noticed Powder standing in front of you, a look of determination on her face, and a suitcase in her hands. Of course she wanted to go with you too.

Vi turned to you as she heard you hesitate, and exhaled an exhausted sigh at the sight of her sister.

‘I need you to sit this one out, Powder,’ she asked, approaching her.

‘What?’ her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and your heart crumpled in your chest. Ekko had been easier to convince because he had seen what had happened. He was shocked, willing to wait for you to return. But Powder had always followed his sister's example, longing for a chance to show her worth and to stop being treated like a child.

‘You're not coming,’ and Powder's expression was worse than if she'd received a slap in the face.

‘I'm not afraid,’ she replied, desperate within the quietness of her response.

You couldn't intervene on this occasion. Nor were Mylo and Claggor going to. It went beyond their sense of responsibility, this was a blood sister fight to see which of the two would get their way. And the older one always had the upper hand.

‘It's too dangerous,’ Vi added, and you didn't have to see the gleam in her eye to know that she needed Powder to listen to her, to understand why she was asking so much of her.

‘But families stick together,’ Powder continued, accentuating his frown, ’you said it yourself.’

‘I know what I said...’

‘I want to fight,’ she announced, and the freckles creased on her cheeks as she looked up, raging, at Vi. ‘I can help.’

‘You're not ready,’ Vi replied, and her sharp tone cut over Powder's determination, shattering what hope remained. You saw how Vi held her breath for a moment, regretting her choice of words, and tried to correct them in a whisper. ‘You're all I have left,’ she said, resting the palm of her hand against Powder's cheek. ‘I can't lose you.’

‘Here,’ you uttered, in a soft, conciliatory tone, approaching them with one of the flares you had in a box under the stairs. It was a blue smoke one, a symbol you had talked about more than once with Powder, making jokes about the colour of her hair.

Vi took it gently from your hands, handing it to her little sister, ‘If they come for you, take this and run,’ she whispered, her gaze locked on Powder's pale pink eyes. ‘Wherever you are, light it up and I'll find you.’

Eyes shining, you almost couldn't hear the last words, a gentle ‘I promise’ murmured against Powder's face as she leaned down to rest her forehead against her sister's, memorising the warmth of her body before parting. You turned, beckoning Mylo and Claggor up the stairs, and you followed, leaving the sisters a few more seconds together.

The mood seemed somewhat subdued, Mylo's mouth closed in an altogether uncharacteristic muteness, and you peeled back your lips to make some comment to cheer them. The words died in your throat when you reached the landing, suddenly surrounded by Claggor's arms, and you held your breath in surprise.

‘I'm sorry,’ he said, and Mylo repeated it, both of them hugging you.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of weakness, and let out a choked sob against Claggor's shoulder, still feeling the lump in your throat.

‘It's not your fault,’ you murmured back, ’it's not.’

‘It's not yours either,’ Vi uttered, and you turned your face towards her, who had just appeared through the door.

You tried to curl your lips into a grateful smile, your eyelids quivering to keep from shedding a tear, ‘I know.’

But it wasn't true, because you could never find out what would have happened if you had come down from that rooftop before Silco appeared, if you had warned the Enforcers of Deckard's presence. It was already in the past, you had lost your opportunity. Maybe, if you had confronted them while Vander and Benzo were still conscious, everything would be fine. Maybe your presence would had led them to fight back. And that was something Vi didn't know either.

You trailed behind, but kept pace as Vi led you through the crooked streets of Zaun, turning corners and ignoring drunken men, towards the city borders. The docks were not a highly desirable place, though one to which Madam sent many prostitutes on the days of disembarkation. Most traders transacted goods with the topside, and its bright and shiny harbours, but those who dealt in coal and alcohol had to make a stop at the Lanes, and the black market in its streets.

That building, however, looked even darker in the moonlight, the mist rising from the water creating a cloak of eerie mystery around it. You walked around its perimeter in a couple of minutes, trying to figure out which entrance was the most secluded but best accessible, and it was your keen eye that located an open window on the first floor. You climbed onto Claggor's shoulders, a rope at your shoulder, and clung tightly to one of the pipes, checking with a smirk that it would be able to support your weight.

Of the four of you, you were the best at climbing. You were elusive, small and slender for your age, even more so than the children of Zaun, no doubt a consequence of the fact that on many days your mother had been unable to offer you food to put in your mouth. The need to hide had made you learn to duck between the rooftops of the city, and though Vi was better at leaping from building to building, you were certainly the sneakiest of the bunch.

You even seemed to glide along the facades, you'd been told, clawing at bricks and picking out which spots on the wall were best to rest your limbs on, as you were doing at the moment. You panted as you managed to get your arm over the window sill, sliding your leg over so that you could slide into the building, and held your breath as you glanced down the dark corridor. No one seemed to be there. You grabbed the coiled rope you had slung over your shoulder and began to drag it down the window, waiting for Vi's two tugs before you crouched on the floor and braced your feet against the wall.

You held on, with the rope wrapped around your waist and tugging at it while the others climbed, and left it hidden under the window once everyone had climbed up. In case any guards found it, they wouldn't know where to start looking, and you doubted you would need it to escape. Vander was too heavy and too weakened to get out the way you had come in.

You scanned the corridors of the warehouse, rusty platforms stacked in a narrow space, and hurried to take up position behind Claggor, the four of you forming a line with Vi in front and Mylo last, slouching forward under the riveted iron pipe railings. Vi signalled to you when she realised that there was a poorly lit room on the upper floor, and you all hurried up the stairs, still crouching. 

When you reached the other side of the corridor, Vi leaned forward, peering quickly, and turned to you with a triumphant smile, voicelessly pronouncing that Vander was there. You rested a hand on Claggor's shoulder as you felt Mylo's on your waist, and you advanced at a rapid pace until you reached the room, where Vander sat, defeated, in a big iron chair, all his limbs imprisoned by metal straps, fastened by padlocks.

You saw him spit blood, his broad chest straining to breathe out a hoarse cough, and he whispered a soft ‘Vi,’ his unfocused eyes closing as he felt his eldest daughter's arms slipping around his shoulders in a hug. His tone became more urgent as he realised you were really there, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘We're breaking you out,’ Vi explained, as you picked up the backpack she had left on the ground.

You opened it, kneeling on the ground, and pulled out the lock-picking device you had built for Mylo. It didn't always work, but it was the best you had. ‘Mylo,’ you called, and tossed the gadget to him.

‘On it!’

You turned towards the door, rising to your feet to check that no one was coming in, your fingers tingling to check the time on a watch you no longer had, but you froze when you heard Vander's husky voice.

‘How... how did you get in?’ he said, stuttering hurriedly over the words that were building up in his mouth. ‘There's guards everywhere.’

Oh God. Of course it had been a trap. 

‘It was easy,’ you heard Vi reply, her tone losing its strength as the realisation dawned on her. ‘We found an open window and...’

You rushed over to the backpack, hastily pulling out the weapons that Claggor and Mylo had gathered, as you saw Claggor's figure hurrying to grab his favourite dagger, trying to release one of Vander's wrists from its prison. The man made eye contact with you, Vi stepping behind you to watch the door, and you held back a sob as you heard Vander again, ‘You have to get out. Now.’

No. You weren't going to leave him again. You weren't going to fail at the same task twice. There had to be time, you could do it. Silco's men probably hadn't even realised you were in yet, you had a chance, you could....

But you heard a clap reverberate through the warehouse, soft and dangerous, and your breath caught in your throat.

Silco.

‘Welcome,’ he murmured, his voice flowing like a river down its course, the sound of his rhythmic clapping coming hopelessly closer to you, ‘you have my congratulations,’ you tried to ignore it, to keep the memory of his tone from bringing back the vision of Benzo's body falling to the ground, but it came to you with the force of a storm, leaving you breathless, ‘but i'm afraid this will be a very short reunion.’

You refused to turn toward him, your hands instinctively gripping Vander's gauntlets, and Vi positioned herself at your side, shooting a defiant glare at the man of mist as she held out her arms for you to place Vander's weapons on her.

‘Have you heard the rumours?’ he added, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, ‘Vander the coward fled town with his children. And they were never seen again.’

You finished knotting the second gauntlet to your girlfriend's wrist, the straps stiff but comfortable on her pale skin, and exchanged a glance with her. You were going to make it. You rested your hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly, and she gave you a fragile but sincere smile, real, just for you. Vi was the best at boxing. You took a quick glance back, your gaze hardening as you saw that Silco was surrounded by his followers, a bunch of buff men and women, all of them ready to fight. You sighed, determined. If there was anyone who could take on a man two heads taller, and visibly stronger, it was her.

You moved your hand up to the nape of her neck, stroking the lower part of her hair, and closed your eyes as you rested your forehead on his. It was a good-luck caress, a wish to go home, a temporary goodbye. She took a breath of air, parting from you reluctantly, as she always did, and positioned herself at your back. You saw the way Claggor's dagger broke from too much pressure, and heard Vi's first step toward the door.

‘Claggor, see if you can find another way out of here,’ you ordered him, rotating your shoulders. You saw him nod, watching out of the corner of your eye as Mylo wrestled with the device in the lock on Vander's right leg. Claggor nodded. Vander looked at you, concerned.

‘You don't have to do this,’ he said, but you knew he was talking to Vi.

‘Yes I do,’ she replied, determined, resolved.

Your priority was to get Vander out of there, to get everyone home safely. You ignored Vander's strangled gasp as Vi's quickened footsteps echoed over the metal lattice floor of the corridor, and you brought your hands to your head, grabbing the two long metal bobby pins you wore in your hair, both sharp and U-shaped. You crouched down next to Vander's other leg, and picked up the padlock. Inventions were your thing, you had to figure out how to open it.

You looked over your shoulder when you heard a thud behind you, momentarily startled, but smiled as you saw Vi, exultant in the middle of the bridge, and in the floor the body of the giant tattooed man you had seen when you turned around. That was your girl. You inserted one of the hairpins into the lock hole, noticing how Vander relaxed minimally against the seat as he saw that his daughter was perfectly capable, and then turned the other, recreating the teeth of a key. You imagined the mechanism under the padlock's metal cover, turning its gears to loosen.

Everything was going to be all right.

‘Mylo,’ you heard Vander, and saw out of the corner of your eye that Mylo had slipped the device to the floor. ‘You can do this.’

You looked over at Claggor, your fingers struggling against the lock, and saw that he had found a crack in the wall. There were enough tools in the backpack for him to open a hole. Perfect. You took a breath of air, forcing your wrist to turn the downward facing bobby pin all the way around, and the locking bow opened with a soft snap. You removed the hairpins, withdrawing the lock, and Vander rested his leg on the ground.

‘We're gonna get you out,’ you murmured, crouching down next to Mylo. ‘Hey, Myls,’ you said, laying your hands on top of his, helping him move them nimbly, ‘big breath.’

You felt him inhaling briefly, closing his eyes to feel the gears of the device against his palm, and you exchanged a glance as the smooth sound was repeated, releasing Vander's other leg.

‘We got this,’ he whispered, more encouraged.

‘Of course we do,’ you replied, placing a hand on Vander's knee to pull yourself to your feet.

Vi's soft panting continued to echo off the walls of the warehouse, to the rhythm of the punches of her gauntlet-covered fists as they impacted against the bodies of Silco's minions, and you looked back once more. Vi was rising against a bare-chested man, her shoulders tense, turned so that she could deliver another blow.

You focused on the lock on Vander's wrist as Mylo did the same on the other side of the chair, holding your hairpins tightly, moving your hands as fast as you could. You listened to your heart pounding in your ears, for a moment drowning out all sound from outside, like every time you secluded yourself in your studio, until you heard the first howl.

It reverberated in your mind, emptying it of all thought, like a shadow stretching over you. Deckard. You turned, eyes widening in horror, the mass of flesh that was the boy who had once abused you looming over Vi, and for a moment your heart stopped in your chest. In the darkness, you were only able to make out the fluorescent violet color of his veins, Vi's light pink hair, facing each other. You had seen what Deckard was capable of. You weren't going to let Vi end up like Benzo and those Enforcers.

‘Mylo, hurry,’ Vander pleaded, as you twisted the hairpins urgently, releasing the lock as soon as it gave way.

You turned toward the backpack, watching in horror as Vi leapt toward Deckard, and grabbed the first thing you saw. A piece of pipe, thin and hard against your hand, long enough that you could strike without getting too close. It wasn't a sword, but it would have to do. You looked up, checking that Claggor had already begun removing bricks from the wall, and advanced toward the deck, ignoring the way Deckard had grabbed Vi by the neck.

‘Silco, let her go!’ shouted Vander, slamming his free hand on the armrest of his chair. ‘This is between you and me!’

‘You had your chance,’ Silco replied, not even flinching.

Vi coughed, a choked, desperate sound, followed by a scraped gasp in her throat, seeking oxygen, and you slid onto the metal walkway. Deckard was barely aware that you had moved behind him, too focused on snatching every last breath of air from your girlfriend's lungs, and he dropped her against the ground as you jumped, unloading the pipe against his skull with all the force you had.

Deckard grumbled, an anguished scream spilling from his mouth, and you let go of the pipe, running to Vi. You slung one of her arms over your shoulders, one of yours around her waist, and carried her back to the room where Vander was, panting, the pain in your ankle beginning to awaken. You gritted your teeth, leaving Vi on the floor, leaning against the wall, and charged over to the sliding iron door, doing your best to close it. When you felt the door slam as it hit the wall, blocking Deckard's access, you pushed past the latch, collapsing against the floor, your shoulder pressed up to the door, just in case.

“You did good,” Vander whispered, looking at you, at Vi, his gaze clouded with admiration.

You merely nodded, exhausted, as Claggor continued to throw bricks, opening a large hole in the wall. You felt light, despite your tiredness, and leaned your head against the door. Mylo was struggling with the last lock, but you knew he was going to make it. You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a heartbeat, sighing, a moment of quiet before the first bang came. It echoed through the room, metallic and dry, and you felt it coursing through your body. Deckard was trying to reach you all.

You watched as Vi sat up, the one fist that still retained a gauntlet resting on the ground to stand, and tried to crawl to sit beside you, her chest rising and falling at full speed. There was only waiting, you knew. A slow, agonizing wait, until the boys were done with their part of the mission. You felt Vi lean her head on your shoulder, your bodies moving in time to Deckard's pounding, straining against the door to try and hold on as long as it took, and you clenched your jaw.

You were going to make it. A knock, a furtive glance at Mylo, and you heard the soft sound of the lock being released. You were going to make it. One punch, your shoulders tensed, and Vander was finally free. You. Were. Going. To. Make. It. One punch. A gentle squeeze on Vi's free hand. And Claggor finished tore a hole in the wall. You stood up, advancing forward, and then, just silence.

Suddenly, an explosion. You stopped, alert, your eyes wide, and turned to Vi. She had the same terrified expression on her face, one hand resting on the door to pull herself to her feet. You listened carefully over your ragged breathing, your ankle throbbing, your throat dry. Another explosion, closer this time. You turned to Vander, frowning, looking at him as if he could have some kind of answer. He extended his hand toward you, gesturing for Vi to hurry towards them.

A third explosion, and the world around you ceased to exist.

The crackling of the fire, soft and malleable in your ears, was what greeted you when you woke up. Your mouth felt dry, ragged, as if you had swallowed dust, but you opened it anyway, taking in a big breath of air. The oxygen burned your tongue, your eyes still closed, and you tried to move your hands, but you were unable to. You were caught.

The weight of certainty hovered over your ribcage, imprisoning it against the ground, and you moved your head on the cement beneath you, the ground warm against your forehead. You breathed in a second time, your respiration becoming more erratic, and then it hit you. Ashes. There were ashes everywhere, flames eating up the space in the room as if to make you disappear.

You opened your eyes, hearing a faint cough somewhere, and tried to focus your gaze on some point, but you saw only shadows and fire, dancing over you, coming closer, taunting you, and then going away again. You turned your head, looking for some familiar figure, Vander's comforting gaze in the darkness, Vi's soothing touch on your skin, but you were alone. You clenched your jaw, trying to fight against the stone that held you prisoner on the ground, but you found it impossible.

And then, a cry. In a déjà vu, you stirred again under your stone prison, turning toward the desperate sound of Vi's voice. You couldn't see her, but you knew she was there. Your chest was beginning to ache under the weight of the stone, each time managing to breathe less and less air, but you gritted your teeth, struggling, and managed to get a hand out. You mumbled your girlfriend's name, calling her name amidst the chaos, and sobbed when you got no response.

It seemed like the end. You felt dirty, drenched in sweat, stiff under the night of Zaun, and you were unable to perceive your legs, dumb under the stone. They were bricks, probably. Or the roof, perhaps. Snippets of the explosion came back to your memory, the dull sound against your ears, the brutality of the shockwave, and you looked straight ahead again. Vi was there, somewhere, and you had to get to her.

You fought against the cement block above you, trying to move it with your hips, with your arms, doing everything you could to get out of there, until you heard your name. In a wail, low and desperate, to your right. You turned, ignoring the laceration from the edge of the stone on your torso, and saw her. Her clear, frightened gaze, calling for you, the desperate gesture of her body. She was trapped under the metal door.

A growl, a large, dark silhouette in the smoke, and pounding. But you ignored them. You tried to turn a little more, struggling to reach Vi, your fingernails clawing at the ground and the ashes under your hand, dragging you towards her. Then the floor began to shake under your fingers, the ringing in your ears intensifying. The door imprisoning Vi flew off, and she crawled over to you, her hand outstretched in search of yours.

You stretched out your arm to reach for her, flinching as you heard a pained shout from Vander, extending your fingers, reaching out as far as you could for her, but before you could finally touch her fingers, a monstrous figure loomed over both of you, snarling, and grabbed Vi's body, leaping out of the building.

