#more gifs of this interview coming soon

[ukulelette]

NME interview, 2023

[selfsabotaqe]

*       ♡     ◞      closed starter      ╱    for @creulintenticns .

“ don’t tell me i have to explain to you how this works. ”   they were being absolutely infuriating. maybe she had brought it upon herself. their reputation preceeded them, and she had all too happily jumped on that bandwagon. they were insufferable, difficult to work with and it showed in her rather disdained tone.   “ usually in these types of situations, when you’re being asked a question you provide an answer. ”   all she had received until now were sarcastic quips and half truths she couldn’t print even if she got creative.   “ now that’s not too hard for you, is it? ”

[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!

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 now. 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.” “Of course.” “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

[harrysfolklore]

charles leclerc simping over his girlfriend: a compilation

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | charles smau | charles headcanon

PART TWO

No matter where Charles went or what he did, one thing was constant - he simply could not stop talking about his girlfriend.

He was utterly smitten, and it showed through his words and massive smile every time her name came up. Fans quickly noticed Charles' habit of gushing over YN in interviews, on social media, with reporters, and even during casual interactions.

It became such a phenomenon that Formula 1 super-fans began compiling clips of Charles being a total simp for his girl into viral videos.

The most popular one was called "Charles Leclerc simping over his girlfriend: a compilation, and the 15-minute long video compiled some of the most hilarious, heartwarming, and over-the-top examples of the F1 star's borderline obsession with his girlfriend.

It opened with a clip from Charles' interview on Sky Sports before the Monaco Grand Prix. The reporter asked how special it was racing at his home circuit.

"It's amazing driving here where I grew up," Charles said with a huge smile. "But honestly, the best part is having my girlfriend YN here supporting me, this is already such a special race but having her here just adds another layer to it."

"Could you say that you have a good luck charm with you today?" the reporter asked again.

"Definitely, she's always my good luck charm."

The next clip was from Charles and Carlos' music challenge for Ferrari's YouTube channel, they had to guess the song that was playing with just a three second snippet.

"As it was, Harry Styles!" Charles said and rang the small bell that was placed in the middle of them as soon as he heard the first second of the intro.

"You've been practicing," Carlos stated as he pointed at him raising an eyebrow.

"I love this song," Charles said to the camera, "My girlfriend is obsessed with it, she plays it every day."

"And you talk about her every day," Carlos teased, elbowing him.

"I do, I do."

The video moved to show Charles with some fans, he was getting his luggage after a flight and they approached him asking for a picture, one of them filming the whole interaction.

"Of course, no problem at all," Charles replied warmly with a small smile on his face.

As he posed for a picture with the group, Charles noticed that one of the fans was wearing a Taylor Swift shirt. His eyes lit up with recognition and a smile spread across his face.

"I see you're a Taylor Swift fan," Charles remarked, pointing to the shirt. "My girlfriend loves Taylor too. She's always playing her songs around the house and talking about her."

"Wow, that's so cool!" the fan's eyes widened in surprise, "What's her favorite song?" they asked.

"I think her favorite is 'Love Story," Charles chuckled, "She says it reminds her of us."

"That's such a classic! Your girlfriend has great taste," the fan said.

"Thank you, I'll let her know you said that."

The next clip was from Charles' interview promoting his new ice cream brand called LEC, a reporter had asked him how did he come up with the creative names for each flavor.

"It was a teamwork between me and my girlfriend, actually," he replied with a smile, "She played a huge part on this project, everyone knows I could't had come up with Vanillove and Pistachi-on on my own."

The video then cut to a clip from the F1 Grill the Grid challenge, where drivers were playing 'Never Have I Ever", when asked "Have you ever missed a flight?", Charles immediately knew his answer."

"I have, more than once," he said, quickly adding, "But it wasn't my fault, my girlfriend has this long morning routine that she refuses to skip, even though she looks beautiful no matter what."

The video also included footage of Charles during a press conference before the Australia Grand Prix, a reporter asked him about his pre-race rituals.

