#so I know that there will come a point where I am expected to hand this off to our strategic development person

[captain-huggy-bear]

Priorities

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness/comfort

Summary: When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you.

Series: Teacher Reader series

Notes: I am not very well atm and I had to drive home dizzy from work the other day, the idea of Quinn being there to help has been stuck in my head so have some self indulgence from me.

A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's already at the rink getting ready for the game in the locker room when his phone goes off. You don't actually ring him, clearly doing that thing you always do where you're trying to not bother him on a game day, instead you send a quick text message. He expects the usual:

'Good luck on the game today, baby!'

Instead, the text he gets has him picking his phone up and calling you back in an instant, worry clouding his judgement and making his hands shake slightly.

'Hey, so guess who's being sent home because she's dizzy and can't breathe? I had my head between my legs for 20 minutes, definitely can't stand and teach. Have a good game x'.

You drop the good luck at the end like he's not supposed to be worried, like you've just casually told him about the weather and not that you we're struggling to breathe.

It doesn't really matter that Tocc is giving him the look, the one he reserves for when he's annoyed at the boys, or that half the locker room have stopped their own pre-game, pre-warm up routines to watch their captain frantically call you. He's pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

"Quinn?" You sound so incredibly breathless its like listening to an asthmatic 80 year old who's smoked for half their life. Except you don't smoke and you're not asthmatic or 80 which makes the whole situation about 10 times worse because you shouldn't be struggling to breathe. You should be doing better today.

You've been ill, he knows this, a chest infection he forced you to get meds for on the weekend. Meds which should have started working by now, a heavy dose of antibiotics and steroids which were supposed to have helped. You'd felt well enough this morning to go in and give work another go, but he regrets letting you do that now. Clearly trying to stand up in front of teenagers and talk was not something you should have been doing, not when the school day had only started half an hour ago and you were already being sent home.

"Baby, are okay?" You're sitting on the front steps of the school with all your things when you answer the phone to Quinn's worried voice. You keep telling yourself you just need a minute, just a minute and then you won't feel so dizzy, won't feel so breathless. Just a minute and the tingles in your fingers will go and your hands will stop shaking so much. Just a minute and then you can drive home and get into bed.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm just breathless. I'll be okay...they're...they're covering my...my lessons and..." You stop for a minute, taking big deep breathes, you sound so laboured on the phone that Quinn can't help but clench his phone tighter in his hand, "and I'm going home now." Your breaths are wheezy, just like Saturday, in fact he's certain you sound worse.

"How are you getting home?" He knows the answer before you say it and he hates it before he even hears it. You're dizzy and breathless and there is no way you should be driving home at all, but he knows you. Self-reliant to a fault, a martyr, always pushing yourself past the point of no return because you think you're fine, because you convince yourself you're fine. Because you don't want to inconvenience anyone or cause more problems. You ask to little of people around you, expecting barely anything despite all you give.

"I'm...I'm going to...to drive."

"No. You're not. I'm going to come get you." You want to protest a lot more than you do if you're being honest. But, you're so tired and it's so hard to breathe and students wandering in late to school are staring at you like you're having a break down. So your protests are relatively lacklustre by your usual standard. That actually worries him more.

"It's...there's like 2 hours before the game...you've...you've got warm ups soon." You hate the idea of him missing warm ups or god forbid the game, all because you were too stupid to realise you shouldn't have gone into work in the first place.

"So, I'll get you, take you home and come back to the rink and play. I'll walk to the school tomorrow and collect your car so you don't have to worry about it. But, you aren't driving, baby. If you even try to get in that car I will being fucking pissed. I love you, you do not get in that car." You know he's serious in that moment, not just because he's very rarely angry at you or anyone but himself, outside of the rink, but because he's got that clipped tone he only uses when he's serious. This isn't a request, it's a direct order and you have no intention of disobeying it, not when you know he's right...not when it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside that he's so insistent about your wellbeing.

"But, what...what if you miss warm ups?" He loves how much you support him and his hockey, he always will, but he hates that your first thought is that hockey should come first. His girlfriend can barely breathe right now and he quite honestly doesn't give a flying fuck if he misses warm ups. The team had to pull themselves together at some point and you came first. Always. If they couldn't manage warm ups without him then what was the point of paying them so much money?

"Warm ups aren't my priority, baby. You are. Do not get in the car. Do not drive. Do not move. I'm leaving right now, okay? Just sit on the steps of the school and take deep breaths." He's already grabbing his keys, not even bothering to change out of his gear other than putting some proper shoes on so that he can actually drive. He knows it'll spark some speculation and rumours, Captain of the Canucks storming out of the arena 2 hours before puck drop in full gear except his skates, but he doesn't fucking care about that right now.

"...Okay...thank you, Quinny. I love you." You say it because in that moment you have never felt so loved, to have someone drop everything, something so important, to come get you...Maybe its the meds, maybe its the breathlessness, the infection, but you feel like crying a little because of how sweet he is even when he's bossing you about.

"I'll see you soon, baby. I love you too."

He doesn't waste time once he hangs up, just turns straight to Tocc and tells him, "I'll be back."

The look he gets is a mixture of disbelief, frustration and confusion and he really can't blame Tocc for it. Not when Quinn is the captain, the player that seems to make a massive difference on the ice, and he's about to run out the doors 2 hours before the game? Yeah, he knows Tocc doesn't want to hear it.

"Quinn, where you going? We have a game in 2 hours?!" He knows he's going to be cutting it fine with Vancouver traffic and getting to your school, the apartment and back to the arena, but he's not letting you drive. He could live with missing a game, losing a game, but he couldn't live with himself if he let you drive home and something happened. His job was to look after you, if he failed at that? What was the fucking point?

"Tocc, I'll be back. I promise. But, right now my girlfriend is unable to breathe and dizzy and I'm not letting her drive home, okay? Sooner I leave, sooner I come back."

Maybe it's the insistence on Quinn's face, the reality that if he was forced to stay he wouldn't play well anyway. Maybe it's that you and Tocc get along and he can see a hint of concern in the other man's eyes or maybe Tocc just trusts him that much. But, he actually agrees to let him go. Not that Quinn could really be forced to stay. They'd have to tie him to the bench.

"Okay, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks."

Quinn ignores every single person he storms past, every employee, every fan outside, every person with a camera that starts asking him where he's going as he starts his car with one destination in mind. Maybe he seems rude, maybe he seems standoffish, but he doesn't really care because right now you are sat on the steps of a school struggling to breathe and he just wants to see you and get you home and into bed.

He doesn't even care that he knows Tocc is going to be questioned about his absence or that he can already hear his phone pinging with notifications from social media, most likely people asking where he was going and speculating.

'Just saw Quinn Hughes storm out of Rogers Arena in full gear, finally got fed up of his team?'

'Um, is anyone else panicking that Hughes just left the arena like 2 hours before puck drop?'

'Captain Lexapro has officially lost it with this team, just stormed out of the arena!!'

He tries his best not to break any traffic laws getting to you, despite the fact he has a lead foot that wants to press harder on the accelerator. But, he knows you'd hate it and you'd worry more about him getting a ticket, so he just grips the steering wheel tighter until he's turning into the school car park.

He doesn't try to park in a proper space, just pulls up as close to you as possible before hopping out. Your head is between your legs, shoulders rising and falling in laboured breaths and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach at how bad you sound.

"Oh, baby..." He's kneeling on the dirty ground within seconds and you try, through broken gasps to tell him he'll get his hockey socks dirty, but he doesn't listen to you, just reaches to pull you into a hug.

"Let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow we're going back to the doctors, okay?" You're leaning your head into his shoulder so heavily that he's worried you might actually pass out. It's like the moment his arms wrap around you, you just give up on holding yourself up. In truth, that's kind of what happens. You just want to lean into him, soak up the comfort of your boyfriend lighting petting your hair and whispering into your ear.

"Don't y-you have...practice?"

"I think I can fit the doctors in around practice, baby..." He doesn't tell you, but he'd forgo practice for you. He doesn't care about anything but how you're doing and you're not okay. Quinn can see that better than anyone.

"Alright, up you get..." He stands first, hands reaching for yours to help pull you to your feet. You sway before him like you're on a 16th century galleon in a thunderstorm, forehead plonking on his chest heavily, "Atta, girl. There we go." He just strokes your hair and back while you wait for the dizziness to pass, he knows each second will make him later to the arena but he's not going to rush you when you're struggling just to stand without fainting.

"Alright, let me get your stuff and then we'll take it one step at a time, baby, okay?"

"O..okay...one step...at a time." He tries his best not to let go of you completely as he bundles your work bag onto his shoulder. Quinn is as quick as he can be with it, before pulling you under his arm and helping you inch step by step towards the car.

It's slow going, every few steps you get a little dizzy and he waits for you to nod before he pushes you forward again. You're drained, dark circles under your eyes and skin losing some of its usual colour by the time you reach the car.

Quinn had purposefully pulled up the car with the passenger side facing you and you're thankful not to have to walk around the car as you brace yourself against the door for a moment. Quinn helps ease you into the seat, reaching over to put your seatbelt on for you and adjust the headrest so you can lean back. It eases some of the weight in your chest.

"Nearly home, okay, baby?"

You just nod, exhausted as his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, spreading a soft sort of affection through your already aching chest. He's so gentle as he looks down at you, fingers rubbing circles in your cheeks, but he looks so worried and you feel so guilty because he shouldn't have to be that worried.

"You've been so brave, baby, you're so brave...soon you'll be in bed and you can watch the game and sleep, okay?" He knows you'll want to watch the game if you're sat at home, mostly because you watch every game he plays even if its on catch up, but also because he knows it'll reassure you that he made it back in time.

You nod again, blinking up at him so tired that he can't help but frown.

"Atta, girl. My brave girl." The kiss Quinn presses to your forehead is short and sweet, not lingering but filling you with warmth and lightness even as he closes the door on you and gets into the driver's side.

You miss his comforting touch and as if he knows this, his hand reaches for your thigh at any given opportunity when it isn't in use to drive. The stability of it, the comfort of just having him there is so welcome and helps you to relax back into the seat as he drives.

It's just as hard work getting you into the apartment, thankful as ever that the elevator actually works, but once you're in, Quinn feels ten times lighter.

"Right, lets get you comfy, baby...you want one of my jerseys or a hoodie?"

"Jersey...the....the black one, please."

"Okay, sit down, there ya go, good girl.." He watches you the entire time from the corner of his eye, scared you'll lean too far forward from how you're hunched over on the edge of the bed. He tries to make the entire thing quick, reaching for his black jersey, the extra big one that he bought home because you liked how it dwarfed you and even dwarfed him.

"Arms up, baby..." He helps you out of your work blouse and your bra, slipping the jersey over the top quickly to avoid the shivers you start shaking with.

The worst part is getting you to your feet to get your bottoms off. Quinn helps you rise to your feet before kneeling in front of you, dragging your hands to his shoulders for support as he helps you inch out of the remainder of your work clothes. Your fingers grip his shoulders so tight that he's certain you might leave bruises but he doesn't really care, just happy to get you comfy and help you into bed.

You're bundled under as many blankets as he can find, plus the heated blanket you got at Christmas. A big jug of water beside the bed, snacks piled high because he is not having you try to go all the way to kitchen without supervision right now.

"You want the game set to go on?"

"Y...yes, please...wanna watch you play." He turns the television on, setting it to the NHL game set to go live in less than an hour now and he knows he's going to miss warm ups at this point. Tocc's probably blowing up his phone and he knows he's cutting it fine...but you look so small bundled up in bed and he actually hates the idea of leaving you alone. He hates not having his family near all the time as a general rule, but in that moment he hates it so much more. If his mum or dad had been near he could have asked Ellen or Jim to check in on you, instead you were going to be all alone and he hated it.

"I'll score for you, yeah? You can watch me score and maybe we'll win and then I'll come and make us dinner. That sound good, baby?"

"Perfect..." Quinn smooths your hair back from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear even as he uses it as an excuse to feel your temperature. Not unreasonably warm which reassures him a little that you're at least not feverish.

He just keeps sitting there next to you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek to the point that as much as you're loathe to get him to stop and to leave, you have to remind him he can't stay here. He has a game he's already running late to.

"You...you have to go, Quinn...I'll be okay..."

"If you're not, you'll phone 911, right?" He smooths your hair back again, in truth he really doesn't want to leave you there like that. Even as you seem to be breathing a little better now you're lying down. He considers just not going, if they lose they lose...but he knows he can't. He's captain, he promised he'd be back...and you'd be unhappy with him. He might be your boyfriend but the Canucks were your team and you'd likely make him sleep on the couch for a week.

"I promise...just go win for me?"

"Okay, sweet girl." He presses a last lingering kiss to your forehead, before getting up to leave. But, he still lingers in the doorway for a moment until you push him to go.

Once he's out of the apartment he's rushing. Barely any time and honestly when he finally gets back to the arena and gets his skates on he's surprised he's just in time to go out on the ice for the anthem...cold, not warmed up in the slightest, not ready at all to play a game, but willing to.

Tocc stops him as he's passing the bench to get to the ice, "Cutting it fine, Hughes!" despite the gruff tone, Quinn can tell that Tocc is just relieved that Quinn's back in time. As are the guys who all look at him with varying shades of relief as if they'd been freaking out the entire time. Which they probably had.

"Told you I'd be back." Quinn says it with such confidence, even though inside he knows he nearly missed the entire game. To be honest if you hadn't forced him out the apartment then he'd probably have been late at best.

"How is she?" Tocc's voice is soft, concerned and Quinn appreciates it. He appreciates that as a coach Tocc doesn't just care about how much they cost or how well they play, he cares about them and their families too...and you're included in that, ring or not.

"Not good...but safe at home."

"You need practice off tomorrow?"

"Please, I need to get her to the doctors..."

"Done. Now go help us win the game." Tocc gives him a clap on the shoulder before pushing him out onto the ice and just like that Quinn slips into captain mode.

Locked in like he always is even if his legs don't feel as loose and his stick feels a little less familiar in his hands. Knowing you're home safe helps, he can put the thought of you to the back of his mind, knowing you're safe in the apartment, comfortable and surrounded by everything you need.

You find it hard to focus on the game, but force yourself to, determined to watch Quinn play and to see the goal he intends to score for you. Maybe it's silly, there's no guarantee he'll actually score, but you can tell from the moment he's on the ice that it's one of the few things on his mind. Shot after shot after shot, a determined series of attempts that remind you how important you are to him even as you lie wheezing in bed, eating as much chocolate as Quinn put out for you.

It's part way through the first period with one goal already to Vancouver thanks to Petey that the issue of Quinn's disappearance pre-game is raised.

"Quinn Hughes was nearly late to the game today, the captain missed warm ups but that's certainly not stopping him now!" Shortie's voice rings through the room, a familiar cadence that makes you feel comforted.

"No, it's not, Shortie, do we know why Hughes was late?" Dave responds and for a moment you can't quite comprehend that you've managed to cause this much of a ruckus.

"It hasn't been confirmed and you know I'm not much of a gossip..." You have a little giggle a Shortie even as you are the topic of conversation because it's not really much in the way of gossip and it's so silly.

"But?"

"Apparently he had a family emergency, his girlfriend is very unwell and he dropped everything to go get her."

"Well, that's just.."

"Romantic? Sweet?"

"I was going to say so unlike the Quinn Hughes we used to know, the one who only thought about hockey." You think back to Quinn when you first met, how everything had been hockey, hockey, hockey. You hadn't minded, your own love of the sport meant that you could handle it. But, it's true...Quinn had been rethinking his priorities ever since you started dating, where he might have prioritised hockey once, he'd started to prioritise you. You're not entirely sure at what point you became that important in his life, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"I think it's a good thing, that's a sign of growth, just like Hughes' shot!" Shortie cuts himself off as you watch the camera pan to Quinn, following his agile movements across the ice as he skips past the other team's players as if it's as easy as breathing, "He's in past the defence, he lines up the shot and an unassisted goal for Quinn Hughes! Vancouver goal!"

You smile wide as you watch Quinn grin, celebrating with his team in a series of hugs before he finds a camera. There's a moment where you know he's grinning at you, for you, a cheeky little wink sent through the screen as if to say 'told you I'd score for you'.

"I suspect that one was for the girlfriend, Shortie."

You watch the entire game, trying not to nod off to sleep between periods. While you can't cheer and you certainly don't have the energy to celebrate too hard, every Canuck goal makes you feel lighter and brings a smile to your face.

The end result of a 5-2 win to the Canucks makes it easy for you to drift off as the game ends and the waiting for Quinn begins.

He's running off a high when the game ends, even more so when Boeser offers to take over press duties so Quinn can get back to you quickly.

The apartment is quiet when he comes in, "Baby?" not a sound comes back in response and he's careful to move quietly through the apartment to the bedroom doorway.

You're fast asleep, breathing heavy but nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day, you're surrounded by chocolate wrappers and he's quiet as he picks them all up and puts them in a bin, replacing them with the puck he scored with on your bedside table.

He tiptoes back to the kitchen quietly pottering around to make some dinner for you while you're still asleep, nothing fancy but protein, carbs and veg. The sort of thing that's definitely boring but also definitely what your body needs right now.

"Baby, time to wake up...I've made you dinner." He's gentle when he wakes you, soft fingers down your cheek as you stir awake, blinking up at him bleary eyed. Quinn helps you sit upright, the tray of food settling neatly in your lap.

"Where's...where's yours?"

"On the table, you want me to eat in here with you, sweetheart?"

He's moving before you finish nodding, grabbing another tray and his plate before joining you on the bed. He spends most of his dinner watching you eat, making sure you're not leaving large amounts and that you're okay.

He's happy about the win, happy about the score, but he's mostly just happy to be back with you and knowing that you're eating and you're okay, if not well.

Quinn's quick to tidy up your trays and even quicker to get back to you and get into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, sliding under the covers with you and pulling you into his arms.

Your cheek rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing sound that helps some of the anxiety about being off work ease off. Quinn's fingers caress circles and weird shapes across your arm and shoulder as he tucks you tight against him, legs twined together. Every so often he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the top of your hair, as if reassuring himself that you're okay and he's got you.

"You scored..." You mumble into his t-shirt, a small smile working it's way to your lips as his hand moves up to run through your hair, stopping at your scalp every now and then to scratch lightly until you feel like purring even if that purr is more of a wheezy rumble.

"Mmm, for you, baby." Quinn smiles down at you, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

"T...the wink?" His smile weakens slightly at your still stumbling breathlessness and the wheeze and crackle that accompany it.

"Just for you, sweet girl."

"I'm...I'm proud of you, y'know?" You smile up at him so sweetly that he can't help but feel certain in his choices today. Yeah, nearly missing a game was rough, and maybe the press are going to be dicks about it and maybe he would have felt guilty if he'd missed the game or they'd lost...but he knows he'd skip a million games if it meant you were being looked after, were safe.

"I know...and tomorrow you're going to show me how proud you are by letting me take you to the doctors again."

"Ugh..." You groan, hiding your face into his chest like that will stop him from dragging you to the doctors. Your stubbornness normally cute but in this moment less so.

Quinn cups the back of your head until your looking up at him, green eyes meeting yours with a pleading stare that makes your resolve tremble and shudder. "Please? I'm worried about you, baby...I was really scared when I got that text from you."

"Yeah?" You hate that you worried him...it's that worry that makes you concede that maybe you need to go back to the doctors and maybe as much as you hate it, you'll do it, for Quinn.

"Yeah. I can replace hockey, I can play another game if I miss one. But, I can't replace you. Let me take you to the doctors."

There's a beat of silence as he pleads with you, eyes soft, worried, gentle, thumb stroking soothingly across the base of your neck and you can't really deny him this. Not when you know you'd feel exactly the same if the roles were reversed, not when he nearly missed a game for you today and went in completely cold turkey to win it.

"Okay...as...as long as you keep cuddling me."

"I think I can do that, baby." You curl back into his arms like the spot was carved just for you and in that moment Quinn Hughes knows that you have fully hit the top of his priority list, no ands, ifs, buts or maybes. You could ask him to quit hockey tomorrow and he'd do it. He'd do anything for you and that should be terrifying, but it's not because he knows you'd never ask too much of him. If anything you ask too little.

[jayhyunglover]

Fill the void

Pairing : Caleb x non MC reader Content :rough sex , aphrodisiac sex , oral sex (fem receiving) , slight bondage, inappropriate use of evol , slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex, MC's cameo , reader evol is mentioned, porn with plot , creampie (use protection guys ) Wk: 6.9 k (MF *side eye* ) Synopsis : when you fled on that island to save your comrade you didn't expect it to turn into forced vacation with the very reason of your jealousy. Part 2 to Heartless A/N: this part 2 wasnt planned but Caleb got me feeling some type of way . I need this man to rail me on top of a desk with his uniform still on and Call out my name playing in repeat in the BG. (Zayne be filling papers divorce after he heard say that) Now playing: Fill the void by The weeknd and Lily Rose Depp.

Fill the void.

Maybe that’s what you were desperately trying to do with Caleb’s presence in your life. Fill the enormous void in your heart and soul.

You didn’t know who avoided who at this point. Was it you or him? Who cared, anyway? He had his pipsqueak back. You just minded your own life and business now.

“It seems there isn’t anything wrong with that area,” you heard Commander Ash’s voice crackle through your headset.

“They must be hiding. Keep looking,” you replied, voice cool and controlled as your eyes scanned the real-time images from his UAV camera feed.

Usually, missions involving Protocurve anomalies fell under the Hunter Association’s jurisdiction, but the unusual readings near the Farspace Fleet-controlled zone warranted your team’s intervention. The fluctuations were too erratic, too dangerous to ignore.

A sudden crash broke through the static, followed by a sharp burst of white noise. Then, silence.

“Commander Ash! Can you hear me?” Your voice pitched higher as your fingers scrambled over the console. “Ash, respond!”

No answer.

Shit.

Ripping the headset off, you spun out of the command room, ignoring the shouts of other soldiers as they tried to stop you.

“Lieutenant General! Protocol requires—”

“I need Hershley 4543 prepped and ready for immediate departure!” you barked, cutting them off as you stormed into the hangar.

“Ma’am, that’s against—” the mechanic stammered, stepping forward.

“No buts! One of our own is out there, and I am not leaving him behind,” you snapped, your voice razor-sharp, thought your hands were trembling betraying the panic bubbling just beneath your façade.

The mechanic hesitated for a moment, then nodded, shrinking under your unwavering gaze. “Understood. We’ll have it ready in five.”

“Make it two.”

            …*...*...*...*...*...*...

You climbed into the cockpit of the Hershley 4543 -a sleek reconnaissance aircraft equipped with stealth capabilities and advanced tracking systems. The roar of the engines was deafening, but it grounded you. You went through the pre-flight checks with practiced efficiency, hands flying over the controls as the team cleared you for takeoff.

Rushing into danger like this was beyond reckless. You knew that. But Commander Ash was an ally -a friend even, though you’d never admit it aloud.

“Flight control to LTG,” a voice crackled in your ear. “Tracking a spike in Protocurve readings at your target location. You sure about this?”

You flicked the comm switch. “I’ll handle it. Just keep the airspace clear.”

               …*...*...*...*...*...

The flight to the designated zone was uneventful—eerily so. The clouds parted to reveal an expanse of barren terrain. From the air, everything seemed peaceful. Too peaceful.

You adjusted the thermal imaging on your monitor, scanning for any sign of Ash or the Wanderer he’d been tracking. The anomaly readings were spiking, but there was no visual confirmation.

“Come on, Ash. Where are you?” you muttered under your breath, gripping the controls tighter.

A loud thud made your ears perk up , your senses in high alert as you heard a faint curse.

What the actual fuck ? you quickly took off your headset ,shifting the commands on automatic pilot mode before standing up to explore what on earth was happening in the back of your plane. 

Your steps were as silent as the plane 2 minutes ago and you were starting to think the curse you heard earlier was just a trick of your imagination .As you approached the source of the noise , your right hand reached for your sidearm. 

You opened the curtain separating the rest of the plane from the cockpit  ,gun raised and ready only for your eyes to fall on that hunter girl 

What was Caleb's pipsqueak doing aboard an Airforce plane ? 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You heard your voice said , your eyebrows furrowing in a confused frown that had the girl in front of you gasping. 

You didn't lower your gun even as she scrambled onto her feet,  her hands raised in surrender. 

“Don't shoot , I am not an enemy” her voice was a pitched squeal that had your irritated nerves fraying further. 

“This is an Air Force operation , why are you here?” You asked, finally lowering your gun , the sigh of relief that left her lips didn't escape you. 

“I heard there is a wanderer involved  and I happen to be a hunter so I thought I could help” 

You scoffed at her words before placing your gun back in the holster. 

“And you think boarding without permission  on an airplane in mission is helping” you hummed sarcastically as you made your way back to the cockpit 

her hands curled into fists at your blatant dismissal , a small frown etched on her features as she followed closely behind you . 

“I am here to help” she repeated, her voice edged with an hint of frustration “not to be a burden” 

“Just you standing there and breathing is already a burden for me” you bit back before placing your headset back on, though your tone was cool and controlled the venom dripping from your words  stung harder than she cared to admit 

Just her existence was already a burden you thought,  eyes fleeting back to the faint signal that appeared on your screen. 

If she was the least offended by your words,  she didn't show it . After all, you were known among the Farspace fleet for your temper and sharp tongue.  And despite being there only for  a short amount of time , she seemed to have already picked up that information. 

She leaned against your seat to peer up over your shoulder at the monitoring screen where you could see the faint signal of Ash's locator 

What does she think she's doing ? The poisonous look you gave her would have probably sent her 6ft deep underground if only looks could kill but it didn't even make her flinch.

“If you're planning to tag along stay out of my sight unless you want to find out what happens when you jump off a plane without  parachute” your icy tone and the not so subtle menace in your words made her gulp audibly  but she didn't leave as you hoped, instead to your growing irritation she plopped herself in the co-pilot seat beside you , her eyes scanning over the command board like a curious child 

Just what the heck is wrong with her ? 

Whatever you shook your head before focusing back on the beeping signal of Ash's locator on your screen 

As long as she kept her mouth shut , Everything would be fine . You'd just have to pretend she wasn't there. 

But of course she wouldn't keep her mouth shut .

“I can sense  something” she whispered mostly to herself as she stared at the beeping hunter watch on her wrist but it didn't escape your ears 

Your eyes flickered towards her for a fraction of second before refocusing back on the monitoring screen where you could see how much closer you were getting to Ash's location 

“Hold tight, hunter. We are about to land” you warned her before preparing for the descent. 

She scrambled onto her seat,  her hands gripping the armrest for dear life . The sight almost pulled a small smirk from you but you quickly schooled your features back in their usual stoic mask . 

            …*...*...*...*...*...

Even as you landed on the small island where Ash’s coordinates led you , everything was still peaceful,  way too peaceful.  Though that hunter girl insisted on the fact she could sense something,  your surroundings were nothing short but the  picture perfect of a small tropical paradise. 

“It must be here” you heard her whisper to herself,  her feet pacing back and forth on the shimmering white colored sand  as she stared at that damn watch. 

“Stop pacing around like that , it's making me dizzy” you finally snapped, making her freeze in her tracks to look at you . 

“The signal said that Ash is there” you pointed at the dense forest at the edge of the beach 

“But the fluctuations are coming from this wa-” 

“We don't give a fuck about the fluctuations” you cut her off ,your voice icy cold as you stepped closer to her “we are here to save my friend and  not to play hunter x hunter so either you stay here and get killed by whatever is lurking on this island or you come with me” 

She contemplated your words for a moment,  her teeth nibbling at the plush of her bottom  lip for a moment before she finally spoke 

“Go , I'll manage alone” not the answer you expected but if she seemed determined to find this wanderer 

“Very well” you let out a faint chuckle before turning on your heels to head towards the forest where you'll probably find Ash without sparing her a second glance 

What ? She thought you'd bring her by a leash after you . She's a grown ass woman and can perfectly manage herself. Well you hope

If anything happens to her , Caleb will be devastated though. That torturing voice muttered in your ear . 

Fuck no . 

You weren't her damn babysitter and you didn't give a fuck about what Caleb thought or how would  he feel if something happened to her . Hell you didn't even give a damn about Caleb anymore. 

But even as you told yourself that , your legs were already jogging back to where you left her 

“Damn hunter” you muttered as your searched frantically on the beach but she was nowhere to be found , only the clear blue seawater and dusty sand was looking back at you 

Sorry Ash but hunter first then I'll save your ass. 

           …*...*...*...*...*...

You didn't know for how long you've been roaming endlessly on that island , searching for Ash and that damn hunter. You could easily leave her to perish there . After all it would quite the sweet revenge and finally satisfy your petty jealousy but you weren't letting anyone die on your watch not today 

You can always look away that same persistent voice whispered but you quickly shook it off. 

The dead branches creaked beneath your feet as you walked further into the forest , the eerily silence almost suffocating.  It was too quiet to be normal.  Not even a bird chirping sound ,That was beyond odd. 

A faint rustling made your ears perk up , your hand already pointing the gun in whatever direction it came from but to your surprise and relief you found the hunter girl and Ash attached and suspended like sausages by the vines 

No they weren't vines 

“Lieutenant don't get any closer” Ash shouted,  his voice laced with concern while the hunter was trying hard kick off those viscous tentacles around her legs 

You raised your gun to shoot but she interrupted you . 

“This doesn't work on them, see” she gestured to her gun laying on the grassy ground “wasted my whole magazine while trying to hit it” she sighed , her hands hanging loosely beside her head. 

You cursed lowly under your breath before grabbing the blade hidden in your boot to attempt to cut off those damn tentacles like vines or whatever they were 

“Why are you here , Lieutenant?” Ash asked,  earning a dirty glare from you 

“Saving your ass, of course” you let through gritted teeth before slashing through the vines to free him. 

He fell on the ground with a loud thud , his gloved hand reaching out to massage his head that got hit at the fall. 

You stepped over his body to cut off the restraints still curled around the hunter girl. She fell flat on her ass with a small gasp before sitting up. 

“Let's not hang around for too long” you suggested already helping Ash standing to his feet 

But you knew by the way she was observing the weird vines like tentacles you would definitely hang around for a while. 

“I've never seen a wanderer like that” she whispered fascinately , her hands already reaching out to touch it but you stopped her halfway 

“So what?” You scowled,  grabbing her wrist to stop her from touching the weird object   “new kind of wanderers appears everyday it's not the moment to play mad scientist,  hunter” you tugged her along wanting to get out of this island as soon as possible 

“But shouldn't we kill it?” She asked while you dragged her the further away possible  from this wanderer .