Your hand fell to the ground, defeated, and the walls that were left standing shook with the force of another explosion. You closed your eyes, stubborn, and shook yourself. You had to get to Vi. You had to find her, and Vander, and together you would search for Mylo and Claggor. You would return home. Nothing would have been in vain.

The flames crackled louder around you, almost warning you that getting up was a bad idea, but you ignored them. You weren't going to listen to them. You rested one hand on the ground, the other pulling the stone above you. You weren't strong enough to be able to lift it, but maybe you could wriggle out from under it. You were good at crawling, you could do it. You heard a cry of pain, distant but sharp against your chest, wholly yours. Your shoulder began to burn.

The first drop landed on your cheek. For a moment you thought it was blood, thick and dark against your skin, but then another fell on your chest, light and cool, and a next, and a next. Rain. It was raining. Water, cold and clear, that made the fire sizzle around you. You breathed a sigh of relief as you rested your shoulder on the ground, the dust and rain soothing the burns that threatened to sear your flesh, and leaned forward again. One arm in front of the other, ignoring the pain, pulling yourself back up as you fell to the ground, slowly and achingly moving forward.

Your legs wobbled as you tried to stand up. The bandages on your ankle were soaked in blood, which slid down from your thigh, staining everything in its path. Your torso was bruised, throbbing against your hand, and your ears were ringing. You leaned against the stone that had been above you, towering over it, and blinked, sliding your gaze around the room.

And then you saw them, Mylo and Claggor. Buried under the pieces of ceiling that had collapsed on top of you, motionless, drained of blood. Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a step toward them, a sob piercing your throat. There was nothing to be done, you knew. Still you knelt beside them, stroking Claggor's face, running your mangled fingers through Mylo's hair. You couldn't leave them. They were your family, you had to take care of them.

Powder's desperate scream echoed across the starry sky of Zaun, and your heart pulled forward in your ribs, your head turning toward the giant gap in the wall. Powder. She was supposed to be safe, in The Last Drop. She wasn't supposed to see any of this. She was supposed to wait for you to come back, in a couple of hours, and hold each other, perhaps commenting on it all as a successful anecdote. Mourning Benzo, honoring his memory.

Powder wasn't supposed to be there.

You rose to your feet once more, brow furrowed in concentration, gritting your teeth as you braced your injured leg on the floor, crawling, leaning against the walls to get out of there. You walked the metal corridors of the deserted building, of the cemetery of concrete and fire, descending the stairs one at a time, holding back the screams of pain that threatened to spill out of your mouth. You had to get to her, protect her, look for Vi, find Vander. Together you'd be okay. You always had been. You could make it through, with Ekko, with your mother's help. You would make it. You could fix it.

The night air greeted you like a slap in the face, the empty street echoing your footsteps. No one was there. You had heard Powder, you were sure. But she wasn't there. In a haze of light and shadow, you saw a body on the ground. Everything was gone, but there was another corpse right in front of you. You approached slowly, limping, gasping for breath, until you were able to recognize his face.

It was not Deckard, as you had wished. It was Vander's bruised and deformed face, turned into a monstrous beast, the violet blood spilled under his body. You put a hand to your mouth, falling to your knees beside him, collapsing. And the lump in your throat finally burst, a scream leaving your mouth, resting your forehead on his chest. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

You looked up, the loneliness caressing an uneasy shiver across your skin, and stared before you, seeing nothing.

Sometimes your last breath doesn't belong to you. It is stolen, ripped away by others with firm and merciless hands. One second, one heartbeat, one desperate look. One second, one heartbeat, and life leaves your eyes. Other times you hold your breath, the emptiness opening in your chest, deepening as you try to contain it. You tell yourself it's the end, that you need it to be. But it isn't. You end up breathing. You let the oxygen invade you again, even though it feels like a weight on your chest. You keep breathing, even though you wish you weren't.

⠀⠀𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.⠀( send an ask or comment under the series to be part of it , just if you're going to interact with it ━reblogging with feedback. )⠀@im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @celestialzdiviner , @corpsebridenightamare , @louissst28 , @astr1dblogs , @notsolarry , @starlostastronaut , @yoonkinii , @padsfirewhisky , @luvrluvrr , @ssqra , @darkmoonchic , @urlocalsabito , @spicetouched , @astrxwitch , @deadlynightshadebylana , @bachirastoe , @pickmmeup , @your-scarlett-world

ㅤㅤ© dilemmars ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[tyrannosaurus-maxy]

🔈🔊 Maxy & his boys 🔊🔈

My entry for #MaxFest2024! Made to celebrate Max and all his various pairings (ft. a 20 second outro dedicated to Max's WAP because I kept finding filthy REAL LIFE quotes).

how many max pairs can you count in here? the list + something i like about them can be found under the cut:

***

Fernando: Fernando adopting a child when he first came into the paddock when everyone else was 🔪🔪. Also part of Max's old man collection

Charles: equally competitive equally deranged underneath the clothes they are the same

Carlos : baby's first situationship

Daniel: Peacock!Daniel and then Max going 🤩

Martin: dutch boys growing up famous together

GP: that commanding voice + max listening so beautifully when push comes to shove. you can't convince me that isn't brat max. old(er) man #2

Lando: gen z streamers!!

Nico H: come on anyone calling Max "hot stuff", "honey", "little pancake" gets rights

Liam: No words just the heart-eyes Liam makes when he sees max

DC: of course he fucked that old man (#3)

the RBR garage: I still remember the glory days of the 2022 RBR g******* it's still an annual tradition now

Checo: sometimes cute sometimes fun sometimes strangely horny

George: there's a tension there. also winning mentality 😭

Oscar: talented boys who collectively give no fucks

Lewis: can you forget the nipple piercing jokes the podium champagne spraying

Alex: i miss them hating on marketing together

Luke Crane: probably not the only person who has said he wants to make love to max to his face. on live stream. but may be the only guy max has offered to spank. on live stream.🧐

Team Redline: all the shenanigans, always chaos on stream

and of course Boy Car: the bestest boy out of all of them

***

If you've stayed this long, tell me who is your favourite max pair?

Many thanks to Jo and Jam for their patience in watching me learn how to edit on a new program just for this 1 minute long video. And to bean for organising the fest!

I hope you guys enjoy!

[reidmarieprentiss]

Capturing the Queen

Summary: You are Alex's daughter, Spencer is a fan of the whole family.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, swimsuits, swimming, alcohol consumption, mild injury/hospitalization of Alex, you are the adoptive daughter, chess playing

Word count: 19.6k

a/n: live laugh love alex blake !! would be honored if she adopted me ,, she seems like she would be the coolest mom ,, also lowkey wanted her to have a chance at motherhood after you know...

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (f), protected PinV, fingering (f) nipple play (f&m), strip chess

In the softly lit hospital room, the steady beeping of the heart monitor played a continuous, albeit unsettling, rhythm. Spencer Reid sat beside Alex Blake's hospital bed, his hands folded tightly in his lap, his eyes tracing the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, a stark contrast to the usually composed genius. Every so often, he'd run a hand through his hair, a nervous tick that had become more pronounced under stress.

The door creaked open, and a young woman stepped in, her presence like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through heavy clouds. Spencer looked up, his expression full of curiosity and concern. The woman's eyes, remarkably stunning, scanned the room before settling on Spencer with an inquisitive tilt of her head.

"Hi, you must be Spencer," you introduced yourself, your voice a comforting melody amidst the sterile echoes of the hospital. Spencer stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, his movements awkward in his urgency.

"Yes, I—I'm Spencer Reid. You're Alex's...?" he trailed off, not wanting to assume.

"Daughter," You finished for him with a gentle smile. "I was away for work, I just got back and came straight here to see how she's doing. So… how is she?"

Spencer's eyes shifted back to Alex, lying so still on the hospital bed. "She's stable now, but it was a close call," he admitted, the weight of the situation momentarily tightening his voice. "She saved two children from that unsub before—"

"Before she got hurt," You interjected, nodding slowly, your eyes itching with tears that you fought to keep at bay. "That sounds just like her. Always putting others first."

You both watched Alex, the silence between you both filled with shared worry and respect for the woman who had impacted your lives so profoundly. You moved closer, taking the seat Spencer had vacated, reaching out to gently touch your mom’s hand.

Spencer watched intently as the familial bond unfolded before him, the tender gestures between Alex and her daughter revealing a side of Alex he hadn't known. There was an unmistakable warmth in your interaction, a stark contrast to the clinical, often impersonal environment of the BAU.

"I wasn’t aware Alex had a daughter," he admitted, a sheepish tone coloring his confession as he brushed over his hair, a clear sign of his discomfort with the oversight.

"Ah, yes," you replied with a gentle nod, understanding his surprise. "That sounds like mom, never mixing business with her personal life." Your voice held a note of pride, acknowledging Alex's meticulous compartmentalization of her work and home life.

"I suppose that makes sense," Spencer responded, his voice thoughtful, reflecting his acceptance of Alex's privacy.

"I don’t take offense to it, it’s okay. You can relax," you reassured him, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth, trying to ease the tension you saw etched on his face.

Spencer let out a deep breath, more for show than necessity, his hand passing through his hair yet again in another rare display of vulnerability. "I’m sorry, I’m a little shaken up," he confessed, the ordeal of the day catching up to him now that the immediate danger had passed.

"I can imagine," you said, your voice softening with empathy. "Do you want to go home and rest? I can stay with her." Your offer was sincere, wanting to provide him some relief from the harrowing day.

"That would be great, thank you," Spencer accepted gratefully, relief visible in his eyes as he prepared to take your advice.

"My pleasure, have a nice rest, Spencer," you called out softly as he gathered his belongings, your voice carrying the warmth and assurance that he needed as he stepped out of the hospital room, leaving you to watch over Alex in the quiet of the night.

—

The morning light filtered through the blinds of the hospital room, casting a gentle glow on the figures within. Alex Blake's eyes fluttered open, and upon seeing you seated by her side, a wave of relief washed over her face, transforming into a grateful smile.

"How was the lecture?" Alex asked with a hint of her usual humor, her voice still a bit groggy from the effects of the medication and the ordeal she had endured.

"A lot better than getting stabbed!" you teased, your tone light and playful, aiming to bring a little levity to the situation. "Do you need anything?" you added, shifting in your chair to give her your full attention.

"Definitely more drugs, this hurts like a bitch," Alex responded half-jokingly, grimacing slightly as she tried to adjust her position on the hospital bed.

"I'll fetch a nurse, maybe if you put on a nice face they'll give you the good stuff," you winked at her, standing up and stretching a bit before heading toward the door to find a nurse.

The relationship you shared with your mom was built on a foundation of deep mutual respect and love, interspersed with a healthy dose of humor that helped you both through tough times. As you walked out of the room to seek assistance, you reflected on how grateful you were to have such a strong and courageous woman as your mother.

As you navigated the quiet hospital corridors on your mission to procure some relief for your mother, you unexpectedly bumped into Spencer Reid. He was holding a stack of papers while walking, likely some research, but he looked up with a slight start when he saw you.

"Well hello, fancy seeing you here," you greeted, a light chuckle escaping your lips at the coincidence.

"Oh, hi. How is she?" Spencer asked, his concern genuine, his brow furrowing slightly as he adjusted his stance to face you more directly.

"Awake and asking for drugs. I don’t suppose you’re the kind of doctor who could administer those?" you joked, an amused sparkle in your eyes.

"No, most definitely not. But I can find one for you," Spencer replied promptly, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile at your playful comment.

"I won’t say no to that, thanks," you said, appreciative of his offer to help. With a nod, Spencer turned to leave, presumably in search of a medical doctor.

You returned to Alex’s room, a smile tugging at your lips as you recounted the encounter to her. "I ran into Spencer, and he’s finding a doctor for us," you informed her, watching as a knowing look passed over her features.

"So you met Spencer?" Alex’s voice held a hint of mischief, her eyes twinkling despite her discomfort.

"I did indeed, he is exactly as you described him," you confirmed, settling back into the chair beside her bed.

"Charmingly awkward and annoyingly intelligent?" she quipped, a faint laugh accompanying her words.

"From what I have observed, yes," you agreed, playing along with her characterization.

"You know… he's only got about five years on you," Alex added nonchalantly, but with a teasing tone that made you raise an eyebrow.

"That’s amazing, Alex, what’s cooking in your scary noggin?" you asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious about her sudden interest in the age difference.

"Nothing, my sweet pea, nothing at all," she responded, her expression feigning innocence which didn't fool you one bit.

"I don't believe you for a sec—" you started to say, but were interrupted as the door swung open.

The doctor walked in with Spencer in tow, cutting off your playful interrogation. Spencer gave a small wave, looking slightly embarrassed to be caught in the middle of your family moment, but also relieved to have found the help Alex needed. As the doctor approached the bed to discuss pain management, you exchanged a grateful glance with Spencer, feeling oddly reassured by his presence in this unsettling environment.

After the doctor had left, having administered the necessary medication and made some adjustments to Alex’s treatment plan, Spencer lingered in the room. His analytical mind shifted into high gear as he began to run through his own checklist to ensure that Alex was indeed okay.

He approached the bedside, his eyes scanning the various monitors displaying Alex’s vital signs. “Her heart rate seems stable, and her oxygen levels are good,” Spencer muttered more to himself than anyone else, his fingers hovering just above the data without touching anything.

Turning to Alex, Spencer’s demeanor softened. “How are you feeling now? Any dizziness, nausea, or excessive pain?” he inquired, his voice filled with genuine concern. He knew the importance of patient self-reporting in assessing pain management efficacy.

Alex managed a small smile, appreciating Spencer's thoroughness. “I’m okay, thanks to you and your timely intervention,” she said, her voice still weak but steadier than before.

Spencer nodded, satisfied with her response but still visibly concerned. He then pulled up a chair, positioning himself where he could keep an eye on both Alex and the door. “I’ll stay for a bit, just to make sure everything settles well. I read some recent studies on post-operative care that suggest monitoring for at least an hour after new medication is administered can drastically reduce complications,” he explained, crossing his arms as he settled into the role of a temporary guardian.

“You always were the diligent one,” Alex quipped, her tone light despite her condition. Her eyes met yours, a spark of mischief in them suggesting she enjoyed seeing this side of Spencer, which she so fondly teased him about.

Spencer, slightly embarrassed by the praise, shifted uncomfortably but smiled. He was about to comment back before you spoke up from your chair. 

"You were right in your assessment, Mom, annoyingly intelligent," you teased, glancing over at Spencer, whose face fell into an expression of mock offense at the jest.

"What?" he managed, his voice laced with feigned indignity, which only added to the humor of the moment.

"Oh shush, you," Alex intervened gently, her voice carrying a hint of laughter despite her condition. She turned to Spencer, adding, "You’ll have to excuse her rude behavior; she’s adopted, didn't get the nice gene I carry."

"Wow, Alex—" Spencer started, his tone a blend of amusement and shock, but he was cut off by your cackle.

"She’s not even kidding! I was adopted!" you exclaimed, joining in the lighthearted teasing, your laughter filling the room and lightening the atmosphere.

Spencer looked from you to Alex and back again, his initial surprise morphing into delight at the easy flow of humor and conversation. A genuine smile spread across his face as he shook his head, his earlier embarrassment forgotten in the face of such familial warmth.

The playful banter continued to fill the room, bringing lightness and smiles to an otherwise dreary hospital setting. Spencer listened, clearly enjoying the spirited exchange between you and Alex.

"So she's probably not as good at crosswords as you, huh?" Spencer teased, joining in the fun while glancing between you and Alex.

"She wishes! I kicked her ass last time we went toe to toe," you declared with a proud grin, challenging your mother's claim.

"Did not!" Alex retorted, her competitive spirit flaring up despite her condition.

"Did too!" you shot back, both of you unable to keep straight faces.

"Well, Spencer could take you any day," Alex added, throwing a sly look towards Spencer, playfully dragging him into the challenge.

Spencer's reaction was immediate; he sputtered, caught off guard by the double entendre embedded in Alex's statement. His cheeks flushed a faint pink as he quickly tried to regain his composure, fumbling for a response. "I—uh, well, I do enjoy a good crossword," he managed to say, his voice cracking slightly under the unexpected spotlight.

—

The hospital discharge process on that Thursday was a mixture of relief and anxious anticipation. As you assisted your mom with her belongings and helped her into the car, the drive back home was filled with plans and promises—chief among them, your commitment to stay with her until your dad could return from his overseas work. Living independently in Lynchburg had given you a sense of freedom being three hours away, but in times like these, family needed to come first.

Alex, stubborn as stubborn gets, was set on returning to work at the BAU by Monday. Her determination was palpable, a testament to her indomitable spirit. "I'm fine, really. Sitting at home isn't going to make me any better. I need to be doing something," she insisted, brushing off your concerns with a stubborn tilt of her head that left no room for argument. Her resolve was as firm as ever, as unyielding as a mule.

Come Monday morning, the atmosphere at the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit was one of cautious celebration. Team members exchanged smiles and warm greetings as Alex walked in, her stride confident but perhaps a tad slower than usual. Each welcome was tinged with a touch of concern, reflecting the team's collective relief and residual worry.

Hotch was the epitome of a caring yet cautious leader. Approaching Alex, he offered a sincere smile that reached his eyes—a rare occurrence that didn’t go unnoticed. "Welcome back, Alex. Are you sure you’re ready to be back?" His tone was gentle yet firm, the underlying note of authority making it clear that her well-being was his priority.

Alex, understanding the weight of his concern, nodded firmly. "I appreciate it, Hotch, but I’m ready. Sitting around isn't really my style, you know that," she replied, her voice carrying that familiar steely resolve.

Hotch studied her for a moment longer, assessing her demeanor and the subtle signs of her recovery. Finally, he gave a slight nod, the gesture conveying both his approval and his continued vigilance. "Alright, but we’re keeping the workload light for now. Let’s ease back into it," he decided, setting parameters that he hoped would safeguard her health without stifling her need to contribute.