"Well, I have a few things I like to do before getting into the car," Charles began. "But one thing that's become a bit of a tradition is a phone call with my girlfriend. No matter where we are in the world, we always find time to talk before the race if she's not there."

"What do you two usually talk about?"

"Oh, just the usual stuff," Charles replied with a grin. "She gives me some last-minute words of encouragement, tells me to be safe, that sort of thing. It's nice to hear her voice before such a big moment."

A clip form Charles' 'One week in Los Angeles' was also included, he was playing around at the basketball course shirtless.

"No way!" he said after he missed the basket again, "This is making me look really bad, I need to impress my girl."

The camera panned to her for a moment, and Charles sent a wink her way.

"Are you impressed, love? he asked, throwing the ball and missing once again.

"Very, but not by your basketball skills."

The compilation went on and on, clip after clip of Charles finding any opportunity to mention his girlfriend and proclaim his love for her. From the most casual conversations to the highest-pressure interviews, he just could not help himself from gushing.

As the video ended, the caption displayed: "Get yourself a man who loves you like Charles loves YN."

[iluvloganhowlett]

DATING HUGH JACKMAN HCS ࣪𖤐

sfw headcannons of what i imagine it like to date hugh jackman!

warnings: tbh none j a lot of fluff

- hugh is literally the biggest gentleman there is; he’s big on holding open doors, pulling out chairs, opening car doors, paying for dinner, all that stuff

- u def hang around set with him and the rest of the cast

^^ i feel like bc of this, u and ryan would probably end up becoming pretty good friends considering how close him and hugh are

- he does everything in his power to try and make you laugh. it literally brings him sm joy js to even hear a little giggle come out of your mouth

- he’s always talking about u in interviews

^^ stg the host will try and talk ab the show and he’s all “oh yeah y/n gets me lunch everyday on set and brings it to my trailer”

- he’s a big teddy bear.

- i j know this man is the biggest cuddler there is man

- he’s so big on physical touch

- somehow, he manages to snatch tiny props from the set and bring them home to you, talking about some “baby i got you something from on set”

- idk how i thought of this but i feel like he’d sometimes pull pranks on you at home by randomly switching to his american accent mid convo / mid sentence

^^ then he’d end up laughing really hard at the shocked look on your face

- he’d do everything in his power to get you a small cameo or role in any of his movies just to have an excuse to be around you more

- he’d also try to get you invited to interviews

- like i said earlier, he’s a gentleman; he’d fs buy you anything and everything you want

^^ lit as soon as you even look at something in a store a certain way, he’ll either buy it online when you’re home or he’ll sneak away and bring it to the register without you knowing

- the first thing he’d do in the morning is kiss you no matter where it may be; your neck, lips, shoulders, collarbone, back even. he’d j do it

- to focus on you instead of hugh, you find him acting to be adorable and hot at the same time

^^ you’d def gush over how he acts when he makes a mistake, or even the shift from in character to out of character when the director yells cut

alr chat that’s it but i love hugh😯

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod

[httpsserene]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩 | 𝐦𝐯. 𝟏

summary: an unplanned hard launch reveals more than a relationship. it exposes the biggest simp of the century.

content warning: requested by @animeandf1lover. fluff. crack adjacent (in the beginning). profanity. bestfriend!logan sargeant. boyfriend!max verstappen. humor. max yap-stappen. jimmy and sassy verstappen. my personal hc of max using cat emojis unironically. no part two requests, please!

pairing: max verstappen x hijabi fem!poc!reader (fc: shahdbatal)

genre: smau.

from, serene: other titles i thought of; simp, i love my gf, down bad, lord of the simps, or president of the simp club. haven't written for max alone in a while, i missed him !!! pls ignore the typos on the interview clips otherwise i will cry. enjoy, lovely’s xxx