“That wasn't our mission,  Commander Ash was sent in reconnaissance and I went out of my way to save him” you explained not sparing her a glance while you navigated through the dense foliage with Ash trailing behind you. 

She seemed to understand your point thought the unimpressed look she gave you made you want to abandon her in this wanderers infested island

Yeah maybe you should do that . 

But as you were  concocting a plan to secretly ditch her and fly away with Ash in your head , A shrieking sound made you grab your gun quickly,  eyes roaming around the tall trees as you and Ash almost sandwiched the hunter girl between your bodies , senses in high alert 

“Stay right behind me and don't move” you warned her , your voice low and controlled as your eyes scanned the surroundings area searching for any signs danger 

And then it came , from above a dragon-like wanderer surged from nowhere, his clawed limbs aiming straight toward the hunter girl behind you. 

You quickly spun her around to fire at the beast but it dodged your attack with maddening ease 

Fuck. 

“Another one!?” you heard her whisper in a ragged voice 

“An enormous one apparently” you spat before recharging your gun. 

The dragon wanderer roared again before surging forward,  his attack still aimed at the hunter girl 

Just what the fuck did it wanted from her ?

You and Ash continued to shoot at it but it seemed useless , the bullet ricocheted against his scales covered skin with ease 

Shit ,at this rate you'd have to use your evol. 

You pulled on the trigger only to realize you no longer had bullets.

Crap  

“Commander” you looked over Ash who was hiding behind a tree. 

He shook his head , his own magazine empty. 

Fuck what do we do ? You looked down at the grass covered ground your mind racing a mile per minutes 

“Maybe I can try to resonate with it” the hunter girl suggested making your gaze snap back at her 

“You have the resonance evol” you and Ash exclaimed at the same time making her look at you with a puzzled gaze 

“Yeah” she murmured, her head tilting slightly to the side in confusion 

You exchanged a knowing look with Ash , your mind conveying the same thoughts 

You'll have to use your evol . Unlike you two Ash wasnt an evolver and your evol , well you hated it or to be more franc you hated to use it because things always ended up spiralling out of control when you did. 

But this time you didn't have any other choice and even if you absolutely despised this hunter you couldn't let her die . 

Don't get you wrong , if she die it might look bad for your career.  

“I am not going to ask you to trust me because I know you don’t and to be honest I do not either so are you ready to risk your life to get out of here Miss hunter?” You asked with an outstretched hand 

An invitation,  a deal for the survival of you 3. 

She looked longly at  your hand before grasping it. 

“well ,it's not like I have another choice” she breathed out before squeezing your hand. 

You let an half hearted  achuckle before yanking her to her feet to step out from behind  the tree you were hiding behind . 

You heard the shrieking sound again before catching a glimpse of the dragon surging towards where you were standing . 

You can do this.  Don't think about the experiment , the thunder , the electroshocks. 

Your eyes closed as you felt the burst of energy ran through your body , images of a young girl that wasn't yours flashing through your eyes . 

Caleb ? Why was he in those memories that weren't yours? 

You heard the clap of thunder before the shrieking sound grew louder . Another clap , louder than the previous one . The shrieking sound turned into a faint howl. 

You heard a distant call of your name but you couldn't respond,  the image in front of you making your gut twist . 

Caleb was gently cradling her cheeks as he wiped her tears . So this was what love felt like  ?

You could feel everything: how his warm hands glided over her face , the faint words of reassurances he whispered to her , the light kisses he left against her temple . You could feel it all  and it hurts, it hurts so bad it had you sinking  on your knees 

So this is what it feels like to be loved ? 

The sting of a slap wrenched you out of this loop of torture. The heart wrenching images of Caleb consoling his pipsqueak shattering in your mind . 

You blinked your vision back only to see the hunter and Ash's concerned faces looking down at you . 

“What happened?” You heard yourself ask, your voice sounded hoarse as your eyes roamed around to take on your surroundings . What was once a lush land of tree and foliage was now burned down to ashes 

“Where's the wanderer?” You questioned them

“Dead,” the hunter girl replied in a small and distant voice ,her eyes looking down in a way you didn't like at all . 

“2 thunderclap was all it took” Ash added  while avoiding your gaze 

Why were they acting so strangely? 

You hummed in response before standing up . Half of the forest was burned down leaving the giant wanderer laying on the center of it.

You approached it slowly , your steps deliberate as Ash and the hunter observed you from behind , their mind still struggling to comprehend what just happened. 

When you were at the dead wanderer's level you crouched down to observe it more closely.  A disgusting smell of burnt flesh was coming out of it , the nauseating scent so strong it had you pinching your nose 

But as you observed it ,a glowing light caught your attention making You lean in to take a closer look.

Only when you reached to touch it ,it exploded in a cloud of pink smoke that surrounded you. 

You coughed out as you waved it off with your hands but only one whiff made your head spiral uncontrollably.  It smelled so addictively good , the piney scent reminding you of Caleb ? 

Huh? you quickly shook off your head ,hoping the smell would disappear but it persisted making your mind grow hazier by the seconds. 

“Lieutenant” you heard Ash shout making your eyes snap back to his form who was already jogging towards where you were standing 

“We need to leave” he breathed out making you nod in agreement 

“You are right let's go” 

“Are you alright?” He asked , eyes squinting to observe you more closely,  taking in the unusual flush of your cheeks. 

“Why  wouldn't I be?” You retorted ,voice tenser than you intended. You internally winced at how his face fell at your harsh tone, his eyes darting away awkwardly.  

“Let's just get the hell out of this island ” you added with a last glance at the wanderer’s corpse  before starting walking ahead . 

Ash followed closely behind you , often shooting concerned glances as you made your way back to the airplane. 

Once inside your case worsened further . You felt your body growing more heated by the seconds,  your tie feeling too tight around your neck. 

You loosened it before running an hand through your hair . Miss hunter (that was the new nickname you gave her) keep shooting you curious glances along with Ash , finding your  fidgeting unusual even for the short amount of time she has spent with you 

“Are we arriving soon?” You asked for the nth time, heavy pants leaving your parted lips as you leaned against your seat 

Why did it feel so hot in here? 

“We'll be landing in approximately 32 minutes” Ash responded to your question 

32 minutes . that was far too long 

You needed to breathe,  to drink water , to see Caleb 

Caleb ? no , not Caleb 

“Fuck” you breathed out before taking off your jacket . The heat too unbearable 

“Are you sure you're alright?” You heard the hunter ask ,a hint of  concern lacing  her tone as she watched you struggle with unbuttoning the top 2 buttons of your shirt. 

“I am fine” you replied but the way your head was spinning uncontrollably was clearly  proving you wrong. 

You brushed it off as a side effect of whatever that pink smoke was but when you landed it only  worsened to the point you were stumbling toward your office room, leaving the debriefing to Commander Ash . 

You closed the door shut before walking over your chair to plop yourself on it. 

You still felt like you were  burning up , every fiber of your being screaming for a man who didn't even want you -need you the way you did. 

“What have you done to me Caleb?” You sighed as you leaned your head against your chair , your eyes looking up at the white ceiling as if it had the answers of your questions but it didn't.  No one did . 

You let out another heavy sigh before discarding your tie on your desk to see if you'd finally breathe properly .

Just as you thought you might be getting some rest from this unbearable heat that have been creeping up on your body your door fled open revealing an angry Caleb 

The sight of him , especially mad made your whole body throb with an intensity that should be concerning but your mind was way too clouded to care. 

He stepped closer to your desk , the clicking sounds of his boots along with your thumping heartbeat the only sounds registering in your mind. 

“What makes you think taking her on such a dangerous mission was a good idea ?” You heard him say , his voice barely able to contain his anger. 

His words cut sharply through your daze , your eyes blinking back to focus on anything but the way his face looked so distractingly attractive 

“I didn't take her anywhere” you said,  your voice sounding way too calm and steady for someone who was literally burning in the inside “your pipsqueak boarded on that plane without permission like a grown up” you added earning a scoff from him 

“You expect me to believe she managed to pass all those security guards to board on a plane with you out of all people” he leaned in to rest his hands on your desk , his eyes shining with a possessive gleam that wasnt directed at you but got your heart rate spiking nonetheless 

“What ?” You tilted your head mockingly at him before raising from your seat to lean closer towards him “you expected me to put a gun on her temple to force her fly away with me on an wanderer infested island only to come back unscathed” you added in a heated whisper against his ear that had his jaw clenching 

“Think wisely Caleb” You scoffed before stepping away from him , attempting to put some distance between you , to quell down the hunger that stocked further  inside you the more you inhaled the addictive scent of his cologne 

But Caleb wouldn't let you off the hook this easily . As you walked beside him to head to your office door , he pulled you towards him by wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

An embarrassing squeal left your parted lips as you felt your back hit the wooden material of your desk .

“Have I ever told you that jealousy looks awful on you , Lieutenant?” You felt the ghost of his lips against your heated skin as he whispered the words against your neck 

“T-this has nothing to do with jealousy” you heaved out , already panting while he hasn't even touched you yet .

“It doesn't hm?” He purred against the soft flesh of your neck before biting on it hard enough to have you clawing at the edge of the desk “then why have you been avoiding me?” 

The question made your eyes widen the suddenness of it too abrupt for your scrambled mind to process . 

“Tell me , lieutenant” he pressed,  his lips leaving a gentle kiss on the bruised skin he bit earlier . 

“You have your pipsqueak back our deal is supposed to be over” you managed to get out between feverish pants. 

The flash of disappointment you saw through his eyes had your resolve faltering but the fragment of memories you saw when you resonated with the hunter earlier strengthened it further . 

Don't get caught up in illusions.  This man wasn't yours.  

The realization made a burst of anger spread throughout you , one that had you yanking his hair harshly until your lips crashed against his,  all teeth and tongue , drinking him in like a thirsty man in desert that finally found water. Because he was your water , your light , a light that was bound to leave you . 

Caleb kissed you back with the same fervor,  his gloved hand wrapping lightly around your throat as his mouth devoured yours with a feral intensity. It was messy ,depraved and desperate.  

A small hushed plea left your mouth as he parted his lips from  yours to trail kisses down on your neck. His hands were everywhere , caressing any inch of smooth skin he could reach 

Your own hands reached out to unbuckle his belt but he stopped you halfway , his hand moving swiftly to bound your wrists with your own discarded tie. 

“No touching this time Lieutenant” he taunted,  cupping your chin to make you look up at him , the feral gleam in his purple  eyes making your cunt throb harder. 

“Today you're all mine” he whispered before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss. 

How you wished you could be his but this would never happen. You were just a sinner and he was your worst sin. The one who will drag you through the pits of hell. 

The small kiss he left on your nose was the last thing you felt before he slid down to his knees in front of you , his large hands spreading your legs apart as you tried to steady yourself on top of the desk despite your bound wrists. 

His fingers unzipped your pants before sliding them off you , leaving your legs  bare for him to admire 

How he has missed this view . 

“Still as beautiful as ever , Lieutenant” you heard him whisper in awe,  the compliment making you feel even dizzier while your cunt fluttered uncontrollably at his praises 

“Look at her” he looked up at you as he ran a gloved  thumb along your covered slit “so wet for me already” 

You could feel his infuriating smirk against your plush fold through the flimsy material of your panties . He was so close but so far away at the same time, it drove you wild. 

“Caleb” you whimpered out , your pleading  eyes looking down at him in an half hearted glare that made his cock twitch 

“What?” He smirked before peeking the drenched material of your panties in a way that had you throwing your head back 

“What do you need , darling?” The sound of him calling you darling made your hips buck against his face , the sinful moan escaping your lips sounding like music to his ear. 

“I need you” the words felt more like a confession than anything and if it wasn't for that weird wanderer based substance in your system you'd probably felt pathetic for baring your soul to him  like this but right now as his face was resting between your legs seconds away from feasting ,you didn't give a damn.  

The regrets and sermons would come later when you were  no longer aching and panting from him . 

The heat of Caleb's mouth pulled you out of your musings,  the overwhelming sensation making you cry out loud . He hasn't even bothered to take off your ruined panties , his mouth latching onto the flimsy material like he was starving. 

He was merciless,  the relentless pace making you squeal.  

“Oh fuck just like that” you moaned,  not even ashamed of the sounds you were making.  His tongue rolled  over your swollen bud over and over until you were practically in tears .

When you felt like you'd finally reach heaven ,a knock to your door made him stop, his eyes looking up to take in your form. 

And shit. The sight of you spread out on your desk with your shirt half buttoned,  your skin flushed with heat , panting with tears clinging to your waterline almost had him cumming in his pants  

Such a sight to behold and all for him to see. 

Another knock on the door made him let out a small growl against you , clearly not pleased by being interrupted .

“Lieutenant” you heard a worried voice said from the other side “can I come in?” 

Commander Ash? Your ears perked up . 

Shit shit shit why is here ? 

You looked down at Caleb who  was already back to work , his fingers pulling your ruined panties to the side to suck , lick and nip at your sensitive flesh while you tried your best to stay quiet and gather your thoughts 

“Lieutenant” Ash knocked once again “are you alright in there?” his voice was growing somewhat more restless. 

“Respond darling” you felt Caleb's nip gently  at your clit before looking up at you from where he was kneeling “it's so rude to leave someone hanging hm?” He spat right on your entrance before slurping down the mess. 

“ngh_” the sight of him looking so devilishly at you nearly had you cumming right there on his face but he purposely slowed down his pace to maddening kitten licks so you would  focus on responding Ash. 

But that only made you more restless and frustrated . 

“I am fine” you snapped , voice laced with frustration while the man below faintly chuckled before rewarding you with a flick of his tongue that made you groan .

You fought against your restraints so at least you would cover your mouth to muffle your sounds but no matter how hard you tried the knot wouldn't loosen . 

Handsome bastard. 

“Are you sure?” you heard Ash said ,  the confusion note in his tone not escaping Caleb's ears. 

“You don't really sound well” the sound of the creaking handle made your heart rate pick up . your stomach curled into knots with a mixture of fear and arousal that has fresh waves of your beading juices gushing around Caleb's tongue 

You didn't lock the door and he could barge in at any moment 

“Dirty girl” he muttered faintly against your plush folds , sticking strands connecting his lips to your pussy . 

You bit down on your lips to not let out a loud moan , the squelching sounds of your cunt along with your barely concealed moans leaving no doubt of what was happening inside there . Thought one thing was clear , Ash was clearly wrestling with the handle that wouldn't budge Thanks to Caleb's evol. 

“I am fine truly” you attempted to spoke again but the way Caleb was making out with your lips below while his gloved hand rubbed tight circle around your clit made your words came out like breathy whimpers. “Just a bit busy” 

You really hoped Ash would get the memo and get the fuck out here before you combusted . 

“Ok then” he said, his tone sounding a tad disappointed “I'll see around then Lieutenant” 

Yeah you'll see her around now go . 

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as the sound of  Ash's eloigning footsteps finally disappeared leaving only you and the smirking man still buried nose deep between your thighs. 

“You're such a dirty little thing , Lieutenant” he rasped out , flicking your clit one last time before raising to his full height . 

“And you're such a tease” you scowled before feeling him unbound your wrists.

 As soon as they were free you tugged him by his tie to capture his lips in a messy kiss , your mouth sucking lewdly on his tongue , tasting yourself on him

“We both know you love that tease, darling” he mumbled out between kisses 

If only he knew how right he was 

“No I hate you” you denied ,your grip tightening hard enough on his tie to make him lightheaded and the fucked whimper that left his mouth as you did so made your cunt howl his name in morse code. 

“Biggest lies I've heard in a while Lieutenant” he panted out with a smirk, his hands gripping your hips so hard they'd probably leave marks. 

“guess we are both liars then, Colonel” you tugged at his tie again earning a breathy “fuck” from his slick glossed lips . 

Lying was all you ever did your whole life . You lied about your feelings,  your past , you even lied to yourself. You were a liar , a sinner and he was your biggest sin. 

The distant look that passed through his lust filled eyes didn't escape your attentive gaze  and it made you thought for a moment :

Was he thinking about her ? Did he has the same regrets you had? Did he feel the same burning hunger you felt ? The one that threatened to consume you.  

Alas you would never get the answer of those questions because next thing you knew is that he was kissing so hard you would have fell on the ground if it wasn't for his hands looped around your waist.

You could feel every hard planes of his body against yours ,even through the material of your half off uniform shirt , the intoxicating scent of his cologne making your head spin. 

Your reached for his belt once again and this time he let you had your way, too busy eating out your face to stop your wandering hands. 

Just this once . You heard this voice whisper again . 

Caleb's head fell against your shoulder when he felt your soft hand wrap around his shaft to pump it slowly.  

It was hot and heavy in your hand, the leaking precum coating your palm in a sticky mess.  

He bit down on the plush skin on your shoulder to muffle his sounds , his hips thrusting in time with your movements. 

Wanting to get your revenge on the stunt he pulled on you earlier , you slowed down your pace until you could hear his muffled whimpers against your shoulder 

“What's wrong?” You cooed , leaning your head back to stare at him , his cheeks were flushed the prettiest shade of pink , his hair tousled from your ministrations , his kiss bitten lips  parted open to let out the hottest sounds you’ve ever heard .

You must been smiling too widely for his taste because the feral glare he shot you made you anything but scared , it only had you more turned on than ever. 

But as always Caleb wouldn't let you savor your victory for too long , using his evol as the awful bastard he was to manipulate your hands until they were bound behind your back once again 

“Nothing's wrong Lieutenant” he rasped before pulling your legs to wrap tighter around his waist , his pinkish tip teasing your entrance. 

“Just thinking about how hard” he punctuated his words with a rough thrust that had you clawing at  his shoulders , the sensation of him stretching your insides too overwhelming. “I am going to take you” he added in a heated whisper before setting a brutal pace that had your desk shaking maddeningly , important papers scattering on the floor in  a mess you'd have to worry about later. 

Caleb's hips were merciless,  fucking up into you like he hated your gut (as if he wasn't deep in them) . You clung to his uniform jacket sleeve for dear life , afraid you might slip but with how sandwiched you were between the wooden desk and his body you shouldn't be worrying about that. 

“Oh fuck” you threw your head back when you felt him hit that exact spot that has you seeing stars , body arching into his to bring him closer. Your hand grabbed at his tie to pull him closer to you as his hips kept pistonning into yours . 

“Yeah let me hear you, darling” he placed one hand on the desk beside you while the other pulled your leg over his hip to reach even deeper into you. 

Every forceful thrust planted on the bulleyes of your G-spot has your grip tightening on his tie hard enough  he could now see white spots blurring his vision . 

You were gonna be the death of him , (literally) . 

The smell of sex and skin slapping sounds filled the room along with your scream of pleasure and his breathy groans as he literally wrecked you , molding your insides to his shaft until all you can think about was him and only him . 

“You squeeze me s’tight” he groaned against your neck , his hips not easing his pace for a second , not when your greedy pussy was sucking him back in so perfectly at every thrust . 

His hand that was planted beside you  , slid up to wrap around your neck , putting enough pressure on your throat to have your eyes roll in the back of your skull. 

“Come for me” he whispered before ducking his head down to bite  on the plush skin of your collarbone.  The action had you screaming loudly,  the waves of pleasure crashing you over you like a sea storm. It was violent,  leaving you shaking for several seconds as he continued to drive himself deeper into you , not even stopping when he reached his own high . Sensitive shaft twitching uncontrollably as he painted your insides white . 

“Take it all , darling” he whimpered in the crook of your neck , puncturing every words by a sharp bite of his canines. 

You sobbed in overstimulation. Your head resting against his chest as you murmured soft plead for him to stop. 

“Shh” he shushed you with a gentle kissing your tears on your cheek that contrasted his hips below “just take it” 

He licked your tears away before kissing you with an unusual tenderness while he continued to fuck you roughly.  

You cried out as your second orgasm washed over you ,your whole body convulsing against his as your hand practically tore his uniform jacket with how good it hurts. 

Caleb's body jerked against yours, his head dropping in the crook of your neck as he reached his peak for a second time , pace finally slowing down to let you breathe. 

You stayed  like this for several minutes, wrapped in each other's embrace as you desperately tried to catch your breath. 

As the fluffy cloud of pleasure dissipated the ungly truth came back to slap you right back on your face . 

You succumbed to the sweet temptation Caleb was  once again.  Even as you promised yourself you wouldn't get involved with him again , here you were half naked with him still buried deep inside of you. 

You attempted to  push him off you , the action making him raise his head from the crook of your neck to shoot you a confused look. 

The audacity to appear confused.  You scoffed internally. 

“You should go” you heard yourself say , your voice hoarse from screaming his name too loudly . 

His brow knitted together,   clearly struggling to understand your point . 

“It'll  be troublesome if someone find you here” you explained calmly , acting as if he wasnt ramming into you 5 minutes ago. 

“I am aware” he replied with that same confused note in his tone, still not making any moves to get the fuck off you. 

“Then get off” you glared at him causing him to sigh 

“You're trying to run away again” he caressed your legs softly with a pensive look in his eyes

“I am not trying to run away, you dirtied me with your seed and I just want yo go the bathroom so get the fuck off me” you scowled stil trying to push him away 

Your words earned a barely muffled laugh from him. His eyes gleaming with barely concealed amusement. 

“I am sorry” he left a small kiss on your nose that made your heart melt “I thought you'd enjoy the mess” 

“Well I don't,  so get off” you let out in a small grumble 

“You're always so bossy , Lieutenant” he chided softly before picking you up making you wrap your arm tightly around his neck 

“You should ease up a little” he added , carrying you towards your personal bathroom to clean you up. 

“And you should know by now that I don't take advices from you” you bit back . 

The only thing you should ease is probably a gun down his throat. 

“Sure you don't” he said with a small smirk  before pushing the bathroom door open with his feet to get you inside. 

After cleaning you up in a remotely peaceful silence , Caleb left you alone in your office to muse on your thoughts. 

Just when will this madness end? 

Just when will you stop being attached to him? The response was clear : never because no matter how much he hurt you? And how hard you tried to stay away from him.  You'll always find your way back . Like a drug addict , you were addicted to him. Addicted to his poison . A poison that will probably end up killing you 

BAM . 

The end (or no) 

Taglist : @cheezeandkrackers @dollyvheart @gazelover666 @miyuki-hanna @cordidy @full-sunnies @aise-30 @vvintqz @tavviet @sanghyuksgasolinestationscream

[joeyalohadream]

Last Line Tag

Thank you @swifty-fox , @stars-remain2 , and @donotnomi for tagging meee! 💕

Apologies for being MIA a bit. Life has been life-ing, I am incapable lately of saying no and setting boundaries with my managers and now I have some kind of flu and ugh. But I'm home and writing today and tomorrow so chapter four of Let your heart be light is hopefully coming tomorrow!

My nerves are fraying with my attempt to write anything explicit (apologies if it's awful), but I'm trying because it's important for Gale and John's relationship and the story. Bear with me as it's taking me longer than usual because writing anything like this is new to me.

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Stupidly, Gale thinks of gravity as John’s hands slide down his back and settle on his waist. His skin is warm under the touch and he can’t contain the whine he lets out against John’s lips as the other man pulls him into his lap with a slight twist and flex of his body.

It took no effort, like the gravity left the room. Expect this feels like gravity. Like there’s some physical force pulling him into John.

Gale’s read enough books to know that the more mass an object has, the more gravity it contains. And his hands can’t stop roaming over John’s broad chest and down the planes of his soft stomach, back up over the breadth of his shoulders.

John’s big everywhere. His body, his smile, his personality, his charm, his sincerity and his care.

He shifts forward, feels how affected John is by all of this, just as hard as Gale is in his sleep pants, and he rocks forward again, swallowing John’s groan even as he flushes all the way down his chest at the confirmation that John really is big everywhere.

Large palms flutter over his waist, up his back, fingertips trailing up his spine and back down, leaving goosebumps in their wake when paired with the way John’s warm tongue curls gently against his own.

It feels too good.

He never wants to stop kissing him.

Can’t believe how good it feels to be held like this.

His breathing stutters as John rocks up into him. But then John’s slowing them down, tongue retreating, lips pressing soft strokes against his swollen lips and then nudging his nose with own.

“I knew it.”

Gale’s eyes flutter open at the words, at the break in the silence. He’s so hard he feels like he could come just from the feel of John’s breath on his cheek.

“Knew what?” He sighs, not surprised by how breathy his question comes out. His thighs are trembling and the ache in his hip is such a distant afterthought it might as well not be real.

John’s hand flex and tighten where they’re resting around his waist. “Knew my hands would feel good here.”

“It does feel good,” Gale lets out, heat creeping up his neck. But John’s eyes go all squinty and soft at his words and he pulls Gale forward until their hips are flush. It sends a shock through him and he buries his face in John’s neck to hide the sound it draws out of him.

“Don’t hide, sweetheart,” John voice rumbles against his chest.

But Gale shakes his head, keeps his face pressed close and mouths at the sweaty skin of John’s throat and starts to rock his hips, no rhythm to it, just pleasure as his cock strains to get to John’s.

“Oh, god, Gale.” John moans, head tilting back as Gale tongues at his pulse point and keeps moving his hips.

He feels a bit delirious, a little floaty. But so good he can’t stop.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Things escalate to the point of complete and utter disaster.

Word Count: 5,593

Warnings: MAJOR angst, a suicide attempt, insecurity, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and blood.

Notes: Please prepare yourselves before reading this one, guys. I'm not joking around with the warnings here (not that I ever am, but you know what I mean). Also I apologize profusely in advance for what's about to happen.

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Chapter 16: Battered & Mangled

Lucy twisted her hands together, feeling vaguely sick with nerves. Silence stretched on between her and Tommy, each of them waiting for the other to speak first.

“I called you,” he said, finally. “Earlier.”

“You did?” Fingers ran through her red hair, tugging on the locks anxiously. “Sorry. I was out with Asher. Did something happen?”

He stood from the chair he was collapsed in, grabbing more kindling to feed into the fire. “Polly resigned.”

That startled her a bit. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” He looked so…lost. Blue eyes staring pointedly out into the dark of the night.

“Was it because of Michael?” she pressed.

“I’m not here to talk about Polly,” Tommy said, voice suddenly stern. She looked down at her feet.

“Right.”

No more avoiding things. They both needed to have their heads clear for the events that were about to unfold. And it had become clear that just attempting to ignore their current situation to deal with later wasn’t going to achieve that.

And…she had promised him that they would talk about things. 

She’d have suggested they go inside, into the living quarters that Charlie had been letting her stay in. But she didn’t really want anyone eavesdropping in on their conversation. 

More silence stretched out between them, long and dark and endless. She jumped when Tommy’s hand touched her cheek, tilting her head up to look at him where he was now standing in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him move. 

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she said softly, eyes staring up into his. 

“So come home.”

Her face crumpled. “I can’t.” It was barely more than a whisper.

“Why?”

“You know why, Tom.”

“No; no I don’t think that I do.” His voice was low and soft like honey. Tempting. “So tell me. Please. Help me understand. We can figure something out. If we just sit down and talk about it–”

“Talk about what, Tommy? About what days you and I are allowed to spend the night together? I don’t want to live like that. To be…the dirty little secret that you keep around to fuck you when your wife isn’t available.”

His brow furrowed, almost in confusion. Like the thought had never even occurred to him. “You would never be that. You’re not some whore I keep around for when I get bored, Lucy. And besides, I told you, I fixed that. She’s fine with us being together whenever–”

“You expect me to believe that’ll last? With her pattern of behavior? This is how it’s always worked with her, Tommy. She’s all nice and smiles and sweetness until something sets her off, and then I’m suddenly the big bad monster who’s stealing her husband. What happens the next time she has one of her fits? Hm? When she comes back asking for even more? Now that you’ve given her this, what’s going to stop her from asking for even more restrictions on what you can and can’t do with me? How long before you can’t even touch me at all without it breaking some rule that she’s come up with?”

“I won’t let that happen–”

“Yeah, well you already let this fucking happen,” she snapped back. Tommy’s eyes widened. She drew in a trembling breath, turning away, fighting back every urge to just shout at him. A lump formed in her throat. She forced herself to swallow it down.

“You chose to leave,” Tommy said sternly. “That wasn’t part of Lizzie’s rules. That wasn’t something that I wanted. You decided to do that, Lucy.”

“And I’ve told you over and over again why I had to do that. Lizzie and I can’t live in such close quarters with each other all the time. She can barely even stand to see you touch me, Tommy.”

“That’s her fucking problem.”

“No, it’s not! Not when her reaction to it affects all of us! This,” she gestured widely, “was the only solution.”

“A solution where everyone ends up miserable?”

“Oh, please,” she snapped, voice beginning to rise. “Don’t act like Lizzie isn’t fucking thrilled now that I’m gone and she gets to finally play out the happy fucking family fantasy that she’s always wanted. I’m not blind, I’ve seen how much happier you’ve been lately. Don’t act like it isn’t better now that I’m gone.”

“It’s not. It’s fucking awful there, Lucy. I’m not happier. I don’t know what I did to make you think that I am, but I’m not. I’m so…I’m so fucking lonely without you.” His voice started to rise as well, but he drew in a deep breath when she looked away, eyes focusing on the dark waters of the cut. When he spoke again his voice was softer. “And what about you, eh? Are you happier, now that you’ve moved out?” He took a cautious step towards her. “Michael said that you’re miserable.”

“You shouldn’t listen to anything that Michael says.”

“He’s right, though. Isn’t he?” 

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. I don’t want you to be unhappy, love.” Another step, so that he was close enough for her to smell the scent of cigarette smoke and his cologne. Tommy rubbed a hand over his face, looking at her with scrutinizing eyes. “Why did you really leave, Lucy? Because I don’t believe it was just about Lizzie’s rules. There’s something else going on. I can see it in your eyes.” There was a desperation in his gaze that she wasn’t used to seeing. “Just tell me.” She looked away again, hands wringing together frantically. Tommy’s face twitched with frustration. “If I have to live the rest of my life without you then I think that I at least deserve to know why.” She pressed her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut tight. It was unclear whether she wanted to cry or shout at him. Tommy seemed to soften a little, reigning in his frustration to gently touch her hand, stilling her relentless fidgeting.

“Please. I know I fucked up. Just…help me understand. If I understand why you left, then I can find some way to fix this…”

“Maybe there is no fixing this,” she said defeatedly with a shrug. The frustration in Tommy’s face returned, face twisting as he struggled to reign in his temper.  

“So…what? You’re just going to give up, is that what’s happening here? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m the only one who’s actually still fighting for us.”

“What?” Her anger was cold in her veins, rushing and bubbling just beneath her skin. Huh. It seemed that Polly had been right. She was angry at him.