—

In the quietude of the BAU breakroom, the gentle hum of the coffee machine served as a backdrop for a seemingly casual conversation between Spencer Reid and Alex Blake. Both were in the process of making coffee, an activity that allowed them a few moments of respite from the demands of their jobs.

“How are you doing?” Spencer inquired, pouring hot water into his mug, his tone carrying genuine concern as he glanced over at Alex.

“Oh, you know me, I’m fine. Needed to get back to work or I’d go crazy,” Alex responded with a wry smile, her hands expertly handling her coffee with practiced ease.

“Is it hard having your daughter stay with you?” Spencer asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice as he added a spoonful of sugar to his drink.

“What? Oh my goodness, no! That girl is the light of my life; she is the only person who can keep me sane aside from my husband,” Alex gushed, her face lighting up at the mention of you. Her affection and pride were unmistakable.

“She seems nice, funny,” Spencer noted, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he recalled the brief interactions he’d had with you.

“Yeah? Is that all you liked about her?” Alex prodded, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes as she took a sip of her coffee.

“I mean, she is clearly intelligent. I appreciate that in a person,” Spencer added, running his fingers through his hair, a sign that he was thinking more deeply about the question than he initially let on.

“Anything else?” Alex continued, her tone teasing yet probing, as if trying to unearth something Spencer hadn’t yet admitted to himself.

“What are you getting at?” Spencer finally asked, a touch of defensiveness creeping into his voice, his eyebrows knitting together in mild confusion.

“Nothing… nothing,” Alex replied, her voice light, though her eyes danced with unspoken implications. She turned away, focusing on finishing her coffee, allowing the question to linger in the air between them.

They continued to tend to their coffees in silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Just as they were finishing up, and Alex was about to walk back to the bullpen, she threw a comment over her shoulder to Spencer, “She’s single, you know?” The words hung in the air as she left, leaving Spencer slightly flustered and more thoughtful than before.

Alex’s parting remark added a new layer to Spencer’s contemplation as he stood in the breakroom, stirring his coffee slowly. The possibility of something more than professional respect or friendship with you seemed to be gently placed in front of him, courtesy of Alex’s subtle matchmaking. Whether or not he would explore that possibility remained an open question as he resumed his day, the idea quietly percolating alongside his morning coffee.

—

In the BAU office on Friday afternoon, the topic of Alex Blake's previously undisclosed daughter became the center of attention. Penelope Garcia, always vibrant and inquisitively affectionate, approached Alex with her characteristic flair.

"Alex Blake! Why am I just now finding out you have a daughter?" Penelope bombarded her in a friendly manner, her curiosity piqued after Spencer had let slip that you had visited the hospital.

"Because I didn’t tell you, Spencer did?" Alex retorted with a playful raise of her eyebrows, a slight smile touching her lips as she turned the tables back on Penelope.

"He did, and thank God for him. Can we meet her?" Penelope pressed, her enthusiasm undimmed.

"I don’t see why not, she’s back home in Lynchburg though," Alex explained, her tone suggesting she was open to the idea, but practical considerations of distance and timing were not lost on her.

"Reid, how far away is that?" Penelope quickly directed her question to Spencer, who was nearby.

"Three hours by car, give or take due to traffic and time of year," Spencer calculated swiftly.

"So she could come back for a weekend?" Penelope continued, already planning in her mind.

"I suppose. I will float her the idea. She is a professor, though, so no promises she will be free anytime soon," Alex tempered expectations, mindful of your professional commitments. Little did they know, you had taken the term off to focus on research, a detail Alex was careful not to disclose prematurely.

Suddenly, Derek Morgan chimed in, having caught the tail end of the conversation. "Blake, you got a daughter?" His interest was as quick as his smile.

"Mhm, I do," Alex affirmed, not missing a beat.

"How old is she? Is she cute?" Derek's questions rolled off his tongue before he could censor them, typical of his straightforward charm.

"Derek Morgan!" Penelope chided, her tone playful yet reproving.

"26-years-old. She is," Alex laughed, not at all offended, appreciating the lighter mood her team brought to the end of a challenging week.

Derek's suggestion to bring you down for a weekend and take you to a bar sparked a lively debate among the BAU team members. The atmosphere was charged with the kind of camaraderie that often led to spontaneous planning sessions for team outings.

JJ, overhearing the spirited discussion, decided to offer a different twist, stepping into the conversation with a more relaxed suggestion. "Or we could finally get Rossi to let us use his pool," she interjected, knowing that a gathering at Rossi's house could offer a more intimate and relaxed setting for everyone.

"Yes!! I love that, that is what we will do," Penelope declared with a flourish, her enthusiasm sealing the decision with finality. Her eyes sparkled with the anticipation of organizing another memorable team gathering, this time perhaps with a new face among them.

The idea of a pool party at Rossi's house quickly gained unanimous approval. The team envisioned a laid-back afternoon filled with laughter, good food, and the chance to unwind together outside the usual high-stakes environment of their daily work. 

Alex, watching the exchange, felt pride and slight apprehension. Introducing you to her colleagues in such a casual setting was a big step, but she wanted to trust her team implicitly. She knew that once the plans were set, she would have to give you a call to discuss the upcoming weekend, hoping you'd be as excited about the prospect as everyone seemed to be.

—

Alex reached for her phone and dialed your number. As the phone rang, she found herself hoping you'd share the team's enthusiasm for a weekend visit.

"Hey," Alex began as soon as you picked up, her voice warm and inviting. "I have something potentially fun to propose to you. The team was talking, and they really want to meet you. How would you feel about coming down for a weekend? They're planning a little get-together at Rossi's place—he has a pool, and it's going to be quite the relaxed day."

You responded with excitement, your voice brightening up the call. "That sounds amazing, Mom! I'd love to come down and meet everyone. It'll be nice to see where you work and meet your colleagues."

Alex's heart swelled with joy at your enthusiasm. "Great! They're all excited to meet you, too. Penelope is already planning what she calls 'the ultimate pool party,' so it should be a lot of fun. We can sort out the details later, but I'm just really glad you're up for it."

"Absolutely, I wouldn't miss it for the world," you assured her, the smile in your voice unmistakable. "Just let me know the dates, and I'll make sure I'm there."

"Will do," Alex confirmed, her relief and happiness evident. "I'll send you the details once we finalize everything. Love you and can't wait to see you!"

"Love you too, Mom. See you soon!" you replied, already looking forward to the weekend.

Hanging up the phone, Alex felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Your willingness to engage with her world at the BAU brought her immense comfort and pride. She couldn't wait for the weekend, eager to bridge her two worlds—one of work and one of family—into a single, joyful occasion.

—

As the car rolled through the scenic route leading to Rossi's expansive property, the windows were down, allowing the breeze to carry in the scents and sounds of a perfect weekend. You glanced over at Alex, who was focusing on the road but with a relaxed smile playing on her lips.

"So, is the whole team going to be there today?" you asked casually, your curiosity partly piqued by the descriptions of the various team members you had heard so much about, but especially wanting to see Spencer.

Alex caught the subtle undertone in your question and decided to have a little fun with it. She knew from Spencer's embarrassed reactions and your shy inquiries that there might be a budding interest there. "Oh, the whole team? Well, let's see," she began, her voice teasingly slow. "There's Rossi, of course, it’s his house after all. Derek, Aaron, JJ... they wouldn’t miss it. Penelope has been talking about this non-stop, so yes, she’ll be there with bells on."

You waited, noting she hadn't mentioned Spencer yet, and raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue.

"And then there might be one or two others, you know, the quiet types who prefer to keep a low profile but somehow always end up being the life of the party," Alex continued, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she finally glanced your way.

"You’re being vague, Mom," you pointed out with a laugh, not missing her playful tone.

"Am I? Maybe a little," Alex conceded with a laugh. "Okay, okay, Spencer will be there. He’s actually quite looking forward to it. Mentioned something about bringing a special book for poolside reading—only Spencer would bring a book to a pool party."

You smiled, feeling a flutter of anticipation at the mention of Spencer's name and his quirky habits. "Sounds like it’s going to be a great day," you said, your voice light and hopeful.

"Absolutely," Alex confirmed, turning into the driveway that led up to Rossi’s beautifully landscaped front yard. 

The conversation eased any lingering nerves as the car pulled to a stop. Today wasn't just about meeting the team; it was about fun, relaxation, and perhaps, a little bit of new friendship blossoming under the warm sun by Rossi's pool.

—

As you followed Alex through Rossi's ornate gate, the backyard unfolded into a whimsical mermaid-themed paradise, courtesy of Penelope's vibrant and imaginative decorating style. Streamers in various shades of blue and green fluttered in the breeze, and inflatable sea creatures bobbed in the pool, creating a playful and inviting atmosphere.

"Wait until you see this," Alex said with a chuckle, leading you towards the bar where Savannah and Derek were busy concocting colorful drinks. Both looked up as you approached, their faces lighting up with welcoming smiles.

"Ah, the guest of honor!" Derek exclaimed, his voice warm and teasing. He offered you a mock bow, his charming grin infectious. "Welcome to Rossi’s mermaid lagoon. Can I interest you in a 'Siren’s Call' or perhaps a 'Mermaid’s Kiss'?" he asked, gesturing to the array of drinks with a flourish.

Savannah, chimed in with a playful wink. "Ignore him, he’s been trying to perfect that drink just to use the name as a pickup line all afternoon." She extended her hand in greeting. "I’m Savannah, Derek’s girlfriend. It’s so nice to meet you."

You couldn’t help but laugh, immediately put at ease by their friendly banter. "It’s great to meet you both, too. I’ll start with a 'Mermaid’s Kiss', it sounds like it could be the start of a fun story," you replied, playing along with the theme and their light-hearted demeanor.

Derek quickly set to work, mixing the drink with practiced ease. "Only the best for Alex’s star," he said as he handed you the colorful concoction, garnished with a small umbrella and a twist of lime.

Savannah leaned in slightly, her tone conspiratorial. "So, how are you liking teaching? Derek tells me you’re a professor."

Alex watched with a mixture of pride and amusement as you interacted with her colleague and his beau. It was clear that Savannah and Derek were making a special effort to make you feel welcomed and included, their playful flirting just part of the friendly and open nature of the team.

David Rossi, the gracious host and impeccable in his role, approached the bar with a warm, inviting smile. He was dressed casually yet with an unmistakable elegance that suited his character. Upon seeing you, his eyes lit up with genuine interest, and he extended a hand for a firm, welcoming handshake.

"Ah, you must be Alex's daughter! I've heard so many wonderful things," Rossi greeted you enthusiastically. His demeanor was that of someone who took great pleasure in hosting and ensuring everyone felt at ease.

"It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Rossi," you replied, appreciating the warmth of his welcome.

"Please, call me Dave," he insisted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And since I'm the one who has the honor of this fine establishment," he gestured grandly to his beautifully decorated backyard, "let me take you on a tour and introduce you to everyone else."

Rossi's offer was punctuated with a charming smile, and he waited courteously for your acceptance.

"That sounds wonderful, thank you," you responded, eager to meet the rest of the team under such friendly auspices.

As you followed Rossi through the vibrant, sunlit backyard, his strides confident yet unhurried, you approached where JJ and Penelope were seated, their laughter carrying over the gentle splash of pool water. Their conversation paused as they looked up, noticing Rossi's approach with a new face beside him.

"JJ, Penelope, I'd like you to meet a very special guest today—Alex's daughter," Rossi introduced you with a warm gesture towards you. His voice held a note of pride, as if he was introducing someone of importance, which in his eyes, you certainly were.

JJ stood up immediately, her expression open and welcoming, "It’s so wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you." Her greeting was accompanied by a friendly hug, which felt comforting and genuine.

Penelope, the vibrant soul of the team, beamed at you from her seat, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement. "Oh my gosh, it's finally so nice to put a face to the name!" she exclaimed, rising to give you a soft squeeze. "We've got to catch you up on all our little secrets," she added with a wink, implying the gossip they were indulging in just moments before.

Rossi chuckled softly, clearly amused by Penelope's unabashed enthusiasm. "Be careful, Penelope might recruit you into her next scheme of fun," he joked, his tone light and teasing.

The interaction felt incredibly warm, and the ease with which both JJ and Penelope included you in their circle spoke volumes about the team's camaraderie. They quickly resumed their lighthearted gossip, seamlessly weaving you into the conversation.

"So, who's in the hot seat today in the world of celebrity mishaps?" you asked, playing along with Penelope's earlier hint.

Penelope clapped her hands delightedly, thrilled at your engagement. "Oh, you are going to love this one," she started, diving into a colorful recounting of the latest Hollywood faux pas, with JJ chiming in with her observations.

As Rossi watched the exchange, a content smile played on his lips. It was clear to him—and soon to you—that the BAU team was not just a group of colleagues but a family, one that was now opening its arms to you. His role as the host had subtly shifted to that of an observer, pleased with the seamless integration of new and old members of his extended family.

Rossi continued guiding you through the festive backyard, his next destination being where Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid were situated. They had positioned themselves slightly apart from the more boisterous groups, each enjoying the serene atmosphere in their own way—Aaron relaxed with a slight smile on his face, eyes closed, and Spencer absorbed in a book, his typical form of relaxation.

As you approached, Rossi announced, "Aaron, Spencer, look who's here to join us."

Hotch opened his eyes and sat up straighter, offering a welcoming nod and a professional, "It's nice to meet you." His greeting, though brief, was filled with the quiet respect he accorded all his team's family members.

Spencer, on the other hand, reacted with a more visible shift in demeanor. He looked up from his book, and upon seeing you, his face lit up with an eager smile, quickly tempered by a hint of nervousness as he stood to greet you. His movements were a bit awkward, typical of Spencer when he was flustered or overly excited.

"Hi, it's really good to see you again," Spencer said, his voice slightly higher pitched than usual. He extended his hand for a handshake, then seemed to reconsider, pulling it back slightly before committing to the gesture.

As you greeted him, Spencer's eyes briefly met yours, but then, seemingly overwhelmed, darted away. He glanced at the book in his hand as if considering whether to explain what he was reading, then back at your face, and finally, his gaze drifted—albeit quickly and almost guiltily—over your attire. Your cover-up was sheer, hinting at the swimsuit beneath, and despite his best efforts, Spencer found it challenging to maintain steady eye contact, his cheeks coloring slightly.

Rossi, noticing Spencer's discomfort, chuckled softly and clapped him on the shoulder. "Spencer here was just reading about some of the finer points of historical linguistics. Weren't you, Reid?" he teased, trying to ease the tension and bring Spencer back into his element.

Spencer nodded, grateful for the diversion. "Yes, um, it's quite fascinating how language evolves over time and—" He caught himself, realizing he might be diving too deep too quickly, and offered a more restrained smile. "But that's probably not very interesting poolside talk."

Aaron, ever the observer, added with a smile, "Spencer's always ready to teach us something new."

“I’m always eager to learn something new,” you said with a flirty undertone, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you took in Spencer’s outfit.

He blinked, slightly startled by your boldness but clearly flattered, his cheeks taking on a faint pink hue. "Well, I suppose I have plenty of interesting facts I could share," he replied, attempting to match your playful energy, though there was a hint of nervousness in his tone.

You stood next to him, the conversation flowing effortlessly amidst the summer ambiance. "I like this look on you, by the way," you commented, gesturing to his Hawaiian shirt with a smile. "It suits you."

Spencer chuckled, adjusting his sunglasses as he responded, "Thanks. You look great too, very summery."

The mutual compliments created a relaxed ease between you, and you noticed his eyes lingering on you with admiration and bashfulness. Despite his usual analytical nature, the hint of awkwardness only added to his charm.

Rossi, observing the exchange with a knowing smile, eventually excused himself, leaving you both to enjoy the peacefulness of the afternoon and the opportunity to get to know each other better. With the sound of the pool splashing in the background and the distant hum of music playing, the day felt full of promise and potential.

“I think I’ll go get another drink and put my feet in the water, do you want to join me?”, you offered to Spencer as your conversation fizzled naturally. 

Spencer hesitated, his reservation momentarily overriding the tempting offer. "Um, maybe. I might meet you in a little," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty but also a hint of hopefulness that he might indeed muster the courage to join you soon.

As you walked away, the gentle sway of your cover-up catching the light breeze, Aaron Hotchner watched the interaction with a small, knowing grin. He turned to Spencer, who was clearly lost in thought, and remarked casually yet pointedly, "You two seem to get along nicely."

Spencer's response was quick, both defensive and embarrassed. "Leave it alone, Hotch," he muttered, trying to mask his flustered state with a brief glance back at the book he had barely read since you arrived.

"I didn’t say anything," Aaron replied, his voice smooth and teasing, a rare break from his usually stoic demeanor.

"You didn’t have to," Spencer retorted, his tone softening, acknowledging the implicit understanding that his feelings—or at least his interest—were quite transparent to his perceptive boss.

Aaron chuckled softly, allowing the conversation to drop, respecting Spencer's privacy. He knew well the challenges his team faced in balancing personal lives with the demands of their intense careers. Observing Spencer's interaction with you brought a rare paternal sense of pride; he was always quietly supportive of his team's happiness outside the stressful confines of their work.

Spencer, left to his thoughts, watched you from a distance as you mingled effortlessly with the others, his mind racing with possibilities and the fear of stepping out of his comfort zone. The gentle nudge from Hotch was both unnerving and reassuring.

As Spencer sat absorbed in his internal debate, his attention was unwittingly captured by your movements. You, perhaps feeling the heat more intensely, decided it was time to embrace the full spirit of the pool party. With a graceful motion that seemed as natural as the breeze around, you slipped off your sheer cover-up, revealing the vibrant swimsuit underneath.