⌕ join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

instagram • jimmyandsassy 🔒 • monte carlo ⚑

liked by yninsta, maxverstappen1, logansargeant, and 123 others

jimmyandsassy love life

view comments

maxverstappen1: how are you going to caption this "love life" when there's not a single photo of me in it 😕

➥ maxverstappen1: you called me the love of your life this morning on ft 😔 ➥ maxverstappen1: omg are you breaking up with me and taking the cats with you 😭😭😭 ➥ yninsta: max the cats chose the caption not me!!! ➥ yninsta: you're still the loml baby, i'm not going anywhere 😚💙 ➥ danielricciardo: u guys are perfectly made for each other :)

maxverstappen1: my babies 😻 why did you put mommy on the last slide? she's too pretty to be there!

➥ jimmyandsassy: m prettier than mommy - sassy ➥ maxverstappen1: hey! you get your looks from your mother be nice 😠 ➥ charlesleclerc: max mate 😟 with every comment you make on this account i hope you know i think less of you with each one 🙏🏻 ➥ alexandrasaintmleux: he's only saying this because i told him it would be cute to make a priv acct with leo that's like this! ➥ yninsta: you should! the kitties love it :) ➥ charlesleclerc: you're all mentally disturbed. electric chair⚡️🪑

logansargeant: i have post notifications on and i have no clue how max gets here faster than me.

➥ logansargeant: jimmy? sassy? do you tell him when you're about to post 🧐 ➥ maxverstappen1: logan the cats can't speak english or use a phone be serious. ➥ logansargeant: THEY DON'T HAVE OPPOSABLE THUMBS EITHER BUT THEY STILL POST AND REPLY TO COMMENTS ➥ jimmyandsassy: don't yell at daddy! 's mean - jimmy ➥ maxverstappen1: yeah logan don't yell at daddy 😌 ➥ logansargeant: can't believe there was a time i thought you were a respectable man smh

roscoelovecoco: cool cats 🐈

➥ jimmyandsassy: big dawg 🐶

landonorris: they're so pretty i just wanna pet them

➥ landonorris: i wished cats liked me,,, ➥ jimmyandsassy: nobody likes you! hope this helps - sassy ➥ landonorris: STOP HIDING BEHIND YOUR CATS AND COME FIGHT ME SIS 🤬🤺

alexalbon: please don't kill me :)

➥ jimmyandsassy: why would we kill you? we like alex - jimmy ➥ oscarpiastri: oh they're so going to claw your eyes out mate 😂 ➥ georgerussell63: it's been nice knowing you alex 🙂 ➥ charlesleclerc: fly high alexander 🕊️🙏🏻 ➥ schecoperez: gone too soon 🙂‍↔️ ➥ jensonbutton: if she kills you, logan will have a car to race this weekend. she's so going to get rid of you 😈 ➥ yninsta: what. logan has his own williams? are u guys okay???

twitter • yn's spam twt

igstory • yninsta uploaded to close friends story!

[caption1; guess i'm bringing jimmy with me][caption2; target confirmed. bravo six going dark.]

logansargeant: please don't make my team principal disappear ⤷yninsta: i will make him suffer inshallah 🙏🏽 ⤷logansargeant: think about jimmy and sassy! they'll miss you 😢 ⤷yninsta: ,,,i will subject him to a painful lecture about his mishandling of the race weekend ⤷yninsta: instead of death 🙃

alexalbon: are we chill? ⤷yninsta: i have no quarrel with you 👍🏽 ⤷alexalbon: oh thank god. i was going crazy in my room hiding from you 😮‍💨

maxverstappen1: come to me when you're done with james 😽 ⤷maxverstappen1: you're surrounded by the wrong shade of blue :( ⤷maxverstappen1: how's logan doing? ⤷yninsta: he's okay considering they gave his car away. ⤷maxverstappen1: bring him with you, i will tell him exactly what i think about wiliams treating him that way

f1 twitter

FIA press conference: pre-race australia • max, charles, logan, zhou, yuki

post-race interview clips • max verstappen

twitter • the internet reacts

instagram • logansargeant • melbourne ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, yninsta, redbullracing and 546,789 others

logansargeant me and you, and you and me, just us, and your boyfriend max.

tagged: yninsta, maxverstappen1, betterhelp

view comments

maxverstappen1: you have me saved as “yn’s boyfriend - INGORE 🛑❌🙈���

➥ maxverstappen1: that’s not very nice ☹️ ➥ yninsta: logan! change it before you make him sad ➥ logansargeant: fine 🙄 ➥ logansargeant: i’m going to mute him instead.