“I’m the one who’s been renegotiating with Lizzie. I’m the one trying to find an actual fucking solution to this mess. You keep saying that everything is fine, promising that we will work things out. And yet I’ve been practically begging you to talk to me about this since it happened, and all you’ve done is avoid and ignore me. I’ve been trying, Lucy. Trying to talk to you, to still be with you, and you’ve done nothing but push me away.”

“Don’t you talk about fighting for us when you all but rolled over for Lizzie when she asked you to throw a grenade in the middle of our relationship to make her happy. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Tommy, but we are in the middle of a dangerous conspiracy to assassinate an MP, not to mention plugging up leaks, and dodging all of our other enemies that have been coming at us from every possible angle. So excuse me for trying to put the good of the company and the family over our personal issues.”

“No, don’t you fucking do that! Don’t act like you couldn’t have spared one lunch, one goddamn hour, to talk about this with me!”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Why? So I get to hear again about how you chose her over me?”

Never before had she really considered herself to be a jealous person. But perhaps it was because she hadn’t ever felt like her place in Tommy’s heart was being threatened. He had shared all of his other lovers with her. And she had always known, without a single bit of doubt in her mind, that she was and always would be Tommy’s favorite. That he loved her. Because she was the only one that he let into his head. That he told his darkest, most closely kept secrets to. The only one allowed to actually touch his heart.  

Grace had been different. Because the three of them had all loved each other. Grace had simply become an addition to their pairing. And she had always ensured that Lucy had felt included. Not once did she try to usurp Lucy or steal Tommy away from her. Like Lizzie had. 

Difficult as things had been with Lizzie, Lucy had managed to make peace with the arrangement. At least outside of the relentless guilt she felt every time she so much as looked into Lizzie’s heartbroken eyes. And maybe there was a particularly awful part of her that almost enjoyed the knowledge that while Tommy may spend his nights with Lizzie out of duty, he spent the ones he did with her out of love.

But now that she knew Tommy did not love her anymore, everything had been thrown into disarray. She had begun to wonder if perhaps that was why, despite his previous words about fighting for them, he had not really fought for her at all when he’d struck that new deal with Lizzie. Even if he didn’t love Lizzie, did it really matter? He had still chosen her. To throw Lucy and their relationship into uncertainty all in the name of making Lizzie happy.

She didn’t want to be angry with him, but now that she had cracked open that little box she had stuffed all of her fury towards him in, it seemed incapable of anything other than spilling out. 

“What? No, no, no, that’s not what happened. You know I don’t love her. You know that.” Tommy’s voice was shocked, near panicked in response to her words.

“Then why did you do this to us, Tommy!?”

“I was drunk! Alright!? I was drunk off my ass. I wasn’t thinking. I was trying to get the information out of her of where Linda was for Arthur. And…Lizzie’s useful. I saw an opportunity to keep her around and I took it.” 

She shook her head, pulling away from him, still too angry and hurt. “Oh, yes. That makes me feel so much better! Good to know that my place in your life is worth trading for a morsel of information.”

He flinched. “That’s not what I meant.” He reached out to touch her face, but she pulled away.

“Isn’t it?” she spat out bitterly.

He reached out, grasping her cheeks in his hands. “Love, no. I made a mistake. I fucked up, but I was not choosing her over you.”  

“Stop it.” She pulled her face back, leaving his hands grasping at air.

“Stop what?” The genuine confusion in his voice just made her angrier. 

“Stop acting like you care so damn much! You want so badly to know why I left? I left because I couldn’t stand to live in a house where I was clearly so unwanted!” 

Tommy reared back like she had slapped him. “Unwan–Lucy, what are you talking about?”  

“God, Tommy!” she pushed away from him, pacing back and forth across the small space protected from the rain. “You made that deal with Lizzie. Either you knew what it would mean for you and me, or you didn’t even think of me at all.” She wasn’t sure which was worse. “Neither of you even thought to talk to me about it. Do you realize how…how…that feels!? To have your lover strike an arrangement that directly affects you without even including you in the discussion about it at all!? And–on top of all that–with someone who has done nothing but bully you and do everything in her power to make you miserable for years!?” 

“That’s-that’s not fair–” Tommy protested.

“Not fair? Not fair!? I’ll tell you what isn’t fucking fair, Thomas. What’s not fair is that I’m the one person who’s always been there for you and yet I’m the one that gets thrown out like garbage while she gets you for the rest of your lives!” She had to ball her hands up into fists to keep them from shaking. “I am so…fucking angry with you! You make this deal with Lizzie without even thinking of me, then you blindside me about it when we’re about to go into a fucking work meeting. You try to make it better by treating me more like your mistress or your personal whore than your lover–” 

“Now, hang on just a fucking minute–”

“Shut up!” she practically screamed at him. Tommy gaped at her. In all their years together, she had never spoken to him like that.

“You leave me to greet guests at your own fucking dinner party and to deal with Mosley alone while you’re too busy off fucking your wife, and then to top it all off, you replace me at my job with a man who hasn’t even held a rifle in years!” 

“We talked about that! I told you, it’s just for this one job, and that’s it!” Now Tommy was shouting too.

“That isn’t the point, Tommy! I’m replaceable! You’ve proven that with Lizzie, and again with Barney!” Her voice cracked a bit, the tears beginning to well in her eyes faster than she could force them down. The feelings of worthlessness and rejection nearly choked her. Tommy stared at her for a moment, mouth open slightly, brow furrowed, eyes blazing with a combination of hurt and fury.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he said finally. His voice was level, no longer shouting, but she knew him well enough to recognize the wrath and frustration beneath his tone. “Love, I don’t know how else to tell you this, you are not being replaced.” Head shaking, he stalked back and forth before turning to her, finger raised. “You keep talking like you think that this is what I wanted. You think I ever wanted to hurt you? Do you really think that I wanted,” he gestured vaguely, “any of this!?” He must have seen something in her face, because he took a step forward, face twisting with conviction. “You think that I wanted Lizzie to get pregnant!? You think that I wanted to have to marry her? You think that I would have done any of it, if I had known that it would cost me you!?” His voice was loud enough to echo a little in the space around them. Lucy forced herself to not break eye contact with him, even as her body trembled with the sobs she was fighting hard to stifle. “You said…you said that you were okay with it,” he added weakly. “I asked you, before I proposed to Lizzie.”

“I know. I know, I did, Tom. And I was. But that was before…” she trailed off, tears running down her face. Tommy reached out a hand to try to touch her cheek, to wipe them away, but she pulled back, away from him.

“Before what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She looked away, still unable to bring herself to actually say it.  

“Yes, it does.” He waited for her to say more, sighing defeatedly when she didn’t. He was searching her eyes for something. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it, sighing and dropping to sit down in the chair by the fire, head in his hands.

“You promised,” he croaked, after finally raising his face, “when you left that we would still be together. That we weren’t splitting up. But that hasn’t seemed to be true at all, Lucy.”

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, tears still leaking from her eyes. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking. Please. Did you mean it, when you said that? Or were you just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear?” Something frighteningly resigned filtered into those ice blue eyes. He sighed very deeply, gazing out into the rain. “If you really want to leave, I won’t stop you. You know that.”

“You think that I really wanted to leave? I love you, Tommy.” He looked up at her words, eyes suddenly full of hope. “I meant it. When I said that we could still be together. But…”

“But what?” He stood. “But what, Lucy?”

She shook her head, unable to get the words out, her chest spasming with hiccups. Those sobs that she had been keeping at bay finally making themselves known, taking such violent hold over her body that she almost feared that she would collapse with them. Tommy stood, going to her and laying a hand on her arm that she weakly pushed away. 

“Love…love, please. Please,” he tried to reason. “Come home. Don’t worry about anything else. I want you back. I want you with me. Lucy,” he was trying to get in closer to her, to force her to meet his eyes. “Lucy, I love you–”     

“I don’t believe you!” It came out as an agonizing wail, shrill and with enough conviction to shake the entire earth. The words seemed to rip apart her vocal cords on their way out. Her heart shredded in her chest like paper. What little will for life she had remaining blew out like a candle. 

There it was. Bared and out for all to see. The truth. What she had known deep down for a while. Longer than she probably even realized. Because she’d been in denial about all of it. Because she wanted to hold onto him. Because she was a selfish, disgusting, horrid monster who hadn’t wanted to let him go even though she had to. Their relationship was dead. Had started to die slowly and painfully the second Lizzie got pregnant. Whatever love he’d ever had for her was long gone. Buried deep under the ground, never to be felt again. All that was left was residual guilt and a sense of duty towards her. That was all this was. 

And he still knew her well enough to know that the admittance of the death of his love for her would destroy her, so he would not say it. He’d carry on pretending, or at least trying to, for her sake. But she needed to stop being so selfish with him; stop trying to hold onto him for a little longer. She had to set him free.    

Tommy’s entire face changed. All anger and earnestness fell right off of it, eyes widening, jerking back as if she’d slapped him. The color drained out of his face, freckles standing out starkly against his paper-white skin, a look of horror quickly overtaking the frustration that had been there but a moment prior. 

Unable to face the mounting pain in his eyes, she buried her face in her hands. Great, she’d gone and hurt his feelings. But why? Because she’d called him on his bluff? Because he didn’t want to hurt her? At this point, she wished that he would just stop pretending and be honest. He didn’t love her anymore. They couldn’t keep dancing around it forever. 

“Lucy…” he made a sound of physical pain and rushed towards her, saying her name in agony, reaching out to her, trying to hold her. 

“Get away from me!” She braced both hands on his chest and shoved, hard enough to send him staggering back a few steps, eyes wide.

“Love…”

She shook her head furiously, still sobbing, taking a step away from him. “We’re done here.” There was more that they needed to discuss. What was going to happen to her position as his assistant, for one, but she couldn’t. Not now. “We’re done for tonight.” Another step back. “I’m sorry. We can talk more later…”

“No, Lucy, wait–!”

But she stepped back into the downpour surrounding them, and the rush of the rain pelting upon her drowned out his voice. With one final hitching sob, she rounded on her heel and ran, nearly slipping and tripping in the mud, to the door of the living quarters. She burst through it into the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her. A hand clapped over her mouth to try to contain her heartbroken cries. 

Tommy did not follow her. That only made her sob more. 

Asher, laying by the door, raised his head, whining and going to nudge at her legs with his nose. 

Absentmindedly, she stroked his nose before staggering to the stairs, trembling fingers closing around the rail to balance herself. She was shivering, both from the chill that the rain had left her with, and the emotions still pumping through her veins. Asher’s nails clicked against the floorboards as he followed behind her. 

Her room was the furthest door down on the left, but that was not where she went. Instead, she made a beeline for the red door at the end of the hall. The one that led into the washroom. 

“No, Ash. Stay out here,” she commanded gently to the dog when he tried to squeeze past her legs to follow her inside. He whined again, watching her with concerned brown eyes, his head tilting to try to keep her in his line of sight as she closed the door. 

Peeling off her drenched coat, she let it fall into a heap of soggy material on the tiled floor. Her skin had erupted into gooseflesh, shaking so badly her teeth rattled in her skull. 

It’s over. It’s done.

I’m all alone again.

Both hands landed on the rim of the sink, barely managing to catch herself as she fell forward with an agonized sob. Her lungs and throat ached from crying, her eyes burning from shedding so many tears.  

There was so much pain inside her, it felt like she was about to burst unless she found some way to release it. 

She needed to get cleaned up. Yes; that’s what she needed to do. Maybe she would feel better after…

Oh, who was she kidding? She would never feel better again. Not after this. 

But she went to the tub on the far end of the washroom anyway, turning the faucet on it and fitting the plug in place.

As the tub filled, she ridded herself of her upper layers until she was only in her undershirt and trousers. Opening up the cabinet, she riffled through it in search of the soap she’d stored there earlier, fingers freezing when they passed over not the soap, but something silver and gleaming. 

“Pick it up,” a low, Irish accented voice said, arms suddenly wrapping around Lucy’s waist, chin resting on her shoulder. “Pick it up, get in the tub, and come away with me.”

Lucy remained frozen, trembling fingers hovering in place. 

No one wants me here anyway. 

It would be what’s best for everyone. 

I won’t be a burden anymore.

They’ll be free of me. 

Each thought came one right after the other rapidly, knocking her down and then striking her with the next before she had a chance to recover. Grace’s eyes gleamed at her from over her shoulder in the mirror. 

No one loves me.

Her fingers closed around the razor. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

I don’t believe you.

He stared at the place where Lucy had been standing just seconds prior, mouth half open, his cries of her name lost in the roar of the wind and the splattering of rain. 

I don’t believe you.

He moved to race after her, to grab her tight in his arms and never, ever let her go again. To tell her over and over that he loved her, until she finally believed him again. 

I don’t believe you.

“Is everything alright, Tommy?” Curly asked, and Tommy paused, head snapping around to find the man standing just at the edge of the covering, barely out of the rain, his hands wringing together. “I heard shouting…”

No. Nothing is alright at all.

“Everything is fine, Curly,” he lied, managing a weak smile. “Everything is fine. Go on back to bed, eh? I’m sorry if we woke you up.”

“I was in the stables.”

Tommy nodded. As was often the case. Curly preferred to sleep with the horses than in a bed. “Well, best get back before they miss you in there, then, eh?”

Curly brightened, smiling and nodding. “Good night, then, Tom.”

“Good night, Curly.” He waited until he’d hurried back to the stables before he doused the fire, making sure there weren’t any lingering sparks or flames, then stepped away, picking his way carefully through the slippery mud towards the building Lucy had disappeared into. 

Swiping off his cap, he shook it out a few times to try to dispel some of the water that had soaked into it. The door into the living quarters opened up into a kitchen, a small sitting room just off to the right, and the stairs that led to the bedrooms in the back. The kitchen was vacant, but there were muddy footprints leading from the door to the stairs.

Tommy glanced around the kitchen, taking a second to gather himself. He would need to be the calm one. The rational one. Lucy was clearly even more upset than he had originally thought. If he wanted to help pull her out of the dark pit of despair she’d fallen into, he would have to keep his head about him. Not let himself get frustrated. 

After all, it wasn’t her fault. He was the jackass who had so thoroughly fucked up that the love of his life didn’t even believe he loved her anymore. 

It had been a while since he’d been in there. The kitchen was minimalistic and tidy as ever, but he noticed little symptoms of Lucy’s presence scattered throughout: the angle at which the kettle was settled on the stove, the tin of cinnamon vanilla tea on the counter, the way that the towels were folded. He smiled a little to himself fondly at the reminders of her presence. 

How could she ever think that he didn’t love her? The very idea of it was absolutely absurd to him.  

He hadn’t much of an actual plan for what he was going to do or say outside of going upstairs. Finding Lucy in her room. Taking her into his arms. Telling her over and over that he loved her. That he was so sorry. That he’d do anything, anything to fix what he had done. 

And then he’d take her to bed, and make love to her until the sun came up, and any doubts that he loved her with every ounce of his being were banished from her mind.

A bark shattered through the air and Tommy jumped, head turning to find Asher standing at the top of the stairs, practically bouncing from foot to foot anxiously.  

“Asher, no,” he frowned. Usually Asher was very good about not barking. Not unless he was alerting them to approaching dangers. Asher barked again, darting away from the stairs to further down the hallway that they led up to, then back to the top of the stairs, staring down at him imploringly. “Asher–oi!” Tommy jumped back in surprise when Asher suddenly darted down the stairs, took a mouthful of his trouser leg in his jaws, and tried to tug him up the stairs with him. “What the hell?” 

Asher yanked, and it was either he took a step forward or let the dog rip his trousers. 

“Asher, mate, I can’t play with you right now…”

Dropping the mouthful of fabric, Asher barked, then whined, darting up the stairs. 

“For fuck’s sake…” Tommy muttered. Now was not the time. Still, he huffed, following the dog up the stairs and down the hall. “What? What is so important?”

Asher came to a stop at the red door at the very far end of the hallway, whining and lifting a paw to scratch at the door. He was panting, tail dropped low. His ears kept twitching, as if trying to listen for something. Tommy’s blood chilled. 

“Asher?” he asked, making his way down the hallway. The dog whined loudly, scratching more insistently at the door. When Tommy got closer, he could see marks already left on the base of the wall and door frame where the dog had been pawing at it. “Move, boy,” he gently nudged the dog out of the way, leaning his head against the door, trying to hear what was on the other side of it as he raised his fist to knock. 

“Lucy?” he called softly. “Love, are you in there?”

No answer. He tried again.

“Lucy? Are you okay?”

Still nothing. Asher whined again, distraught. Tommy swallowed hard, his heart rate spiking in his ears. Fear locked pale hands around his throat. 

“Sweetheart? I’m coming in.” 

When he tried the knob it was to find the door surprisingly unlocked, but that was where his relief ended. 

Later, they would tell him that he screamed. And he supposed that he must have, though he had no recollection of it. 

The pieces of the scene before him were processed only in fragments. As if his mind knew that anything more would cause him to become incapacitated by hysterics. 

The bloody bathwater. The body with her head lolled back against the rim. The soaked clothes sticking to her like a second skin. The hand draped over the edge of the tub, blood dripping from it onto the white tiles. The bloody razor on the floor. The deep cuts slashed into her wrists. 

He was hurling himself towards the bathtub before his mind had fully finished processing what he was seeing, plunging his hands into the lukewarm water. Not caring that it was stained red–red, with her blood–as he scooped her up out of the tub. And she was a dead weight in his arms, and the thought of that word in association with Lucy had his knees buckling, sinking to the floor with her cradled to his chest. 

She was still dressed in her white undershirt and dark trousers. Her head fell back limply against his shoulder, those big brown eyes he’d fallen so deeply in love with closed. Damp hair clung to her forehead, a shade darker red than usual from the moisture. 

“No,” he choked out, hands hovering over her, frantic. “No, no, no, no, no, no…” he found her arms, gripping them tight, examining the blood flowing heavily from her wrists to pool around them. 

Have to stop the bleeding.

Shifting Lucy to lay across his lap, he yanked his tie free from around his neck with shaking hands, wrapping it around one of her arms and pulling it taunt in an improvised tourniquet. 

“Please, please,” he begged. He needed something else for the other arm…

“Tommy, what’s–oh my God,” Charlie gasped, coming to a stop in the doorway. 

Tommy looked up at him, and when he spoke, his voice was shockingly childlike. 

“Help me.”

“I’ll call an ambulance!” Charlie shouted, already racing down the hall. Tommy turned his attention back to Lucy, grabbing onto her shirt sleeves and ripping them apart to set to work fashioning a second tourniquet around the other arm. 

Right. What next? What more could he do to help her? It was taking everything he had to fight back the cycle of memories his brain was attempting to bombard him with: Greta’s hand in his, her final breaths rattling in her lungs while he lingered at her side, unable to do anything. Grace, in his arms, bleeding out while he was helpless to save her.. 

Here’s another one, Tommy. Another woman you loved, dead in your arms. Another one that’s all your fault. 

He shook his head. He needed to find something to make bandages out of for her wrists. Reaching into his pocket, he yanked out his handkerchief, ripping it in two and folding it, using one hand each to press the two pieces of fabric to the deep wounds on her wrists. The fabric was soaked crimson within seconds, and he was suddenly massively aware of the size of the scarlet puddle growing around him. 

He did not really even know if she was still alive. There was no time to check. He was pretty sure he saw her chest rising and falling shallowly, but that could always have been his mind seeing what it wanted to see. 

Despite the makeshift bandages steadily soaking through, he continued to maintain pressure, even as hope slipped away with every passing second. He could taste salt from his tears against his lips, aware that he was sobbing distraughtly, but not caring to do anything about it. 

“Please,” he curled around her, face bent in close to hers. “Please, Lucy, don’t leave me alone. Hang on. Just hang on. I’m sorry.” He started crying even harder. “I’m so, so sorry. I love you. I love you more than anything. Just please, please hang on. Stay with me. Please, please, please, please…”

He was still there, holding her on the floor of the washroom in a pool of her blood, crying and speaking to her softly, when the paramedics came charging through the door.

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[mama-qwerty]

Second Chances v1

Okay, here's the start of my de-aged Knux story. I like the beginning, but am not thrilled with what happens after she finds little Knux. I don't know what's bothering me about it, but it's just not jiving with me.

But I wrote 6200 words, so I'mma post it. I might rework it once I can figure out just where the problem is.