The sight momentarily stunned Spencer, his usually sharp mind faltering as he took in the way the fabric of your swimsuit embraced your figure. It was a simple moment, one often repeated in such settings, but for Spencer, it was as if time had slowed down. The pattern and the cut of the swimsuit accentuated your curves beautifully, catching him completely off guard.

As you turned to sit at the pool's edge, your back to him, Spencer's face flushed a deeper shade of red. He was an adult, well-versed in the biological responses of the human body, yet found himself embarrassingly unprepared to deal with his own reaction. His swimsuit, betraying his attempt to remain composed, began to feel uncomfortably tight.

Spencer hastily pulled a towel over his lap, his eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed his discomfort. He felt a mix of adolescent awkwardness and adult embarrassment, his mind racing with both scientific explanations for his physiological reactions and a desperate wish for them to cease.

He took a deep breath, trying to refocus on the book in his hands, but the words blurred before his eyes. With a slight shake of his head, he chided himself silently for his lack of control. It was just a swimsuit at a pool party, after all—perfectly normal. Yet, the simplicity of the situation did little to calm his racing heart or cool his flushed cheeks.

Spencer realized that his feelings were perhaps more complicated than he had initially allowed himself to acknowledge. The book now forgotten, he shifted his focus back to the sounds of the pool party, using the laughter and splashing as a lifeline to pull himself back to the reality of the festive day around him. He needed a moment to collect himself, to restore the balance between his intellectual mind and the surprisingly strong emotional responses elicited by your mere presence.

Derek's voice cut through Spencer's thoughts, a lifeline thrown with impeccable timing. "Yo Reid, come join us!" he hollered, waving from the pool where he and others were splashing around, clearly enjoying the perfect balance of sun and water.

"Coming!" Spencer's response came out higher-pitched than he intended, a squeak that betrayed his nervous energy. He set his book down, decisively pushing aside his hesitation as he stood to remove his shirt. The action was simple, revealing the lean, wiry frame he usually kept hidden beneath layers of button-ups and cardigans.

As you watched Spencer join the festivities, you couldn't help but appreciate the view. His torso, though not heavily muscled, was toned and fit. A small patch of hair led intriguingly into his trunks, adding a surprisingly human detail to the brilliant mind you knew him to be.

Caught up in the moment, you didn't realize your gaze had lingered a bit too long until you caught your mom's eye. Alex, quite observant, gave you a teasing look, wiggling her eyebrows in a silent commentary on your obvious interest. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment, and you playfully flipped her off, which only made her chuckle softly.

Spencer, who was in the process of applying sunscreen, caught the tail end of this exchange. He looked from you to Alex, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Alex, maintaining her role as both mother and subtle matchmaker, simply winked at him, a silent endorsement of the budding interest she witnessed.

Spencer, now shirtless and a little more exposed than he usually allowed himself to be, took a deep breath and managed a shy smile. He made his way to the pool's edge, his initial embarrassment fading into a quiet resolve to enjoy the day fully—not just as Dr. Reid, but as Spencer.

As Spencer made his way into the water, Derek's voice boomed across the pool area, filled with his typical teasing bravado. "Woo-hoo! Pretty boy in the pool!" he cheered, clapping his hands in mock celebration, his wide smile indicating his pleasure at getting Spencer to join the fun.

Spencer, now somewhat accustomed to Derek's ways, rolled his eyes good-naturedly and shot back, "Keep it down, Morgan, or I'll start sharing all your college stories." His voice carried a light threat, but the grin on his face showed he was in the spirit of the jest.

Savannah, floating nearby on an inflatable raft, laughed and joined in the banter. "Oh, I want to hear those stories, Spencer!" she called out, her tone playful. "Especially the ones Derek never tells."

Derek waggled a finger at both Spencer and Savannah. "Traitors, the both of you," he joked, splashing water their way, which only incited more laughter.

You, watching the exchange from the edge where you'd just dipped your feet into the cool water, couldn't help but laugh at their antics. "Don’t let him bully you, Spencer. You have full immunity here!" you chimed in, giving Spencer an encouraging nod.

Spencer, feeling buoyed by the support, pretended to ponder your words. "Hmm, full immunity? This could be interesting," he mused aloud, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright, Derek, how about we start with the story of the mascot costume and the dean’s car?"

Derek’s laughter boomed louder, and he splashed towards Spencer, who quickly retaliated, and soon a playful water fight ensued. Savannah cheered them on, while you clapped, thoroughly enjoying the light-hearted energy.

As the splashing settled, Derek wrapped an arm around Savannah, pulling her close with a wet but warm embrace. "Alright, alright, no more secrets today," he conceded, still laughing. "Pretty boy gets a pass—for now."

The afternoon sun shone brightly over the scene, casting a sparkling sheen on the water and highlighting the smiles on everyone’s faces. 

Derek's voice carried across the water, teasing yet inviting, as he called out to you, "Hey, mini Blake, why don't you take the plunge and actually join us?" His playful challenge echoed around the pool, drawing chuckles from the others.

You glanced around, feeling the friendly eyes of the group on you, including Spencer's encouraging smile. With a spirited laugh, you stood up from your spot at the pool's edge, deciding to respond to Derek's challenge with equal gusto.

"Alright, you asked for it!" you declared. With a running start to gather momentum, you sprinted a few steps and executed a graceful cannonball into the pool, causing a splash that drenched Derek and a few others nearby.

As you surfaced, wiping water from your face, you were met with applause and more laughter. "Nice entrance!" Spencer commented, clearly impressed by your bold move.

Derek splashed water towards you, still grinning. "That's the spirit! Now it's a real party!" he exclaimed, his tone boisterous.

As the fun and games continued between Derek and Savannah, now joined by JJ and Penelope, you and Spencer found yourselves swimming towards the edge of the pool to take a quieter break. You both rested your arms on the ledge, the water lapping gently around you. The ambiance of the party—lively and loud in the background—created a sort of intimate bubble for the two of you to chat away from the crowd.

Spencer, who was usually more reserved, seemed to relax as the conversation between you flowed easily. He laughed softly at a joke you made, his eyes lighting up with genuine amusement. However, as he became more comfortable, he found his gaze inadvertently drifting. Despite his best intentions, Spencer couldn't help but notice how the water accentuated your figure, particularly how your swimsuit clung to your curves. His eyes, almost of their own accord, kept flicking towards your chest before he would catch himself and hurriedly look away, cheeks tinged with a flush of embarrassment.

Noticing his discomfort, you decided to steer the conversation to a safer topic, perhaps something academic or related to a shared interest, to put him at ease. "So, Spencer, you mentioned a book you were reading earlier? What's it about?" you asked, giving him an opening to divert his attention to more familiar ground.

Spencer seemed grateful for the change in topic, quickly seizing the opportunity to talk about something he was comfortable with. "Oh, yes, it's actually quite fascinating," he began, his enthusiasm bubbling as he delved into a description of the book. It was a historical analysis of cryptology used during the Cold War—a subject that captivated him. As he spoke, his hands animatedly moved, illustrating the complexities of code-breaking and espionage.

As the conversation between you and Spencer continued to flow, light and engaging, you noticed that despite his initial efforts to focus on the intellectual topics at hand, his gaze occasionally wandered back down. Deciding to address it with a touch of humor to keep the atmosphere relaxed and flirty, you gave him a playful smile.

"Spencer, do I have something on my swimsuit? You keep looking down," you teased, your tone light but with a teasing undertone, trying to make light of his nervous glances.

Caught in the act, Spencer's face turned a deeper shade of red, and he stammered for a moment, searching for the right words. "Oh, uh, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I mean, I wasn't..." he trailed off, clearly flustered but also trying not to seem rude or inappropriate.

Realizing he was genuinely embarrassed, you laughed softly, aiming to ease his discomfort. "It's okay, Spencer. I'm just teasing you. But if you keep looking, you might owe me a compliment or two to make up for it," you suggested, your smile widening, giving him a clear signal that you weren't offended but rather amused by his bashfulness.

Spencer's relief was clear as he managed a small, shy smile in return. "Well, in that case," he began, taking a moment to compose himself, "I think you look... really beautiful today. The sunlight and the water just... I mean, you looked beautiful last time too, but today it's just more, I guess."

Your heart warmed at his earnest compliment, and you could tell by his expression that he meant every word, even if it was delivered with a touch of Spencer's typical awkward charm. "Thank you, Spencer. That's very sweet of you to say," you responded, your voice softening, appreciative of his sincerity.

The tension dissolved, replaced by a newfound comfort. You both continued chatting, the conversation now sprinkled with more shared laughs and less hesitation. As the pool party carried on around you, your interaction became a memorable highlight of the day.

—

As the afternoon sun began to wane, casting long shadows over the pool area, Rossi decided it was the perfect moment to transition from water activities to a more laid-back dining experience. He moved towards the grill, a practiced hand at hosting, and began to fire it up, signaling a shift in the day's activities.

"Alright, everyone, let's give the pool a break and gather around for some good food!" Rossi announced, his voice carrying over the chatter and splashes. His call was met with enthusiastic responses, as the guests, including you and Spencer, began to make your way toward the designated dining area, where tables were set up under a string of lights that flickered softly in the evening air.

The smell of grilling food filled the air, a blend of spices and smoke that promised a delicious meal. As people settled around the tables, you found yourself sitting next to Spencer, the earlier poolside interaction having naturally drawn the two of you closer.

With plates filled with grilled delights—vegetables charred to perfection, juicy steaks, and flavorful chicken—the conversation flowed freely. You and Spencer, now more comfortable with each other, delved into topics that revealed more about your personalities and backgrounds.

"So, what got you interested in your field of work?" you asked Spencer, genuinely curious about what drove his passion for his often intense and challenging job.

Spencer, appreciative of the opportunity to share more about his work in a casual setting, responded thoughtfully. "I've always been fascinated by the workings of the human mind, the how and why people do what they do. It's like solving a puzzle, but every piece is a human action or decision," he explained, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of sharing his passion.

"And what about you? Alex might have mentioned you were doing some research this term. What's it about?" Spencer turned the question around, showing his interest in your pursuits.

You shared your research focus, explaining the complexities of your study in a way that made it accessible yet intriguing. "It's about the intersection of technology and human interaction. How digital spaces shape our perceptions and relationships," you explained, watching his reaction closely.

"That sounds incredibly relevant, especially considering how much of our lives are intertwined with technology now," Spencer noted, his response thoughtful and encouraging.

As the meal progressed, the ambiance around the tables was warm and inviting, with laughter and stories exchanged freely. Rossi, moving between groups, ensured everyone had what they needed, his hosting skills making the evening seem effortless.

After the plates cleared and everyone settled into a comfortable lull, full and content, Rossi leaned back in his chair with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, nothing brings a team together quite like sharing war stories—and I'm not just talking about the cases we've solved. How about we go around and share some of our most memorable—or better yet, embarrassing—field moments? I'll start."

The group perked up, eager to partake in the storytelling. Rossi recounted a tale from his early days in the FBI, involving a mistaken identity, a runaway dog, and a mud pit that left him looking less than dignified at a critical moment. The story drew hearty laughs and set a jovial tone.

Encouraged by Rossi's self-deprecating humor, Hotch followed with his own story, sharing a rare glimpse into his less stoic side with a tale about a botched undercover operation that involved an accidentally activated car alarm during a stakeout.

The mood lightened, and one by one, team members chimed in with their own stories. When it was Spencer's turn, he hesitated for a moment, his natural shyness creeping in. But encouraged by the laughter and the supportive atmosphere, he began to share.

"So, there was this one time I was sent to collect evidence from a very cluttered antique shop," Spencer started, his voice holding amusement and embarrassment. "I was navigating through aisles crammed with delicate items, and I accidentally bumped into a shelf."

You leaned in, intrigued, as Spencer continued, "Everything happened in slow motion. I tried to catch one falling vase, which led me to knock over another, and it ended up being a disastrous domino effect of antiques crashing around me. I was mortified, especially when the shop owner came running."

The table erupted in laughter, not at Spencer's expense but in shared sympathy for the awkward situation. Spencer's face was a shade of red, but he was smiling, relieved to have shared the story and found humor in the reflection.

"Needless to say," Spencer concluded, "I learned a valuable lesson in spatial awareness that day, and I think I single-handedly funded the shop's insurance claim for the next year."

Your laughter mingled with the others, and you found yourself admiring Spencer's willingness to share such a humbling moment. It showcased his endearing vulnerability and his capacity to laugh at himself—a side of him that wasn't always apparent in the seriousness of his work.

—

As the evening began to wind down, with the laughter and conversations tapering into more subdued exchanges, Spencer found himself gently cornered by Alex, her expression earnest and somewhat conspiratorial. Under the soft glow of the garden lights, Alex's face was both motherly and determined.

"Are you going to do it?" she asked, her tone direct yet encouraging.

Spencer, caught off guard, roused his hair nervously. "Do what?" he responded, feigning confusion though he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what Alex was referring to.

"Ask her out," Alex clarified, her gaze piercing as she studied Spencer's apprehensive demeanor.

"Alex… she's your daughter," Spencer replied, the words tinged with both respect and hesitation, as if that fact alone was a significant barrier.

"And?" Alex countered, undeterred. "I'm giving you my permission and encouragement." Her voice was soft but firm, a clear indication she had considered this conversation beforehand.

"She lives three hours away," Spencer pointed out, trying to find rational reasons to temper what he feared was a growing interest on his part, one he wasn't sure how to navigate.

"You both have cars," Alex retorted quickly, almost as if she had anticipated every excuse he might offer.

"We travel a lot," Spencer added, his tone reflecting the logistical complications of his job.

"So does she," Alex responded smoothly, her confidence unshaken.

"Why are you so adamant this happens?" Spencer finally asked, his frustration mingling with curiosity. He was typically analytical, preferring to understand the variables in any equation, and Alex's push was a variable he hadn't expected.

"Why are you so adamant that it doesn’t?" Alex shot back, her question sharp and to the point. She paused, letting her words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Spencer, I know my daughter, and I know the kind of person who could make her happy. You're a good man, and regardless of the logistics, I think you could make each other very happy. Don't let fear of a few road trips get in the way of something that could be wonderful."

Her words, spoken with a mix of motherly insight and friendly advice, gave Spencer pause. He looked over to where you were laughing softly with Derek and Penelope, the warm light casting a glow around you. Something in his chest tightened with hope and hesitation.

Alex placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch reassuring. "Think about it, Spencer. Life’s too short for what-ifs."

As Alex walked away, leaving Spencer to his thoughts, he knew she was right. The challenges of distance and schedules were surmountable, but the risk of never exploring what could be between him and you was not. With a deep breath, Spencer resolved to think it over, Alex’s words echoing in his mind as he watched you from across the garden, pondering the possibilities that lay ahead.

Your approach caught Spencer slightly off-guard as he stood there lost in thought, the soft lighting of the garden illuminating the gentle curiosity in your eyes. "Hey doctor," you greeted, your tone light and friendly.

"Hi," Spencer responded, his voice a mixture of warmth and a hint of nervousness that he couldn't quite mask.

"What are you doing over here all alone?" you inquired, stepping closer to him, your presence effortlessly comforting.

"Thinking," he admitted, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking away as if to gather his thoughts.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you offered, a playful tilt to your voice that seemed to ease some of the tension from Spencer's shoulders.

"For you, for free," he replied with a small, genuine smile, appreciating the ease with which you interacted with him. "Does your mom always try to set you up?"

"Set me up? As in pranks or dates?" you asked, a little laugh escaping you as you pondered which kind of setting up Alex might be more likely to engage in.

"Well, I'm curious about the pranks. But for now, dates," Spencer clarified, his tone suggesting he was treading into more personal territory.

"No, she has never tried to set me up on a date," you said, genuinely surprised by the revelation.

"She just did," Spencer confessed, watching your reaction closely.

"With who?" Your question was quick, filled with curiosity and a flicker of excitement.

"Me," he admitted, his heart rate picking up as he gauged your response to this unexpected twist.

"Did it work?" you asked, a playful yet meaningful question hanging between you, the night air filled with the potential of what might come next.

"I'm not sure yet," Spencer said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a hopeful smile.

"Can I help you decide?" Your words were bold, stepping into the space he offered, both literally and metaphorically.

"Maybe," Spencer replied, his smile broadening, touched by your forwardness and the sincerity behind it. His academic mind knew the complexities of human relationships, yet here, with you, it seemed simpler, more natural.

As you both stood there, the soft noises of the party in the background, a comfortable silence fell over you. It was the kind of moment that seemed to pause, allowing both of you to savor the potential of a new beginning. Spencer felt a rare sense of anticipation, a feeling that was both exhilarating and terrifying, as he considered what it might mean to take a chance on what your mother had so boldly orchestrated.

"Let's take a walk," you suggested, gesturing towards the garden path that wound its way around Rossi’s property. "We can talk about pranks and other catastrophes."

"Lead the way," Spencer said, a newfound lightness in his step as he joined you, ready to explore wherever this unexpected conversation might lead.

As you and Spencer began your walk along the garden path, the ambient lighting from the party casting gentle shadows around you, the atmosphere seemed ripe for deeper conversation. The air was cooler here, away from the crowd, and the quiet provided a perfect backdrop for getting to know each other better.

"So about those catastrophes... what did you have in mind?" he joked, his tone light and teasing as you both strolled along the garden path.

"Well, you could take me to dinner and I could spill hot soup on your lap," you quipped back, a mischievous glint in your eyes. The suggestion was absurd enough to draw a genuine laugh from Spencer, who seemed more at ease with each passing moment.

"Oh no!" he exclaimed, playing along with the scenario. "That sounds disastrous...and painful. Maybe we should skip the soup and go straight to dessert to avoid any potential accidents." His smile was easy, and his suggestion carried a hint of an actual date proposal, testing the waters to see how you'd respond.

"And that's where you're wrong, Dr. Reid. Too much sugar and I could throw up on you," you joked, your eyes twinkling with humor. This back-and-forth was shaping up to be an entertaining dance of wits.