➥ yninsta: logan and max get along great guys i promise!

➥ yninsta: max asked him if he was okay with asking me out before our first date and logan said “mate you don’t have to ask, i know you’ll treat her right” 😇 ➥ logansargeant: that is NOT public info‼️ delete pls ➥ maxverstappen1: you didn’t have to say any of this schatje 😅 ➥ user1: max asked logan for permission to date her? what in the wattpad fanfic is happening rn ➥ georgerussell63: this is great blackmail- i mean info 😉

oscarpiastri: acting like you hate max but you called me screaming in joy about playing padel with him 💀

➥ logansargeant: oscar please. my reputation is at stake here 😀 ➥ oscarpiastri: hey instagram comments- i misspoke. logan sargeant HATES max verstappen! that’s all, thanks. ➥ user2: dis guy 🤦🏻‍♀️ ➥ user3: osc sarcasm check: ✅

user4: if max verstappen offered to fly me out to hang out with his gf i would not leave his messages on read ijs 🤷🏼

alexalbon: DAMN he even said please 😶

➥ yninsta: not too much now alex 🤫 ➥ alexalbon: 🤐😳 ➥ user5: alex were u silent or sileNCED ➥ user6: i could feel the threat through the screen

jensonbutton: but did you take him up on his offer? that’s what we need to know!

➥ maxverstappen1: he did. left me on read for 6 minutes before he broke 😹 ➥ logansargeant: it was on his private jet, paid for, and i got to see my best friend- ofc i said yes! i’m not stupid.

user7: tagging betterhelp on the sc of max’s desperate ass texts is NASTY work logan 💀💀💀

➥ user8: nothing wrong with sending the homies links to therapy sites ➥ user9: there’s definitely something wrong with how down bad max is for his girl. i know that much 🥴 ➥ user10: are u srs? bc that’s a man who doesn’t play about his woman! i can tell 😵‍💫🫦

instagram • maxverstappen1

liked by yninsta, redbullracing, danielricciardo and 2,126,989 others

maxverstappen1 championships are worth winning because i take the trophies back to her.

tagged: yninsta

view comments

yninsta: championships are worth winning because YOU drove like crazy for them.

➥ maxverstappen1: two things can be true at the same time 💙 ➥ maxverstappen1: i don’t know if they would matter as much if i didn’t have anyone to praise me for it. ➥ yninsta: i’ll convince you that they are more than that one day 💙🔒 (good thing i’m never leaving you x)

yninsta: حب حياتي (the love of my life)

➥ maxverstappen1: no you are mine ☺️🤭

user11: no the fuck he didn’t.

➥ user12: GIRL HE FUCKING DID

user13: nahhhh he got it. he got it all.

➥ user13: championships, monaco living, the finest woman, expensive cats and cars—LIKE LEAVE SOMETHING FOR THE COMMON FOLK MAX ➥ maxverstappen1: my bad 🙂‍↕️ ➥ user14: he don’t even mean ts ➥ user15: oh i’m bout to crash out 🤪🤬👹

charlesleclerc: okay. that’s a good caption 🙂

➥ maxverstappen1: take a deep breath charlie, no need to be angy about it :) ➥ charlesleclerc: i knew you’d ruin it. i’ll be seeing you max 🤫 ➥ user16: yo what tf 🤣 ➥ user17: did charles leclerc just ominously imply his plot for max’s demise?! ➥ user18: bro what 😒 @/user17 ➥ user19: what are you gonna say next? “they’re going to participate in a duel of arms 🤓” ➥ user16: “a battle of fisticuffs, more likely it seems 🤓🤓🤓”

user20: oh my days— she’s beautiful 😦

➥ maxverstappen1: she’s the prettiest woman i’ve ever set my eyes on 😊 ➥ user21: don’t worry max, we believe you! ➥ user22: you truly are blessed to be dating her.

danielricciardo: boys what are you’re wagers? max yaps more/less about his gf to us now that they’re public?