Calling it 'version 1' in case I tweak it and post again later.

~~~~~

The fire burned down, leaving just a few soft flickers of flame against the burning embers at the bottom of the fire pit. Two figures sat around it, on opposite sides. They sat in silence, watching as the last of the flames died down, the darkness of the night around them moving in to replace the light.

“All I’m saying is you could have come to me, and I would have helped you.” Callie’s voice was soft, but edged with frustration. “You aren’t out in those arenas anymore. You’re not on your own anymore. I’m here, and I can help you.”

The echidna across from her frowned, scratching at the bandage on his arm. It was sloppily applied; he’d injured himself during one of his training sessions, and tended to it himself without her assistance.

“No need,” Knuckles said, waving a hand. “I am capable of taking care of myself.”

She sighed. “I know you are, but you don’t have to. I’m here. All you have to do is come to me.”

He let out a huff, giving his head a shake. “I do not need your help.”

Callie rolled her eyes. This was a sensitive subject, but one she had tried again and again to instill upon him in the months since he’d come to live with her. Yes, he was the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy. (Or had been, anyway.) But that life was behind him now. She was going to make sure that life was done, and he never had to feel alone and hunted again.

But he was a stubborn kid. Very, very stubborn. There’d been times when he’d come home looking as though he’d gone three rounds with a pissed off gorilla, and only offered a wave of his hand when she was, understandably, a bit freaked out by that. “I was training,” was his only explanation, which only raised further questions in her mind.

He was still acting like he was on his own, expecting an attack at every turn. She supposed it was second nature to him by now, having been on the run since he was so little, and it was unreasonable to expect that to fade. At all, let alone after only a few months.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be frustrated by it. And that she couldn’t try to show him that he didn’t have to take care of himself anymore. Not like that.

“Look,” she said, rubbing her eyes beneath her glasses before looking back at him. “I’m not saying you’re some little kid who needs his boo boos kissed. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I would hope that you trust me enough to let me know if you slice yourself open on one of your training runs.”

Knuckles clicked his tongue. “It was a minor wound. I’ve had much worse.”

“That’s not the point, and by the way, the blood all over my towels says otherwise. I thought you’d lost an arm with the mess you’d left behind.”

“You are overreacting.”

“Actually, I think I’m being quite calm and collected, all things considered,” she said, leaning forward to rest her forearms on her knees. “You’re not a child, but you’re still a kid who’s under my care, and I don’t think it’s out of line for me to want you to, you know, tell me when you nearly cut your arm off.”

He rolled his eyes and gave out a huff. “I did not—“

“Can you focus on what I mean instead of what I’m saying?”

“And can you not treat me as though I were some foolish child who needs supervised?”

“I’m not—“

“Enough!” Knuckles stood, rolling his shoulders. “I do not need tending like a puggle. I am a fierce warrior and do not need your coddling. I am grateful for your guidance and support, but your concern is misplaced.”

She sat up, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “For cripes’ sake, Knux, I don’t want to coddle you—“

“I am going to bed. Good night.”

And with that, the echidna stalked toward the house, leaving her by the dying fire.

Callie heaved a deep sigh, rubbing her temples with both hands.

“. . . I just want you to let me take care of you. At least a little.”

She heard the kitchen door slam, and gave a little groan.

That could have gone better.

~X~X~X~

Ridiculous.

Unnecessary.

Condescending.

Knuckles didn’t quite stomp, but didn’t quite not stomp up the stairs, pushing the door to his room open. He kicked it closed behind him, a soft growl in the back of his throat.

Take care of him. She wanted to ‘take care of him’? He took care of himself. He didn’t need her help for that. The only reason he was still alive after all these years was because he was strong and tough and self-reliant.

He tore open the velcro straps at the base of his gloves, giving his arms a sharp flick to send the heavy mitts flying. They bounced off the wall, landing on the floor with two solid thuds. The woman didn’t like when he did that, and would call out to remind him not to when she heard it.

Well, she wasn’t here right now, was she? He was a warrior. He didn’t need such rules.

With a grumble, he sat heavily on the mattress on the floor, shoving aside the curtain that hung over it in a tent-like covering. A few quick movements and his boots were loose enough to toe off. He used more force than necessary, sending them cartwheeling heel over toe into the door. More loud thuds as they settled on the floor, one on its side and the other upright.

He didn’t depend on others. He’d been shown time and time again that trusting others was a recipe for treachery and betrayal. Everyone he’d trusted had hurt him. Turned him in for rewards, used him for their own gain. Yet he continued to trust, continued to hope that someone would help him. Would be his friend.

His mother had praised his kind heart as a child, but now he wondered if it were more of a hindrance than advantage.

Flopping onto his back, he looked up at the ceiling, his eyes floating over the little painted dots there. Back when he first agreed to stay with her, Callie had brought Tails over to try and get as accurate a sky map as possible for those little dots. The clever fox had somehow found the positions of the constellations and stars over Knuckles’ village, and he and Callie had painstakingly painted each one to match those Knuckles had seen in his childhood.

It was a touching gesture. No one had ever gone so out of their way to make him comfortable. To give him a bit of familiarity to his home. He appreciated it.

But it made a tight knot twist behind his ribs when he looked up at them.

Because he couldn’t remember what the constellations were.

The knowledge seemed to flick at his consciousness, teasing the back of his mind, but when he tried to pull the names forward, wrap his tongue around them and throw them out, they disappeared back into his fading memories.

He was losing his connection to his people. His tribe.

The language that he’d been raised on, the words that once rolled off his tongue with ease, now took more effort to get right. Callie had encouraged him to share his mother tongue with her, which he appreciated, but sometimes when he said a word, it didn’t feel right on his lips. As though it were something he had no right to speak anymore.

He had learned a number of different languages in his travels—how many, he wasn’t sure, as there was a certain degree of overlap in a few—and sometimes it felt as though these new languages had almost pushed out his first. Smothered it.

And now, like the fire just a few moments before, there were only a few little embers left of what he remembered. His tribe. His customs. His language. His heritage.

Slowly dying.

He was the last. It was his duty to keep his culture intact. To not lose sight of who he is, what he is. To do so would dishonor the memory of his entire species.

His father.

Knuckles stared at the ceiling, at those little blobs of glowing paint, brow furrowed. He knew those stars, he knew them. He could hear his father naming them as he pointed. Could hear his voice, feel his father’s hand on his shoulder as he sat close by. Felt the soft breeze of the night as it rippled through his quills, while the others sat and chatted by the village fire.

He remembered all of this.

But the words, the syllables, refused to form.

A low growl rumbling in his chest, Knuckles rolled over to crawl into his artificial burrow. Yanking the curtain closed, he bundled himself beneath the thick blanket inside, curling into a tight ball. Shame burned in his belly, because it had taken so long to find the Master Emerald. It had taken nearly ten years to hunt it down. And in that time he had been so concerned with his own survival, he had lost his tether to the very reason he was doing it in the first place.

He missed his tribe. He missed his father. He missed feeling part of something, of being cared for. This planet was fine, one of the more comfortable ones he’d been on, but it wasn’t his home. This house wasn’t his home.

He wanted to go home. Back to when he didn’t feel so lost. So afraid.

So alone.

After a long moment, Knuckles drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a long, slow exhale. He’d been rude to Callie. She’d opened her home to him, and had never expected anything from him except courtesy in return. It was so different from what he’d experienced before—any other time he’d trusted others, they would have turned on him by now. She’d been nothing but kind to him.

Still. That seed of doubt poked at the back of his mind. Maybe it was time to stop being so trusting. To stop expecting anything other than betrayal. Despite her kindness, she could still turn on him. He had to be vigilant.

Soon after, his eyes began to close, and Knuckles the Echidna, last surviving member of his race, and guardian of the Master Emerald, fell asleep.

~X~X~X~

She should have handled that better.

Callie dumped a pitcher of water over the glowing embers in the fire pit, stirring it in with a poker to douse the last of the heat. As the wood hissed and smoked, she cursed herself for coming on too strong with Knuckles.

He was a proud kid. A fighter. A survivor. She knew that.

She really should have expected this reaction, honestly. Suggesting he needed to come to her simply because he’d injured himself? No matter how much blood she’d found in the bathroom—which had been a lot, and she may or may not have freaked out a little bit—she should have just let him come to her when he was ready.

But she didn’t. She pushed. And now she’d pushed him even farther away than he already was.

Once she was satisfied the fire had been adequately extinguished, Callie stood and pushed against the small of her back to produce that familiar crack. Massaging the area, she turned, and headed into the house.

She paused by Knuckles’ door as she headed down the hall to her own room. Leaning in, she heard a soft growl as he moved around. She supposed it was lucky he even came in instead of just wandering off into the trees surrounding her home. Sometimes he stayed out all night, and though she tried not to worry—he could take care of himself, after all—she did.

Her fingers curled into a fist, and she raised it to knock. It hovered near the wood for a moment, before lowering back to her side.

He didn’t need her checking on him. He was a big boy, capable of taking care of himself. He could take care of himself. She just had to keep reminding herself that.

Maybe it was time for her to just back off. He wasn’t like Sonic or Tails. He hadn’t been looking for a family. A home. He’d been looking for that magic rock. And now it sat in his closet, protected by a high-tech security system concocted by Tails. Knuckles sometimes sat before it, meditating. She was glad he had found the thing that had been driving him for most of his life, but saw the question in his eyes on the rare occasions he sat still.

Now what?

She wished she could tell him.

She wished she could help him.

But he didn’t want her help. Didn’t need it. Had said as much not fifteen minutes ago.

Maybe it was time she started listening to him.

With a sigh, Callie turned and headed to her bedroom, trying to convince herself she was worrying for nothing.

~X~X~X~

The night wore on. The house grew quiet.

Inside the middle bedroom, a faint green glow seeped from the closet.

~X~X~X~

Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, and Callie blinked against it.

God her head hurt. Sitting by the fire last night had dried out her sinuses something awful, and she uttered a grunt in the back of her throat as she pushed herself to sit up. She had to peel her tongue off the roof of her mouth.

What a night. After collapsing in bed, she’d tossed and turned for a while, eventually falling into a restless sleep with really, really weird dreams. Something about an egg and trees and a giant owl?

She shook her head. Weird. She didn’t normally remember her dreams.

With some effort she managed to push herself out of bed, shuffling to the bathroom to pee, splash some water on her face, and drag a brush through her hair before folding it into a loose braid. Tossing on a t-shirt and jeans, she pulled her glasses on and headed toward the stairs.

She stopped at Knuckles’ door once again, and this time quietly pushed it open to peek inside. The door thudded against something, and she looked down to see his boots lumped right behind it. She rolled her eyes. Probably got pissed and tossed them again.

Despite his differences, he was still very much a teenager.

Glancing up, she could barely make out a moving shape beneath his blanket. It was unusual for him to still be in bed (well, his artificial burrow, anyway) this late. Normally he was up with the sun to train or patrol or whatever it was he did with himself when he left the house.

Her heart gave a clench when she realized she didn’t really know what he did when he wasn’t here. “Training” was a pretty vague term, and she didn’t know if that meant exercising or running some death course he’d built himself up in the mountains. She could honestly believe either one.

With a sigh, she pulled back, leaving the door open a crack. She’d make some breakfast, and maybe the lure of a hot meal will draw him down so she could apologize for last night.

Her cats’ cries hit her once she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she rolled her eyes as she headed toward the kitchen.

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said with a sigh. She reached into a cabinet to pull out a can of cat food, popping the lid off to shlorp the stuff onto a plate. “You’re starving. Just wasting away. However did you survive on only the dry food you always have available to you since yesterday’s breakfast?”

The cats responded with excited meows as she placed the plate on the floor, before attacking the food as though they weren’t lazy housecats who did nothing but sit around all day before occasionally getting underfoot just as she decided to walk down the hall.

Another eye roll and Callie moved to start her coffeemaker. She’d forgotten to set it last night. With practiced ease of a daily ritual, she cleaned yesterday’s pot, refilled the water and grounds, and let it do its thing.

A yawn escaped her as she leaned back against the counter, massaging her temple, her eyes closed. The soft crunches of dry cat food came from the other side of the counter, as the coffeemaker hummed behind her.

She’d messed things up last night. Once she’d had her coffee, she’d make some bacon and eggs, maybe toss a few sausages in as an apology for overstepping. As he ate—if he ate—she’d tell him she would just stay out of his way, and let him come to her if he needed.

It went against everything she wanted, but this wasn’t about her. It was about Knuckles, and his comfort.

He could take care of himself.

That just needed to be her mantra for a while. Until it stuck.

Bloom and Suki argued a bit over the last bits of moist food, just like they always did every morning. She mostly ignored them. For sisters who’d been adopted at the same time, they really hadn’t bonded, or even seemed to like each other all that much.

A louder growl floated to her, and she called a quick “Knock it off” to them. It faded to softer hissing, as though they were arguing over whose fault it was they were yelled at. Callie sighed, rubbing her temple again, when a thought came to her.

She could still hear the crunch of dry cat food.

That . . . wasn’t right.

Opening her eyes, she leaned over to catch a glimpse of both cats—her only cats—still scarfing down the moist food on one side of the kitchen island.

And still, the crunching continued.

Great.

She hadn’t had her coffee yet, and there was already a problem. Some animal must have gotten into the house and was helping itself to her cats’ food. Mouse? Rat? Squirrel? Not exactly something she wanted to deal with at not quite 8 AM on a Saturday morning.

Moving slowly, Callie grabbed a dish towel, hoping to surprise the whatever-it-was and nab it before it had a chance to run or bite her. Would it work? Probably not. But she had to do something.

She moved slowly, coming around the counter making as little noise as possible. Inch by inch she rounded the island, before she could see the cat food bowl, and the creature having a free lunch. Or breakfast, as it were.

And she froze.

Sitting in front of the bowl, grabbing handfuls of dry cat food and shoving them into its mouth, crunching loudly, was a . . . little red echidna.

“What the . . .”

She spoke without realizing, and the little thing froze, whipping his head around to look at her, eyes wide. Violet eyes. Ones that looked so, so much like those of the echidna upstairs. Her eyes flicked down and took note of the white patch of fur in the shape of a crescent moon on his little chest.

Oh god.

It couldn’t be.

Was that . . . ?

They stood there, staring at each other, frozen in shock for a long moment.

Then the little echidna—what were they called? She couldn’t remember at the moment—reached forward, his eyes never leaving hers, and grabbed another handful of cat food to bring to his mouth.

That got her moving.

“NO!”

Her voice was louder and sharper than she intended, and when she reached for him, he gave a little squeak, turning to scramble away from her. He ran on all fours, a kind of loping half-crawl, half-gallop kind of gait, and he was fast. Callie hurried behind him, her socked feet threatening to slip on her laminated floors.

“No no no,” she muttered as he ran beneath the kitchen table. She slid to a stop and yanked a chair away, falling to her knees to try and grab him, just as he scooted through the other side and made a beeline for the living room. Getting to her feet once more, she followed, trying to keep him in sight. He was about as large as one of her cats—bigger than a kitten, but not a full on adult—which meant he could fit in places she couldn’t reach.

Like behind the computer desk where her laptop sat. He squeezed between it and the wall, and Callie hurled the rolling chair out of the way as she threw herself beneath the desk. The little echidna—what the hell were they called again??—skittered along the back, getting tangled in the cord for the lamp and pulling it down with a crash as he bolted from behind the desk and headed for the side table by the couch.

“Stop!”

He gave another little squeak at her order, but never slowed. Scrambling behind the side table, he latched onto the curtain, climbing deceptively fast for a little guy his size. Realizing she was still holding the hand towel, Callie threw it toward him, not necessarily thinking through what that was supposed to accomplish. But she never expected his reaction.

He launched himself off the curtain and flew across the room.

No, not flew, exactly. More like glide. Like a flying squirrel.

But still.

“Are you kidding me??”

While gliding seemed to come naturally to him, landing did not, and he bounced off the TV, tumbling down to the floor with a few grunts. She hurried over to him, and caught his leg just as he was trying to scurry beneath the TV stand.

“Gotcha!”

He did not like being caught, wiggling and twisting his body like a live wire, uttering little grunts and growls as he did so. Callie kept having to rearrange her grip on him, alternating between grabbing a limb before switching to a different one when he jack-knifed his body to try and hurl himself out of her hands.

It was like trying to hold doll filled with Jell-O, if that doll hated you and was trying to bite you and poke you with its quills.

In desperation, she tried something that usually worked when her own son was cranky and fighting all those years ago.

She tickled him.

At first she wasn’t even sure if he was ticklish. Did creatures with fur have tickle triggers, or did their fur absorb that touch before it could work? It wasn’t exactly a question she’d ever thought to ask Maddie, and certainly not something Knuckles would ever let her know about. Weaknesses and all that.

Her fingers danced over his sides, seeking out the spots that most humans found ticklish, and he continued to fight her. A little more juggling, and she ended up holding him by an ankle, the rest of him dangling. She brought her other hand up and went for the bottom of his foot.

And he giggled.

Her fingers wiggled, barely touching the pads on his foot, and now he wiggled and twisted for a different reason, laughing and giggling at the touch. A smile curled her lips and she gave a little amused hum of her own.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it?”

When his laughter went a little wheezy, she stopped her tickle attack and carefully adjusted him so she held him beneath his arms. He giggled a little more before looking up at her, his eyes big and wide. She felt his little chest heaving from the laughter, and gave him a good look over.

Same eyes. Same moon mark on his chest. She moved him so she could see the arm that was bandaged last night. There was still a tiny wound there.

“Holy . . . ohmygod . . . you’re him. Knuckles?” He didn’t respond to his name. Could he understand her at all? “You’re a . . .”

“Knock knock, MacPhersons!” a voice called as the kitchen door opened. Wade came in, carrying a bag from Dough Ray Me Bakery. “I brought breakie! Or snackie!”

“Baby,” she said, looking at the deputy over her shoulder.

“Yes, dear?” He snickered, amused by his own joke. “Ah, kidding, what are you—”

“BABY,” she said, louder and more urgent. She turned and held the little echidna out.

Wade stopped, his eyes going wide. “Did . . . did Knux have a baby?”

“Knux IS the baby,” she said, moving closer. The boy turned his head, looking between the two adults. “I woke up and he was like this.”

Silence settled for a moment, before Wade rubbed the back of his neck. “So . . . is this something space echidna do? Like a phoenix kinda thing?”

Callie opened her mouth to answer, before closing it again. She looked between echidna and man, before giving Wade a look. “I think my smoke detectors would have gone off if he’d burst into flames to revert to a . . . joey. No, that’s kangaroos. Damnit. What are baby echidna called?”

Wade shrugged. “Think the other boys are like this?”

Her eyes went wide. YES! Verifying Sonic and Tails were babies too wouldn’t exactly make this okay, but would go a long way into making her feel less . . . weird about it. Shared experiences and all that.

“I’ll check.” She thrust Knuckles toward Wade, who looked distinctly unsure about taking him. “C’mon, Wade. I have to make a phone call.”

“I dunno, I’m not really great with—“

That’s as far as he got before she practically dropped the little echidna into his hands. She rushed to the counter, grabbed her phone, and punched Maddie’s contact. It ran twice before she picked up.

“Hey, Cal!”

“Hey, Mads, uh, sorry to call so early, I just have a quick question.”

“Shoot.”

Callie glanced over at Wade, who had pulled Knuckles to cradle against his chest. Knux gazed up at the man, playing with the buttons on the hideous Hawaiian shirt he liked to wear on days off.

“Your kids wouldn’t happen to be, I dunno . . . babies?”

A slight pause.

“It depends on the situation, really.”

“RUDE!” A certain hedgehog’s voice called out in the background.

Oh. Oh no.

“That seemed an oddly specific question for this early in the morning,” Maddie continued, seemingly ignoring her hog son. “Why do you ask?”

A soft, not quite sane laugh escaped Callie, and she switched from an audio call to video. “Because, funny story . . . Today I woke up to . . .” She turned the phone to show Wade holding little Knux. “This.”

Silence. Then, “OH MY GOD! HE’S SO CUTE!”

Wade blushed. “Aw, thanks, Maddie!”

Callie rolled her eyes, and pulled the phone back around to herself. “Maddie, he’s a baby. Why is he a baby?”

“Why are you asking me? I don’t know any more than you do about his species.”

“Don’t tell me you think he’s like some space phoenix thing, too.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” Callie sighed, reaching beneath her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“Hang on, lemme ask Tails.” Maddie’s voice went a little muffled as she blocked the mic, turning to call for her younger son. There was some back and forth between the two, when Tails came on screen.

“Hi, Callie!”

“Hey, Floof,” she said, dropping her hand and giving him a weak smile. “Your mom fill you in?”

“Yeah, and I’m not completely clear on echidna physiology but am pretty sure they don’t spontaneously revert to become babies overnight.”

“Wait a minute, Knux is a baby???” Sonic’s voice started faint but got louder as he pushed forward, sticking his nose in the camera. “LEMME SEE!!”

Callie sighed, and turned to show the hog. A gasp, followed by laughter, and she pulled the phone back around with a cocked eyebrow.

“Hey, see if you can remove the stick from his butt now, so he’ll be more fun when he grows up!”

“Sonic!”

A warning call from Maddie, who wrestled control of her phone from her older son.

“So,” Callie said, trying to redirect the conversation. “Any ideas how this happened, or how to change him back?”

“Tails?” Maddie asked, turning the phone slightly to get the fox in frame. He rubbed his chin slightly, before looking back up.

“The Master Emerald is said to be able to change reality, based solely on thought alone,” he said, before shrugging. “Maybe that has something to do with it.”

Callie could have slapped her forehead. Duh. She knew the Master Emerald could do that, that’s what the whole trouble with Robotnik was when Knux first came. That should have been her first thought, honestly.

She blamed the lack of caffeine.

“That’s a good call, Tails,” she said, glancing over at Wade. He’d pulled Knuckles up and was currently dancing with him, making silly faces. The boy laughed, kicking his little feet, and Callie’s heart just about melted. She looked back to Tails. “I’ll see if I can, I dunno, convince the Emerald to change him back.”

The fox looked hesitant, but nodded. “Probably your best bet. Just . . . be careful.”

“I will. Thanks, guys. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

The Wachowski’s said their goodbyes, and she hung up, putting her phone back on the counter.

“You sure you wanna use that?” Wade asked, pulling Knux back to hold against him. He still swayed back and forth, seemingly without realizing he was doing it. “Could make things weirder.”

“Not sure we have much of a choice, Wade.”

She paused, looking up the stairs toward Knuckles’ room. She tried not to think about having a magic rock capable of altering reality in her house. One that allowed Robotnik to create a giant robot out of cars and trains and who knew what else. One that apparently worked through thought alone.

Because if she thought too hard on it, it really, really, really freaked her out.

“We can call Sonic and Tails to come over,” Wade said, his voice softer. “They know a little more about it and maybe could help.”

Part of her wanted to say yes, because this was way too much to deal with. At all, much less before her morning coffee. She turned and looked back at Knuckles, who was seemingly fine hanging over Wade’s arm.

She sighed.

“No,” she said, giving her braid a little tug. “We don’t know for sure that’s what changed him. What if the other boys come over and BOOM, they get babified? Then we’ll still be on our own and Maddie will be pissed. No thanks.” She sighed again, steeling herself. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She made her way upstairs, into Knuckles’ room, and opened his closet door. The Master Emerald sat in its little glass box, its ever present soft glow illuminating the otherwise dark room. With a few calming breaths, she reached forward and pressed her thumb on the little square plate at the base. There was a soft beep, and a little recording of Tails’ voice filled the air.

“Identification code, please.”

Callie leaned forward to speak toward the mic. “Callie MacPherson, 7322-07.”

A second later there was another beep, and Tails’ voice again.

“Access granted! Hi, Callie!”

There was a click and a hiss as the top of the clear box opened, swinging back to allow access. The material the container was constructed with looked like glass, but Tails had called it some sort of polymer that was stronger than steel—a recipe he’d concocted back on his home planet when he was five, and at that point she’d stopped listening because it sounded like a lot of tech talk, and frankly she got the feeling that some of Tails’ inventions were borderline illegal no matter what planet he was on.

She reached into the box now, and carefully took hold of the Master Emerald, lifting it out slowly. She’d only touched it once before, as Tails was installing the security system.

She didn’t like touching it.

It was warm.

Not warm as in ‘a rock that had been sitting in the sun’ warm. But warm as in ‘something that was somehow generating its own heat’ warm.

It was almost a living warmth.

And beyond that, it seemed to . . . thrum in her hands.

She tried to tell herself she was simply feeling her own heartbeat through it, that somehow the gem was amplifying it back to her.

But considering how her heart was pounding in her own ears right now, the gem’s . . . well, pulse didn’t match the rhythm.

She tried not to think about it.

She tried not to think about anything, considering the powers the gem held.

Having her house turn into gingerbread because of the ones she used to make with her mother at Christmas popped into her head was the last thing she needed right now.

(damnit stop thinking about that)

Hurrying downstairs, she found Wade entertaining Knuckles by tossing him in the air before catching him. The little echidna laughed, his soft voice squeaking with his happy giggles.

Callie was only a little jealous that Wade could coax such happy sounds from the boy. She didn’t think she’d ever heard teen Knux sound that free. That happy. Sure, he’d been through hell in his quest to find the gem now in her hands, but she thought she had given him a nice safe place to stay. A home.

Maybe she’d just been fooling herself.

Focus.

“Keep doing that and he’s gonna barf on you,” she said, in what she hoped sounded like her usual snark.

Wade caught him one last time, before giving the boy a little nose nuzzle. “Ah, he’s okay. He’s a cute little guy!”

“Yeah, well, why don’t we see if we can change him back—PUGGLE!” The word came out loud and suddenly, and Wade and Knuckles both jerked. She gave them an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I’d been trying to think of that word all morning. Anyway . . .” She held up the Master Emerald. “Shall we give it a try?”

Wade nodded, turning Knuckles around so they both faced Callie. She stepped forward, holding the gem up in front of the little puggle.

Nothing happened.

She gave the Emerald a little shake. “C’mon. Change him back. Uh, please.”

Nothing.

“Think maybe it’s like a genie kinda thing?” Wade offered, and Knuckles turned his head to look at him. “Like, you gotta wish for it or something?”

“Tails said it works by thought,” Callie responded, watching as the puggle turned back and began chewing on the nearest edge of the Emerald. “But I’m not exactly sure how to do that. And kinda worried about a monkey’s paw kinda situation.”

“Oh, like you wish for something and it grants it in the most horrible, twisted way possible. Like instead of changing him back to his normal self he’s a . . . I dunno, an eclair or something.”

Callie gave him a look. “Why would he be an eclair?”

Wade shrugged. “It kinda sounds like echidna. And maybe it sounds so much like echidna that you think of eclair instead and now he’s a delicious pastry and—”

“I’m not going to think of an eclair instead of echidna,” she snapped, before pulling her lips in tight. “Well I wasn’t before you said that, now that’s all I can think of, thank you very much.”

Closing her eyes, Callie drew in a deep breath, before letting it out slowly.

Okay.

She opened her eyes, and met Wade’s gaze. “I’m gonna try picturing him like he was yesterday, and see if that works. Ready?” Wade nodded, holding Knuckles out. “Okay. Here goes.”

Callie closed her eyes again, squeezing them shut tightly as she pictured Knuckles, teenage Knuckles, and definitely not an eclair, standing before her and giving her that typical scowl, his arms crossed. She kept that image in her mind, her grip tightening on the Master Emerald.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to happen. A feeling of some sort of energy or something flowing through her as the Emerald did what she wanted. A sudden shift of the air around her. Something.

That didn’t happen.

What did happen was little Knuckles sneezing, spraying the Master Emerald—and her—with little puggle snot. She jerked, opening her eyes.

“Well, that’s just grand, that is,” she said in her best Wallace impersonation. She turned and walked to the hand towel she’d thrown at Knuckles while he was hanging off her curtain, and picked it up to wipe the spray off the most dangerous and powerful gem in the entire galaxy. Then she turned the towel to herself, wiping her face and heaving a sigh.

“At least he’s not an eclair,” Wade offered, tucking Knux into his elbow. “What now?”

Callie cocked an eyebrow at him, tucking the Emerald against her hip. Her eyes flicked behind him, and found her coffee pot nice and full. “Coffee,” she said, heading toward it.

~~~~~

And that's where I petered out because it's just not working. UGH

[unfortunatelyphoenix]

So I had another idea that I wanna share, btw I still know barely anything about either fandom and am going off fanfics for info. Also I'm really tired rn so don't expect everything to make sense.

After a nasty accident the portal blew up with the explosion being so big it would've destroyed the entire planet and Ghost Zone if Danny hadn't managed to absorb the majority of the blast, but with how much power it had been Danny wasn't able to completely stop the destruction and was sent into a centuries long coma to heal with Clockwork and Frostbite putting the energy (both his and everything he was able to absorb from the blast) into a large pearl-like object and storing it into some ancient ruins to help protect him. But despite having taken so much of the force humanity was pretty much given a hard reset in advancements and created metas.

Now, centuries later, the JL hear of a villain (idk who) having pinpointed the location of an extremely dangerous magic artifact that could send everything back by centuries if not outright destroy the planet and obviously go to stop them, with a 10 year old Damien who is determined to become Robin managing to catch a ride and sneak along with them. Somehow Damien ends up in a position where he's between the villain and the artifact and is severely hurt, but he refuses to give up and the fighting makes a ruckus, enough of a ruckus that Danny wakes up.

Danny, who has absorbed all of the energy into is own being and now looks like some sort of animal-like creature, wakes up to see an adult hurting a kid so badly it looks like their gonna kill him and immediately goes into hero mode to save the child. Thanks to pretty much having the power of several Tsar Bombs now, easily finishes the fight and quickly starts panicking over the small injured child and does his best to use his powers to heal the kid whose barely even conscious.

At some point of Danny's frantic mother-hen-ing one of the JL members, who is also really injured, manages to get to the room to stop the villain only to find the villain unconscious, what looks to be a brand new Robin barely conscious, the artifact missing, and some sort of monster that looks to be made of space, shadows, and ice panicking over the small child and quickly getting protective once noticing the other person and putting itself between the JL member and the hurt kid to protect him, seemingly shape-shifting to appear more dangerous.

After somehow calming the thing down (which was pretty difficult due to a language barrier) the JL and JLD come to the conclusion that somehow the magic artifact must've reacted to Damien and bonded with him since it's refusing to leave his side.

Danny on the other hand thinks he's been out for maybe a month max and was transported to a different universe thanks to the existence of powers, superheroes, and the very prominent language barrier between them. He just hopes that this strangely stabby child calms down soon so he can find his way into the Ghost Zone so he can return to his family and haunt.

[xxelliewxx]

Fire and Frost {Ellie x Reader} Ch. 2

Pairings: loser!(AFAB)Reader x hockey player!Ellie

Synopsis: When y/n is requested to tutor Ellie Williams in organic chemistry, she expects arrogance and attitude from the hockey player. However, she discovers a different aspect of Ellie’s tough exterior, revealed through humor and fleeting glances. This raises the question: why does Ellie go to great lengths to embarrass and harass y/n whenever they are in the presence of others?

Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, sexual/physical assault, alcohol, violence, trauma (if I miss any let me know!)

w/c: 2.4k

an: this is my first time ever posting fanfic on Tumblr, so feedback is completely welcome! this is not proofread and is a work in progress.

Ch 1: Iron Bonds

Carbon Memory

The Chemistry Club frequently served as your refuge where you could momentarily escape your past and current traumas. Serving as the President of the club was something you took pride in, using your position to inspire a deeper love and understanding of such a complex topic. You excelled in event planning, frequently jotting down ideas on your iPad for potential projects to showcase throughout the campus, aimed at attracting new members to the club. With only 15 members to represent, the chemistry club lacked funding to continue its meetings.

Dr. M was confident that you would discover a means to secure additional funding to maintain operations, and her trust in your capabilities rendered failure an impossibility. This is why you found yourself scribbling idea after idea, hoping to promote them at tonight's meeting. Dina, your friend since Freshman year, hovered over your shoulder, providing unwanted commentary, and scoffing at some of your ideas.

"Wow, Y/N, I always knew you were a bit of a nerd, but I didn't realize it was to this level! A scavenger hunt based on the periodic table? Seriously?"

You let out an exasperated sigh at your friend, quickly grabbing your iPad from her grasp and shielding your work, desperate to put an end to the relentless chatter. "Just leave me alone, D. If you're not going to offer the support and ideas you promised, you might as well spend time with Jesse, which is clearly what you prefer."

Dina swatted your arm playfully before taking the seat next to you, glancing at the iPad once more. "Fine, Y/N, I'm just messing with you. Sheesh, what has your panties in a wad?"

You shot her a fierce look, placing the apple pencil aside with a thud. "Dina, I am really not up for this right now. Especially now that I will be losing my mornings to that insufferable Ellie. I can't believe Dr. M would do me dirty like that." You threw your hands up in frustration.

Dina's eyebrows arched high, nearly disappearing into her hair as she exclaimed, "She what?! Seriously, Ellie didn't say a word about this during morning skate yesterday. She always jumps at the opportunity to shit-talk you."

Your jaw dropped at her remark, "Fuck you, Dina." You smacked her shoulder, defensively, fully aware she was just trying to get a rise out of you. Yet, deep down, you knew there was a grain of truth in her jabs. It was no secret that the captain had a strong dislike for you, a mystery you had long since stopped trying to unravel.

Dina giggled, munching on some Twizzlers she produced from her backpack, using it to point at your face. "You know, sometimes I wonder if she just actually want's to fuck you. I mean, seriously, she brings you up far too often. Anytime she brings you up, Coach makes her do suicides in full gear."

You felt a warm flush creep up your cheeks at your friend's teasing remarks, a whirlwind of images flashing through your mind that you desperately tried to banish. "Oh, come on, D, I just want this semester to end. I seriously doubt she'll be in any of my classes again, she's barely passing this one."

The thought of never seeing the auburn haired girl again stirred a whirlwind of feelings within, with relief rising to the forefront. You could daydream. Huffing, you glanced at your watch seeing it was quarter to 8, your nose wrinkled. "Speaking of, I have to go meet Williams in the library in a few. Please text me some of your ideas, I really need your help."

Shoving your iPad into your backpack, you quickly grabbed the Twizzler from Dina's grasp, savoring the sweet, chewy treat. Dina shot you a fierce look, saying, "You're lucky you're my best friend. Have fun on your date." Her eyebrows danced playfully, hinting suggestively.

"Fuck you," You muttered under your breath, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you left the dining hall. Each step toward the library felt heavy, a sense of dread creeping in with every footfall. This was far from the semester you had envisioned; you were determined to steer clear of the girl as best as you could.

As you checked the time on your watch, a wave of panic washed over you; you were already late for your first tutoring session, and you could already imagine the endless teasing that awaited you. With a swift motion, you pushed open the heavy oak doors and swept your gaze across the study hall. There she was, lounging in the far corner, her feet casually resting on the table as if she owned the place. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you approached her, noticing her engrossed in scribbling doodles in her notebook.

"You sure know how to keep a girl waiting, don't you, geek?" Ellie kept her gaze fixed on her notebook, playfully teasing without even glancing your way. The nickname that was supposed to be sweet ignited a fire of anger within you, as it was evident that it was being wielded as a tool for mockery rather than affection.

Shoving her feet off the table, you brushed aside her piercing gaze, which was locked onto you with an intimidating animosity, as you began to arrange your study materials. "Not everyone can lounge around looking cool all day while Mommy and Daddy pay for everything, many of us are tied down with responsibilities and jobs."

As you dug into the depths of your backpack to retrieve your textbook, a heavily tattooed hand suddenly crashed down onto its cover, making you flinch in surprise. "Do not speak about me as if you fucking know me. Mention my parents one more time and I will fucking end you."

Your heart raced, and your eyes widened as you struggled to keep your gaze locked with the hockey player. After enduring months of torment, you had resolved long ago to hold your ground with her, and today was no exception. "You need me just as much as I need you so I suggest you get used to the idea of me."

Her hand rested on your textbook, veins pulsing with fury as it shook before she clenched it into a tight fist. "I have no desire to see you as anything other than the loser geek who assisted me in keeping my grades up. To me, that's all you will ever be—nothing beyond that."

You fumed, "I don't know what world you're living in where I have any intention of getting to know you, don't flatter yourself. You see, Ellie, this is your problem is that you have such an inflated ego, thinking that everyone and everything exists just to cater to you."

She leaned back in her chair, arms folded tightly, her fingers twitching as if battling the urge to punch you. With her teeth clenched, Ellie shot back, "Like you said, you need me just as much as I need you. So let's get this over with."

You flipped open your textbook, deliberately avoiding her piercing gaze, silently wishing for this session to pass in a blur. "What are you having trouble with in this class? It's been pretty straightforward until now."

Ellie exhaled loudly, reaching for your wrist that was currently flipping through the pages. "Seriously, dork, if you want this to be as painless as possible you'll cease to insult my intelligence. I get the fundamental ideas; I'm not a fucking moron. I bombed the last test because I struggle with equations, and those organic reactions totally tanked my score."

Throwing your hand out of her grasp, Ellie pulled out her notebook you had been admiring the other day, finding the doodles to be adorable. Adorning the tattered cover were whimsical illustrations inspired by the cosmos and clever wordplay. One particular pun caught your eye: an otter, fishing pole in hand, pulling in a fish with the playful phrase, "I'm Otterly Hooked." You couldn't help but giggle, stifling the sound with your hand.

Ellie quirked an eyebrow, the one with the slit in it that you found oddly appealing, her expression a mix of curiosity and confusion over the cause of your sudden outburst. "Is there something I am missing? What's so funny about me completely wrecking my GPA?"

You could feel her irritation rising as you hurriedly clarified your reasoning to diffuse the escalating tension. "Sorry, but I can't help it—your notebook is adorable! I really enjoy a twist on words."

The hockey player's shoulders visibly eased, the weight of her tension lifting with your confession. She massaged the back of her neck and said, "Yeah, me too," before clearing her throat. Turning her attention back to her test, she focused intently on the red marks scattered across her paper.

An unexpected ease settled in, almost like you guys finding a shared interest on such a mundane subject broke the ice just a little bit.  A grin spread across your face when you noticed the same spark of amusement in the girl with forest-green eyes. Inspiration struck as you hastily pulled out your iPad. The other girl raised an eyebrow at your actions, clearly curious about your next move.

Sticking your tongue out you scribbled out your own version of word-play, exhilaration surging through you. A soft giggle escaped your lips as you added the final details to your artwork, then, with a mix of excitement and nervousness, you placed the device down, eager for Ellie to admire your masterpiece. Leaning herself forward, Ellie chuckled. On your iPad was a shark giving a thumbs-up, bubbles spelling out "Fintastic".

"As much as I love punny jokes, I really need to get some studying done before morning practice," she sighed. "Coach is already breathing down my neck about how I'm 'not demonstrating leadership qualities with my poor grades,'" she said, deepening her voice to mimic her coach, complete with exaggerated air quotes.

You found yourself instinctively extending your arm across the table, taking her hand in yours, a wave of sympathy washing over you. "Even if you stumble on a few tests, it doesn't define your ability to lead. I can see, despite our differences, that you genuinely care for the people around you."

Ellie stopped breathing as she looked down at your hand, as fragrant tendrils of lavender rose to her nose in powerful bursts. You purchased a vial of lavender oil the very night following your encounter, discovering a deep sense of comfort in its soothing aroma. Ellie shook her head vigorously, pulling her hand away from yours with a huff. "Stop pretending you know me, you dork," she muttered, irritation lacing her words.

You couldn't help the hurt that flooded your chest at her actions, making it feel like for every stride you made, you were being pulled two steps back into the shadows. "Whatever, Ellie. Just give me your test packet, I can draw up some practice equations."

Taking the paper from her grasp, you found yourself pleasantly surprised by her handwriting, which you had anticipated to be a jumbled mess. Instead, it was surprisingly tidy and even quite lovely. As you scanned through her incorrect answers, the source of her errors started to become clear. She was neglecting the solvent reactions, a detail that could be easily adjusted.

You looked up at Ellie, noticing her fingers gently gliding over the tattoo on her forearm, which peeked out from under her hockey sweatshirt. The name "Ellie Williams" was elegantly inscribed in flowing cursive across her right chest, accompanied by the school mascot nestled beneath it, her muscles subtly flexing beneath the fabric. Ellie sensed the weight of gazes upon her and locked eyes with you, her expression devoid of any feeling, as if she possessed the power to erase all traces of emotion, making you shiver.

Clearing your throat, embarrassed at being caught staring you asked, "Ellie, do you remember SN1 vs. SN2 or E1 vs. E2?"

Ellie's brows knitted together in confusion as she shook her head. "No, I don't. Was that part of the test?" As she reached for her paper, her finger brushed against yours while she held onto the packet. She appeared completely unfazed by the contact, but you felt a rush of emotions from that fleeting touch, struggling to suppress the stir of feelings it ignited within you.

Ellie's confusion morphed into frustration as she flung the paper onto the table between you two, her arms crossing defiantly, a familiar gesture of hers. "When the fuck did we learn this? I feel like I would have remembered that shit."