A mock look of horror crossed Spencer's face as he considered your warning. "Well, that would certainly make for a memorable first date, wouldn't it?" he said, his tone light but with a laugh that suggested he was thoroughly enjoying the conversation.

Spencer's quick wit met each of your playful challenges with a matching jest, his eyes sparkling with delight at the banter that seemed only to draw you two closer. "Indeed! We could see a movie?" you suggested, shifting the conversation to potentially safer territory.

"Hmm, but then someone could talk the whole time, ruining our whole experience," he countered, raising an eyebrow in feigned concern.

"How rude! Then we’ll just have to have a picnic in the park," you offered up another alternative, your voice laced with laughter.

"And get ticks? Do you want to die?" Spencer retorted, a dramatic shiver accompanying his words.

"No, I guess not," you laughed, the absurdity of the escalating scenarios adding a light-hearted tone to the evening. "Maybe we shouldn’t go out then? Safer that way," you teased, gauging his reaction to the mock suggestion.

Spencer paused, his gaze softening as he looked at you, a sincere smile spreading across his face. "I don’t know, the reward seems worth the risk," he finally said, his voice lowering slightly in a more earnest tone. This simple statement, layered with meaning, seemed to anchor the playful conversation with a genuine expression of interest.

The air between you grew charged with the unspoken acknowledgment of the connection forming, as if the jokes and laughter had woven a thread that pulled you inevitably closer. Spencer's admission, veiled though it was in the ongoing joke, hinted at a deeper sentiment, suggesting that whatever minor calamities might accompany a date, the chance to spend time together outweighed them all.

"Alright, Dr. Reid," you responded, matching his serious tone with a lightness that kept the mood buoyant. "Let’s take that risk. Dinner, a movie, or even battling ticks in the park—let's just make sure it's memorable."

Spencer nodded, his agreement sealing the playful pact. "It’s a date then. And who knows? It might just be disaster-free."

"Boring," you giggled, playing along with the teasing theme of your budding relationship. "Do you happen to have a cell phone, Spencer? Or should I start writing you letters?"

Spencer's eyes lit up with amusement at your mention of letter writing, a hint of old-fashioned charm mingling with modern flirtation. "I'd love to exchange letters with you," he said earnestly, “but… the U.S. postal service doesn’t allow for the speed at which I’d like to plan our date.”

"Oh, so you're eager then?" you teased, leaning in slightly.

"Absolutely," Spencer replied, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "When it comes to something—or someone—important, I believe in being timely."

"Well, in that case," you continued, matching his earnest tone with a playful smirk, "perhaps modern technology can serve us better. Shall we exchange numbers instead? It might not be as romantic as a letter, but it’s certainly quicker."

Spencer nodded, readily agreeing as he pulled out his phone, a slightly old model that seemed to suit his slightly out-of-time character. "That sounds like a plan. We can save the letter writing for less urgent communications. Like... thank you notes after the date?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow in a question that also seemed to confirm there would indeed be something to be thankful for after your date.

You both exchanged phones to input your numbers, the action feeling both significant and natural. As you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed briefly, sending a small, unintentional spark of anticipation through both of you.

"Thank you notes sound promising," you said, locking your phone with his number saved. "But let's make sure there's plenty to be thankful for."

"I have no doubts about that," Spencer replied, his confidence surprising even himself. He was usually more reserved, but something about you drew out a more assertive side of him.

—

In the gentle hum of the car on the way home, Alex couldn't resist teasing you a bit more, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminating a knowing smile on her face. "You're going to marry Spencer," she declared, her tone playful yet hinting at the underlying seriousness of a mother who's seen a spark worth noting.

"Shut up, mother," you replied, your voice a mixture of embarrassment and affection, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a smile. Despite the protest, there was a flutter of excitement in your heart, a small part of you wondering about the possibilities that lay ahead with Spencer.

The car ride became a cocoon of warmth and laughter as Alex continued to tease gently, and you deflected with feigned annoyance. But underneath the playful banter, there was a shared understanding that this evening might just be the beginning of something special.

—

As soon as Spencer arrived home, the quiet of his apartment amplifying the excitement of the evening, he found himself reaching for his phone. He wanted to maintain the connection that had so pleasantly marked the day, and sending a text seemed like the perfect way to cap off the night. He opened a new message, typing with a hint of eagerness that felt both thrilling and slightly unfamiliar.

As he sent the message, a small part of him worried about appearing too eager, but the genuine enjoyment he'd felt throughout the evening bolstered his confidence. Spencer believed in honesty and direct communication, values that seemed even more important when it came to someone he found as intriguing as you.

Your phone buzzed lightly on the table, drawing your attention away from the evening’s winding down thoughts. You picked it up to find a message from Spencer, his words bringing a warm smile to your face.

Home safe. Thank you for a wonderful evening. When can I see you again?

The message was simple but laden with the kind of earnestness that was quintessentially Spencer. Eager to keep the conversation going, you quickly typed back.

Glad you made it back safely! I had a great time too. How about this weekend? I don’t mind driving back, mom said a new cafe opened downtown…

Sending the message, you felt a flutter of excitement at the prospect of continuing to explore the budding relationship. Spencer's quick response not only showed his interest but also reassured you that the feelings were mutual, setting the stage for what could be the next of many beautiful moments together.

—

Driving into Quantico on Friday evening, you were filled with anticipation and a touch of nervous excitement. You didn’t want to risk being late for your morning date with Spencer, so you decided to spend the night at your mom’s place. It turned out to be the perfect decision, as you and Alex spent the evening together in a flurry of girlish excitement.

The night was a delightful throwback to your teenage years—painting nails, doing each other's hair, and giggling like schoolgirls over the prospect of your upcoming date.

"Do you think he’ll like this shade?" you asked, holding up a bottle of nail polish.

"Oh, definitely," Alex replied with a conspiratorial grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But the real question is, will he be able to keep his eyes off you?"

You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes at her teasing. The evening passed with laughter and stories, your mom sharing her own tales of first dates and romantic adventures. It was a bonding experience that left you feeling both nostalgic and buoyant about the day ahead.

—

When Saturday morning rolled around, you were up early, butterflies dancing in your stomach. Spencer was due to pick you up at 9 AM, and as the clock ticked closer to the hour, you found yourself checking the mirror more than once to make sure everything was perfect.

Right on time, a knock echoed from the front door. Spencer’s punctuality was something you appreciated—it spoke of his character and his consideration for others. Alex opened the door, greeting Spencer with her usual warmth and a hint of teasing that seemed to run in the family.

"Good morning, Alex," Spencer greeted, standing on the doorstep with a slight nervousness that was both endearing and charming.

"Morning, Spencer. Don’t you look handsome?" Alex complimented, her eyes twinkling as she took in his outfit. Spencer had opted for his classic style—a simple cardigan over a button-up shirt. It was understated yet put-together, reflecting his thoughtful nature.

Spencer blushed at the compliment, glancing down at his clothes with a shy smile. "Do you think she’ll like it?" he asked, his tone earnest.

Before Alex could respond, you rounded the corner, catching him off guard. "I think so," you said with a playful grin. "Although I think suspenders would have really tied the whole look together."

Your teasing made Spencer chuckle, his initial nervousness dissipating in the warmth of your humor. "I’ll remember that for next time," he replied, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Alex laughed, stepping aside to let Spencer in. "Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Have a wonderful time," she said, giving you a knowing smile before retreating to give you both some privacy.

You and Spencer exchanged a quick, excited glance as he offered you his arm. "Shall we?" he asked, his voice filled with the promise of a day spent in good company.

"Absolutely," you replied, taking his arm and feeling a thrill at the beginning of what was sure to be a memorable date. The morning was bright, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the world seemed to open up before you as you stepped out the door, ready to explore the day together.

As you walked towards his car, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement, the anticipation of a new chapter with someone who had quickly become more than just an acquaintance in your life. Spencer, with his thoughtful nature and quiet charm, had intrigued you from the start, and now, with the day ahead, you were eager to see where this path might lead.

“So far, so good…” you mumbled to yourself as Spencer started driving, trying to calm your nerves with a little humor.

“What was that?” he laughed, glancing over at you with a curious smile, clearly enjoying the light-heartedness of the morning.

“Well, neither of us fell down the steps, and you haven’t crashed the car,” you joked, trying to keep things upbeat despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Yet,” he added, winking playfully.

“Thank you for reminding me,” you shot back with a grin, your nerves easing a bit at his playful attitude.

“Just keeping your expectations in check,” he teased, his voice carrying that signature blend of intelligence and humor that you were already growing fond of.

—

When you arrived at the new café, Spencer wasted no time showing off his gentlemanly side. He quickly rounded the car to open your door, then opened the café door to let you in, a small but meaningful gesture that made your heart skip a beat. He was attentive and respectful, qualities that seemed to define him beyond his impressive intellect.

As you both approached the counter, Spencer insisted on paying for your drink and pastry, despite your playful protests. “I’ve got this,” he said with a smile, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Alright, but next time, it’s on me,” you playfully warned, accepting his kindness while making a mental note to repay the gesture in the future.

Once seated in a quiet corner booth, the cozy ambiance of the café surrounded you with the soft aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods. However, as you settled into your seat, a wave of nerves washed over you. You were sitting across from the sweetest, most intelligent man you’d ever met, who also happened to be incredibly handsome. The weight of the moment suddenly felt significant, and you found yourself worrying about making a good impression.

What if you said something wrong, and he decided this would be your last date? Or worse, what if you two started dating, and he realized later on that you weren’t worth his time? The thoughts were relentless, and you tried to push them aside, but they lingered, casting a shadow over your otherwise perfect morning.

As if sensing your unease, Spencer reached across the table, placing a gentle hand on your forearm. His touch was reassuring, grounding you in the present moment. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked softly, echoing the words you’d used back at the pool party, his eyes full of genuine concern and interest.

You took a deep breath, smiling at his thoughtful gesture. "I'm afraid they're going to cost more than that," you replied, attempting to keep your tone light, though the hint of anxiety was still present.

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, showing his empathy. "You don’t have to worry. I’m here because I want to be," he said, his voice sincere and calming. "Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as daunting as it seems."

His words offered comfort, a reminder that this date wasn’t an audition or a test but rather an opportunity to enjoy each other’s company. Spencer was someone who valued authenticity and kindness, and he was sitting here with you, eager to learn more about who you truly were.

Taking a sip of your coffee to steady yourself, you decided to share a bit of your inner turmoil. "I guess I’m just overthinking things," you admitted, meeting his gaze. "Sometimes I worry about saying the wrong thing or not living up to expectations."

Spencer nodded, understanding reflected in his eyes. "I know how that feels," he said. "But I’m really enjoying getting to know you, and there’s no pressure here. Just be yourself—that’s more than enough."

His reassurance was like a balm to your nerves, the sincerity in his eyes melting away your fears. You realized that Spencer, with all his brilliance and kindness, was just as interested in discovering the real you as you were in discovering the real him.

With that understanding, the conversation flowed more freely. You found yourselves laughing over shared interests, discussing your favorite books, and even diving into topics that revealed your mutual curiosity about the world. As the morning unfolded, you felt more and more at ease, confident in the knowledge that this was just the beginning of a meaningful connection.

—

Once you and Spencer had spent a considerable amount of time talking and enjoying each other's company in the cafe, you both realized it was probably time to head out. The two of you exchanged a knowing glance as a group of patrons eyed your now empty cups and plates, clearly hoping to claim your cozy corner booth for themselves.

Stepping out onto the bustling sidewalk, the sun was now high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the streets. The air was filled with the lively energy of a city on a Saturday morning, and the thought of ending your date felt premature.

Spencer, ever the gentleman, turned to you with a hopeful expression. "I hope this doesn't come across as too eager," he began, his eyes earnest and sincere, "but I really don't want this to end yet."

His admission made your heart skip a beat, the sincerity behind his words sparking a flutter of excitement. "I like eager, and I like you," you replied with a smile that matched his, both playful and genuine. "I don't want this to end either. What should we do?"

Spencer paused, considering his options before speaking again. "Is it presumptuous to invite you to my apartment?" he asked, his tone carefully casual, though the question carried a subtle undertone of hopefulness.

Feigning shock, you exaggerated a pout, leaning into the playful dynamic that had defined your morning together. "I knew it," you said, shaking your head with mock disapproval.

"What?" Spencer looked genuinely confused for a moment, his brow furrowing as he tried to decipher your expression.

"You just want to get in my pants," you teased, maintaining the pout for effect but letting a mischievous smile slip through.

Spencer's face flushed a deep shade of pink, his eyes widening in surprise and mild horror. "No, no, that's not— I mean, I didn't mean it like that," he stammered, scrambling to explain himself as you watched with growing amusement.

Unable to keep up the charade, you broke into laughter, the sound infectious and lighthearted. "Relax, Spencer," you reassured him between giggles, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm just messing with you."

His expression softened, relief washing over him as he joined in your laughter, though still a bit flustered. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?" he admitted, shaking his head with a sheepish grin.

"You did," you agreed, playfully bumping your shoulder against his. "But in all seriousness, I'd love to see your place. And maybe continue our conversation over another cup of coffee or a game of chess?"

Spencer's face lit up at your suggestion, his enthusiasm unmistakable. "I have an excellent chess set," he said, eager to share a part of his world with you. "And plenty of coffee. My apartment is just a short walk from here."

As you strolled side by side through the lively streets, you felt a sense of anticipation building. The playful banter and shared laughter from earlier had created a comfortable atmosphere.

—

The walk to Spencer's apartment was filled with easy conversation, each of you sharing snippets of your lives, interests, and quirks. By the time you reached his building, you felt as if you'd known him for much longer than the short time you had.

Spencer led you up the stairs to his apartment, his excitement palpable as he unlocked the door and welcomed you inside. The space was neat and organized, with bookshelves lining the walls, each one filled to the brim with an impressive collection of literature.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Spencer said with a shy smile, gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable. "I apologize for the mess," he added, though the room was anything but.

"It's perfect," you assured him, taking in the cozy surroundings with genuine admiration. "I feel like I'm in a library. I love it."

Spencer beamed at your compliment, clearly pleased by your appreciation for his carefully curated space. "Would you like something to drink?" he offered, making his way to the small kitchen area. "I've got coffee, tea, or if you're feeling adventurous, I make a pretty decent hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate sounds perfect," you decided, settling into a comfortable chair and looking around the room with interest.

As Spencer prepared the drinks, you wandered over to the chess set he had mentioned earlier, admiring the intricate design and thoughtful arrangement. When he returned with two steaming mugs, you were already setting up the pieces, eager to see how the game would unfold.

You eyed the chess pieces thoughtfully, arranging them with a bit of flair. "So, Dr. Reid," you said with a teasing lilt, "are you ready to face your greatest challenge yet?"

Spencer chuckled, running a hand through his hair and setting his pieces with meticulous care. "Are you sure you're up for it? I've been known to have a few tricks up my sleeve," he replied, a hint of mischief in his tone.

"Oh, I can handle a challenge," you grinned, meeting his gaze with equal enthusiasm. "And I’ve got a few surprises of my own."

As the game progressed, each move was accompanied by playful commentary. Spencer, confident yet humble, often narrated his strategies, while you countered with a mix of humor and mock intimidation.

"Interesting move," Spencer noted as you advanced your bishop. "Trying to catch me off guard, are we?"

"Maybe," you said with a wink, feigning innocence. "Or maybe I'm just setting a trap you'll never see coming."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, considering his next move. "I must admit, you play with a certain flair," he remarked, capturing one of your pawns. "But you might want to watch your back row there."

The banter continued as the board grew more intense, the stakes feeling delightfully high as each of you tried to outmaneuver the other.

"Are you this competitive with everything, or is it just chess?" Spencer teased, leaning back slightly as he observed the board.

"Only when I'm winning," you shot back, sticking out your tongue playfully. "I’ve heard rumors that you're quite the prodigy, though. Should I be worried?"

"Only if you hate losing," Spencer replied, his smile broadening. "Though I’m starting to think you might just be my match." Not really, but he likes you so he can pretend.

"Oh, is that so? Well, I've been known to surprise people," you said, feigning an air of mystery.

As the game drew closer to its conclusion, you both found yourselves leaning forward, caught up in the tension and excitement.

"Check," you announced triumphantly, moving your queen into a position that put Spencer's king at risk.

He looked at the board, feigning surprise. "You do realize this isn’t over yet, right?" he said, moving his king to safety.

"I know," you admitted, grinning. "But I like to keep you on your toes."

"Mission accomplished," Spencer said, making his next move with careful deliberation. "But don't think you've got me beat just yet."

—

Spencer watched with amusement as you performed a little victory dance in your chair, your eyes gleaming with triumph. He had let you win, hoping to see this very reaction—the way you lit up with glee at having outsmarted him, at least for this round. However, as your playful taunting continued, he couldn’t resist the urge to reclaim his honor on the chessboard.

“Oh, come on!” you teased, unable to suppress your laughter. “Are you really as good as everyone says you are, Dr. Reid? Because that was almost too easy!”

Spencer feigned a dramatic sigh, shaking his head with a grin. “Alright, alright. You got me that time. But I demand a rematch!” he declared, a determined glint in his eyes.

“Okay, sore loser,” you teased back, clearly enjoying the banter. “Do you have anything stronger to drink? I don’t think I can handle kicking your ass twice in a row if I’m sober.”

Playfully rolling his eyes, Spencer got up from his seat, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he headed over to his small, well-organized liquor cabinet. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey that Gideon had gifted him long ago, the label aged and promising quality.

“I have whiskey. Will that do?” he asked, holding the bottle up for you to see.

“Perfect,” you replied, your eyes lighting up at the thought of a drink to accompany the next game. “Get your little butt back over here so I can give you a real challenge.”