➥ landonorris: more +£500 ➥ lewishamilton: more +£1000 ➥ logansargeant: more +(i’ll match lewis in american) ➥ schecoperez: have faith in max! ➥ schecoperez: +5 grand take it or leave it.

user23: she’s majestic! in that first photo, she’s giving padme from star wars 🤩 beautiful!!!!

➥ yninsta: tysm ☺️ this might be the best compliment i’ve ever received !!!

instagram • ynspamacct

liked by maxverstappen, lilymhe, charlesleclerc and 893,430 others

ynspamacct i won't unprivate my main, but here's the bf max content i know you all want :)

tagged: maxverstappen1

view comments

user24: max said: princess treatment only 👏🏻

➥ maxverstappen1: ***queen treatment 👸🏽 ➥ user25: oh. the simp allegations are true. ➥ maxverstappen1: you doubted how much i love my gf? crazy. ➥ user25: i won't do it again, i promise.

logansargeant: why do you wear heels if you know they’re going to make your feet hurt?

➥ maxverstappen1: bc she’s knows i’m going to hold them for her and carry her home 😌 ➥ ynspamacct: bc i feel tall 🥺 and max doesn’t mind carrying me home !!! ➥ ynspamacct: oops ☺️ we must’ve replied at the same time hahaaa user26: i’m going to slam my head into the nearest wall, viciously. ➥ ynspamacct: don’t do that! life is worth living i promise 😰

user26: first photo made my tummy flip for some reason 🫦🥴🤤

➥ ynspamacct: you should see a doctor! that doesn’t sound healthy :) ➥ user27: u better stop thirsting over her man like that 😳

lilymhe: boundaries 🧘🏻‍♀️💆🏻‍♀️

ynspamacct: exactly 😌

user27: breakfast in bed…what did he want from you 🤔

➥ ynspamacct: …nothing? or, just quality time i guess! he’s sweet like that 🥰 user27: ,,,i didn’t know that was an option. ➥ ynspamacct: being treated like a queen comes with accepting that’s how you deserve to be treated, and that it’s the *only* way you’re going to be treated 😚 ➥ user28: SPEAK ON IT MY GOOD SIS 😫

user29: this relationship is dear to me 😪

user30: m-men aren’t shit? who knew that was possible.

➥ user31: i thought all we had was tom holland 💀 ➥ maxverstappen1: i’m honored to be added to the roster ➥ user32: i cannot take this man seriously now. ➥ user33: why bc he loves his gf and you can’t even seem to find the way to a shower or a therapy session 😀 ➥ user34: WOAH VIOLATION

yninsta: max, maxie-max, maxie !!!

➥ maxverstappen1: i love you most, schatje 💛🔒 ➥ yninsta: aw you beat me to it 😞 ➥ yninsta: i love you foreverrrr #1 💙🔒 ➥ user35: oh i’m gonna cry :)

© httpsserene 2024 - most photos from pinterest and edited by me. fc is shahdbatal.

[reiderwriter]

📃 Desk Duty 📃

Unit Chief Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: After taking a bullet on a case, Spencer orders you to desk duty. After two months of pushing papers and his pushing you away for fear of hurting you, you've had enough.

Warnings: Established BDSM scenario, public sex, masturbation (female and male), mentions of sex toys, breaking and entering, multiple orgasms, squirting, shoe riding, slapping (ass, face, pussy), wet/dirty/messy sex, deep-throaring, face fucking, exhibitionism, risky sex, creampie, sloppy sex, pet play (puppy), Hard Dom Spencer, bratty sub reader, degradation (slut, whore, bitch used). Confessions of love at the end because I'm not a monster.