Reflecting on the time when the hockey player was missing from the lecture hall, you pinpointed the date when this chapter was covered. "We went over this two weeks ago, right at the end of September. But you weren't around," you said softly, the last part slipping out almost shyly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with how closely you had noticed her attendance. She had been absent for a whole week, and even her friends were left in the dark about the reasons for her disappearance.

You had failed to be discreet as she instantly caught on to your observation. "How do you remember when I was or wasn't in class," Ellie asked, her tone surprisingly warm rather than angry, as if she appreciated your attention. The flicker of warmth quickly vanished as she shook her head. "Whatever, it's not a big deal, I will just talk with Dr. M and this whole arrangement can be finished."

Ellie didn't pause for your response; she sprang to her feet, shoving her books and notes into her backpack with a sense of urgency. In a whirlwind of emotion, she dashed out of the library, leaving you in a state of turmoil. The air around you felt heavy with silence as you sat there, rooted to your chair, struggling to muster the strength to move. Confusion swirled in your mind, and it wasn't until you finally resolved to gather your belongings that you began to erase any trace of your encounter, clearing the table as if to wipe away the memory of her presence.

As you reached for your iPad to lock the screen, your gaze was caught by a whimsical illustration beside your shark. There, next to the fierce creature, was a cheerful seal donning a festive party hat, joyfully proclaiming "Sealebration." The image stirred a wave of melancholy within you, a reminder of the frustration you felt over her unwillingness to engage with you civilly, despite the undeniable connection that seemed to linger between you.

A message pinged, shattering your focus on the scene before you. You grabbed your phone, heart racing with the hope that it was from a particular athlete. Your enthusiasm fizzled out the moment you saw Dina's name flashing on your notifications.

Dina: How about a Periodic Table Fashion Show! We could call it "Atomic Fashion" or "Noble Gas Glam"

For once, you didn't find amusement in a pun.

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: My dear people, who actually read this, I salute to your patience. Without much spoilers, @rennethen, who is my lovely beta reader and at this point a lovely friend as well, has co-written a crucial part of this chapter, which must be one of my favourite love scenes. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“So,” Jayce began, leaning against a nearby table with a raised eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what happened after the party, or do I have to pry it out of you?”

Viktor didn’t look up from his work. “There is nothing to tell,” he said evenly, though the faintest twitch of his jaw betrayed him.

“Really? Because from what I saw, Renly looked ready to melt into you by the time you left,” Jayce said, not bothering to hide his grin. “And don’t even try denying it. I saw the two of you. Did you walk her home?”

Viktor exhaled sharply, setting his pen down. “No, she didn’t want me to. I don’t think I exactly met her expectations that night,” he added wearily.

Jayce frowned, his grin fading as he studied Viktor's expression. “Her expectations? Viktor, what are you talking about? I am worked up from the tension between you two, and from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s tired of the games.”

Viktor's lips tightened into a thin line as he rubbed his temple. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “But it is not so simple. I cannot—” He cut himself off, searching for the right words. “Renly… deserves someone whole. Someone who can give her what she needs, without limitations or complications.”

Jayce groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Oh, for the love of Gods, Viktor, not this again. You’re doing that thing where you convince yourself that you’re the problem before anyone else has even said a word about it. Do you honestly think Renly cares about your so-called ‘limitations’?”

Viktor’s gaze hardened. “It is not a matter of what she cares about now, Jayce. It is a matter of what she will care about, eventually. People always say such things at the beginning. They make promises they cannot keep because they do not yet understand the full reality.”

Jayce crossed his arms and stared at Viktor incredulously. “You really think Renly’s like that? That she’s just going to up and decide one day that you’re not enough for her? Have you even given her the chance to prove you wrong?”

Viktor’s jaw clenched. “I am giving her the chance, Jayce. By not allowing this… whatever it is to escalate into something we both regret.”

Jayce shook his head, letting out a low chuckle that was equal parts frustration and disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You’re so damn smart, but when it comes to feelings, you’re a complete idiot. News flash, Viktor: the world isn’t going to wait for you to feel ready. And neither is Renly.”

Viktor didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the blueprints before him, though his focus was clearly elsewhere. The weight of Jayce’s words hung in the air, pressing down on him like a tangible force.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “I am not like you, Jayce. I cannot afford to be careless with matters of the heart. Not when there is so much at stake. If this were to fail…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It would break me.”

Jayce softened, his frustration giving way to something more understanding. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. But don’t you think that’s kind of the point? If it wasn’t terrifying, it wouldn’t be worth it. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now, but you do have to try. Otherwise, you’re just going to push her away—and I promise you, Viktor, that’s going to hurt a hell of a lot more than taking the risk.”

Viktor finally looked up, meeting Jayce’s gaze. There was conflict in his eyes, a battle between the walls he had spent years building and the growing crack Renly had managed to carve into them.

“I will consider your words,” he said after a long pause, his tone measured but tinged with something vulnerable. “But I make no promises.”

Jayce smiled faintly, patting Viktor on the shoulder before stepping back. “That’s all I’m asking. Just… don’t overthink it, okay? Not everything in life needs a blueprint.”

As Jayce walked away, Viktor returned to his work, though the words of his friend lingered. For all his logic and reason, he couldn’t deny the truth in what Jayce had said. And yet, the fear remained, an ever-present shadow that refused to let go.

Because Viktor knew one thing for certain: the closer he allowed himself to get to Renly, the greater the risk of losing everything he had fought so hard to protect.

***

Renly trudged up the steps to the lab, her feet dragging with a heaviness she couldn’t shake. She checked the time on her pocket watch for the third time that morning—or rather, the early afternoon—and winced. Nearly four hours late.

She’d debated whether she should come in at all, entertaining the idea of calling out sick, but even the thought of leaving Viktor alone to stew with his thoughts made her restless. It wasn’t as though she could escape him, anyway. His voice was in her head, his touch still lingering in the ghostly way that made her chest ache.

She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, despite the warmth of the late morning sun. The sky above Piltover was clear, but inside, her thoughts were anything but.

Renly stepped into the lab building, keeping her head low and her pace brisk. The familiar hum of machinery greeted her, but for once, it didn’t calm her nerves. Every step toward the lab’s main floor felt heavier, as if her body were actively protesting her decision to face the day.

She didn’t bother peeking in to see if Jayce or Viktor were there. If she did, there was a chance one of them might spot her, and she wasn’t ready for either of their voices—Jayce’s friendly concern or Viktor’s infuriating calmness.

Slipping past the main work area, Renly made a beeline for the tiny side room she sometimes used when she needed privacy—or an escape. The room was little more than a glorified closet with a workbench and a stool, but it was quiet, and, more importantly, it had a lock.

She shut the door behind her softly, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Setting her bag down on the bench, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

She wasn’t ready for this. Not for Viktor, not for Jayce, not for anything.

Despite the promise of a weekend to recharge, she’d spent most of it replaying Friday night in her head. The way Viktor’s voice had softened when he said, “I don’t have an answer, Renly.” The way her heart had dropped at his hesitation. And, worst of all, the way she’d turned away from him, leaving them both in that miserable, unspoken limbo.

She rubbed her temples, trying to push the memory aside, but it clung stubbornly.

“I should’ve just stayed home,” she muttered to herself, kicking off her boots and curling up on the stool. The bench in front of her was scattered with leftover components from her last experiment—a half-finished mess she didn’t have the energy to clean up.

She stared at it for a moment, willing herself to start something, anything to keep her mind off Viktor. But her hands stayed still, too heavy to lift.

Her mind raced as she picked apart the weekend in her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so direct. Maybe she shouldn’t have cornered him. Maybe… maybe he was right, and this wasn’t something she should push.

But another part of her, the part that refused to let go of the way Viktor’s heartbeat had sounded beneath her cheek, wasn’t ready to give up.

The sound of muffled voices outside the room made her stiffen. She recognized Jayce’s booming laugh first, then Viktor’s measured reply. She couldn’t make out the words, but the low timbre of Viktor’s voice sent a fresh wave of frustration rolling through her. She decided to bury herself in work once again.

She had no idea how much time had passed. She also didn’t really know what she was doing, aside from aimlessly fiddling with the properties of the formula. That was, until something went wrong and one of her vials exploded without warning.

She snapped. Letting out a frustrated snarl, she shouted, “I fucking hate viscosity!”—forgetting entirely that she’d meant to stay quiet.

The sound echoed sharply in the confined room, and before the realization of what she’d just done could sink in, she heard a soft knock at the door.

“Ugh… come in,” she groaned, her voice heavy with resignation as the door opened with a faint creak.

“Renly.”

Her movements froze mid-motion, halfway through wiping the mess off her desk. She didn’t turn around. “What is it, Viktor?”

Her voice was flat, her tone clipped. The sharpness of it stung more than he cared to admit, but he pressed on, leaning heavily on his cane as he entered the room.

“Did you mean to be distant?” His voice was quiet but weary, laced with an edge of vulnerability. He hadn’t heard her come in earlier. And he definitely hadn’t expected her—of all people—to hide.

She let out a sharp, humourless laugh, finally turning to face him. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

He flinched at her words but held his ground. “I deserve that,” he admitted, his throat tightening. “But I…” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “I want to talk.”

Her arms folded across her chest, a defensive shield he longed to break through. “About what? How things are better if they’re left unchanged? I don’t think I have the strength for that today. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“That is not—” He stopped himself, frustration flaring in his chest. Exhaling slowly, he gripped his cane tighter. “That is not what I think.”

“Really?” she shot back, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Because you were pretty blunt about it last time.”

His knuckles whitened on the cane. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I spoke with Jayce,” he added wearily, searching her face for any cracks in her guarded expression.

“Did he tell you what an idiot you are, so I don’t have to?” she muttered, turning away to sweep shards of glass from the workbench.

Viktor stepped forward, calculating whether he should touch her hand, guide her to face him. Instead, he walked up to the desk and stood beside her, placing his palm close to hers.

He hesitated, his breath catching. “I am weak around you,” he said, his voice small, barely a whisper.

Renly froze, though she didn’t move away. Their shoulders brushed lightly. Viktor gathered his courage and ghosted his fingers over hers, the faintest touch. “From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. And I have projected that disgust onto others—onto you.”

Her brow furrowed, her lips parting in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve spent my life fighting to overcome my limitations,” he said, his voice low but steady. “My body has been nothing but a reminder of fragility, of failure. I hate it. And I... I feared you might one day hate it too.” He looked at her then, his amber eyes raw with vulnerability. “So I pushed you away. I thought it was mercy.”

Renly’s arms fell to her sides, her expression softening as the weight of his confession settled between them. “Mercy?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Viktor, this is torture. It’s inhumane. It’s… it’s—”

His lips twitched into a faint, rueful smile. “Yes,” he said. “I am aware.”

She took a shaky breath, a laugh escaping despite herself. “You wasted so much time. So much pain—for nothing.”

“Not nothing,” he said softly. “For you.”

Her chest tightened, and she turned to him, her hands trembling. “Viktor,” she began, her voice barely audible. “You’re wrong. About your body, about what you think I see.”

He blinked, his breath hitching as she closed the distance between them.

“I don’t see failure,” she said, her words firm even as her voice quivered. “I see someone who fights every day, who inspires, who... who has my heart, whether he wants it or not.”

His cane clattered to the floor as his hand reached for her face, his fingers brushing her cheek as though he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “Renly,” he murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. “You undo me. Entirely. Completely,” he whispered, his hands already wrapping around her. “I am at my limit. I surrender to you—if you will have me.”

His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. Hers remained still, tentative, as though she hadn’t yet caught up to the reality of what was unfolding.

Without waiting for her reply, Viktor’s hand slid beneath her shirt, his touch seeking the warmth of her skin. His other hand rested gently on the side of her neck, keeping her face close, their noses brushing in an intimate collision. He kissed her deeply, longingly, wrapping all of himself around her, as if to shield her from the world.

Renly’s fingers finally tangled in his hair, her touch hesitant yet possessive, grounding herself in the moment. His hands moved with quiet confidence, slipping around her waist and pulling her firmly against him. The intensity of his hold sent a shiver racing through her, a wordless plea not to let go. Their kiss became a delicate dance—a push and pull, her lips pressing forward, his retreating, both testing the fragile boundary between longing and surrender.

The taste of him was unexpected—warm, intoxicating, layered with a quiet intensity that mirrored the man himself. The faint scent of parchment and oil clung to him, grounding her even as the rest of the world blurred around them. His fingers pressed into her back, firm yet gentle, a reminder that here, in this moment, she was his focus, his anchor, his everything.

When they finally broke apart, it was only by the smallest fraction, breathing each other in. Renly’s chest heaved, as if she had surfaced from deep water, her lips tingling from the lingering warmth of his. Viktor’s gaze burned with molten intensity, his pupils wide as he studied her face, as though committing every detail to memory. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and reverent. “I waited for this… far too long.”

They stayed like that, holding each other in the quiet, the lab around them forgotten. For the first time, they were not scientists, not colleagues—just two people who, after so much fear and hesitation, had finally found their way to each other.

“Viktor,” Renly broke the silence hesitantly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. “I don’t mean to be blunt or pushy, but…” Her cheeks burned impossibly hotter, and she forced herself to continue. “I might… implode sometime soon if you don’t—” Her words caught in her throat. Fuck me.

Viktor laughed, the sound catching her off guard. She blinked, startled, realizing with a jolt that this might have been the first time she’d seen him smile like this—teeth and all. “Here?” he asked, his disbelief tinged with amusement.

Renly dropped her head in embarrassment, but Viktor gently caught her chin, tilting her face back up to meet his gaze. “No,” he murmured, his voice soft but sure. “I want to do this…” His lips brushed her cheek in a feather-light kiss. “…Properly.”

His next words were a whisper against her mouth, just before another delicate kiss. “Your place, or mine?” he asked, his hands cradling her neck, long fingers meeting at the base of her skull in a way that made her shiver.

“Mine… no. Yours,” Renly corrected herself quickly, her face flushing anew as the image of her cluttered apartment flashed through her mind.

Viktor chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming. “Are you worried I will, trip over something at yours?”

“Something like that…” she replied, attempting to match his teasing tone. But beneath her words, she dreaded the possibility of Viktor being confronted with the chaos she had let her apartment fall into over the past two days.

They walked together in silence, hand in hand, their steps slow and deliberate. Thankfully, their apartments were close, nestled within the academy’s nearby residential area.

Renly’s pulse thundered in her fingertips, and it didn’t take long for Viktor to notice.

“Are you nervous? Or… excited?” he teased, his tone low but playful.

“Um… both?” she admitted, though the truth was far less composed. She was scared out of her mind. And for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom Viktor’s calm, steady demeanour. It was as though, once he’d decided, nothing could shake his resolve.

She glanced up at him, studying his profile in the dim light. For a fleeting moment, she saw him as he must have been once—a fearless boy from the Undercity, driven and unshakable.

“Ladies first.” Viktor gave a slight bow, his hand gesturing toward the open door of his apartment.

Renly stepped inside, her eyes flickering over the space as she fought to steady her nerves. His apartment was modest, neatly kept, but with a distinct personality. Books were stacked in uneven towers, some with notes and diagrams spilling from their pages like secrets waiting to be discovered.

She opened her mouth, ready to tease him about being more of a hoarder than she’d expected, but before the words could form, Viktor’s arms were around her. In a swift, fluid motion, he twisted her toward him, claiming her lips with a greediness that sent her heart racing.

She barely registered the feel of the wall against her back as his hands roamed her body, their touch unhurried yet decisive. One hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers curling against her skin in a way that made her shiver. He was entirely in control, and for once, she let herself surrender to it.

“You have bewitched me,” he murmured softly, his voice quiet and thick with the accent. “You have pursued me longer than anyone else would.” His lips ghosted her cheeks, her eyelids, her neck, and she felt parts of herself clenching on nothing but air. Her neck still in his grasp, he guided her to look up and meet his gaze.

He could feel her hesitation, like a delicate tension in the air between them. It was familiar, yet it thrilled him all the same. He was not in a rush, though—he knew exactly how to navigate the moment, how to make her aware of the weight of his presence without overwhelming her. There was power in control, and for once, Viktor knew he would wield it with precision, just as he had in every aspect of his life. But this wasn’t about conquest—it was about trust, something she would give him only when she was ready.

“You have been pushing my buttons for months now.” Viktor stopped momentarily to study her face. She looked at him dazed, her eyelids hooded, her gaze pensive. “It’s about time you tell me…,” he whispered into hear ear and she could feel the curve of his confident smirk on her earlobe. “…Which buttons would you like me to push for you.”

Her pulse raced, but it was a strange, quiet excitement. She had never quite felt this way before, this drawn in by a person, this willing to be vulnerable. She wanted to trust him, she wanted to lean into the pull, but there was something inside her that hesitated. It wasn’t fear—it was uncertainty. She wanted to know what it would feel like to give in. Her heart seemed to beat faster with each breath, her body betraying her, melting under Viktor’s touch. She always thought him a shy lover. The realisation of how wrong she was almost made her chuckle.

As Renly collected herself enough to answer, Viktor hugged the curve of her ass with both of his hands and grazed his still clothed, half-hard cock through the spot where her thighs met, earning himself a full volume moan falling from her lips.

The last walls she had built came crumbling down. Her body felt lighter, as if the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding had dissipated, another building up in its place. She wasn’t controlling this moment, but that felt right. Viktor’s presence was a steadying force, grounding her, guiding her through the vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to embrace before. It was terrifying and thrilling at once—this feeling of surrender.

He could feel the shift in her—how she had gone from uncertainty to openness. That realization brought him a quiet sense of satisfaction. She was trusting him with more than just her body now; she was trusting him with her mind, her heart. There was something in the way she responded to him now, the way she let herself go, that was pure. Viktor felt as if he had been granted access to something so delicate, so personal. And he knew that, with her, he could never betray that trust. His heart, usually so guarded, opened just a crack, and he let her in—just enough to feel her as she truly was: beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly his in that moment.

Viktor leaned close, his voice low but deliberate, his breath warm against her ear. “Tell me, Reynard Huxley of Zaun… what do you want from me?” The question was spoken with an unshakable calm, a kind of authority that left no room for doubt, only for her to answer truthfully.

Renly swallowed hard, her pulse hammering as she searched for the right words. There was so much she could have said—so much she wanted, but every thought tangled into a mess in her mind. Finally, she breathed, “Your voice.”

His brow arched in faint amusement as he tilted his head, waiting for her to explain.

“Your voice,” she repeated, this time a bit steadier, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her nerves. “I love it—your accent, the way you talk. It… it gets under my skin, in a good way,” she added quickly, her fingers gripping his sleeve. “So, keep talking. I want to hear you.”

The corners of Viktor’s mouth lifted into the barest of smiles, a glint of mischief flickering in his golden eyes. “Ah,” he said softly, drawing out the sound as if savouring her admission. “So, you will leave me to do all the work tonight, then?”

She let out a nervous laugh, her head falling forward slightly until he tilted her chin up with a single finger. “No,” she murmured, though her voice faltered under his gaze. “I just… I want to hear you. All of you.”

Viktor chuckled lightly, his thumb brushing over her jaw. “All of me?” he repeated, the words deliberate, his tone playful yet commanding. “You will have to keep up, then. I am not known for being gentle when I am… inspired.”

Her heart stuttered, but she found herself nodding, her voice barely a whisper—“I’ll try.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice lowering an octave as he leaned in closer. “You will do more than try. You will let me guide you. Trust me… and listen.”

The words sent a shiver through her, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. There was no teasing in his tone anymore—only a quiet assurance, a certainty that somehow melted away her fears and left her entirely at his mercy.

He took her hand in his and guided her silently toward the bedroom. The room was small, slightly more cluttered compared to the rest of his quiet space. Various trinkets, tools, and souvenirs were scattered across the shelves.

Before she could ask about any of them, Renly saw Viktor propping his cane against the bed frame.

“Come here,” he said softly, beckoning her closer.

Seeing her expression remain neutral as she approached, he added, “You will tell me if anything is not to your liking, yes?”

Renly nodded, momentarily taken aback by his authority.

“I would like you to undress me,” he said firmly, steadying himself on her shoulders. “And I will do the same for you.”

This. This was Viktor was doing his magic. She knew exactly where this came from—the brace. This was his way of reforging a memory of shame into one of intimacy and pleasure.

With shaky fingers she decided the obvious place to start was the cravat. She pulled it gently through his button-down band, revealing the pool where his collar bones met. The density of his freckles increasing under the material.

She was so focused on her task that she didn’t realize her shirt was already unbuttoned until Viktor’s fingers grazed her skin—his handiwork, as always, precise and swift. She stole a glance at his face and saw it filled with awe; his eyes transfixed on her chest. “You are… astonishing.” He smiled at her, the words bringing back the memory of a compliment that had earned him mockery not long ago.

She managed to catch up, and a few moments later, she hesitated. Should the brace stay or go? Viktor caught the question on her face and answered before she could ask—“This thing too,” he murmured reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall apart.”

They stood opposite each other, their torsos bare. At last, Renly got to trace an invisible line with her fingers, connecting all of Viktor’s freckles and beauty marks, leading down to his hip bone. She stared at him, her brows pinched together and her mouth slightly agape—he was so beautiful. Scars scattered across his ribs, where the brace had scratched his flesh, forming opalescent, delicate brush strokes of pearly white.

He pulled her closer, leaning forward to press his face against her breasts, inhaling deeply. “To think I was willing to leave this world one day without ever experiencing this,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin.

“Is there a poet hidden within you that I wasn’t aware of, Viktor?” she teased, desperately trying to break the tension that had overtaken her. She leaned into the joke, though the truth was, she felt overwhelmed by his reverence. It was ironic, really—their roles reversed, with her now the one under his microscope in this moment.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable. But…” He lifted himself gently from her chest to meet her gaze. “I certainly hope you’re not. I could study you endlessly.” His voice carried a quiet confidence, and he looked on, clearly satisfied, as a blush crept up her neck.

“Can I...?” Renly asked, glancing down at his leg.

“Oh, yes, you may,” Viktor replied. “But for that, I need to sit down. So, allow me to go first.” Not entirely sure what he meant by ‘go first,’ she let herself be guided toward the edge of the bed. Viktor sat down and then gently settled her between his legs. He placed a kiss on her belly before starting to undo the buttons on the back of her skirt. Oh. She was going to be very naked soon.

When her last piece of serious clothing formed a pool around her feet, Viktor started playing tentatively with the band of her underwear. She observed him from above, as he allowed himself a touch through the material, discovering her wetness—the effect of his thorough courtship.

“All this… for me,” he gasped, his tone breathy. Seeing her like this – flushed, aroused, all because of him, sparked an idea inside him. A new plan started to formulate. He pulled her into his lap. If she could, she would have hesitated, but Viktor’s grip was firmer than it seemed. Leaning into her ear, he whispered, “I would like you to take a seat,” pointing to his lips. “Here.”

Renly’s eyes widened, a quiet protest flickering within them. Her breath hitched as she remembered Viktor’s words—how he had expected her to speak up if anything felt wrong. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded instead.

“I will tap your thigh if I need to take a breath,” he murmured into her ear in a low, steady voice, balancing on the verge of the tone he used when explaining something in the lab. “And, most importantly,” a gentle squeeze of her thigh followed, “you will not abandon your seat until you come into my mouth, understood?” he finally commanded, more than asked. All she could manage was a quiet ‘yes.’

Viktor lay down on his back and guided Renly to hover above his face, her hands grasping the headboard behind him. A smirk curved his lips, when he instructed her to lower her hips, but she felt unsure about pressing all her weight onto him. Seeing her hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her thighs in a strong grip, his hands kneading the flesh of her hips, as he yanked her down to press her core to his face. His eyes flickered to hers from beyond the curve of her cunt, as he reassured her in a husky voice, “I promise I won’t break.”

He stroked the line of her with a long teasing lick, gently parting her with his tongue. Viktor could feel Renly shiver above him at the teasing sensation spreading itself through her body. She spotted his whisky eyes watching her hungrily, as his nose brushed itself gently against her clit, dragging a half-gasp half-moan, a weak attempt at mumbling out his name.  

“Did you like that?” His chuckle reverberated within her core and seeing no response coming, Viktor teased her again and again, until she granted him with a shaky ‘yes.’ He smiled against her skin and placed his tongue where his nose hovered a second ago, switching between small kitten licks and splaying his tongue flat against her in long drags, searching for what made her body tremble the most.

Feeling her slick drip down his chin, his ears filled with the sounds of her imminent release, he placed his mouth back at her entrance and ground his face against her clit, his own groans making her body jerk and twist.

He was eating her like a man starved. Feeling her walls clench around his tongue, he searched for a spot that made her toes curl, causing her hand to fall from the headboard into his locks as she pulled his face closer, her body bowed in pleasure over him.

He picked up his pace, fuelled by his name falling from her lips like a mantra, when her walls broke, her pleasure crashing over her. Viktor tightened his grip over her thighs, his arms holding her close as she rode her orgasm on the vibrations of her own name coming from his throat in muffled moans.

When he felt her body cooling, he slid her down to straddle his lap, lifted himself up, and kissed her longingly, stroking her back. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Viktor, I…,” she tried to formulate a sentence but could only rest her forehead against his. “I don’t think I’ve ever… I… I…,” she stuttered, causing Viktor to genuinely laugh for the first time she could recall.

“Have I achieved the impossible? Are you at a loss for words, my dear scholar?” he asked, a smile still painted on his face.

“You have no idea,” she replied, leaving a dozen feather-light kisses on his face. “Can we take your trousers off now?” she asked, having recollected herself from the post-climax haze.

“Certainly. But wasn’t it your task tonight?” She caught him smirking again. Soon, they were both equally naked. Renly kissed the scares on his knee as she removed his leg brace. He winced slightly but decided to let her do it, since she let him probe through all of her defences tonight. Viktor finally got to trace the line of her tattoo with his fingers, sending shivers down her spine.

He shifted on the bed, bringing her from kneeling at his legs back to straddling his lap. His fingers ghosted over the plane of her face, briefly cradling it with his hand before moving down her neck and her chest. Gently cupping her breast with one hand, he brought the other to do the same. His palms gave them a gentle squeeze before Viktor leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of her nipples, the other not forgotten as he delicately stroked it with his thumb.

Renly gasped at the sudden attention, her hands finding purchase in his hair to steady herself against him. He switched between her breasts, to give each the same amount of his careful attention, taking note in how she reacted and continuing the same gestures that caused her to writhe against him.

He gave her sensitive skin a gentle nip, causing Renly to moan in pleasure, before one of his hands travelled down her torso to reach her cunt. The free palm went to cup her face again, bringing her into a heated, passionate kiss. His tongue played against her mouth, coaxing her to open and she met him in the middle of a tug war game between their lips.

Viktor’s fingers spread her cunt gently to reveal all the slick she gathered for him, his thumb giving her clit a slow, experimental rub. Renly gasped against his lips at the sudden touch, and he repeated the motion in response. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, pressing a lingering kiss there, as he explored the pressure and speed she desired. It wasn’t long before he had her panting and grinding herself on his hand, a hot pressure building up in her lower belly.

As she was edging toward another release, Viktor cupped her cunt and pushed one finger inside, releasing a whine from her lips at the change of touch. She was a panting, flushed mess on his lap, Viktor’s finger fucking her slowly. He kept adding one when he felt her loosen, flexing her walls by scissoring his fingers apart and grinding the heel of his palm against her clit. He retreated his hand once he was happy with his ministrations and licked his fingers clean, making sure her eyes were fixed on him. “You are simply divine,” he whispered as Renly pulled him into a sloppy kiss, tasting herself in his mouth.

Her palms drifted down his abdomen, trailing along the freckles spattered on his skin. She slid her palm flat down his lower belly to grasp his cock and give him a long, languid stroke. her forehead resting against his. Viktor shuddered at the attention to his length—he was long with a gentle curve to it, something he was rather insecure about previously, but now found himself adoring the way her hands explored him.

She gently rubbed her thumb on the tip, spreading the leak of pre-cum to add some slide to her strokes. She studied which movements made him gasp, watched him as his composure began to faulter and his head fell back against the bed. “Fuck,” he mouthed a voiceless curse, making her lips curl into a smile. Finally, she brought him carefully to her entrance, coating him in her slick. His hands found her hips as he steadily guided her down onto him, pausing to let her adjust. By the time she had him hilted they both gasped tentatively at the sensation, as if it were too much.

Viktor pulled her torso flush against his, holding her tenderly as he rolled his hips in the first experimental thrust, gauging on how she was taking him. His mouth fell open against hers, their breaths mingling together with a sound full of yearning. Renly ground her pelvis against his until they found a rhythm that was inching them both toward completion.

“Fuck, Renly,” Viktor’s voice strained as he was chasing his pleasure, fucking her with everything he had. Each thrust deep, earning him small gasps falling from her lips. For Viktor, it was a quiet kind of undoing, a descent into something both utterly foreign and achingly familiar. Every touch, every breath, felt like it stripped away the layers of armour he’d spent a lifetime constructing. His world, so often dominated by calculations and control, was suddenly governed by sensation—her warmth, her quiet moans, the way her hands clung to him like she feared the moment would slip through her fingers.

It was humbling, almost terrifying, to be so seen. And yet, it wasn’t the frailty of his body or the imperfections he had so long despised that held her gaze. It was him. The way she looked at him—as if he were something precious, something more than the sum of his flaws—shook him to his core.

Her trust was staggering, her surrender an offering he scarcely felt he deserved. But the way she responded to him, the way her body moved with his, left no room for doubt or hesitation. Here, there was no weakness, no failure—only a shared rhythm, a harmony he hadn’t known was possible.

And in that moment, as he let himself drown in her, Viktor felt something unexpected: not power, but peace. A rare and fleeting quiet in the chaos of his mind, a fragile stillness born of connection rather than control. She had given it to him freely, and in return, he gave her everything he had left to offer.

[keeps-ache]

yay yippee yay :3 🎉

[himblebo]

Oh god I’m a professional

[carebearbussy]

𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙪𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 '𝙪𝙜𝙡𝙮' 𝙖𝙣𝙙 '𝙨𝙡𝙪𝙩', 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜.

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𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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Your day went as normal as usual.

You walked with you head held high, a pep in your step as you wondered around the large estate claimed by Sukuna. Alongside you, was one of your loyal handmaids, ordered by Sukuna to accompany you by default. It was early morning, as you heard the talkative birds chirp in the crisp air. It was very relaxing, especially for you, who was often picked on by your fellow concubines, who were supposed to support you.

As you stepped onto the stone walkway that led to your beloved garden, you noticed the flowers slightly dwindling in color, as the stems had lost their pin point shape. This made you frown, as you realize you had forgot to water them recently. Your handmaiden follows behind you respectfully, as you walk through the rows of colorful flowers.