Spencer chuckled, the warmth in his chest growing as he poured two glasses of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light in a way that made it look almost magical. He handed you a glass before taking his seat across the chessboard once more.

“Alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy,” Spencer said with a wink, setting up the pieces with renewed determination. “This time, you’re going to see why they call me the chess prodigy.”

“Oh, I’m shaking,” you replied mockingly, taking a sip of the whiskey. The drink was smooth and rich, the perfect companion for another round of playful rivalry. “Let’s see if you can back up those claims, Dr. Reid.”

The game began anew, the atmosphere between you charged with competitive energy and a touch of alcohol-induced warmth. Spencer’s moves were precise and calculated, each one revealing the depth of his strategic mind, yet still leaving room for light-hearted commentary.

“Watch out,” he warned as he moved his knight into a threatening position. “I might just turn the tables this time.”

You narrowed your eyes, pretending to study the board intensely. “Is that all you’ve got?” you quipped, countering his move with one of your own. “I thought I’d at least have to break a sweat.”

—

The rematch began, and it wasn’t long before Spencer was expertly maneuvering his pieces, quickly putting you on the defensive. His moves were precise, and each one seemed to corner you more and more, revealing the depth of his strategic mind.

"Okay, that was just unfair," you complained, watching as another one of your pieces was captured by Spencer’s bishop.

"How so?" he asked innocently, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "All of my moves were legal!"

"Rematch!" you demanded, unable to hide the playful challenge in your voice.

"Another? Do you like losing?" Spencer teased, his smile widening as he prepared to set up the board once more.

"Oh, Dr. Reid…" you said, leaning in slightly, the whiskey doing wonders for the rising tension in the room. "Okay. Let's make this round more interesting then."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the playful edge in your voice. "How so?" he asked, leaning closer, captivated by the challenge.

"How about, for each piece you lose, you have to remove an item of clothing?" you suggested, your tone daring and mischievous.

Spencer paused, considering your proposal as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I'm listening…" he replied, his curiosity piqued.

"Say I take your pawn… you have to take off your cardigan," you explained, running your finger up his covered arm, drawing a shiver from the usually composed doctor.

"Okay…" Spencer agreed, his voice dropping to a low, interested murmur.

"And if you take mine… I'll take something off," you continued, meeting his gaze with a look that promised excitement.

The chess pieces were set, and the stakes were higher this round as you both leaned over the board, your focus split between the game and the tension that crackled between you.

Spencer's first move was calculated, his eyes flickering between the board and you. "Ready to play?" he asked, his voice laced with playful confidence.

"As I'll ever be," you replied, your heart racing with anticipation.

The game progressed with both of you taking careful yet bold moves, the stakes of the game adding an electrifying thrill to each capture.

When Spencer took your first pawn, he smiled knowingly, the whiskey giving him a touch more boldness than usual. "Looks like I get to see if you're a woman of your word," he said, gesturing to your side of the board.

True to your word, you slipped off your jacket, placing it on the back of your chair with a smirk. "I hope you're ready to reciprocate," you shot back, eyes twinkling with the thrill of the game.

With each piece lost, the room seemed to grow warmer, and the playful tension between you and Spencer heightened with each exchange. Of course, so far, you had been the only one losing clothing. After saying goodbye to your jacket, you'd lost both your shoes and socks, realizing belatedly that there were more chess pieces than articles of clothing you had on. Perhaps you hadn’t thought this through.

Spencer captured another one of your pawns, and you met his gaze with a raised eyebrow as you removed your bottoms. "You're quite the strategist," you admitted, feeling the stakes increase with each move.

"It's all about thinking ahead," he replied, his voice steady despite the thrill of the game. "And being prepared for any surprises."

Spencer couldn't help but let his gaze drift as you stood to pull your bottoms off, exposing your panties. You now stood before him in just a bra and underwear, and he was visibly stunned.

"Close your mouth, Dr. Reid; we still have a game to play," you teased, relishing the way his eyes were glued to you.

Finally, you managed to capture one of his pieces. Spencer, true to the spirit of the game, removed his cardigan, revealing his button-up shirt underneath. The simple action sent a ripple of excitement through the room, the stakes becoming more real with each move.

When Spencer captured your next piece, he watched you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra. 

"Wait, you don’t actually have to do that. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable," Spencer said, his voice suddenly serious, even though his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

"What? And not follow the rules? I'm a team player, Spencer," you replied with a wink before unhooking the clasp and letting the material fall with a quiet thud. 

Spencer openly stared, mesmerized by not only your body but your confidence. You saw him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he tried to regain his composure.

"As much as I'm loving this attention, and I am," you teased, "we still have to finish."

Spencer cleared his throat and shook his head. "Right, um, yes, sorry." 

His focus was clearly affected; his strategic edge seemed to falter as the game continued. Despite his brilliance, the sight before him was a considerable distraction, and it wasn't long before you managed to capture more of his pieces. 

Piece by piece, you worked Spencer down, until he was left in his briefs, the tables having turned in your favor. Each move was accompanied by the thrill of your mutual anticipation, his eyes dancing between the board and you, admiration and vulnerability on his face.

"Checkmate," you announced, moving your queen into position with a satisfied grin.

Spencer stared at the board, the reality of his defeat sinking in, along with a sense of something more profound, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension that had been building between you.

"You played well," Spencer said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a reluctant smile. "Better than I anticipated."

"I had a little help," you replied, a teasing lilt in your voice. 

As you both sat there, the game concluded and the stakes settled, it was clear that chess had only been the prelude to something much deeper. The room seemed to pulse with the energy of possibilities, each moment stretching out with potential.

"So," you said, leaning back in your chair, fully aware of the effect you had on him, "what now, Dr. Reid?"

Spencer's eyes met yours, the vulnerability in them replaced by a newfound resolve. "I think," he began, his voice steady despite the situation, "it's time for another round. But this time, no chessboard required."

The words hung in the air between you, an invitation to step beyond the playful game and into the realm of genuine connection. You felt a rush of excitement mingled with anticipation, your heart pounding in your chest as Spencer considered your invitation.

“Make your move, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice low and inviting, “capture the queen.”

Spencer’s eyes met yours, a flicker of hesitation giving way to a resolve that was both thrilling and tender. He stood slowly, the weight of the moment making every second seem deliberate and significant. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you with a graceful ease that belied the intensity of the situation.

As he approached, you felt a shiver of anticipation run through you, the heat between you almost palpable. Spencer placed his hands on the armrests on either side of you, his gaze steady and full of intent. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken desire, an uncharted territory waiting to be explored.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both soft and electric, a gentle yet confident movement that spoke volumes of his affection and admiration. The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but quickly grew more assured.

You responded eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His touch was electrifying, sending ripples of sensation through you, each kiss deepening the intimacy between you.

The kiss seemed to last forever, a timeless moment where nothing else existed but the two of you. You were aware of every detail—the softness of his lips, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his fingers gently caressed your cheek as if you were something precious and fragile.

As you pulled back slightly, breathless and exhilarated, Spencer gazed into your eyes with a look that was equal parts admiration and wonder. “Wow,” he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. “I should have captured the queen a long time ago.”

You chuckled softly, the tension now transformed into a shared joy. “Well, I’m glad you finally made your move,” you replied, your heart racing with the thrill of what lay ahead.

Spencer leaned in and kissed you again, his touch gentle but insistent. This time, his arms scooped under your back, helping you to stand as the chessboard faded into a distant memory. He started leading you toward the bedroom, both of you stumbling slightly in your eagerness, blindly bumping into furniture and walls. The clumsiness only added to the playful atmosphere, causing you to giggle into each other’s mouths as you moved.

Once in the bedroom, Spencer gently pushed you back onto the bed, your body sinking into the softness as you propped yourself up on your elbows. You stared up at him, the beautiful man who was now crawling towards you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Spencer's gaze was full of admiration and desire, his eyes traveling over you with a look that made you feel both cherished and wanted. He moved closer, his fingers lightly tracing over your skin, sending sparks of anticipation through you.

“Can I take these off?” Spencer asked, his fingers hovering at the edge of your waistband, his voice filled with excitement and respect for your boundaries.

“Yes, please,” you replied, breathless and eager, giving him the reassurance he sought.

With your consent, Spencer carefully pulled down your panties, his touch reverent as he took in the sight of your glistening core. His eyes were filled with awe, his gaze drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

“Is there anything you don’t want to do?” he asked, his voice gentle and sincere, wanting to ensure that every step was taken with your comfort in mind.

You shook your head, feeling completely at ease with him. “Yes, but I highly doubt you’re going to find any of my hard limits right now,” you replied with a soft smile, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

Spencer chuckled, a sound that was both warm and arousing, before he leaned in closer, spreading your thighs and pressing a tender kiss to your clit. His lips were soft and gentle, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through you like a slow-burning flame.

You let out a soft whine from the back of your throat, a sound that resonated with encouragement and desire. It urged Spencer to explore more, to push beyond the boundaries of what you’d both anticipated. His eyes met yours briefly, a question of permission, of eagerness to continue. You nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. 

Spencer's tongue flattened against you, and he slowly licked up the length of your core, eliciting a deep, involuntary arch of your back. The sensation was electrifying, sending ripples of pleasure through your entire body. 

Your fingers found their way into his hair, twisting gently, encouraging him with each soft pull and gasp. The gentle friction between your fingers and his scalp seemed to spur him on, pushing him to devour more of you, which made you cry out and melt beneath him.

When he made it back to your clit, Spencer paused for a moment, teasing you with soft, deliberate touches before sucking hard in a way that made you grip his hair with renewed urgency. Your body moved instinctively against him, urging him forward, craving more of the sensation that he so expertly wielded.

With each lick and suck, his face shifted deeper into you, the intimacy of the moment deepening with each shared breath and whispered curse from you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a cocoon of shared sensation and mutual exploration. 

Spencer's movements were that of a man starved, he was eating you out with the fever of someone who had been craving you since the moment you met. Crazy. His jaw was open, his tongue exploring, plunging, and teasing.  

Your hips responded to his rhythm, moving in time with his licks, your body and mind in perfect harmony with his. Each touch, each suck was a conversation of its own, a dialogue of desire that required no words, only the language of touch and shared experience. 

Feeling the rise of your peak within you, you let yourself go, surrendering to the sensations, letting Spencer guide you through the intricate dance of pleasure and connection. His tongue was a constant, grounding force, leading you through each wave with skillful precision, until every thought was consumed by the spark between you. 

Your body trembled under his touch, every nerve alight with sensation, and as you reached the peak of your orgasm, your body dissolved into a mix of cries and thrusts.

Spencer's hands never left you, his touch soothing and reassuring, drawing you back into a gentle embrace as the waves of sensation began to ebb. You looked up at him, breathless and blissfully content, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that spoke of shared understanding and mutual joy. 

“Jesus Christ, where did you learn how to do that?” you breathed out incredulously, the lingering sensations from Spencer’s touch still making your skin tingle.

He chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, I did win a pie-eating contest one time,” he replied with a modest shrug, the mischievous tone in his voice making you giggle.

“What flavor of pie would you say I am?” you asked, your voice filled with a teasing lilt as you watched his reaction.

“The sweetest,” he replied, a warmth in his gaze that sent a delightful shiver through you. With that, Spencer’s lips were on yours again, a fervent kiss that rekindled the heat between you. 

His hands began to explore once more, each finding a home of its own, one tracing a gentle path through your soaking wet core and the other resting firmly on your breast, tugging at your nipple. Both sensations drove you wild, the overstimulation lighting your body on fire with renewed intensity.

“Spencer!” you gasped, the word filled with plea and admiration.

“Yeah? Need something?” he mumbled against your lips, the vibration of his words adding another layer of sensation.

You babbled incoherently, unable to articulate the jumble of feelings as your mouth trailed along his jaw and neck, tasting the salt and warmth of his skin before nibbling your way down to his shoulder. You were lost in the moment, each thrust of his fingers inside of you bringing a new wave of pleasure that left you breathless.

“Ow! You little vampire,” he laughed, a playful lilt to his voice as you bit at his shoulder.

Spencer’s laughter was contagious, and you found yourself smiling, your fingers dancing lightly across his skin, eager to explore and discover. The sense of closeness and trust between you deepened with each shared touch, creating a bond that felt as though it had been years in the making.

Each touch was precise and intentional, telling of Spencer’s attentive nature, as he focused entirely on your pleasure, reading your reactions with keen insight. The way he responded to your every whimper and sigh was almost like he was playing an intricate piece of music, his fingers moving deftly across an instrument, coaxing out beautiful notes of arousal.

Your hand drifted to his hair again, tugging gently as your lips met his once more, the kiss a reflection of the emotions you couldn't quite express in words. The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and spice that lingered on your tongue, driving you to pull him even closer.

Spencer’s lips moved with purpose, his mouth devouring yours similarly to how he ate you out, sending ripples of pleasure that left you breathless and eager for more. His touch was both tender and electric, each kiss, thrust, twist, tug bringing you closer to the edge, where anticipation and fulfillment danced in perfect harmony.

Right when you thought you were going to have another blissful orgasm under the most beautiful man, Spencer did the unthinkable: he removed all touch. One moment, his warmth surrounded you, his hands on your skin, the next moment his touch was gone.

"Huh? What? No? Spencer? Come back!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with both surprise and desperation, reaching for him as if to tether him back to you.

He smiled down at you, that endearing blend of playfulness and intent twinkling in his eyes. "Sorry, honey. Saving that for when I'm inside you," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice as he pulled back, making a move to leave the bed.

You let out a small whine of frustration, your orgasm hanging in the air, clearly upset with his choice and impatient for him to fulfill his promise. Every nerve in your body seemed to echo your disappointment, each pulse demanding his return.

"I'm just getting a condom, calm down," he teased, a wicked grin on his face as he headed for the drawer beside the bed.

"You did this to me," you half-growled, half-laughed, throwing an arm over your face in exaggerated exasperation. "You fix it."

"Okay, okay," he laughed and surrendered, returning with the condom in hand.

"Can I put it on?" you asked, your voice carrying a note of playful mischief.

"Really?" he responded, his curiosity piqued by the offer, eyes widening slightly in pleasant surprise.

"Mhm," you nodded, the opportunity too enticing to pass up.

"O–okay," he agreed, handing the package to you with a blend of excitement and curiosity.

With the condom in hand, you slid the rubber down his cock, taking a moment to appreciate the sheer size and girth of him, marveling at the way he responded to your touch. Your fingers traced the smooth, firm contours, feeling the heat and the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

You jerked him steadily now, feeling the anticipation between you crescendo as you prepared him to fuck you. Each movement was testing his patience as he leaned into the smooth, warm glide of your hand .

"Fuck, I'm ready," Spencer breathed out, the rawness of his words echoing the tension in the room, his body language speaking volumes of his readiness to continue where you had left off.

"I know," you replied, a teasing glint in your eyes as you finished, meeting his gaze with a knowing smile. "Welcome to the club."

You were nicer than Spencer, though, guiding him gently back into the space between your hips, your bodies aligning perfectly. The anticipation hung like a sweet apple, the promise of what was to come electrifying the air.

As he pushed inside of you, you let out a soft whimper, the sensation new and exciting. The warmth of his body against yours, the slow glide of his cock as he moved, each thrust was a dance of intimacy and desire, your walls clenching down around him.

The atmosphere between you was charged with a palpable energy, each of you breathless from the intensity of the moment. Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze filled with adoration and mischief. He leaned in closer, his lips just inches from your ear as he whispered in a voice thick with desire.

“Ohhh, fuck me, you feel so good,” he murmured, his words a teasing invitation wrapped in a velvet promise. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he continued. “You’re so tight. Gonna let me stretch you?”

His tone was low and sultry, the kind that sent your heart racing and made your skin tingle with anticipation. Every syllable seemed to wrap around you, pulling you deeper into the intoxicating web he was weaving.

You felt a deep flutter of excitement at his words, your body responding instinctively to the offer he laid before you. The raw need in his voice was mirrored in your own desires, and you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper as you nodded eagerly.

“Oh, please, Spencer, please!” you implored, your voice carrying a breathy edge of desperation. The plea tumbled from your lips, fueled by the heat of the moment and the urgency of your shared longing.

The way you said his name—Spencer—was like music to his ears, a perfect harmony of hunger and surrender that urged him on. He met your gaze with a knowing smile.

Spencer's fingers returned to your clit, his touch firm and tender, anchoring you to the moment as he found his rhythm, each smack of his hips against yours bringing you closer to the edge. Your own hands explored his chest, tracing the lines of his stomach and feeling the play of muscle beneath the skin.

As the air between you hummed with anticipation, curiosity got the better of you. You let your fingers trail down Spencer's skin, your touch feather-light and exploratory. His breath hitched in his throat as you delicately pinched one of Spencer’s nipples between your fingers, marveling at the way it felt under your touch.

The sensation was new and electrifying for him, a ripple of pleasure that surged through his body and caused him to moan out loudly, his reaction unguarded and genuine. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he processed the unexpected jolt of sensation.

"My god, you are something else," he breathed, his voice filled with awe and delight at your unexpected boldness.

"Something good?" you asked, your tone playful yet genuinely curious as you continued to experiment with the effect your touch had on him.

"Something amazing," Spencer replied, his eyes opening to meet yours with a smoldering intensity. "God, I'm so into you."

The raw honesty in his voice sent a thrill through you, your own heart racing with the realization of just how much you had drawn him in. His words resonated with a sincerity that made you feel both cherished and wanted.

"Uhhh huh, me too," you admitted, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Like you so much."

Spencer grinned, a warm, genuine smile that spoke of mutual admiration and affection. "Mmm, like you too, pretty girl," he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss that spoke of everything words couldn't quite convey.

The kiss was soft and lingering, a gentle mingling of breath and sensation that deepened the connection between you. Spencer's hands found their way to your face, cradling it gently as he poured every ounce of his affection into the kiss.