A/N: Hello, it's me, painfully single, back with another in a series of fics that I think will haunt my (wet) dreams for eternity. Thank you to @lightvixxen for requesting shoe riding all those moons ago, I am so glad we share in the same brand of brain rot. Enjoy~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

The first time you were shot, you were surprised it hurt so much. Of course, you knew it was going to hurt. You knew you'd eventually be shot. 

But the graze to your arm stung like a bitch, and had you whimpering on the floor of a warehouse like a small child who'd fallen off their bike for the first time. 

You'd picked yourself back up, and, luckily, the shot had avoided doing any serious damage, but you were relegated to desk duty for two months after. Just until you could prove you weren't traumatised, and there wasn't any permanent damage to your arm.

Two months of staying home while your boss gallivanted around the country, happily diving in front of bullets and jumping on bombs. Two months of staying home waiting for him to come back and rail you. 

You'd been sleeping with Spencer Reid practically since he'd become the Unit Chief, and with the announcement that there were only a few more weeks left until Emily Prentiss came back from her special task force, you were really losing time alone in the office you'd been enjoying the pleasures of one another in. 

Of course, there would still be motel rooms for you later, but soon he wouldn't have the keys to your room, making your secret trysts slightly riskier. You weren't sure you wanted everyone in the office to know just what it was the two of you were getting up to in your spare time. 

So, with your last two months of freedom relegated to desk duty, you sulked. 

Spencer was clear that he was leaving you behind so you could recuperate, but you didn't exactly expect him to go cold turkey. 

You'd been apart before, having been sent on separate inmate interviews, and you'd made do with a poorly connected video call, a dildo and your hands, getting all the inspiration you needed watching him pump his cock in his fist.  

But somehow, your injury had made him borderline chaste, and he refused to even touch you while you were still in - his words, not yours - recovery. 

It had been a month since he'd fucked you. Hell, it had been a month since you'd even seen his cock. A month since you'd had any kind of orgasm, first because your dominant hand had been out of action, and then because you'd felt so frustrated without him, you couldn't bring yourself to do it alone. 

He messaged you daily, called practically once every eight hours, and made sure you were eating and sleeping even from halfway across the country. 

But he didn't make any mention of your growing frustration, even as you tried your best to tempt him into sin. 

A month into purgatory, you'd started hinting at your own needs. Your teammates had taken a case in Atlanta, and you'd stuck behind a days drive away and heard absolutely nothing. 

You'd called, and Luke had picked up, making his presence known before you could royally screw up and beg for something to fuck. 

“H-Hi, Luke. I was just wondering how the case was going. Is there anything I can help with from the office?” You asked, stammering on the phone as you pulled your hand out from between your thighs. 

“You want to help? At 11pm at night?”

“Sure do! You know me… go-getter?” You stuttered the words, not even believing them yourself, biting your lip in anxiety and hoping that Luke would just think you were going stir crazy. 

“I'll hand you to Reid, he's been talking about some case files you might be able to help with.” 

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

You heard the phone switch hands, and then you heard movement until the line went quieter, and Spencer's voice popped into your ear. 

“Y/N?” 

“I miss you,” you sighed before you could say anything else, fingers sliding between your thighs before you could think to stop yourself. 

“I miss you, too,” he whispered hesitantly, but you heard the smile in his voice as he answered. 

“You're working so late tonight, I'd hoped…” you trailed off, feeling your skin heat as your free hands lipped into your underwear and you touched yourself for real this time. 

“We think he's working under the same MO as the Night Stalker, like a copycat, so we're keeping to late hours. What's that sound?” 

“Nothing,” you said, giving your lie away almost immediately with a moan. 

“Are you… Y/N, are you touching yourself?” He asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I told you I missed you. It's been a month since you've touched me, someone has to do it-” 

“Stop it.” 