"You must really enjoy the flowers, my lady." You handmaiden pointed out, coming to that conclusion as she had watched you tend to the flowers every day without fail. It was something she admired about you greatly, that being your calm nature, even under the circumstance of Sukuna wanting you to be monitored 24/7. She felt some sort of pity, even through her love for Lord Sukuna. "Yes, I am quite fond of them. They are very beautiful, but they look very dull today..." You say through your pouting.

You walk over to the gardening table over by the end of the conservatory, as you put on your gardening gloves, as well as putting your hair in a high ponytail. Your handmaiden looks at you with her head tilted, questioning your motives. "My lady, you should not be getting your hands dirty. I suggest you stick to watering instead of doing the dirty work." She said, worried about what Lord Sukuna would think if he saw his favorite consort getting her pretty hands dirty. You look over at her while carrying a bag of soil, walking over to the start of where the flowers were.

"Its fine, really. He wont even know I was here today, hes out for a business meeting. Uraume informed me he may not return for a couple of days." You said, reassuring her, as you kneel down to tend to the garden. "Okay, if it is what you wish..." She says, looking around to see if anybody was watching. "I will just stay here and keep watch."

As you patted down the soil, you sprinkled water over the plants, the glass of the garden house letting the sunlight shine in. You looked at your work as you were halfway through, proud of the work you had so far accomplished. But as you were admiring your handiwork, you heard a group of heavy footsteps walk into the large garden house. You were not expecting anybody else to come here except for you, so who was it. Oh, of course, its them.

A group of three notorious mid ranking concubines, followed by one high ranking one. You audibly sighed, knowing what would follow suite. They laughed when they saw the sight before them. Sukuna's favorite? Doing a maids work? It was laughable to them. Was this finally the moment Lord Sukuna kicked you to the curb, and realized your true worth? That was what they hoped for in the end, but for now, they had to have their moment of joy, which was picking on you.

"My, my, my. Look at what we have here. Little Y/N is out doing the work of those lower than her? What did you do to make Lord Sukuna that upset?" The lead woman spoke, cackling along with the other girls. Your face distorted into that of annoyance. You looked at the girl straight in the eyes, preparing to attempt to defend yourself. "Why are you all here? To ridicule me? If you must know, I chose to tend to the garden."

One of the girls standing behind the lead scoffs, stepping slightly forward. Looking at your handmaids, then to you. "You really are pathetic, if you must need that woman with you at all times." She says, gesturing her hand towards your handmaiden. Your handmaiden looks away, too afraid to talk back to the likes of somebody a higher rank than her. "It would be a damn shame if you got dirt on your precious face, it's already messed up, you aren't the prettiest woman ever." Another one adds in, creating more fuel to the fire by taking a jab at your appearance.

This stroke a nerve in you, your self esteem slowly crumbling as they go on. The lead concubine takes a step closer to your kneeling form, looking down on you as if you were nobody. She crouches down to your eye level, grabbing your chin on each side with her fingers. "I really don't see what Lord Sukuna saw in you. He must not be very interested in you anymore. You are nowhere near perfect. Especially after your massive weight gain." She says, knowing the damage she is doing to you. She lets go of your chin, pushing you slightly back. "It wont be long before he gets rid of you for good, hopefully as soon as possible. We don't need an ugly duckling the likes of you waddling around the well known beauty of Lord Sukuna's estate." She says, brushing astray dirt off her kimono, as the girls behind her laugh at her words.

You feel tears forming in your eyes, as you try your best to hold them back and to not lash out at the woman, you mouth hanging agape from shock. But you are not as slick as the woman currently standing before you. She looks at you, a smirk crossing her fair face in accomplishment. "Aw, whats wrong? Are you going to cry? Your already the biggest slut in the palace, I don't need to call you more hurtful things."

And this was the last push to send you over the edge, as you felt hot tears spill from your eyes. The girls laughed louder, mocking your weak state. You panicked, as you got up, pushing the woman out fo your way as you ran out of the garden house, your gloves still on, your ponytail messy. You ran as far away from the scene as you could, as your handmaiden ran after you, pure shock in her eyes. Embarrassment crept up your spine, as you ran all the way to the opposite side of the wing of the garden, out of sight from any onlookers. How were you to face anybody?

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You lay sorrowful in your large bed, curled up into a ball as you cradled your knees. Your eyes were puffy with sorrow, as warm tears streamed down your face, all the way down to your chest. Your nose was stuffy, snot running trickling down your nose. Used tissues covered the bed like a sea, as your handmaiden handed you more. She rubbed your back, as she sat on the edge of the bed watching you.

"My lady, please don't cry." She said, worried for you and your morale. You look up at her through wet eyelashes, as you sniffled into a half dirty tissue she held up for you. "Easy for you to say, you don't know what its like to be me. It feels like every single day, the people of the estate seem to hate me even more, and I try so hard to avoid it. I just don't know how to endure it anymore." You say, your lower lip quivering.

Your handmaiden looks at you pitifully. She feels like she knows you so well. She felt like your only true friend since being welcomed into Sukuna's estate. So it hurt to see you like this, especially after witnessing the unfair treatment you had received throughout your time here. The slow hand that once rubbed your back moved up to move the loose hair from your face, letting her see your full face out on display. But instead, you cover it, by moving your head more towards the pillows, the concubines words clearly getting to your head.

But she saw right though you. "My lady, the things those girls have said are simply untrue. I'm sure they were just saying that to get a rise out of you. They want what they cannot have, especially your close relationship with Lord Sukuna." You stop into your own world and think about it. Yes sure, you knew jealousy was a big factor in their distaste in you, but then why would they say such specific things? Were you truly all of those things they said you were?

"I'm sure it stemmed from what they truly want from you. All they want are reactions like these from you-" She says, but intervened by none other than the man himself, the head of the entire estate, Sukuna, who had came home unexpectedly earlier than usual.

Your handmaiden from what seems like instinct, immediately gets up to bow, anxiety filling her system for the largely built man standing before her. "Just what the hell do you think you are doing in my quarters uninvited?" He asks, unamused by the sudden appearance by anybody other than you. He looks down at her, waiting impatiently for an answer. "My lord, I was just tending to My lady, Y/N. She seemed in distress after a sudden altercation-" Without a second thought, he pushes her out of the way with his foot. Searching for you. He hears sorrowful sniffles coming from his large bed, as he raises his eyebrow in confusion. Who is in his bed? Ahh, it you, something must have happened.

You look up slightly from the bed to be greeted by Sukuna's broad stature, as you turn away from him, not wanting to face the fact that you failed to stand up for yourself. You had always made it a point to prove that you were strong willed, but this time around, you had failed. And failure is something you had feared around the likes of Sukuna.

He walks over to the opposite side of the bed that you were on, not wanting to upset you further, knowing how you become when you are upset. You try to muffle your sniffling, but to no avail. He looks at your chest rise and fall quickly, due to the nature of your fast breathing. A loud, audible sigh is heard behind you, the sound of it making chills creep up your spine. He then looks over at the handmaiden, who is still kneeling on the floor. "Leave." He says to her, as she quickly gets up to take her leave, not stopping to say anymore goodbyes.

He then looks back at you, who is unable to turn his way. "Whats wrong brat? Are you going to explain what happened, or are you just going to lay there like a sappy little thing." He says, crawling into bed, grabbing hold of your waist. He notices you flinching, keeping it in mind that when you are sad, you become sensitive to touch. He slowly brings you into his chest, your legs straddling his lower waist. Your body shakes as you hide your face within his chest, getting his robe wet with your snot.

"Look at me." He orders you, clearly not liking the mood you are in. But you don't move. Instead, you move your head side to side, still hiding your face from sight. Your head nuzzles further into his chest, as you move your arms to either side of his waist, hugging him deeply as you inhale his scent. You feel your tears keep running, as you use his robe to wipe them. "I told you to look at me, I wont repeat myself a third time." He said, sternly informing you. You didn't want to upset him, so you slowly look up at him, barely being able to hold eye contact. His eyebrows slightly furrow, as he slightly adjusts himself on the bed.

"Christ, what happened to you woman?" He says, using his upper left hand to wipe away the tears staining your face. He brushed his thumb over your cheek, but quickly stopping realizing how intimate that was. You hesitated before you spoke. "Its just... there are these girls, and I feel like ever since you became a part of my life, I have been tormented by them." You said, the thought of them ridiculing you flooding back into your mind like a storm, causing more tears to flood your waterline. "Torment? How so?" He asks, wanting to hear more.

"Like today for example, I was just trying to tend to the garden, and they came in and- its just- its complicated." You said, not wanting to spill the full details, worried of his reaction. "What did those woman do." He said. It was more of him trying to figure out what happened, than a question towards you. But you felt your emotions run high, causing you to completely unfold before Sukuna. "They came in, and they basically told me I would never amount to anything, and how i'm ugly, and that I gained weight recently."

He looks at you, his upper lip curling into that of disgust for what he just heard. You? Ugly? Never amount to anything? Gaining weight? This was all ridiculous to him. He would never truly understand why you were upset at being called those things, but he particularly did not like the reaction you had to it. Seeing you cry, for some reason, tore on his heart strings hard. Your emotions ran through him like an electrical current. He lowered his back into the mattress, still holding you tight.

"That has to be one of the most absurd things I have heard in my years of living. You are none of those things. Why would I care about such laughable things. You're my woman, nobody else is able to judge you, except for me."

You look at him with glossy eyes, as you place your hands over his chest, which had a wet patch due to the mixture of your snot and tears. You felt your lip quiver all over again at his words, thus resting your face on one side of his chest. You let all your tears run out, as you felt yourself quietly wail at the hands of Sukuna. He placed a large hand over your back, massaging your back, soothing you simultaneously.

"Thats it, let it all out. God, you look so weak right now, its quite endearing." He says, a slight smile being hidden from your field of vision. You grip onto the ridges of his robe, using it to try to grab onto something. His lower hands grip each side of your bottom, holding you for leverage. As he massaged your back, he pet your hair with his other top hand. Your hair was always one of his favorite things about you, which is something that stuck in your head. The words of your handmaiden ran through your head as well;

'They want what they cannot have, especially your close relationship with Lord Sukuna.'

It was true after all. And you will come to realize that as time goes on. How lucky did you get to become Sukuna's most favored? Any other girl in your situation would think the same way. Especially the way he is giving you so much attention. It makes you so happy. Knowing those girls would give anything to be in your situation. You felt like a princess.

You felt yourself fall into deep slumber, the comfort of your thoughts, along with Sukuna's relaxing hold bringing you comfort in moments like these. He looks down at you as he notices you had seized your crying. He thinks about moving from his spot, but decides against it, not wanting to ruin your beauty sleep. You needed this, he thinks. And he was right. He brushes the hair that covers your ear out of the way with his hand, as he leans down to whisper into your sleeping form.

"You can trust, those woman will be dealt with accordingly."

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(𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙄 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙥𝙩 2?)

[dilf-docs]

Call It What You Want

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ñom), smut, dry humping, oral (m. receiving) while pedro wears the skirt™️ (welcome to another episode of the writer's barely disguised fetish), p. in v., teeny bit of angst because i malfunction if i don't bring sad vibes to the function, the worst ever attempt of comedy witnessed by human kind, they're so down bad it hurts, jealous!reader, possesive!pedro, reader speaks spanish and may or may not have direct/indirect latino blood somewhere, use of spanglish but no translations ☹️ (boo go do your homework, citizens. that's what u get for making my dieter bravo fic flop BYE), i transcripted two real interviews for this so keep those likes, reblogs and comments up in the air where i can see 'em 🪓🪓

word count: 11,706 words

side note: hello! this is me, sliding my cv to become president of the pedro pascal fics. i'm kidding, just on duty to fulfill another request 🫡 believe it or not, i envisioned something like this but for myself IJBOL we have to keep the delusional levels UP!! i hope this meets ur expectations, it was fun to write :)

"Please welcome, the internet's newest darling, Y/n L/n!"

You walk into the set, cameras flashing bright and the band playing on the back. You hug Jimmy Fallon, and when he notices your body trembling he tells you everything will be alright. So did your manager before you stepped inside, but you can't help the nerves. You've never been this big before, and now it's all coming down together without letting you breath.

You take your seat and so does Jimmy.

"Hello, Y/n. This is your first time here, right?"

"Am I being too obvious?" you snort. The crowd laughs with you.

"Don't worry. It happens, especially when you're so young"

"Oh, please" you blush. "I can promise you there are kid actors who could handle this better than I am right now"

"Kid stars?" he lets out one of his famous cackles. "No need to be humble. You are great! Let's just talk about the year you've had: big breakout roles, ascend to fame, you're rocking it!" the crowd cheers, and you again turn into a flustered mess.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to dimension when you've started as an extra for popular shows, to now being, you know, the main face of projects. But I could get used to it" you smile, "it's been a dream. I still can't believe it sometimes, look- I'm shaking"

The camera pans closer to the hand you're showing to Jimmy.

"Oh my God, even big stars like you get nervous"

"Big star? I wish I could feel like a constellation. I'm feeling more like a red dwarf star, baby"

The whole place bubbles in laughter. You feel better, your manager even giving you a thumbs up from behind the cameras.

"So, Y/n" Jimmy says once the laughter dies. "You just got casted in the upcoming Gladiator II movie, directed by Ridley Scott. How does it feel to be on your first big movie, alongside names like Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal?"

You try to steady your heartbeat. "First of all, I have to say, it's such an honor to work with Scott. I grew up watching his movies. Like, Thelma and Louis is definitely my go-to movie. So, like, getting paired with such a talented cast is as awesome as terrifying" you answer with a laugh.

"Talking about that, you see" he leans closer, like he'll tell a secret. "I've heard things about you and a certain future co-star of yours"

You shift your position on the couch, your ring(less) finger itching. You have to avoid breathing in relief when Jimmy pulls out a picture.

"Oh. My. God"

He stiffles a laugh. No way. Has the room's temperature suddenly gotten hotter? Why is your face burning?

"Will you tell us the story behind this?" he asks, the camera focusing on the picture in question. The audience laughs, and you pray to God this is a nightmare, because it's too much embarrasment for a human to bear.

"Okay" you clear your throat, coughing awkwardly. "For my 25th birthday, I uploaded a bunch of pictures on Instagram, including ones where I was a teenager" you begin to giggle, "So. Um, there was this one, you see, that's, me, in my childhood home's bedroom, and my fans were quick to notice the poster above my bed"

"You mean, this one?" and Jimmy points it out. You cover your face with your palms. "It's a... Narcos poster" the audience laughs as you get redder. "A Pedro Pascal's Narcos poster"

"I know" you groan. "Picture this: me 18, and while my friends had posters of their favorite bands and artists, I was so different because I had a whole ass poster of a crime drama show about the world's most famous drug dealer on my bedroom" you recall with a laugh. "It was hard to explain to my mom. I believe she thought I wanted to sign for the DEA or something. When I told her I was going to be an actress, she was so relieved! She said: Oh, well. You'll die, but of hunger! Not a bullet in your head, at least"

"Oh. I'm so sorry. You proved her wrong though!"

"I did! Don't worry, Jimmy. She's my biggest fan now" you look at a specific camera before saying, "Te amo mami!"

"I see you speak spanish. I sometimes forget" he comments. "You've got one thing in common with Pedro, it seems. Think that'll make working with him less awkward?"

"I just hope he forgives me or I'm capable of moving out of the country and changing names" you giggle. "Pedro, lo siento!"

"Well, that's Y/n L/n, everyone! Pedro Pascal's number one fan" you burst out laughing in shame. "More on her lastest movie after the break"

mandoshoney: tell me i'm not the only one who started shipping pedro pascal and y/n l/n PLEASE can't wait to get content of them interacting ㅤㅤann-gell: mandoshoney y/n's pedro pascal's controversially young gf era starts now! i wonder how the press tour for #gladiatorII will go 🤔 unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they are dating ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess ptwt can never tweet like normal ppl…wdym you're betting your grandma?!!!?

You were never a fan of secrets.

But then Pedro waltzed into your life with his charming smile and iconic mustache, and before you knew it, you had married him off in some church in California one random sunday morning ("I love you so much, can't wait to marry you, cariño" "If you can't wait any longer, why not now?")

Flash forward, four years later, and you'd think such event would be plastered all over the internet. But there is a reason why only you, family, a selected number of friends and your agents knew: you kept it a secret.

To the world, he was Chile's most elegible bachelor and you were a young rising star. The public loved both of you for the same reasons: charming persona and acting skills. Yet inside the privacy of your home, he was Pedro and you were y/n, wife and husband; he was yours as you were his.

And of course, no marriage is perfect, and your first real challenge is rather funny: you both get casted in your first movie together.

It shouldn't be hard, but it is. Being inside the Gladiator II set during seven months, so far away yet so close at the same time, was torture. You were Rome's empress and he's Marcus Acacius, yet behind the scenes, the actual married couple were you both.

It was hard to pretend you didn't know what he looked like without clothes when he wore his bathing suit, or that you didn't know his favorite food when Paul asked, or acting like you weren't interested in dating when a local in Malta during your trip at the beach asked you out (he didn't know who you were. You were flattered when he called you pretty in such a hot European accent, but then Pedro appeared from seemingly "nowhere" and you remembered what your real favorite accent was. He immediately called you bonita after that)

It was so hard to keep hands to yourself when he walked by you, covered in fake blood. To not think about licking it all over and under his armour. So was to pretend the thought of dry humping him with his Roman skirt on wasn't tempting. Or that the urge to kiss him got harder and harder to fight each passing day, even getting to a point where you would envy Connie for being able to kiss your husband in the open more, a privilege you didn't have.

You were loosing your mental health here. But Pedro was no better.

It was so hard to see you, the Moroccan sun shining over your features like you were an angel. Otherworldly. That he'd see red when you'd finish filming a scene with Joseph, forcing himself to interrupt the small chat you'd engage in after. He too couldn't keep pretending he didn't want to tear off those silk dresses out of your body, and kiss you out in the open like Joseph did.

He almost failed once, cornering you in the hallway of the hotel you were staying. His hot breath lingered on your neck. I miss you, he had said. You felt his hard brush the inner of your thigh. We can't, you whispered in a dragged out voice.

It was hard.

So you gave him your used panties, and you swear you could hear him jacking off in the bathroom of his room, next to yours. He'd screamed your name, and your hand had found it's way to your dripping cunt, doing what he was supposed to do; touching you the way he did. And you came, drowned out moans against your pillow. But it wasn't like when he did it.

But God has heard your prayers.

For the first time in weeks, you're lucky. You find Pedro sitting alone in the cafeteria, his phone in hand. He's still wearing his armour and skirt, not bothering to change for the break. You aren't God's strongest soldier, but you're trying not to go down on him so badly right here and now.

"Hey" he raises his head when he hears your voice, smile adoringly. It only grows wider when he notices you alone. "Thought you'd never get rid of Paul. He's like, stitched to you"

"Same can be said about you and Joseph" you sit across him, and despite most of his tone being playful, there are still hints of jealousy behind. It arouses you deeply, and with this hot summer day above you, your skin isn't the only thing that's getting sticky.

"In case you haven't read the script, I'm his wife" you wink. "Sorry this is how you find out"

He laughs loudly, and God, how have you missed that laugh. Sure, it's been there when you've been out with the cast together, but it doesn't tingle your chest as when you're the cause of it; it feels like it's for you only, and that's what makes it special.

"I miss you so much" he whispers, his hand sliding across the table, finding yours. His thumb carresses your soft palm, and you melt under Pedro's tender touch.

"I do too" you sigh, but it's instantly replaced by what could only be described as a smug face. You lean closer, whispering on his ear, the warm meeting cold. He shivers. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm all ears"

"I just came back from walking. Guess what?No one is 'round here" you lean back against your chair, shit-eating grin on your face as all his body tenses up. "Made sure of it. The trailer zone is empty too"

Pedro gulps, his adam's apple bobbing as his eyes look at you.

"Y/n" calling your name as a warning.

"What? Can't a girl find ways to have her husband all for herself?" you snort. "Please say yes" you let go of his hand, but the free fingers now travel across his broad chest, taunting him. "C'mon, we both deserve a break"

He can't say deny you anything, can he? You know it, he knows it.

Before you register, his big hand engulfs yours as you run across the set. You giggle at his rushed steps, even more when you stand before his trailer and he's fumbling his slippery hands with the doorknob, sloppy movements erratic.

"But you told me to stop" you tease, and he doesn't even let you add more because he's pushing you inside, forcing you with rough calloused hands to a chair and then you to sit over his lap.

"Fuck, babygirl. I've spoiled you way too much" he groans against your lips. "Lo sabes, ¿verdad? Just can't say no to you"

Your eyes darken dangerously, the hunger on them mirroring his own.

"How could you ever say no to this?"

You press your chest against his broad one as your lip bites into his lower one, teasing. Pedro feels his underwear getting tighter when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth, even getting a glimpse of the taste of the strawberries you had earlier before.

He deepens the kiss, and when you pull away to catch your breath, he doesn't waste his lonely mouth and busies himself with the task of kissing your sun-kissed neck, licking and pressing his lips under your jaw. Pedro goes even lower, down until he's reached your collarbone, making you groan a bit under his wet sloppy needy mouth. He's enjoying how putty you are under his intense kissing, fingers in his curls, that have begun to damp under the ablaze of the small space and pleasure that fills the air.

"Kiss me again in my lips" you whine after a while of him teasing you with kisses that get only rougher. "Pretty please, papi"

You cup his face in your hands, and Pedro's back to kissing you in the mouth, tasting all of your insides as he hasn't had in what feels like a lifetime.

"Of course, baby. Missed this pretty mouth" he mumbles in between hot kisses, his now growing boner pressing into you.

"Baby" you giggle. The skirt he's got on may hide it, but your fingers refused to wait, pulling it up. His bulge presses against the shorts he's got under the skirt, and you can feel your pussy and mouth drool. "We have to do something about this big boy" your hands pull down the short, leaving just his underwear on. He's about to remove the skirt, but your demanding hands stops him. "This stays"

His brown concerned eyes make you laugh, but you don't give him time to think about it, rather grinding against his erection. Pedro's breath hitches when he feels your daring movements, bucking his hips against yours.

The friction is addicting, and he captures your lips once again to make you feel what he can't with words: how fucking good this feels.

You keep moving over his aching dick. Your husband throws his head back, groaning in pleasure at the way your hips move against him, knowingly. His hands find their way to your ass under the flowy almost translucent skirt you chose to change in, gripping the rosy skin tightly, hands almost covering all of it.

"You wore this for me, right, cariño? Knew I couldn't say no" he groans, firm hands on your cheeks, the grinding meeting his hips now harsher. "Less with you walking around with this slutty skirt of yours"

You make little sounds he's obssesed with, dripping out of your filthy mouth.

"Fuck" Pedro groans after a while, "I need to have you, mami. Missed you so much" eager fingers make it to your top. He growls, deep within him―guttural, ready to pull it off as he mumbles naughty wife when he realizes you got no bra on, chastising you for a "rushed" plan that seemed planned all along, when a sound cuts through the air.

You both stop.

The sound gets clearer.

It's a knock. A knock at his door.

A knock in Pedro's trailer.

And you are inside. Both.

While you're grinding him.

With his skirt on.

(It's time to build a bomb and kill yourselves off and whoever is stading behind that door)

"Pedro!" a familiar accent calls. Peudrou. It's Paul. "Hey, man. Just wondering if you are here"

He's debating on speaking up when he sees your red face and rising-falling chest before him.

"Answer" you whisper breathlessly. He tries not to groan when he fills you slip out of the spot in his middle while also trying not to think about murdering Paul as soon as he gets out.

Aside from the order, you're unexpectedly quiet, and Pedro quirks an eyebrow at you. He knows you better―you're his wife after all, and if there's something he's aware of, is your inability to loose.

"I'm here" tone clipped and annoyed. But no footsteps backtracking are heard: the Irish man is still there.

You bite your lip, watching the skirt with his legs spread, a sight too tempting. Also, he was still hard, as hard as the task to not go and keep doing your job.

Oh, fuck this shit.

Your devilish hand equals the grin in your face, fingers making their way toward his unattended bulge.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asks, but Pedro's attention has completely deviated, now focused on how they land right over his clothed dick, skirt pulled up by your other hand. "I thought you were at the cafeteria"

"Yeah?" but it comes out strained, yet the younger man doesn't notice or comment.

His hips raise when your fingers press his member, massaging it.

"Yeah" he uses a tone that equals a duh. "You texted me yourself"

Pedro rolls his eyes, wishing desperately he would go away, annoying him just as much as a fly hovering above fresh food. Talking about food, fuck, weren't you hungry? He tried to warn you, holding your wrist, but all resolve was lost the moment you looked in his eyes: he immediately pulled down his briefs, dick sprouting hard.

"Well, changed my mind" his tone falters in between words, member now free from the confines of his tight underwear.

"Are you tired, man? You sound tired" Paul comments on his tone. "Came to rest?"

You spit on your hand, and he gulps.

"Somethin' like that"

You start to jerk him off, leaving little wet kisses and licks just above his dick. Pedro's eyes are hypnotized, glued to every lick of yours across his girth, the spit making your movements smoother. Sexier. Fuck.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but rest time is over. They want us back on set now"

Your tight needy lips are wrapped around his his length and it's so hard to keep the talk normal when he justs wants to yell at Paul to fuck off. Your hand is there too; you are as of help as much as you aren't.

"I'll be there, Paul, just―Fuck!"

But his attempt to cover a moan doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright in there?" he tries to enter, but Pedro locked the door. He's yelling he's fine, but Mescal doesn't sound convinced. "I can't go inside; it's locked. Are you sure you are okay, mate?"

"Didn't want you to take a picture of me drooling on my sleep" he manages to get out in a monotone voice. A real win if you take into account you've gotten to a point where you squeeze under his cock, massaging his balls.

"Smart move!" he chuckles from outside. "I guess I'll see you there"

Pedro covers a moan with his palm as he's throwing his head back in pleasure. He can feel his orgams looming over, minstrations growing sloppier around his pulsating cock, the need to fill your greedy evil mouth with his seed making him sick. He's a simple man: he just wants his pretty wife to fuck his cock silly and come in her mouth in peace. Is that so hard to get this days?

Paul seems to be finally gone as Pedro can't keep containing his grunts anymore, steps moving: until said steps sound closer again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, have you seen Y/n? I can't find her anywhere" it's coming. His orgasm is coming in the absolute worst moment. He can feel you gagging at his hard rock cock, hitting the back of your throat now. Still, your hands don't loose their grip on his cock and skirt, determination filling that sexy little body of yours. It was rather admirable the effort you were putting in this. "Think she went to the beach? She said she loved it. God, that little rebel. Anyway, if you see her, tell her-"

He leans his head back once again, seeing stars. No one knows him like his wife, truly.

The sight of you drooling from your chin, the wet sounds of him fucking himself onto your mouth as your spit-coated fingers pump his girth, you gulping down the precum from his tip, his fingers holding your face roughly by the cheeks...

"Yes, Paul, yes!" Pedro barks, barely hiding the moan that erupts from his ribcage, thick shots of his hot cum hitting your tongue and deep of the throath. "Fuck off and let me get ready"

"Jesus, mate, chill. I'm sorry. See you there"

And Paul Mescal's hovering fly ass is finally gone.

"Poor Paul" you say as soon as you pull off his length, voice raspy as you huff for air. Pedro lovingly cleans rests of your saliva and his cum from your chin as he chuckles at how much audacity, courage and horniness could fit in such a small young body. "You've ruined the friendship"

"You think?" he licks off some as you sit on his lap again, tongue directly on your face. You feel aroused again, but time's up. "It's your fault. That and this"

He points down.

"Just as you used that pretty head of yours to think of the trouble you just made, think of an excuse for Mr. Ridley about the skirt"

at0michips: wait wdym paul is sick??? ㅤㅤl-u-n-a-m: at0michips he's died vnightx: i'm wondering who'll do now the do you even know me interview with pedro now :( i was so excited!!! hope they don't cancel it :( ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: vnightx i bet my grandma it's y/n ㅤㅤat0michips: unhing3dprincess why do u keep betting ur grandma omg 😭😭😭

"You know what I think would be fun?" Pedro comments while you wait for the interview's set to be prepared.

Tour press has finally begun. That meant you could go home for a while after the filming wrapped, just to be back for the promotion of the film. You were excited of course, the experience new and thrilling. After much needed battery recharging and husband/wife time, you were ready to take over the world.

But then Paul got sick.

Today's interview was scheduled to be him and Pedro, but since he was unavailable, they paired him with you, since you both spoke Spanish (which felt slightly racist in your opinion), and because Fred and Joseph were already paired up for the other.

You leave your coffee, knowing he's about to say something stupid or endearing, perhaps both, brown liquid probably spilling out of your mouth. Or worst, nostrils.

"Tell me"

"What if we left little hints that we're together?" his smile is one of mischief. "Like you could wear my cap, or I could wear a chain with your initial around my neck, like Ryan Gosling did at the Barbie premiere"

"Or as Taylor Swift sang" you counter. "But Pedro, dear, you're underestimating our fans. You don't think they'll match it sooner than we think?"

"Maybe" he agrees. That's just what I want. "What's funny is we're about to do a type of interview where we could blow our cover"

"Maybe" you repeat, "or maybe you don't know all about me as much as you think, Mr. Pascal"

He fake gasps, feigning hurt. "Is this a dare, Mrs. Pascal?"

"No" you try to be mature for once, cutting the banter as much as you'd like to go on and kiss him right there. "Also, remember to answer incorrectly sometimes, you know..."

"There's no way I'm letting you win though"

"Pedro, no seas necio!"

The producers arrive just in time to let you know it's ready.

"After M'lady" he's back to being charming as he is, not as husband charming but just Pedro Pascal charming. The nerve of this guy to do it in front of the LADbible crew.

"Whatever" you grumble, the nerves getting the best of you as you realize this interview may or may not give away more than you've been allowed before.

"Hello, I am Y/n L/n" you present yourself. Wow, the camera is really close. This isn't going to end well.

"And I'm Pedro Pascal"

Hearing his voice soothes you. It's okay, y/n, you got this. "And this is Do You Really Know Me- No wait, it's do you even know me. Okay, let's start again: Hello, I'm Y/n and this is-"

"I don't even know anymore" Pedro jokes, making you laugh. "Do you even know me?" he asks while looking forward, now making the crew laugh.

"This is Pedro Pascal, that'll do" you sigh.

"This is gonna be sad, she's not going to know any of these" he says, but in reality, he's mocking you, the mischief in his eyes glowing as he only looks at you tauntingly.