Your fingers continued their exploration, tracing paths across his skin that left him shivering in delight, each touch adding another layer of intimacy to the moment. 

The world around you faded into insignificance as you lost yourselves in each other. The kiss lingered, a promise of the depth of emotion that had taken root between you, growing stronger with each passing moment.

With each glide of his cock inside you, Spencer drove you higher, the anticipation building to a fever pitch until you were both caught in a whirlwind of passion and arousal.

"Spencer, I'm so close," you murmured, your voice a soft plea as you pressed yourself closer to him, your fingers tracing over where his cock was stretching you open.

His response was immediate, his breath catching as he met your eyes, the dark desire in his gaze mirrored by your own. "Oh yeah?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, thick with intensity.

"Mhm," you confirmed, the sound of your voice wavering with need. "Please let me come, please," you begged, the urgency in your words matched by the way your body moved against his.

Spencer let out a ragged groan, clearly affected by your words and your touch. "Oh fuck, yeah beg for it," he groaned, his hands gripping you a little tighter as he relished in the moment.

"Please, I've been so good. I deserve it, please, Spencer, please!" You whined and whimpered, writhing on the bed, your desperation palpable as you sought the release that seemed just out of reach.

"Shit, okay, pretty girl," Spencer finally relented, his voice gruff with arousal. "Don't cry. You can come," he whispered, granting you the permission you needed to finally let go.

With his words, a rush of relief and excitement surged through you, the sensation of finally being able to finish overwhelming you in the best possible way. Spencer’s presence was your anchor, his touch guiding you as you moved into a realm of pure ecstacy, the culmination of everything you’d been craving. As the relief washed over you, you felt Spencer's reassuring kisses alongside your face. 

Spencer was trying his very best not to lose it in that moment, the feeling of your walls tightening around him driving him absolutely wild.

"That's it, beautiful," he murmured softly, a smile in his voice. "Let it out, so good for me."

You felt his encouragement seep into your skin, giving you the strength to ride the waves of pleasure crashing over you. "Ungh, so good for you," you managed to reply, your voice a shaky whisper as you surrendered to the moment.

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling with affection as he looked down at you. "You okay, baby?" he asked, a playful edge to his voice as he teased you for your earlier pleas.

Breathless and blissful, you nodded, meeting his gaze with a half-smile. "Want you to come, please come inside me," you murmured, your eyes holding a mix of need and desire as you urged him on.

With that, Spencer doubled his efforts, lifting your legs above your shoulders. The shift in position only heightened the intensity of the sensations, the new angle sending fresh waves of pleasure rippling through you.

His thrusts were precise, each one sending sparks of electricity through your nerves as he worked to bring himself closer to the edge. You could feel the strength in his arms, his grip firm yet gentle as he supported you, the rhythm of his hips never faltering.

"Spencer," you gasped, your body so sensitive but so willing to let him use you for his pleasure.

Spencer leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His desire took control of him, stilling his cock inside you and emptying his spend into the condom. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a shared moment of vulnerability.

As the intensity of the moment subsided, Spencer gently pulled away, riding of the condom and laid down beside you. The tension and passion gave way to a lighter atmosphere as you both broke into a fit of laughter, the relief and joy of the experience bubbling to the surface.

"Well, that was a hell of a first date," you giggled, turning to face him, your eyes still sparkling with the afterglow of the moment.

Spencer tried to catch his breath, a wide grin spreading across his face. "This is going to sound like a lie," he confessed, his voice still slightly breathless, "but I promise it's not—I have never done that on a first date before."

"Me neither," you replied, your laughter mingling with his as you both basked in the comfortable ease that had settled between you.

There was something undeniably genuine about the way you and Spencer had connected. It was a rare and beautiful thing, and you both knew it.

Spencer turned to you, his expression soft and sincere. "I didn't expect today to turn out like this," he admitted, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

"Neither did I," you agreed, leaning into his touch, the simple gesture filled with warmth and reassurance. "But I'm really glad it did."

"Me too," he said, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that seemed to say everything else he was feeling.

The silence that followed was comfortable and full, a testament to the connection you'd forged in such a short time. You both knew that this was only the beginning, a promising start to something that could grow into something truly special.

Spencer's fingers intertwined with yours, a silent promise of more moments like this, and as you both drifted into a contented quiet. 

The peaceful moment was broken by your phone ringing into the quiet apartment, its sudden intrusion shattering the silence you had both been enjoying. You exchanged a glance with Spencer, a silent agreement to ignore it, wanting to savor the tranquility a little longer. 

But then Spencer's phone started buzzing too, vibrating insistently from the other room. The coincidence raised your concern, and both of you quickly moved to pull on your clothes, an unspoken understanding that something might be wrong if both phones were ringing at once. 

You made your way together to the living room, the echo of your footsteps filling the space as you searched for your phones. It was then that you saw who had called. 

"It was my mom," you said, a bit of worry creeping into your voice as you checked your missed calls. She had tried reaching both of you, the notifications now blinking up at you like tiny urgent reminders. 

“Oh, shit,” you exclaimed, realizing the oversight. “I didn’t think to tell her not to wait up.”

Spencer let out a small, understanding chuckle, though there was a hint of sheepishness in his expression. “You should probably call her back before she thinks I killed you,” he suggested, half-joking but aware that Alex's motherly instincts could be running on high alert.

Nodding, you tapped your mom’s contact and brought the phone to your ear, pacing slightly as you waited for her to pick up. Spencer stood nearby, a reassuring presence as he watched you with a small smile, seemingly amused by the situation. 

"Hello?" Alex answered, her voice tinged with concern.

"Hey, Mom," you greeted, a little breathless from the urgency of the call. "Sorry about not calling. We got a bit caught up," you admitted, hoping your tone would convey that everything was okay.

"Caught up, huh?" Alex replied, her voice softening as she caught on to the undertone of your words. "I was just checking to make sure you two hadn’t gotten into any trouble."

You laughed lightly, relieved that she was more teasing than serious. "No trouble here, I promise. Just…you know, good company."

From the other side of the room, Spencer offered a thumbs-up, his playful smile widening. 

"I'm glad to hear that," Alex said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I figured you might not be coming back tonight, but I wanted to make sure."

“Oh, uh, I didn’t ask…” you said, your words trailing off as you glanced at Spencer, who was now looking at you with a curious head tilt.

"Spencer, can I spend the night?" you asked, the question hanging in the air with a playful innocence.

“Yes, of course,” he replied with a warm smile, his answer immediate and sincere, clearly pleased by your request.

You giggled, feeling a flutter of excitement at his quick agreement, before turning back to your conversation with your mom.

"Thanks for checking in," you replied to Alex, feeling grateful for her thoughtfulness. "I'll be sure to call next time."

"Alright, enjoy the rest of your night. And tell Spencer hello for me."

"I will," you promised, feeling the warmth of her acceptance. "Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, sweetie."

You ended the call and turned back to Spencer, who was watching you with an expression of mild curiosity and relief. 

"All good?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"All good," you confirmed, feeling a wave of affection for him and the way he seemed genuinely concerned. "She just wanted to make sure I was okay."

"Well, I'm glad she called," Spencer said, coming closer and wrapping an arm around you. "Because I would have been worried too if I didn't know where you were."

The sentiment in his words was sweet, a reminder of the genuine care that had developed between you so quickly. As you settled back into the living room, the tension of the phone calls faded away, leaving only the comfort of each other’s company. 

"Now that we have our alibi sorted," Spencer joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "what should we do next?"

You leaned into him, savoring the warmth and closeness, the day's events leaving you both in high spirits. With a teasing glint in your eye, you suggested, "How about we rob a bank? We’ve had great luck so far today."

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head at the idea. "You know I am an FBI agent, right?" he reminded you, his tone playful but with a hint of mock seriousness.

"I know," you replied, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smile. "And it's so sexy."

"Says the professor," Spencer countered, raising an eyebrow at you with a grin that spoke volumes about how much he enjoyed this playful banter.

You both broke into laughter, the lighthearted teasing weaving a comfortable intimacy between you. It was easy to get lost in moments like this with Spencer, where everything felt natural and right.

For the rest of the night, you continued to giggle and flirt, exchanging stories and jokes. Every shared glance and touch felt like another piece of a puzzle falling into place, creating a picture of something that promised to be both thrilling and meaningful.

As the hours passed, you found yourselves wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and companionship, the world outside fading away as you enjoyed each other's company. It was the kind of night that felt like the beginning of a wonderful adventure, one that neither of you wanted to end.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm

[mariclerc]

Biker love (pt.2) | cl16

Summary: an unexpected encounter with a biker ends up in the best way.

Warnings: fluff, biker boy/tattooed Charles and shy reader.

Part 1

You and Charles have been together for a while now and it has been the most incredible months of your life, he is a super attentive and very cute boy. You love spending a lot of time with him and going out to discover new things on the weekends or sometimes you just stay home and it's even a thousand times better, lately he has been very vocal about introducing you to his friends because, in his words: "because you're someone so special in my life, you deserve to meet my crew." And honestly you're a little nervous about meeting his friends, because you're afraid they'll judge you by your looks.

So now you find yourself next to him in a crowded bar, which is a hive of activity, the air thick with the sound of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. You and Charles navigate your way through the crowd, Charles' arm wrapped protectively around your waist.

“Okay princess, here we are!” he says and he stops in front of a group of people gathered around a table, their laughter momentarily cut off as they turn to look at the couple. “Hey guys, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Liam, Ben, Mia, and Alex.” he says towards you and his friends.

You offer a shy wave towards them, your cheeks turning a delicate pink. The group exchanges surprised glances... Liam, a tall, tattooed guy with a piercing gaze, is the first one to speak.

“No way Charlie! You’re dating her?” Liam says with surprise in his voice.

You feel a blush creeping up your neck. Ben, a shorter, more laid-back guy with a friendly smile, breaks the awkward silence.

“Dude, no offense, but she’s... a little different.” Ben says raising his eyebrows.

Mia, a stylishly dressed woman with sharp features, nods in agreement. “Yeah, it's not what we expected.”

Your heart sinks a little, but Charlie squeezes your hand reassuringly. “I know, I know. But she’s amazing! Don’t judge a book by its cover guys.”

Alex, the quietest of the group, speaks up. “Hey, it's cool... I mean, we’re just surprised Charlie, that's all.”

You sighed and offered a grateful smile. “It’s nice to meet you all!” you giggled softly.

The group exchanges glances, a silent conversation taking place between them... Then, Liam, the most outspoken of the group, breaks the ice.

“Okay, fine... You’re cute! And you seem nice.” he smiles showing the piercing in his gum.

You relax slightly, you're relieved that they're not completely hostile.

Charles' smiles widely. “See? I told you!” He turns to you and gives you a reassuring smile. You lean into him, feeling safe and loved.

As the night progresses, you start to loosen up. You find yourself engaging in conversations with the group, discovering shared interests and laughing at their jokes. The initial awkwardness fades away, replaced by a sense of belonging.

The night wears on, and the atmosphere in the bar becomes increasingly lively. The music pumps louder, and people dance and mingle freely. You were initially hesitant, but you find yourself drawn into the energy of the crowd.

Charles' smiles towards you. “Come on, let's dance baby.” He extends a hand towards you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. With a nervous laugh, you take his hand and allows yourself to be pulled onto the dance floor.

As you two move to the rhythm of the music, you feel a surge of adrenaline... The worries and insecurities you had earlier seem to melt away. You're lost in the moment, enjoying the freedom of movement and the closeness of Charles.

You giggle. “I can't believe I'm actually doing this!” you laugh, breathless.

He giggled too. “You're so so amazing baby!”

He dips you, and you both laugh. The crowd around you two cheers, their approval adding to the exhilarating atmosphere.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group are watching you two with amused smiles.

“I can't believe she's actually having fun!” Mia says watching you guys dance.

Liam nods. “Yeah, she's growing on me.”

Ben smiles. “Charlie's got good taste.”

As the night draws to a close, the group decides to head to a nearby diner for some late-night food. You find yourself a little exhausted but exhilarated, you lean against Charlie, your head resting on his shoulder.

He looks at you. “Are you tired baby?”

You shake your head. “Nope, just a tiny little bit, but it was so much fun!” you giggled again.

You smile up at him, your eyes sparkling with happiness, Charles returns your smile, squeezing your hand.

As the group of friends walk towards the diner, the city lights twinkling around them, you feel a sense of belonging you haven't expected, because you're surrounded by people who care about Charles, and you're starting to feel like one of them.

***

The diner is dimly lit, a comforting contrast to the vibrant energy of the bar. The group settles into a booth, their laughter and chatter filling the quiet space. You still buzzing from the night's excitement, are seated next to Charlie.

“So, how's my little bookworm holding up, huh?” he asks softly at you.

You grin, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “I'm still trying to catch my breath. That was so insane!”

The group laughs in agreement.

“I can't believe you actually danced, y/n. That was so cool!” Mia says.

You blushed. “Well, Charlie dragged me onto the dance floor.”

“Hey! I thought you were having fun amour.” he says softly. (love)

“I was! It was just... unexpected, but good.” you giggled.

The conversation flows easily, filled with laughter and shared stories. You find yourself opening up to the group, revealing sides of yourself that you rarely show up. You discover a shared love of old movies with Liam, a passion for cooking with Mia, and a surprising connection with Ben over your mutual love of comic books and languages —because he speaks a little bit of Spanish.

As the night deepens, the conversation turns more serious, the group shares their hopes, dreams, and fears, creating a bond of trust and understanding.

Charles clear his throat. “I'm so glad you guys got to meet y/n. She's amazing!”

The group nods in agreement. “Yeah mate, she's cool.” Liam says.

“Thank you so much guys, I had a great time tonight!” you say while smiling.

As the diner starts to empty, the group reluctantly begins to say their goodbyes. You exchange numbers with Mia and you promised her to watch the movie she recommended.

As you walk out into the cool night air, Charlie wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“That was fun, huh?” Charles' asked you softly.

You nodded. “It was the best! I can't believe how nice everyone was with me.” you smiled.

Charles' chuckled. “Well, baby, they're my people, and now, they're your people too, okay?”

You lean into him, feeling a wave of happiness wash over you. As the two of you walk hand-in-hand towards his motorcycle, you know that your life has just taken a wonderful turn.

“Ready for a ride, my sunshine?” Charles asks as he hands you your helmet.

You nodded, a sense of contentment washing over you. As you climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. The familiar warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of the engine provide a comforting cocoon.

The city lights blur into a kaleidoscope of colors as Charlie accelerates, the wind whips through your hair, and you close your eyes, letting the sensation of speed carry you away.

You sighed. “This is so relaxing.”

“I'm so glad you like it baby.” he laughs.

You two ride in silence for a while, the only sound the gentle hum of the engine. The city gradually fades into the distance, replaced by the quiet suburban streets.

Finally, you arrive at Charles' apartment building, well, now it's your place too. As you dismount, you stretched a little bit, yawning softly.

“Are you tired now, love?” he asked you softly.

You nodded. “Yep, but just a little. It was a long night... But a fun one!” you smiled shyly.

He smiles as he ruffles your hair. “Come on baby girl, let's get inside. I'll make you some hot chocolate and we can snuggle together on the couch!” he giggles softly.

Then he takes your hand and leads you inside, the apartment is warm and inviting, the soft glow of the lights creating a cozy atmosphere. You feel at home next to him and it is an indescribable and very beautiful feeling at the same time.

charles_leclerc

liked by ynusername, benslife, therealliamm and others

charles_leclerc my pretty and cutie girl 🫧💗🩰

tagged ynusername

see comments

itsmiabby i still don't believe you have such a sweet side🧍🏻‍♀️

charles_leclerc mia, shut up 💀 you're embarrassing meeee

alex_albon man but it's true, we never thought you'd be a simp 🤭🤭

itsmiabby yea, alex it's SO right cha

leclerc_pascale comme tu es précieux! (how precious you are)

liked by creator

ynusername oh my my my 🥹🥹 i love you so so much baby boy 🤍🤍

charles_leclerc i love you too pretty princess 💗💗

ynusername you're so precious bby, I'm so in love with you 🥹🤍

charles_leclerc i know darling, i'm so madly in love with you too baby girlll💗🤍

ynusername

liked by yourbff, lilymhe, alex_albon and others

ynusername i like vroom vrooms boys🏍️❤️

tagged charles_leclerc

see comments

yourbff OH GOD THIS IS SERIOUS 👀👀

ynusername heheh🤭🤭 yeah i'm so so so hooked 👉🏻👈🏻

benslife la señorita de Charlie 🫶🏻🫶🏻 (charlie's little miss)

ynusername heheh yup, that's meee benny!! 🥺🤍

lilymhe you? messing with bikers? this is new!

ynusername i knowww girl 🤭😋 but it's so much fun once you try it!!

lilymhe okay now I'm curious 🫣🫣

ynusername you should get one‼️‼️

itsmiabby it was a pleasure meeting you, darling 💗💗 you take good care of our boy

ynusername aww, thank you mia!! i do my best, hehe 👉🏻👈🏻🥺

therealliamm you're adorable girl, charlie's so damn lucky 😉😉

charles_leclerc i like bookish and cute girls 😉💗💗

ynusername oh god babyy i know you dooo 🫶🏻🫶🏻

charles_leclerc hehe, i love you honey bee🤍🤍 you're so sweet and cute 🥰

ynusername you're sweet too!! so cute and such a softie 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

iMessage

[hardwriterdeluxe]

Emergency Model (for Barber Exam)

This story is based on the themes from @joshslater story by the same name, linked here:

https://joshslater.tumblr.com/post/750324919700799488/emergency-model

Go show it love!!!

______________________________________________

Alex grew up in a wealthy family, surrounded by every comfort money could buy. His father, a successful businessman, had always emphasized the importance of self-reliance and hard work. Despite their riches, his father insisted Alex make his own way in the world, particularly when it came to paying for college. “Success,” his father often said, “is earned, not given.”

This principle led Alex to a relentless pursuit of part-time jobs to fund his education. Balancing his rigorous academic schedule with work, he found himself perpetually exhausted and constantly broke. His dorm room was neat and orderly, a reflection of his disciplined upbringing and his hope for a bright future.

One fateful afternoon, as Alex scoured job listings online, a peculiar ad caught his attention: “Quick Cash! Emergency Model Needed for Barber Exam.” The promise of easy money was too tempting to resist. Skeptical but desperate, Alex decided to take a chance.

Arriving at the barber school, Alex was greeted by a burly instructor named Mike, who explained the process. “We’ll be giving you a full treatment, mate. You up for it?” Feeling the pressure, Alex nodded.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, trying to sound confident.

“Great, let’s get you suited up so your clothes don’t get messy,” Mike said, handing Alex a jumpsuit typically worn by the barbers.

Once he had changed, the students began their work. The first cut was shorter than Alex was used to, but he remained hopeful. As the cuts grew bolder, his hair transformed into a chavy, sporty style. Before he could protest, a student named Dan approached with a piercing gun. “Hold still, mate. Just adding a couple of studs,” he said, not giving Alex a chance to object. Before he knew it, Alex’s ears were pierced, adorned with small silver studs.

When the final haircut was done, Alex looked in the mirror, barely recognizing himself. “All set, mate!” Dan announced with a grin. Alex went to change back into his clothes, only to find them missing. “Uh, where are my clothes?” he asked, panic rising.

“Oh, must’ve misplaced them. Don’t worry, we’ve got some spares you can borrow,” Dan said, handing him a bundle of clothes. The outfits were all chavy and sporty, much like the students wore. Reluctantly, Alex put on the new clothes, feeling awkward and out of place. He collected his phone and wallet, but the cash he was promised wasn’t there.

Alex left the barber shop, confused and upset about losing his clothes. He headed to the bus stop, only to realize he was short on cash for the fare. As he stood there, unsure of what to do, Dan and a couple of the lads from the barber shop appeared. “Need a hand, mate?” Dan asked, noticing Alex’s predicament.

“Yeah, I don’t have enough for the bus,” Alex admitted, embarrassed.

“No worries. We got you,” Dan said, covering the fare. They rode the bus together, the lads chatting animatedly. Alex, still in shock, barely registered the conversation. When they reached Alex’s stop, the lads walked him to his door. “See you around, mate,” Dan said, patting him on the back. Alex nodded, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and apprehension.

The next day, Alex was awoken by a knock on his door. Groggy and disoriented, he opened it to find Dan and a few of the lads standing there. “Morning, mate! Time to pay up for yesterday,” Dan said with a grin.

Alex’s heart sank. “I don’t have the cash right now. I didn’t get paid from the barber exam,” he explained, his voice wavering.

Dan’s grin widened. “No worries, we’ve got an alternative method. Come with us, and you can work it off.”

Alex had no choice but to agree. He followed the lads, his anxiety mounting. They led him to a local gym where they spent the day working out and playing sports. The lads encouraged Alex, pushing him to embrace their lifestyle more fully.

As the days turned into weeks, Dan began to subtly alter Alex's reality. Using an uncanny ability to manipulate time and space, Dan slowly rewrote Alex's past and present. Alex’s body began to change, growing taller and more muscular. His once lean frame filled out with bulk, his muscles becoming defined from the daily workouts. His bone structure shifted, his features becoming more rugged and less conventionally attractive. His face developed a rougher edge, his jawline more pronounced and his skin tougher.

Alex’s intelligence seemed to drain away, his thoughts slowing and his vocabulary shrinking. He began to speak in the slang and accent of the lads, his speech patterns changing to match theirs. His mind transformed, his memories and identity reshaping to fit his new life. The well-spoken, diligent student was gone, replaced by Alec, a school dropout with a rough, chavy demeanor.

Alec’s heritage seemed to change as well. His affluent background and disciplined upbringing were erased, replaced by a working-class origin. His DNA, once a reflection of his rich ancestry, now bore the marks of a lad who had grown up in a tougher environment. His once clean, well-mannered appearance was replaced by a more average, rugged look.

Alec found himself working at the barbershop for money, his old aspirations and dreams replaced by the immediate need to earn a living. His apartment, once neat and orderly, transformed into a messy, athletic-themed space. Weights and gym equipment cluttered the living room, and sports posters adorned the walls. Alec even found himself sharing the space with a new roommate, Jay, another lad who fit seamlessly into Alec’s new life.

The transformation was complete. Alec’s interests changed; he now enjoyed working out, hanging with the lads, and the rough, chavy lifestyle. His wardrobe, once filled with preppy, clean-cut clothes, now boasted track suits, hoodies, and trainers. His clean, academic demeanor was replaced by a confident, almost cocky swagger.

One day, Alec looked in the mirror and fully embraced the reflection staring back. His rich upbringing, his disciplined studies, his aspirations for a professional career—all were distant memories, replaced by his new life as a proper chavy lad. His brain had fully adapted to his new identity, erasing any lingering doubts or connections to his past life.

As Alec sat in his now cluttered living room, surrounded by his new friends, he felt a sense of belonging he had never experienced before. The job that was supposed to be a quick cash fix had given him a new purpose and a new family. Alec embraced it fully, ready for whatever adventures lay ahead with his newfound brothers. Thus, the wealthy student transformed into a proper chavy sporty lad, his old life replaced by a new, exciting reality.

[camsthesadgirlnow]

ooo, okay maybe toxic!rafe going through shy!readers notes on her phone! he finds a list & its a list of very vulgar + public places she wants him to fuck her at + a kink she wants to try. first thing on her list is: him fucking her on a yacht, in the bahamas, against the metal railing. kink being.. choking. and he makes it happen fa her!! ahhhh

THE LIST

pairings: toxic!rafe Cameron x reader, innocent!reader

warnings: super steamy sexcy, sex, public sex, fingering, eating fluid

when rafe had picked up your phone to decline the 5th phone call from Alex Williams, the new boy that recently moved to the outer banks. He found your notes open to an interesting note. The title had his name in it and his eyes scanned the bullet points below. He didn’t expect any of this behavior from you.

‘Is God playing him?’ he thought

you, the innocent, pink loving, bow tying y/n wants to fuck rafe, the toxic boy and wants the kinkiest sex possible. He thought you didn’t even know what sex was or rather a dick. But thinking about it now, you did wear the skimpiest clothes but disguised it by being innocent. You were parrading the house wearing shorts and a crop top almost revealing your under boob.

slut

this moment brought you to so many more happy memories with rafe when he found this note on your phone.

—

place: yacht

you were perched over the steering wheel of his yacht when be called you over to teach you to steer. The background of the dark night lit up by the city lights. he quickly turned you around to face his body when he pulled you into a kiss, a kiss becoming deeply passionate. His hands grabbing into the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head before roughly discarding the piece of clothing somewhere. He turned you around before bending you over the steering wheel and sliding your thong down your thighs.

you moaned when you feel his tip sliding inside ur walls

“oh fuck”

both of his hands gripped onto your waists pounding into your walls as you whimpered

he was fucking into you so well, you almost came at the spot.

“shit rafe, sl-slow down” you rolled your eyes

“yeah slow down?” he clenched his teeth, feeling your walls tightening

he bent you over lower while he kept going faster. Your breasts pressing into the screen changing the map multiple times

“rafe rafe, im cumming” you squeal gripping onto his hand as your legs shake in pleasure, feeling juices running down your legs

“messy girl” he chuckles as he cums on your ass

trying to catch your breath before you stand up on your shaky legs and you start giggling.

“I thought this was supposed to be a challenge?” You pout, your doe eyes piercing into his brown ones

“you want a challenge…hmm?” He reaches over the key and turns on the yacht once more. He goes behind you grabbing both your hands before placing them on the steering wheel. He comes in front of you standing between your arms.

“drive the yacht while I eat you out” he smirks getting on his knees, placing a kiss into your clit.

—

place: public place

he took you on a drive down to the city of South Carolina after getting off the ferry. The day consisted of shopping and going to dinner. But later on, he suprised you with an opera show. you both dressed up, it was a black tie event. The security guard had shown you both to your seats. It was a private booth he had reserved and it was beautiful. You can tell it was very expensive, so why would he reserve a private booth for the both of you?

you both sat quietly observing the beautiful way instruments sing. You so into the show, you failed to realize rafe’s hand on your thigh before it was sliding into your pussy. Him smirking thanking himself at telling you to not wear panties. You jumped feeling his fingertips inside as almost a surprise.

“rafe-“

“stay quiet” he says, not looking at you but staring at the performance almost unbothered but his face spoke for itself.

sleek motherfucker

your hand wrapped around his arm trying to stop the movements from happening but he was way too strong for you and you were almost like a ladybug on his arm. He was unfazed.

the music started to become more intense as rafe angled his fingers into a deeper way and was fucking you to the beat. God you just wanted to scream, the pleasure was so good. Too good. You clenched your nails into his skin as your hips rode his fingers slowly, your eyes rolling and biting your lip.

so grateful that no one else can see you’re state but at the same you don’t care if anyone can you see. If any one can hear you. You just need this, you yearn for this pleasure everytime. The way he makes you feel is so drug like induced, you’re addicted to rafe.

you letting out a moan when the music became even more louder reaching its peak, representing you. You were so close. Your legs closing as your stomach clenches reaching you peak.

“daddy-“ you moan as you orgasm gripping onto the seat. he grabs onto your face, removing his fingers from inside you before placing them inside your mouth, you on que lick them almost as desert. He places his mouth on yours before stopping and brushing his lips on your ears.

“let’s go fuck in the car, yeah?”

a/n: thanks for reading loves. I’m so grateful living in the same timeline as chapel roan and ethel cain.

[forzalando]

boo’d up

summary: a night out enjoying some haunted houses leads to a few surprises pairing: oscar piastri x f!reader (Y/N, use of she/her), implied pairings of alex x charles, rebecca x carlos, & carmen x george wc: 1.6k warnings: descriptions of a haunted house (including darkness, tight spaces, screaming), mentions of being afraid/panicking, cursing author's note: guys i had this idea (because this is based on a true story/real-life experience where i was Y/N in this exact scenario except it was not a hot guy/oscar piastri, it was a young woman and i scared the absolute shit out of her). so i took a lot of creative liberties here. anyway! this is completely un-edited and complete garbage but i couldn't get it out of my head and i haven't written in 12 years. i figured it was time. go crazy!

It was a cold October night; the wind whistling through half-barren trees caused a slight shiver to trickle down your body.  The sun had set on the drive to your destination – an old farm in the middle of nowhere, which your friends had pointed out multiple times was a recipe for disaster. You shamelessly pulled the upcoming birthday card to get them to agree to the weekend activity: a haunted house compound you’d read about online that had impeccable reviews – four different houses for $40 was a deal you couldn’t pass up.

A massive, dark, dilapidated house stood in front of you – your first haunted destination of the evening. Screams from inside pierced through the air and sent waves of uneasiness and excitement through you; you’d fallen prey to falsely advertised haunted houses in the past, so you hoped with all your might that these did not disappoint.

“I should’ve stayed home,” Carmen grumbled as she pouted behind you in line. “It’s freezing, dark, and I have a million things I could be working on.”

“Oh, come on, Carm,” you teased, lightly punching her arm. “You’re telling me this isn’t your ideal Saturday night?”

“It’s definitely mine,” Rebecca chirped. “I love Halloween – all the creepy crawlies, scary movies, witches, chainsaw-wielding psychopaths. And candy, can’t forget the candy.”

You laughed and looked around at your small group, your smile faltering a bit when your eyes landed on Alex. She’d wrapped herself up tightly in her sweater, and you could tell she was trying her hardest to put on a brave face, but you saw right through the façade.

“Alex, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you urged. “I promise you, it’s absolutely ok.”

She shook her head quickly, linking her arm through yours. “I’ll be fine – it’s all fake, right? And I’ll just hold onto you the whole time; I’m still betting that you’re going to be the most scared out of all of us, even if you disagree.”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” you sang, pulling Alex forward to follow Rebecca and Carmen into the menacing-looking house.

Immediately upon entering, you were plunged into complete darkness. The hallways were just wide enough to walk through sideways – if you tried to walk straight, your shoulders scraped against the walls. People were incessantly banging on the walls beside you – screaming and shouting in your ears, your face, following you as you tried to shimmy as quickly as you could through the maze.

You could feel your heart rate kicking up, and each time someone banged on the wall and screamed near you, it began to beat even faster.

In the midst of your panic, you realized Alex’s hand was no longer in yours. You reached back blindly until you were gripping her sweater-clad forearm and started pulling, but surprisingly, pulling with very little movement.

“Alex, move faster,” you pleaded, growing more and more impatient, more panicked. It felt as if she was trying to keep you from running, trying to pull you back and keep you in that godforsaken house. Either the latter or she had suddenly gained a shit ton of muscle, preventing you from pulling her along with ease. “I’m scared, okay? You win, I’m terrified. Now, please try to keep up, I can’t see a goddamned thing.”

The horrors seemed endless – it was still pitch black, and the further you went into the house, the smaller the hallways became. As soon as you started to think you’d never get out and would be stuck in that nightmare forever, you saw streaks of moonlight ahead and burst through a black curtain into the cool, night air.

Gasping for a breath, you dropped Alex’s arm and started yelling as you spun to face her.

“Alex, what the hell – oh my god, you’re not Alex.”

Stood behind you, rubbing their wrist, was an impossibly attractive guy around your age with floppy brown hair and a look of concern on his face.

“You’ve got a hell of a grip,” he mumbled, a thick Australian accent hitting your ears. “Think you might have bruised me.”

You could hear Rebecca and Carmen snickering somewhere behind you, “Yeah, Y/N, you bruised him.”

It took everything in you, but you ignored your friends and focused your attention on the handsome stranger before you.

“I am so, so sorry; I thought you were my friend, and I was panicking just a bit, trying to get out of there as fast as I could. Plus, Alex was afraid before we even got in the house and – wait where is Alex?”

You started looking around frantically, convinced that you’d left your friend stranded in that abomination of a haunted house, only to hear her giggling and chatting with someone just a few feet away.

“It looks like Charles rescued your friend,” the handsome stranger shared. “Since you were too focused on ripping my arm out of my socket.”

“I said I was sorry – ” you started to say, but as you turned back towards him, you noticed a smirk of amusement on his face.

He put his hands in the air in surrender and laughed, “Hey, I’m just messing with you; no actual harm done. I’m Oscar, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you whispered back, feeling a sudden wave of shyness come over you now that the initial shock was wearing off. “And I really am sorry, I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.”

You froze as he stepped closer to you and lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

Nodding in response, you held your breath as he leaned in even closer to whisper in your ear. “That was absolutely terrifying and I’m glad I had you guiding me through.”

Heat rose up your neck as he pulled away slowly, a soft smile on his face and kind eyes to match.

“Well, I’d use the word guiding very lightly,” you laughed. “More like yanking or heaving, well, trying to. I could barely move you, and I was pulling with all my might. You must eat some serious amounts of spinach.”

“Spinach?”

“You know, Popeye? The sailor man? I’m strong to the finish, cause I eats me spinach?”

He shook his head and your cheeks heated in embarrassment – Popeye? Really?

Before you could die of humiliation and make one of the houses actually haunted, he bumped his shoulder against yours and laughed.

“Must be an American thing – I’m new here.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around,” you offered, bumping his shoulder right back. “I’ve been told I’m a great tour guide.”

“I’d like that very much. Maybe you can start by taking me through the rest of these houses? You can hold my hand – just in case you get scared again.”

He spoke with all the confidence in the world, but his cheeks and nose were flushed a gorgeous pink that you could see even in the moonlight.

You slipped your hand in his and turned your attention back to your friends, who were watching with wide eyes.

“Leave it to Y/N to accidentally almost kidnap a complete stranger in a pitch-black haunted house, and they turn out to be her dream guy,” Rebecca teased. “Looks like Alex found someone too – what did we do wrong, Carmen?”

Before Carmen could answer, two voices shouted from behind and caught everyone’s attention – two more devastatingly handsome men running towards your group.

“Hey, sorry we’re late, Carlos got us lost,” a British voice rang out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carmen and Rebecca smile giddily and high-five each other. Before walking over to the newcomers, they winked in your direction and whispered simultaneous “thank you’s”.

You winked back and squeezed Oscar’s hand a little tighter before leading everyone towards the next house.

“I think this next one is clown-themed,” someone mused from behind, causing you to stiffen.

“Clowns?” You whispered, your steps slowing to a near stop.

Alex giggled – “See, Y/N, I told you that you’d end up being the most scared! You should’ve listened to us when we tried to change your mind about coming!”

You turned your gaze towards Oscar, his eyes already on you and that adorable pink blush still prominent on his cheeks. “You know what, I’m actually really glad we came, even if I hate the dark, hate tight spaces, hate clowns, and will probably hate whatever else comes after that.”

“I’m glad you came too,” Oscar replied, adjusting his grip to link his fingers through yours. “And don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any clowns.”

“Mate, you’re terrified of clowns,” Charles ribbed. “You literally said on the way here that if there were any clown-themed houses, you would leave.”

“Gee, thanks, Charles, you could have just kept that to yourself for the sake of my pride.”

“We can protect each other,” you offered. “Or if it’s too much, we can grab some seriously overpriced snacks and wait for everyone else to go through the rest of the houses.”

“How about we face our fear but if either of us screams at any point in the house, you let me take you on a date?”

“I mean, we’re both afraid of clowns, it’s bound to happen,” you acknowledged.

He smiled at you; a heart-stopping, full-mouthed grin, and clarified, “Exactly.”

As soon as you stepped into the haunted house, only one foot each in the door before anything or anyone had even popped out, you both let out blood-curdling shrieks.

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