"Same can be said about you" you tease, "we're like a million years away"

"That's not true!" he gasps, "I watch your every move" punctuating each word. God, you try not to make a face. "I have Google alerts on you"

If he was gonna play, so were you.

"Glad to know I have you alerted" with the sweetest voice ever, seeing how his friendly façade falters for a bit at the tone you've used. You laugh, and Pedro takes the chance to laugh it off too.

After the introduction, they ask one of you to keep score, and you offer yourself because, well, you don't trust Pedro.

"I'll go first" you say. "Which was my first ever role in the industry? As an extra during an episode of Stranger Things, as a voice actor in A dog's purpose" you can't help but laugh, "or as a back-up dancer in Hustlers?"

"In Hustlers?" Pedro inquires in disbelief. "You're telling me you were in Hustlers?! I didn't even know you could dance!"

Lies. You and Pedro sometimes put some bachata and dance in the kitchen. God bless Juan Luis Guerra.

"Jennifer Lopez and I are practically besties" you answer nonchalant.

You know the answer. He does too. But he chooses the last one for comedic purposes.

"I'll go with Hustlers. Now that I'm looking at you, you do have a... dancer face"

"It's okay, you can say the forbidden word. I'll take it as a compliment" you laugh, "you're wrong, though. The answer is Stranger Things"

"No way!" and it sounds as if he genuinely didn't know. Good lying son of a bitch; Jim Carrey on Liar, Liar would've been proud.

"Yes. If you look in the background of season two, on this one episode where Nancy and Steve appear to have broken up during a halloween party, you can see me drinking from a cup on a corner"

"That's so crazy"

"Yeah, I was twenty already, yet playing a highschooler" you giggle. "Wow, time flies by. Anyway, we're both at zero. Your turn"

"What film did my dad not let me see at the cinema when I was, uh, ten years old?" Pedro reads from his card. "Rambo: first blood, The Breakfast Club, Day of The Dead"

"I'm going to base this in the year you were born. Okay, so 1975. Let's see" one of the things Pedro loves about you is that you're like a film encyclopedia, but right now, that'll cost him a point. "They all came out the same year, and they were also R rated. Hmmh, I'll choose The Breakfast Club"

Your analysis was just mindless bragging really. You knew the answer the moment he started reading the question, because the anecdote came during a time he heard you listening to the movie's soundtrack ("Did you know that my dad...")

"You complain about Paul all the time, but you're just the same" he comments. "She's a real competitor, people!"

You flush in embarrasment. "Okay, that's one for me. Next question" you read the card in your hands. "What pet do I own? An orange cat named Louis after my favorite singer, a fish, or a Shih Tzu named after my brother"

The orange cat lives with you both. You're curious as to how he'll answer.

"You aren't naming a Shih Tzu frickin' Fernando" he laughs, so loud, it ends up catching up to you and the crew. "I'll go with the cat"

"That's correct" you lament. "How would you know?"

As if the damn cat doesn't love him more than he loves you.

"I follow you on Instagram" he defends himself. Clever. "We are, um, what do you call it-"

"Oomfs"

"I'm not gonna try to pronounce your made up language. Okay, my turn. Which of these characters I've played in Saturday Night Live? Naughty daddy, protective mom, or weird uncle who has a creepy sneeze" he reads out loud in a confused tone.

This is easy. It was all over your timeline.

"Protective mom" you answer on a beat.

"This isn't fair, that was really popular!" he complains.

"It's still two for me and one for you" you mock. "Now, what is the nickname the internet has given me? I won't give you clues because it's an easy one"

"Easy? You said we were million of years apart and now I'm supposed to know?"

"Well, you seem to manage Instagram so I think you'll be just fine" you tease, and Pedro just wants to rip that smirk off of you. So he caves in first.

"It's people's princess"

"What?!" your eyes grow comically large, shimmering with betrayal as you shout with an incredulous tone. "I can't believe you know" more like can't believe you said it.

"You're royalty! How am I supposed to not know that, internet darling? Besides, told you: I keep my eye on you" and he winks.

This motherfucker. Oh, he's totally sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Talk about internet darlings" your snarky tone comes out, and Pedro knows he's pissed his competitive wife off. "I guess we have a tie. Your turn"

"What are the initials of my full name?" his brows furrow. "I forget. JBPP, JPBP, JBPP"

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite. "B, of course"

"But that's too easy, everyone with Google knows it!" but then he's leaning into your ear, whispering in a very low voice to make sure only you hear. "I'll let it pass, though. Love hearing you pronounce my name, mami"

Your face grows obscenely red. "I'm back ahead. Let's see if you can keep up. Okay, here it goes" you read the card, "what is the director I've stated I want to work with? Greta Gerwig, Pedro Almodóvar, or Quentin Tarantino"

"Pedro Almodóvar, no? You said you were jealous I had already worked with him" he playfully nudges you. Too much contact, face hot again. Maybe in group interviews you'll do better, because right now, you're doing a rather poor job at controlling yourself, even as an actor; you can already picture your agent pulling her hair behind the cameras.

"It's Greta Gerwig, actually"

"What?! No way, you told me this!" he grumbles. "This game is rigged"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still jealous. I just think working with Greta Gerwig is peak womanhood, and I gotta live that. So, Greta, if for some reason this silly video gets to you, call me. I promise I'm not that childish"

"She is" Pedro slips in, "don't call her. So unprofessional" in a mocking exaggerated tone.

"Whatever, you sore looser. Me three, you two. Next!"

"Fine. Which of these songs would I have played at my funeral? My Heart Will Go On, Purple Rain, Nothing Compares To You"

He looks at you, silently pleading you to not answer correctly. Your competitive side screams in agony.

"I have no idea. Why do I feel you've already said it somewhere, though? I'll go with Nothing Compares To You, because the first its too corny for you and the second too epic"

He scoffs, amused at the fact that you did obey, but at what cost? Pedro's well aware his princess can get as competitive, if not worse, than Paul.

"You're saying I'm not epic enough for Purple Rain? Too bad, because that's the answer" you grunt, crossing your arms. "That's right, I am cool enough to have it played. I guess we're tied again!"

"No, you don't loose a point. It's still three to two. This just gives you the opportunity to tie"

"W-wait a minute"

"Settle down" you pat his thigh, "you can still try, handsome"

He gulps when your hand meets his skin, despite the layer of clothes. It's still something that gets him on edge, no matter the years you've known each other. And handsome? You came here for blood.

"Okay, here's your chance: what image of me became trending topic on twitter? An image of me eating a typical dish from my country, an image of me watching Deadpool and Wolverine with glasses while Hugh Jackman's shirtless scene reflects on them or C, me meeting Taylor Swift at the backstage of the Eras Tour"

"The typical dish is tempting" he muses out loud, "but I'll go with the Taylor Swift one because that sounds like something that'd trend"

"You're right" you throw your card. "I'm not complaining though. Best day of my life"

"Does this mean I'm winning?" he beams excitedly. "Oh, in your face Paul! I will finally win something!"

"Slow down, cowboy. There's still some left"

He purses his lips. "Let me have this one thing, would you? Guess not. Here it comes" he starts to read his card, "At school I competed in state competitions, in which sport? Soccer, lacrosse, swimming"

"Swimming" you answer hastily, trying not to think on Pedro wearing tight little swimsuits, as you've only seen him wearing swim trunks.

"Okay, that's dissapointing. Please continue"

"I participated in which play while I was in highschool? Hamlet, The Iliad or Much Ado About Nothing"

You doubt he remembers. The only time it ever came up, was when you visited your parent's house and a photography of you during said play was showed to him by your dad.

"The Iliad, right?" you laugh. The answer is wrong: It's Hamlet. "What? I swear it was that one! It's just you have very..." beautiful is at the tip of his tongue but he refrains himself, "...very greek features"

You can't help but laugh.

"Why of course! This is a face people go to war for"

"I agree" your heart skips a beat, "but I don't think I'll make it that far, if we talk about a war"

"You big fat liar!" you slap his arm playfully. "You've played all sort of characters, from soldiers of all nationalities and places, and like, superheroes, f*****g Joel Miller, even a DEA agent. You at least learned something!"

"Wow, slow down, this isn't a filmography recount" he jokes. Liar, you mouth to the cameras. "Okay, last one: I became a viral sensation for eating what type of sandwhich in LADbible's snack wars: BLT, PB&J, grilled cheese"

You remember the video fondly. Even your brother had sent it to you, along a text that said: Isn´t this your husband?

"PB&J, I win!" you cheer, instantly getting off the chair to do a celebratory dance. Pedro doesn't say anything, just throwing the cards away while the fondness of his eyes betrays him.

pyramiidsf: i want someone to look at me the way pedro looks at y/n mybritishstyle: guys they're just friends 😭 he's like that with all his female co-stars ㅤㅤann-gell: mybritishstyle me when i'm delusional af mandoshoney: where's that girl that's always betting her grandma??? SHE WAS RIGHTFLKRGJ

"Hello, I'm Paul Mescal. I'm here with my friends from the cast of Gladiator II" Connie and you both raise your palms to greet the camera, laughing when you realized you'd done it at the same time, "and we are going to play a game about how well we know each other for Vanity Fair" the irish man introduces the interview you're filming today.

"Did they prompt you?" Pedro speaks up, "or did you just make that up on the fly?"

You laugh a bit too loud, hoping they cut it off in the editing process.

Paul goes first, taking up a card with the first question written on it.

"Okay. Question: What's my least favorite day of the week?"

"Tuesday" answers Joseph once Paul is done reading. "Oh, you're writing it down?"

"Yeah" he answers.

"You just wrote Tuesday" Connie points out, Paul's card on his legs. You laugh along the rest.

"Yeah" he repeats laughing. "I actually, when you said Tuesday" Yeah, he said Tuesday Pedro adds on the background of laughter. "I was like...I'm gonna give everybody a point for that"

"I think I deserve a point for being observant" Connie complains.

Everyone gets a point and Paul moves towards the next question.

"What was the name of my character in Normal People?"

"Connell" both you and Joseph answer, looking at each other before squinting your eyes playfully.

"Callum" Pedro answers out loud at the same time, and you laugh. He clearly had slept when you played it for a re-watch last summer.

"No, you're out" Paul pokes Pedro next to him.

"Connel" Joseph repeats, and Fred agrees to the same answer.

Paul then asks Connie what's hers after he confirms you three.

"Connor?" she asks, confused.

"Incorrect. Three points" while pointing you three.

"You got wrong" he tells Pedro, "Callum's a different character"

"See? You just don't pay attention when you watch things" you blurt out, stopping yourself before adding the with me. It would be harder to come back from that, but so is this as everyone looks at you, even your husband, subtle panic in his eyes. Where the cameras this close? How long had you been silent?

"It's just, quick funny story" you improvise. "Pedro didn't know much about Paul's career, and as I am a fan, I took the time to show him and recommend him your stuff" Paul smiles. "Clearly, my fanatism didn't rub on Pedro but a girl can try"

He laughs, before saying "So the answer is Connell" and you try so hard to remain normal like the energy hasn't shifted.

"He only plays characters with the letter C in the name" Pedro jokes, chewing on a toothstick he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. More laughs follow, and you are so grateful for how he's handling your little metida de patada.

"What's number one on my bucket list?" he asks next, "and don't look at my answer"

The marker is the only sound to be heard, and then Pedro jokingly tries to take a peek.

"No peeking" Connie berates as Pedro laughs.

"You're not gonna be able to see that" Paul replies in an anyways tone.

You repeat the same joke, before Fred blocks you. "Not you too!"

Paul finishes after a while, Connie commenting it was long. Joseph raises his hand.

"Yes, Joseph"

"Is it to see the Great Wall of China?" he asks.

"No, but it's in that-"

"It's close, isn't it?" you interrupt.

"...family of thought" he finishes.

"It's to go and see something" Pedro points out.

"Okay. Rajasthan" tries Connie. "Go to Rajasthan, for a tour"

"Travel to South America" Paul interrupts with the correct answer, "I've never been to South America"

"I'm from South America" Pedro comments, never missing a chance to shout out his dear Chile.

Paul jokes about him getting three points while the rest of you laugh.

"I was born in South America. 17 points for Pedro"

"I want points too" you jump on the joke. "I know Spanish, so I can take you there and avoid you getting lost, mi querido amigo"

"But who was born there?" Pedro counters, "you get no points"

"I think Joseph is the only person who gets a point there" Paul adds, "because everybody just jumped on the bandwagon"

"He said to visit the Great Wall of China" Pedro protests, "which is nowhere near South America"

"It really is not" Connie agrees.

"Qué gente tan tramposa" you complain. "That's unfair. I remove my offer"

"Think about bucket list, and he came up with travel to bit" he tries to reason Joseph's point.

"And by the way, where in South America?" Pedro questions.

"Don't fight, don't fight" pleads Joseph, the calm one. Fred just sits there, enjoying the chaos.

"I want, any, I want to do a big tour of everywhere" Mescal defends himself.

Pedro doesn't back down. "'Cause it's very different"

Paul starts to get angry too. Jesus, men. Competitive men of it all.

"I know it's very different" making an annoyed face.

"Well, different is nice" you intervene, a hand placing in Pedro's left shoulder. "If you stop giving points for free, I'll come with you to the big everywhere tour"

"Alright" Paul agrees. "When's my birthday?" is the next question.

"February" all of you say.

Joseph struggles with the date first, saying seventh, then fourth. Fred tries with ninth, Pedro with eight, and then Joseph starts counting from one to two. Fred counts from eleven to twelve.

"Second" Mescal reveals. "Point to Joseph"

"Oh my God, you guys are good" Connie mentions.

"That's all my questions" and it's time to move on the next one: which happens to be your dear husband, Pedro.

"Paul is like" he brings up while the toothpick dances on his teeth, "Paul is motivated to catch up on points. He's coming for you" to pick on his competitive side as Mescal looks deep in thought.

"He's coming. He's coming" Joseph repeats as Fred laughs.

"What is my full name?"

"Oh! Pedro-" Paul tries in a blink. "Something, J? Jose? Juan?"

"Pedro Pascal, something, something" says Joseph.

"Nope"

"No?"

"Pedro Maria, Jose Maria Pascal" Paul struggles.

Pedro is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air.

"It's José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite.

"It indeed is!" he says, smiling a bit too much. "She gets a point"

"Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" your husband repeats in a more english-friendly pronunciation, looking at the camera while toying with his toothpick.

"I said Jose, I said Jose" Paul protests.

Pedro shakes his head. "You said Jose, but then you put it-"

Connie takes Paul's side. "You did say Jose"

"But then you put it behind Pedro which eliminate- which disqualified you" he replies.

Paul gets angry. That sore looser.

"That's absolute bullshit"

"Don't worry mate, the game has just begun" you joke, making the man more irritated. "Think you can get ahead of me?"

"Joseph is still ahead, y/n" Paul counters, still irritated. "Besides, wouldn't it be cheating? You can speak Spanish!"

"So? Not like speaking a language allows you to know every person's name Paul" you mock. He just snorts, despite still being half angry. Pedro is allowed to continue, trying not to make a face at yours and Paul's banter.

"The question is, who is my favorite actor?" he reads. As the cast members laugh, he uncaps the marker with his mouth, and now you have to try not to make a face, thinking about those teeth sinking into your flesh.

Quinn raises his hand. "It's me"

"That you're my favorite actor?"

"Yeah. You said that to me once" the bald man sounds sure of it.

Paul tries to think in the background. So do you. How can you not know this? he must've brought it up at least once.

"Do you remember?" Joseph insists.

Pedro finally remembers. "I said you were- I said I thought you were special"

"Oh" he sounds rather dissapointed.

"And special can mean a lot of things" he jokes, laughing by himself. Fred laughs with you as Joseph makes a face, your laughter turning even louder when you notice Paul all moody, trying to get this point.

"Who's your favorite actor?" Paul asks, "I think we just have to shoot from the hip here guys"

"Marlon Brando?" Connie guesses.

"Is it Harrison Ford?" Fred guesses.

"Let's go with Harrison Ford just because he's my favorite actor..."

You can't believe you didn't know this. You've re-watched and watched so many Star Wars content together. He gives you a brief look, knowing you're embarrased at your lack of answer.

"As a kid?"

"He's most influent, yeah" Pedro agrees.

"What job did I have before I became a full-time actor?" is next.

"Dancer. You were a great dancer" Paul aswers. Both Fred and Joseph repeat it, adding he was specifically a go-go dancer.

"Oh, he is" you add. "Videos of you dancing are lovely. Ever thought of getting back in the bussiness?"

He laughs, what appears to be a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure, darling. When you ask me to dance, I'll be there"

Nobody comments on this, too busy waiting for Pedro to say yes or no to the answer they believe to be right. But he isn't saying it is. Now you remember why.

"Come on, come on, come on" Paul begs.

"Can any of you guys remember?" Pedro pleads.

They insist that he danced in Spain, then New York, then settle with Spain again, even Pedro confirming so. But it still isn't the answer written on the card, no matter how much the boys insist.

"Connie?" he tries. She just looks confused.

"The answer in the card is-"

"Waiter" you answer. "You were a waiter"

Now you have three points under your belt.

"Why do you always say the answer at last?!" Paul grumbles. "You are cheating!"

"I'm not" you laugh the accusation off. "You just can't accept I'm better"

"Si que lo eres" Pedro agrees. "Es divertido hacer que se enoje Paul"

"What did you say about me? It's not fair, you're probably sharing the answers!" he's still adamant on insisting with the supposed cheating issue, making you laugh.

Now it's Connie's turn, who starts with: "How many languages do I speak?"

You put a puzzled look.

"You speak seven, eight maybe" Joseph guesses. Pauls says she speaks french, "but most likely seven"

Pedro points his finger at him. "Once he gets going, he's on a roll"

"Joe's got it" Connie agrees.

"Paul, end this reign" Pedro jokes. He looks rather frustrated.

"And the bonus points" Connie offers. "Okay, bonus, what are they?"

"This is an emperor's reign" your husband adds.

Joseph answers: Italian. Danish. English. Swedish. French. Spanish. Norwegian.

Connie agrees she speaks Spanish, making you jump in excitement.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" you beam. "Wait, does that mean you did get what Pedro and I gossiped about you?"

"What?" Joseph asks.

"Nada" you quickly correct yourself. "Yo no dije nada"

"Not that much. I just speak a bit of Spanish. I mostly dominate my own language, German and English"

"You blew our cover!" Pedro nags, hitting your bare leg, yet its devoid of anger.

"He needs a bonus" comments Connie, surprised at Joseph.

"This is horrifying" Pedro says when Joseph gets another point and a fricking bonus on top of that. "This is a slaughter"

"Oh, for which film did I have a gym built in my garage?"

Both Joseph and Paul answer the question correctly, saying Wonder Woman. The latter is quick to state they both get that point.

"That's one for me" Paul says, then looks at you. "And none for you"

You stick out your tongue at him as Connie reads the next card.

"If I were to take this cast on a vacation where would I take you?"

"Ibiza" answers Joseph. Connie agrees in Spanish, with a cute and excited correcto.

Your husband feels the need to crack a joke at Quinn's expense.

"Somebody was paying attention to Connie Nielsen very closely during the shooting of this movie"

"Okay. What is my favorite curse word in Danish?"

"Fuck" Pedro tries.

"No"

"Nobody is going to get that, Connie" Paul bickers.

"Oh, I don't know any Danish" you lament.

"At least now you know how it feels" Mescal drops, making you snort. You playfully kick him on the ribs with your shoe.

"It's very simple" Connie gives as a clue. "It's the same word in every language"

"Shit" Paul tries.

"Satan" she reveals.

Everybody is laughing in confusion at that, saying there's no way you could use that.

"Vos Satan!" Connie curses.

Now it's Fred's turn.

"What is my weirdest on-set habit?"

"I haven't noticed you do anything weird on set" Paul tells.

"I have" Pedro interrupts.

They all get on a small briefing about what could it possibly be, that it was weird, and wasn't part of his character, as you ponder. It was funny before, but now Paul is behind you by a point. So think fast.

"Yeah. I would say being yourself" Pedro jokes, but surprisingly, it works.

"Me! Five points for Pedro" he celebrates as you all laugh. "Love Fred. Oh, Fred"

"Oh, oh, okay" he moves to the next question. "What is my favorite reality TV show?"

Joseph tries with Survivor and Paul with Alone. Truth is, you don't watch any show of said kind, only vagely hearing about Love Island.

"You and I have talked about reality TV" Pedro reveals, "It's just that we never identified one"

They keep guessing shows that sound like a foreign language to you.

"You know what's offensive? That I'm the second youngest of this cast and I have no idea what are you all talking about"

"She's not to be trusted" Pascal quips, "can't trust someone who doesn't appreciate the art of reality TV"

You huff, annoyed.

"Is it A&E stuff?" Pedro asks.

"Yeah, it's the competitive cheapskates" Fred answers. "It's people that really save money on everything"

Pedro gets the point because he mentioned the A&E bit.

"There's like this amazing guy that made a stew out of fish bones, and I just thought it was incredible" he shares. Then, moves to the next question. "What is my go-to crafty snack?"

Nobody remembers eating snacks on set, and Fred gives the clue that it's a drink. Joseph says it's a smoothie, and he does remember it but it isn't the answser.

"I'm thinking of something specific. That Emerge-C that you put in the water"

"Oh, that's very good" you agree, so does the rest, even discussing the best colors

"Who in the cast would I ask to bail me out of jail?"

Everyone even Pedro agree its him. Everyone gets a point, yet Joseph remains ahead.

It's Joseph's turn. "What is my favorite sport?"

"Skateboarding" Paul is so quick to answer, earning him two points for both being correct and time.

"What celebrity do I get mistaken for?"

"Daisy Edgar-Jones sometimes" says Mescal. Of course he had to bring her up.

"No, she gets mistaken for me" Joseph jokes. "Yeah, poor Daisy. But I'm writing it down"

"That was the two letters?" Pedro notices. Still, no one gets it.

It's fucking Justin Timberlake. You'd never guess that.

"What is my favorite film franchise?"

You've probaly named all the existing franchises to no avail. You think fo your dad, a huge geek, trying to remember if there is one missing.

"Oh- Lord of the Rings!" you both answer with Paul at the same time.

"C'mon!" his celebration is short lived when he realizes you tied to him.

"What is my favorite British slang word?"

Pedro says it can't be said, but Quinn insists they can, even adding it's his favorite one too.

"We can say bad words? We can say-?" but the camera beeps over it.

The answer is Bellend. What even is that? Joseph feigns sadness and Pedro keeps apologizing, even as you sit on the chair.

"Okay. I'm last"you wiggle your eyebrows with interest. "Let's see. Okay, first question: what did I take from the Gladiator II set?"

"You took something?" Joseph asks on disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I take something?"

"Is it like an item or memorabilia?" asks Connie.

"It's an item" you uncap the marker, scribbling down the answer.

"It's a short word" Fred points out, but still can't provide a guess.

"You took the rings home" Pedro answers. You snap your had on his way, probably obvious. "What? You told me" he says.

Of course Paul complains. "Hey, that isn't fair! He knew the answer before!"

"Well, if you payed more attention to me, you'd know it"

Lies. Pedro knows because it's sitting in the jewelry box inside your house.

"See? I do pay attention" Pedro playfully hits Mescal.

"I could pay you more attention" he looks at you.

"Alright, then do. Ready? Next question: what is my go-to movie? Oh, this is a good one. I'm always changing it, but most of the time I end up choosing the same one"

They all give you a puzzled look as you scribble.

"C'mon, guys! I've said it on interviews before too. Paul?" the man shrugs. "Thought you said you'd pay me more attention. Heads up, you're doing a terrible job so far!"

"Hey!" he protests. "It's not fair if the answer's changing. Give us a clue"

"You didn't give any clues to yours!" you giggle. "Besides, I don't want you to win"

"Hey, that's against the rules!"

"I'd say it depends on the season" Pedro speaks up. You quirk an eyebrow. "Like, if it's changing, I don't think your Christmas go-to movie is the same as your summer one"

"Actually" you smile fondly, "that is true. On summer, it's Mamma Mia. So I suppose, if you can't guess the one, that'll do"

"No" he smiles, cheeky. "I know it too"

"Yeah?" you challenge, "what is it, then?"

"It's Thelma and Louise" he answers, and your heart beats fast.

"How do you know?" Paul inquires. "Somebody was paying attention to Y/n L/n very closely during the shooting of this movie"

Ah, his joke from earlier. Joseph giggles behind him. Karma, he supposes.

"She said it on an interview, guys. C'mon, learn your sources!"

"Okay" you clear your throat. "What movie got me into acting?"

"Thelma and Louise" Joseph tries.

"No" you laugh, "you're just recycling the answer"

"Is it an old or modern movie?" Connie asks.

"Hmh, old" you pause, "just not... I don't know if you'll ever guess it"

"Is it a Pedro Almodóvar film?" you shake your head. "What? You're always mentioning him!"

Pedro looks into your eyes amid the others' discussion, and you can tell he remembers the conversation.

"There isn't one"

You smile, chest pounding at his soft tone.

"That's correct"

"A trick question?!" Paul yells. "I quit"

"When there's just one left?" you tease.

"Yes, because you've been hiding it all the time but no more" he counters, pointing both you and Pedro. You feel the space getting smaller, breaths going from even to noticeable. "You are sharing answers"

You try to make your breath of relief pass as a chuckle.

"I'm not even gonna win, relax. And drop the charges, please. Loose like a man"

"You didn't explain it though" Connie speaks. "What did Pedro mean?"

"While I have many movies that are inspiration to me, they aren't the reason I chose this path. I did it because I saw an Oscar's ceremony when I was 11" you explain fondly, feeling warm at the memories. "I still remember when they handed the award to Diablo Cody for best original screenplay. I don't know, man, it moved me. What it meant for young artists who came from nothing. I guess I wanted, one day, to be the one standing there, for other dreamers to see it's possible"

"Wow, that's beautiful" Connie says.

"Thank you" you get flustered. "Suppose it was worth it, you know, to do interviews about not really knowing my cast mates" and laugh.

"How does Pedro know, though?" Joseph asks.

"We talk a lot" you clear your throat. "Last one: what indie horror movie did I make a small appearence in? I'm feeling generous because it's the last so I'll give you a clue. It's a Stephen King adaptation"

Paul is the first to speak. "You where in a-"

"Yeah but it wasn't such a huge role. Don't make yourself any ideas"

"I have no idea" Connie surrenders. "Other clue, as in how many words?"

"It doesn't even have any words" you laugh. "You give up? It's 1922. Was an extra as well. Made me think Netflix had my name highlighted in the extra call sheet, because I did so many minor and background roles during that year. Grateful, though, because now I get to be Rome's empress and not fortune teller or highschool #6"

The interview ends, and the camera may or may have not captured the last seconds, Pedro's gaze fixated with you the entire time.

elysyannemimi: we all saw that right? GET PEDRO AND Y/N IN A ROMCOM ❗THEIR CHEMISTRY IS INSANE❗ at0michips: love paul and y/n so much 😭😭 gimme enemies to lovers RN ㅤㅤbobgirllll: at0michips wait what if paul and y/n are secretly dating 😳 ㅤㅤann-gell: bobgirllll quick question are u dumb unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they're married. it has to be. trust me ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess BESTIE U ARE BACK

You arrived in London today. The premiere will be in a few days, and things have been, well, hectic.

Lux couldn't stop talking all the plane ride, but your mind kept going back at the email your manager had sent you before you had boarded the plane.

It's catching upon you, read the haunting message. Attached below, a TMZ article that claimed a regular church attendee had seen you both getting married. It also used a lot of the noise fans had been making on social media, connecting dots or just hyping up the undeniable chemistry. It ended with a little paragraph saying it was obvios, and they're just hoping you'd confirmed it.

You came to realize you didn't care about it anymore. Sure, the pushing around annoyed you, but the thought of still keeping your marriage under wraps feels pointless now. Why wouldn't you shout to the world how in love with your husband you are?

Yet, when you arrive at the hotel, you keep the same protocol of arriving after Pedro, who has already checked in with two keys, claiming its for him and his sister, while you ask for the key to Lux's actual room. After you swipe cards with her, you head over the room you'd be sharing with your husband.

His face appears in your frame, everything happening quickly.

"Get inside. Now"

Your body is dragged inside the hotel room, not even giving you time to swipe the key for yourself.

"Pedro!" you exclaim, between surprised and confused. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Did you read it?"

"What? The article?" your tone is filled with annoyance. "Yes, I did. Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he snaps, voice raising higher. "Don't play dumb with me. You know fans have fuelled the rumors, and tabloids have started digging every corner in fucking California"

"So, what? You're acting as if people finding out is the worst thing in the world" you roll your eyes.

"It is, yes!" Pedro bursts out, caving in to the stress.

It feels like you've been hit across your face.

"Excuse me?" you seethe, hurt etched all across your features. "Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit you're married to the person you supposedly love the most?"

"I love you, y/n. It's just-"

His voice softens, trying to reach for you, yet you pull back, his hand falling to his side in an akward manner. He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I love you" he repeats, sounding much more sure this time.

Your frame seems smaller as your voice comes out hoarse, filled with emotion, appearing to be in the brink of tears:

"Then why do you act like you're embarrassed of me?"

He hates himself for making you feel this way, making you think things that aren't true.

"I don't. Never" he emphasizes. Then, tries to reach once again when you move a little bit closer to him, recognizing that's your way of letting him know you're ready. "You're the most precious thing in the world to me, don't ever think the opposite" then he sighs, heavy. "I'm just scared"

You silently ask him to explain, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his tattoo.

"You're so young, and I'm, well- I know we're aware of it, but people are cruel and the press is ruthless. I don't want to see your name dragged across the mud because you decided to marry me. Your career is starting, and I'd never forgive myself is something happened to you because of me. Not trying to make this about me, yeah? But this industry is fucked up. You've work hard to get to where you are, and it'll be unfair if you'd loose it. I'm scared because us..." he wavers, words trailing off. "I want us to be. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you, i-it would kill me not to have you be my wife"

You desperately want to kiss off the worry on his face, but let him finish.

"N-not saying our love is weak, or anything! That a couple of opinions or tabloids will- you know? Just, I-I don't want them to break us apart. Mi vida, you're the light of my life. Please, forgive me, I-"

He feels his throat closing up, words failing to come out. You sense the grip on your hand to be stronger, immediately letting loose of it.

"Hey. C'mere" your voice is tender, allowing him to bury his face in your stomach as you comb his messy curls with your fingers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

He lets himself melt under your touch, his mind loosing itself in the soft of your digits and your perfume up his nostrils. He's again breathing normaly, hands now hugging your waist.

"There you go. Better?" Pedro nods, still not being able to talk. "That's okay, take all the time you need. We have all day"

"Do we?" he raises his view, his eyes soft yet there is something else to the brown shade.

You hum as to nod. "We agreed to join Lux for dinner. It's barely 1pm"

"Tell me you're thinking it too" his voice cuts throughout the air, boucing off the tapestry on the walls.

You laugh, nervously. "I don't think I do"

"Hmmh, I see" he stands up, towering over you. "You sure you don't?"

"You sure you want this?"

Before you know it, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, cutting off all words to be said. What a waste of air, anyway. You are quick to reciprocate, whimpering against his lips.

Pedro picks you up like you're as light as a feather, his arms flexing as he carries you and places you on the bed, frame hovering over yours. He breaks the kiss to breath, but you're pulling him back in, his hold on your hips tighter and the wet spot in your panties wetter.

"Look at you, pretty baby. So needy" he whispers against your face, hot breath lingering above your lips. "And mine. Mía. Only mine"

"I am, yes. Yours only. Need you so bad right now, papi" you answer in a rush. "Now shut up and fuck me"

"Con gusto" he chuckles darkly, "gotta keep the wife happy"

"Happy wife, happy life" you recite, stripping him off of his plain shirt, revealing his toned torso, bulging biceps defined by the movements. You gulp. "Fuck, papi. Gotta thank Marvel for this. I love all of your versions, but I can work with this too" you dreamily stare at him, your hands cupping his face.

He strips the rest of his clothing, but a cute blush adorns his cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's Scott's fault too"

Your impatient fingers reach the middle of your panties to rub your clothed pussy, letting out a sound that darkens his hazel orbs.

"Fuck that guy" you mutter. Pedro laughs.

"Thought you said you loved the guy"

"Until I learned what he said about your body" you groan, still rubbing. "Connie told me"

His hands now travel to remove your clothes, almost ripping them off.

"Who cares? I just want to fuck you now" he breathes out, practically drooling at the sight of your damp panties. "Lemme take this off too"

He unhooks your bra, seeing the hard nipples. The urge to lick them is so bad, but his desire to fill you silly to the brim is stronger.

You see his hesitation, which is why you grab him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses back fiercely, labored breaths as he struggles to focus on your lips, his wet mouth darting to your jaw, neck and collarbones. His hands roam all over your body, needy.

"Gotta be inside of you, mami. Can't wait any longer"

"Then stop waiting" you plead, tugging at his boxers with urgency.

Seeing you so cockhungry, lips parted and pupils blown wide makes his hard dick twitch with anticipation.

He mutters a labored fuck, aligning himself to enter your sticky folds. Pedro enters your tight pussy with a low groan, burying himself deep inside of you, used to his length by now. You're basically begging for it, nails digging and eyes supplicating.

He can't deny you anything, can he?

A messy whine leaves your widened mouth as you adjust, pleasure mixed with pain.

"Mhmm" you moan.

"Mhmm what?" he mocks. "You asked for it. Now take it, cariño"

He thrusts deeper into you, watching in awe how his dick enters your pussy; it was always perfectly, your pussy made for him.

"You're drippin' baby" his rough voice caresses your cheek. He kisses the are, giving a lick to the sweat starting to form. "S'fucking tight too"

You move your hips towards him, trying to augment the friction. The overstimulation starts to cloud your sense, reducing you to a whiny mess as you grip his steady arms.

"I can't think of anything but you, baby" he confesses between grunts, "filling up your pussy to the brim, you dripping with my seed for days"

You moan at the filthy words.

"Love how you take my dick, amor" stretching you as Pedro moves in and out. "S'made for me"

"Yes" you moan, skin slapping sounds bouncing off the walls. "Fuck, I love your dick..."

His pace picks up, and it comes to a point where he's just fucking you silly, his grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise as you keep spilling obscene sounds of pleasure from your lips.

"Your pussy's mine, yeah? No one else gets to have you like this"

"N-no, just you, Pedro. My h-husband" you manage to squeeze, more moans vocalizing the pleasure you felt with each thrust, his big dick inside of you moving in a a steady rhythm, making your eyes roll back further and orgasm closer.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he finds impossible to resist the urge anymore, licking the sensible skin and hard nipples, your hands moving to his back, scratching him harshly, both chasing your release.

"Please!" you whine out loud, not caring how desperate you sound.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

But your husband knows you, so he indeed starts to fuck you harder, heavy breaths and slippy kiss noises hanging in the spaces between each thrusts. He pants with every motion of his dick, a knot forming on his belly.

"Shit, baby. I think I'm gonna cum. Gonna come so hard"

"Do it. I'm on birth control, remember?" you groan, feeling your high approach as well. "Fill me up, please. Give me all your cum"

Your bodies move as one, precise thrusts hitting exactly that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, chasing your orgasm. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with his and then he's saying:

"I love you, y/n. So much"

Your heart skips a bit, his dick twitching inside as his gaze glimmers with adoration and possesiveness, teeth grazing your skin with marks for him to call you his.

"I love you too, Pedro. More than you know"

A final thrust is delivered. Fuck, feels so good you think you hear him say. Just like promised, he fills you with his release, shots of his thick, warm cum inside your sticky walls. You follow soon, back arching, toes curling, and both head and eyes rolling back. Pedro falls on top of you, his broad body collapsing over yours, as you both pant hard, trying to steady your pulse and breath. He then removes himself and positions you to be the one on top now, lazily throwing the covers over your bare bodies. We need to shower, you said, but he argued you'd do it later before going out.

"I needed that" and you happily hum in agreement at your husband's dragged out words.

Your head falls and rises, with the movement of his chest, silence settling on the previously filled with sex noises room. That until he speaks up:

"One day, I'm gonna fill you up so good until you have my babies, mami" he murmurs, just then realizing what he said. But you snuggle closer, hand and legs drapped over his bare body. You look at him closely, seeing nothing but certainty on his eyes.

I choose you. I'll always choose you.

"Whatever it is with you" your nose brushes his, a small sweet kiss on his lips, "I want"

His eyes shine, probably with tears or the glow of affection.

"Let's do it"

"What?" you look into his eyes for any sign of doubt, bull all you see is love. "Pedro, are you serious?"

He nods. "Wouldn't you want that?"

You feel the corner of your lips pull up.

"Never have I wanted anything more"

poppysplayground: Y/N AND PEDRO RED CARPET DEBUT AT THE LONDON PREMIER OF GLADIATOR II WTF I JUST WOKE UP ptwt is in SHAMBLES mostannoyingbillioner: UM HELLO pedro showing up with two hot women on his arms LUX GIMME A CHANCE pompeiianbollockr: WAIT WDYM THEY ARE MARRIED?!??! ALL THIS TIME?@?#? HOW???! NEED BIGGER CAPS TO SCREAM I'M GOING INSANE at0michips: that article better come out now or i'll burn the TMZ building ann-gell: not me thirsting for a married man 😭😭😭 how they kept this a secret for so long?? we should've noticed ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: ann-gell i did. knew betting my grandma was the way all along ㅤㅤpyramiidsf: i'm gonna start betting my grandma too

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest. 

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then." 

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here? 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby. 

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk. 

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing. 

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin. 

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions. 

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly. 

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?" 

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants. 

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.”

Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.”

He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

“Not gonna tell me it gets easier?”

He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know.

“I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs.

She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.”

He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back.

“You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head.

“Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go.

She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.”

He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t know. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.”

He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly.

“You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.”

He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.”

“Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.”

Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.”

He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock.

“He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.”

“Madelyn and Daniel?”

She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.”

One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.”

Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.”

“Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.”

“Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table.

“Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.”

She makes a humming noise.

“C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.”

Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle.

He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.”

“Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.”

He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?”

Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?”

She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.”

Logan both blushes and preens at the same time.

Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?”

She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.”

He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.”

She laughs, “good gin and tonic?”

He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.”

She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,”

“Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.”

Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.”

“We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts.

“Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused.

“Ah.”

“Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.”

She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases.

The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?”

She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.”

Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.”

“Your work allows you to do that?”

Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.”

“You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.”

“I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious.

“No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.”

“Manager?”

“God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.”

“Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.”

“Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?”

“Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him.

He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice.” She smiles.

Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.”

Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him.

“You seemed a bit more relaxed.”

“No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.”

Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head.

“Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.”

Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?”

He shrugs as best as he can.

“I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.”

“You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs.

Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.”

“What happened?”

“She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.”

Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.”

The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.��� He clarifies.

“What?”

“I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.”

“Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar.

“I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.”

Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?”

Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?”

“The one that gave Fred shit.”

“I thought she died?”

The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?”

“Mate, you didn’t hear about that?”

“No!”

“She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.”

“How do I not remember this?”

Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,”

“No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.”

“Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.”

Logan groans, “Os, no.”

“Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.”

“Oscar, please, it’s my mom.”

“She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush.

He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.”

“Lando was looking.”

Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.”

He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.”

“He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns.

“I saw that too.”

“But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?”

Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.”

“Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?”

“I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.”

Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.”

“We all want to age like her.” George agrees.

“What are you saying?” Fernando frowns.

A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.”

Fernando frowns, “Lines?”

Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank.

Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.”

The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.”

“Fuck.”

“Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,”

“He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her.

“He did it! He did it!” She cheers.

The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.”

“Got it. Where’s Alex?”

She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.”

Both of her hands fly up to her mouth.

“Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.”

She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control.

“What? What do you mean?”

“You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.”

“Holy fuck.”

The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes.

“You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.”

She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.”

“Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.”

“I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried.

“You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.”

She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?”

He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.”

“He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her.

His smile widens as he takes the seat.

“I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear.

“I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?”

She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.”

“Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.”

She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?”

“You did.”

“Sweet.”

“Very. How’s the head?”

Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.”

She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.”

“Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it.

She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.”

“True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.”

“I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.”

“Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.”

“I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.”

“Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?”

“It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.”

His brows press together. “Max?”

“Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?”

Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.”

“You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.”

“I go on dates.”

“Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.”

She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists.

“Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?”

“Yes.”

“Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?”

Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,”

Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?”

“Oh.”

Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.”

“I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!”

He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces.

“Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?”

He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press.

“But how are you feeling about it?”

Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.”

He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.”

Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.”

“P10 and P9.”

He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.”

Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.”

“Not yours?”

He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.”

Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?”

Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.”

“Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.”

“And if I go into the wall?”

Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?”

Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.”

“Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.”

Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.”

He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him.

“And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his.

“So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say.

“I’m a mom.”

He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.”

“Logan is important to me.”

Oh, god, did Logan not like him?

“The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.”

“Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?”

She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.”

“I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?”

Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.”

He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.”

“His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right.

“His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?”

“No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.”

She stares at him, lips pressed together.

He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.”

She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?”

“The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears.

“I am his mother, just adopted.”

“Not that either of you see it that way.”

“No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.”

“Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?”

She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-nine.”

He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.”

“Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.”

“How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch.

“Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun.

Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach.

“What?”

“How was your date last night?”

Her smile widens. “It was good.”

“Yeah?”

She nods.

“Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?”

“No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.”

“About what?”

“Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well.

She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.”

“What about Max?”

She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.”

“You know, I’m okay with it.”

“I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.”

Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.”

Logan flushes at the words.

“He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age.

He flushes even more. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.”

“I am an adult.”

“You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.”

He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?”

She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?”

“Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?”

“First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder.

“Am I late?”

“Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen.

“Can I,”

She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.”

“Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.”

“Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her.

“Logan and you are both going to get on too well.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye.

“You both don’t like when I lift anything.”

“What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back.

Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.”

“One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.”

“See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head.

“I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.”

Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.”

He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.”

“Are you sure?”

Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage.

The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at.

“Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.”

“Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely.

“Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?”

The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member.

“Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?”

He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.”

“And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases.

“No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.”

“I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.”

“Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.”

“Oh?”

Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.”

Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room.

“Hi, schat.”

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats.

His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.”

“Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask.

“He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.”

Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?”

She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.”

“Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.”

“Anything I can help with?”

She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops.

“Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.”

“Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?”

His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.”

“The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.”

“They have to be not performing well.”

“They’re a rookie in a back marker team.”

“They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about.

“They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.”

His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?”

“Nine.”

“I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.”

She shakes her head.

“Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?”

She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.”

“I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his.

“The driver’s Logan.”

“What?”

“Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.”

Max stares at her. “How?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.”

“He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.”

“I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.”

“It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it.

“Why’s that, honey?”

He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team.

“I guess you are a bit spoiled.”

He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle.

“That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.”

He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more.

“I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.”

She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.”

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends.

“Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder.

“How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner.

She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.”

He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?”

“I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.”

“I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside.

“I know.”

“Logan still wanting to do his new routine.”

She nods, lips pursed.

He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?”

She throws him a look. “Us?”

“You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that.

“Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.”

“Will Logan be joining us for Florida?”

“Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.”

Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,”

“You go to Milton for a day after.”

He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.”

“Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.”

“Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.”

“Yes?”

“Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend.

He freezes.

“Max.”

“I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[retiredteabag]

Wishful Thinking

arranged marriage with Nanami… a continuation

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

The silence that permeates the car you were shuffled into with your husband is suffocating.

Your life partner had let go of your hand the moment he had reached to buckle you into your seat. You strain your fingers now, hoping the sweat on your palms hadn't been noticeable.

A driver from your clan's estate had been tasked with dropping you and your husband off at your newly arranged space. You knew this man, the man who was seated directly to your left, was not affiliated with any clan, this meant you had no idea where you were headed.

Several shipments of your belongings had been retrieved over the weeks since the higher-up's declaration of marriage for you had been in place. A steady and simple move-in awaited you. Something you weren't particularly happy about.

You thought through a list of things to occupy yourself with instead of awkwardly standing in this stranger mans presence.

As curious as you were about your future arrangements, you truly could not ignore the silence in this vehicle much longer. Had you married any of the expected bachelors, you were sure your ear would be talked off at this point, yet, you did not even know this mans name.

You took in a deep breath, preparing to speak, the blonde fellow, (your literal husband) turned to meet your eyes, likely having expected you to say something. His eyes shock you, and you turn away once more to stare out the window.

You strain your hand into a fist and work up the courage. Turning with an inhale once more, you force out words before you can change your mind, "Terribly sorry..." You start, looking him in the eyes, "Could you remind me of your name?"

You had never been given it to begin with. Perhaps the officiant at your wedding had recited it in his speech, but you had been a little distracted at the time.

"I'm sorry?" He strains his neck in your direction, eyebrows raised.

"Your name? Sorry... I think I ought to know it, right?"

"You don't know my name?" His head shakes a little as he speaks, incredulous.

You hesitate, "...No? I wasn't paying the most attention for it during the ceremony..." You mumble the last bit, waiting for him to cut you off, but he just stares at you.

"I'm sorry-" His hand hovers mid-air, "You weren't given my name?"

Oh no, you've offended him.

"Oh! It's not like that! My family is....very fond of you! And the higher-ups speak very well of you as well! I...well...I erm..." How do you fix this? Stroke his ego?

His hand is firmly on his forehead now. "That is not what I meant. I'm asking you - you were not informed of my name? Who I am? Were you even aware you were to be wed?"

You fumble a bit with the skirt of your dress, "Of course! Yes, I just... well, I didn't know who, but the marriage bit was no surprise."

"But the rest, that is all true? You had no idea you would be marrying me?" He looks frustrated, to say the least. You had no idea this would come as shocking news, someone should have informed you.

He is peeking at you through his hand, "Well...no, but-" He cuts you off now, but he seems to not be speaking to you.

"No wonder you looked so ill up there..."

Okay ouch.

"When did you agree to this marriage? Was this simply... decided for you?

You weren't sure what to say. Had this not been decided for him as well? Speaking frankly, you were not entirely sure of why he had been chosen as your partner, he had no duty to his name. Even so, he looked repulsed at the realization, eyes shot wide.

"Well... it was-" Were you supposed to be talking about this? Should you say this to your husband? "Umm... Well, I'm sure you know the higher-ups are involved with the clans..."

He shifted in his seat to face you fully now, "You...were forced?" He almost looks frighted at the concept. You want to laugh.

Of course, you were. How else did he think marriage worked?

Despite your thoughts, all you said was, "No, it was a mutual understanding that I would be married."

"Yet you know nothing about me." He looks forward at the road.

Was that what this was about? "I'm a quick learner, if you're concerned about that."

He sighs and smacks a hand to his face again. "No...No that is not what concerns me."

You have a litany of responses ranging from, 'I see...' to 'what does concern you then?' but you say none of them. You just sit forward and stare at your palms.

Oddly enough, it does not take long for the silence to be broken once more.

"Nanami." He says.

"I'm sorry?" You hadn't expected him to speak, eyes wide, you turn to him again.

"Nanami Kento. That's-" He sighs, as if it's a real chore to introduce himself, "my name is Nanami Kento."

You look to one another for a moment before you quickly break the connection, gazing out your window, deigning to not look again until you arrived.

"Mmm...thank you." You finally say.

--

Although you knew the house was not terribly far from your family estate, it felt like hours had passed before you allowed yourself to move once more.

Mr. Nanami had climbed from his seat once the car had halted.

Eager to be away from me it seems.

Only, he had seemed surprised as you climbed from your door as well, having walked around to greet you.

"Allow me," He had said, reaching for the small train case in the back of the car, it had been filled with small wedding gifts and your husband insisted on carrying it for you.

I wonder how long he will keep up this act. You found yourself thinking. Your new residence was sizable. Nice, in an uncomfortably clean way. Perhaps that is how your husband liked it.

As you stepped over the threshold, moving out of "the man of the house's" way. You took it in.

This place must have been chosen by the higher-ups. Your father would not have bought you a home, nor did you expect a man without clan connections to have been able to purchase such a plot of land.

It was only mid-afternoon. Yet your life was impossibly different than it had been only a few hours prior. You had expected the driver to stay and discuss the honeymoon with the two of you but it seemed he had not been instructed with that information.

As many frightening realizations occurred to you, you were able to resign yourself to acceptance, putting aside the...bedding...situation... the concern that stuck with you was dinner plans.

Were you expected to have that prepared? You didn't know what he preferred though....

Thoughts of your...marital duties swam in your head while Nanami was making his way towards the living room.

"Of course," He was saying, "You're free to use whatever you like, these things are as much yours as they are mine..." He had rounded through the sitting area and around the kitchen into the master bedroom, never once turning to look at you.

It was clear that people had come to prepare the area for you two. On his bedside table, you see a comfortable pair of plaid pajama pants and a loose grey shirt. You had not been presented with such. No, on the bed, strewn out for the both of you to see was a... sordid... set of black lacy lingerie.

You stood in silence. A resigned look on your face. Your husband on the other hand, had coughed, spun around, and fully walked from the room in moments.

What was he doing? Was he sickened by you? Did he expect you to appreciate his apprehension? If you were being honest, you would like for him to get this act over with as quickly as possible.

Looking at your marital bed, you were once again reminded of your mother's sobs only this morning. You looked down at the gown that clung to your waist. You had felt pretty today, despite the occasion. You knew you would not feel beautiful in that raunchy piece of string.

How long do I have? You wondered.

Finally moving yourself, you come before the undergarments, sit next to them, and run your hand along the bed's silky duvet.

You sat in silence for longer than you expected to be given. You finally reached your hand up your spine. Unzipping the dress, unbuttoning the clasp at your neck.

You slid it off your body. Walking around the room near-nude to lay the dress along the ladder of a bookcase. It was nice, actually. Maybe you wouldn't mind it here.

You did not rush to dress in the sexy, frilly, underthings. You might not have been perfectly comfortable in your body, but that didn't matter. Not when you had knowledge of the intentions behind your wedding for years.

It was a bit of a challenge to get it on. You weren't sure how to get your arms through at first, and then you swapped them around when you couldn't figure out the neck bit.

What did it matter, it would be coming off anyway.

After dressing, you sat in the same spot on the bed for a while, staring at your hands. You wondered if he was expecting to eat first. Seeing as he had left you alone, however, you figured he would return eventually.

It was cold like this, you hopped he would hurry.

Just as you were beginning to consider moving to look at the bookcase, (panty clad and all) your spine snapped into place when you heard him calling for you. When had you given him your name? You weren't sure.

He was speaking loudly so you might hear through the wall, but not in a frustrated manner, "The kitchen staff is arranging something for us to eat-" He had slowly began to open the door, when his eyes landed on you. Not a moment passed before he dropped whatever he had in his hands. It loudly clattered to the floor and he slammed the door shut. The noise echoed in the room.

"What-??!" He stuttered, "What are you doing?!!"

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish. What were you doing? What did he mean? And how exactly do you respond?

"I... uhh-" You looked down at yourself in the ridiculous lace.

You had not been trained in much regarding sex, having been told that the man you would marry would be well aware of how to educate you when it came to your actions. Suddenly self-conscious, you wondered if you had done something wrong.

Nanami calls your name from outside your new bedroom, then repeats it. Firm and unmoving. "What-are-you-doing?"

Your hands flounce around. Stuttering for a response, "I- I don't know!?" You finally force out, the tone coming off a little too questioning for an answer.

After a moment there is a dull *bonk* against the door. You hear no response for a long while. The room is so silent, you can hear your heart pounding. It was so painfully uncomfortable, you reached a hand to your chest to try and calm it. Finally, he clears his throat and calls out to you from behind the door again.

He speaks your name gently, as if calling to a child, "I'm going to come in now, okay?"

You sit upon the bed once more, back straight. "Alright." You nod to yourself.

Unsure of what to expect, you watch the door handle tilt to allow for your husbands entry, but your eyes narrow as he shifts into the room, avoiding your gaze - in fact - avoiding your presence completely.

His arm is shaking off his nicely tailored suit jacket. Still turned to look at the closet, he comes before you, jacket in hand, and reaches out for your shoulders. You almost want to shrink back from this odd behavior but remain still as he wraps you up in his clothing.

After a few awkward seconds, he turns to look at you. "What are you doing?" He repeats, low and calm.

You raise your brows, "What... are you doing?" You reach up to feel the jacket covering your collar and torso, instantly, he drops his hands from your shoulders.

He shakes his head, a hand tugging at his loose blond hair. "I don't... understand." He is no longer looking in your vicinity. His voice shakes and all the air leaves his lungs.

"I'm sorry." You wrap yourself tighter in his jacket, shifting to stare at him, "Was this not... expected?" His apprehension certainly came as a surprise to you.

Suddenly he's back, fully facing you, "Expected?" He raises his brows, "What is this? You're... what? Doing what is expected of you?". Despite the severity of the moment, it is now that you recognize how expressive his features are. His neck, up to his cheeks, up to even his ears are a warm pink. It wouldn't be improbable to assume his chest is a rosy shade right about now as well.

You decide to push the boundary, share your frustration. Why is he upset? If he does not want you, he should just say. It's not as if you desire him in that way. This has been an incredibly stressful and tense day, at least he knew who you were before all of this, you did not have that liberty. If anything, you should be upset with him!

"Is it not?" You speak up, "Forgive me, but I was under the impression that...this" You pull your arm out from under his jacket to motion between you two, "was how this worked."

He makes a face. Revolted.

"You are- we-" He cuts himself off, waving his hands before himself, then covers his face, "no." He gets out, "This is not how this works."

"Well." Now you're flushing, embarrassed. You straighten yourself, balling his suit jacket in your firsts. "What... would you like for me to do? I told you in the car that I learn quickly, if thats-"

"Stop." He spits out, voice suddenly higher than before, "Just...stop."

You swallow. What does he want from you? "Okay." You whisper.

He calls for you gently, and motions for you to stand. He turns away from the bathroom now and shifts in the other direction, looking at your wedding gown strewn across the bookcase ladder. He purses his lips. "Please.... dress yourself." He swallows, motions towards the wardrobes along the wall. "Something comfortable in there. I was... going to ask your preferences, for a meal-for dinner. Let me-"

He clears his throat, moving away now toward the bedroom door, he drops to the floor and picks up what must be his phone, having been dropped earlier, he rubs the screen on his pant leg. "What would you like?"

You stare at him, straight-faced. "Anything you like." You're not a picky eater.

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, "No. What do you like to eat?

You shrug, "Anything. I don't mind." You shake your head at him and he just looks you up and down. The stupidly large jacket comes mid-thigh.

He takes a deep breath. Then exhales dramatically. Nods. And he's gone. This time, when closing the door, he makes an effort to do so gently.

--

You had found a soft cotton pajama set in one of the dresser drawers. Having long since removed your previous attire, you wonder what your husband is thinking of as he silently serves two plates of Chinese food.

You wonder what your father would say if he saw Mr. Nanami serving up dinner for his wife as you sat on the living room couch.

You're taken from your thoughts as Nanami places a large wooden tray on the couch, he places the food on it.

It seems you will very much be eating together.

"I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you don't." He murmurs, seating himself near you in the dimly lit room.

In no world would you complain about the food your husband served you. Even if you disposed it, luckily, you liked Chinese cuisine. Before you can even get out a word of appreciation he is speaking again, "I think we should talk."

You sit up straight. "Alright."

He motions for you to eat, "Feel free. I think we ought to have an open discussion."

You grab your utensils but don't reach for anything until after he takes a bite. Awaiting his words.

"Well... I believe we ought to be on the same page about this. I had been under the impression that we were... but as I can see, that is not the case." He stares at you intently.

He is not speaking down to you, but rather, making space for an open conversation. You set down your chopsticks, and await further explanation.

"I suppose I should know what exactly the higher-ups asked of you."

You raise your brows, "Sorry?"

An apology has become a common synonym for many of your reactions.

"Earlier, you asked me for my name. And just then-" He flushes a little, motioning to the bedroom, "well- you mentioned expectations and I feel I ought to ask you what is is that has been requested of you."

Is this man daft? Is he playing with you?

Before you respond, you test the waters, "What did the higher-ups demand of you?"

The man sighs.

"I am terribly sorry," he calls your name again like its easy, a habit that makes your stomach flip, "It seems that people have not been honest with you, you deserve an explanation. I just expected you to be aware of this before our union."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes watch you and the chopsticks laying on the wooden tray.

Ah.

You reach to take a bite. It's good, and oddly puts the man before you at ease.

"Before this, I was intending to leave sorcery."

He states it as if it is nothing. Your eyes bug out and he pauses, allowing for you to ensure you heard correctly.

"The higher-ups have a large amount of sway in Tokyo, I'm not sure about Kyoto, but they were not fond of this plan."

I can't imagine why that would be. You thought as you recalled the moment you had first seen this Nanami Kento.

It had been an annual meeting between the Kyoto and Tokyo branches. You had heard him refer to sorcery as "a pain". Had he been considering retirement even then?

You simply nod, listening quietly. "It was their intention to find me...a wife." He huffs, "Maintaining a life in sorcery was highly important to them."

Oh, you see. Perhaps he wasn't so different from you after all.

The higher-ups have only had one expectation for you, even since showing promise in the world of sorcery, even after moving up the ranks at Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Your job was plain and simple.

To have babies.

Sorcerer babies.

Had they been so afraid of losing one sorcerer to the regular world that he was cornered into loveless marriage? All to keep him from departure? Was that why Gakuganji had been so immediate with his instatement of your husband?

"I see..." You nod once more.

"I would like to know your experience as well. What was it that they asked of you?" He had both hands laid flat on the makeshift table between the pair of you.

You consider what to say. "I...have known-" you try again, "My duty has been laid out for some time now." You tilt your head, he's squinting at you.

"Please. Just tell me. They... forced you - to - to do that?" He points his head in the direction of your room once more.

Now you're confused. You want to speak in a way that doesn't insult his intelligence but he's making is difficult for you. "Did you not... marry me for children?"

He chokes.

Coughing to clear his throat, he wipes his mouth. "That is not- eugh-" he tries again, "They cannot ask that of you. I will not do anything that you are not explicitly requesting of me." He pauses effecting a moment of silence before, "Do you understand?"

But you don't. "Mr. Nanami, are you... not expected to produce children? Is that not why you were chosen to be in this situation?"

He responds quickly and with precision, "I did not marry you for what you could give me. No."

You can't hold in your confused laugh, "Then...why?"

"Was it not the easiest for the both of us?" He smirks at you, his shoulders have eased only slightly after hearing your laugh, "I was informed that your other options were not the most savory."

"You knew you would be marrying me?" You ask, ignoring his reference to your suitors and flummoxed by how easy it is to speak comfortably with a man you had been so recently adverse to.

"Yes. I... cannot believe you were not provided the same..." He pauses, "I was under the impression that this was a mutual decision..."

"Oh." It's all you can say.

Nanami takes in a deep breath from across the couch cushions. "I'm sorry." And you really believe that he means it. "I would not have agreed if I knew." He forms a flat line with his lips.

"I think you're right, though..." He looks at you, addled, so you continue, “This was the easiest choice. I think so too." You're unsure of how else to conclude.

Your wedding dinner had not been what you would have expected and the night, unlike anything you could have predicted.

Nanami Kento, no matter how you denied and tried to shuffle from the bedroom, had sworn himself to a guestroom after collecting the night clothes laid out for him on the bedside table.

He had gently grabbed your shoulders, maneuvering you towards the bed and away from the exit. Pleading with you to remain in the master bedroom. Claiming that he had intended to sleep in a separate bedroom since the beginning.

Though you pulled at his arms to try and swap your standing, telling him adamantly to take the bigger of the bed options, he simply drew close to you, shifted farther from the door and blocked your sights. He lead you softly to the bed, and when you attempted to side step him and make your way to the guestroom, he took one arm, catching you by the waist, and swiftly lifted you from the floor.

"Please. Do not ask me again. Sleep here, alright? All of your things are here. I will be very comfortable in the guestroom."

And before you could get out any complaint, he had you placed upon the duvet. His hands were off you in an instant, but he remained looking in your direction as he backed to the door you had been fighting over.

"Do sleep well." His long strides had brought him to the rooms entrance with no delay, you were still caught up with the fact that he had lifted you like a sack of potatoes, with one arm no less. "We will likely have to arrange the...trip tomorrow."

The honeymoon, that's right.

He said it in a way that sounded like, 'just to warn you' or 'you should know'. But all you could reply with was, "Right."

"Right." He echo's, turning to walk through the door, and looks to you once more. "Sleep well." And there's your name again, leaving his lips as though you are long time friends.

"You too."

But the door has been silently shut.

His touch lingers on your waist from where he had lifted you. Not in the way your fathers hand would linger after he drug you to and from meetings, not the way his fingers would remain painfully on your neck after he would steer you into conference rooms. But rather, in an almost ticklish way.

You shiver.

And run your hands over your new duvet.

When you had made up your childhood bed and left this morning, you had listened to your mothers cries, sure that last night would be the last time you would have the peace of your own bed. Your heart swelled with the knowledge that you had been wrong.

Your fingers traced the stitching on the comforter. Swung your legs from the mattress, and almost-almost grinned.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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[amazinglyashy]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."