His words were blunt, and there was no hint of excitement in them, no telling if he was saying this so he could play a part in your unravelling. 

“What?” 

“Stop touching yourself. Y/N, you are not allowed to touch yourself.” 

“Not-? Spencer, what the fuck!” You exploded, sitting up from your comfortable position on the bed, set alight in indignance. 

“I'm the only one that gets to touch you like that, you're not allowed to cum unless I'm there,” he ground out, and just as you heard the smile in his voice earlier, you heard the frustration and arousal now. 

“Well, Spencer, if you'd have brought me along on this case instead of leaving me here, maybe you'd get a say in who gets to make me cum.” 

“Y/N, you're injured, and you haven't been cleared to fly. A doctor needs to-”

“You're a doctor. Technically. You could sign off on me. You could've had me right there in your bed tonight, but no.” 

He scoffed down the line, and you saw his face flash so vividly in your head that it pissed you off. He was hotter when he was angry. 

“Nice try. I tried that myself once, but it doesn't work. Now go to sleep and get some rest.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but he hung up. His words lit a fire in the pit of your stomach, and you threw the phone down in frustration. 

He wasn't listening again, and you were sick of it, and you we're sick of pushing paper at a cubical when you should've been out in the field doing your actual job. You were sick of being celibate and at home alone, when you should've been in a dark corner somewhere letting your boss use your body, letting him pin you to the wall and work out his frustrations.  

You should've had your lips wrapped around his cock, you should've had his hands buried in your cunt, slapping your ass, his teeth teasing your nipples, something. 

Instead, you had your phone camera and a bed, and a personal vendetta against the word 'no' coming from Spencer Reid's mouth. If he wanted you to stop touching yourself, he'd better get his ass home and make you. 

Shedding your clothes, you set up your camera and began your week long crusade. 

The first video received a response in the form of a call you let go straight to voice mail as you recorded the second one. 

He didn't call again after that, but you knew he watched each and every video you sent. 

You knew he watched the video of you fucking yourself on a wall mounted dildo in the shower. You wondered if he let him imagine it was him, taking his cock in hand in the morning as he washed and prepared himself for the day. 

You knew he watched the video of you playing with your boobs alone in the elevator at work after hours. You wondered if he was still working late when he saw that one, or if, like last time, maybe Luke had grabbed his phone first and seen it before him. . 

You knew he watched the video you shot in his apartment. It wasn't that hard to get into, knowing exactly where the spare key was hidden and letting yourself in comfortably. You let yourself dress in one of his shirts and set the camera up, pushing a bullet vibe inside yourself, and turning on the camera, playing with the hem of the shirt and the sheets below until you finally flashed the camera and him the sight of your wet cunt. 

You filmed a few videos there, fingering yourself, spreading yourself so he could see just how far you'd opened yourself up for him, sinking down on to progressively bigger silicone cocks and mumbling his name over and over again. 

You knew he watched every video, even though you'd sent ten over the space of an evening. You knew he was likely somewhere stroking his large, hot cock, wishing he was buried deep in you, but too stubborn to let you know that now. 

The day after the case ended, you knew that his return meant punishment, but you couldn't stop yourself. 

An hour before the teams expected arrival time, you excused yourself to Spencer's office. The first time he'd fucked you had been in there. He'd pushed you over his lap and slapped some sense into you, spanking you until you were a drippy mess waiting for his cock to enter you sharp and fast. 

You'd since sucked his cock under the desk more times than you could count, and the view from the window was more than familiar to you as you enjoyed being pushed up against it as he took you from behind, the both of you revelling in the fact that anyone could see you defiling the building together. 

With half an hour to spare before he returned and ended your fun and games, you mounted the arm of his couch and began rubbing yourself against it. You rocked your hips slowly back and forth against it - as horny as you were, it was still embarrassing to be so horny you'd resulted to humping pieces of furniture to meet your needs. 

You'd thought about getting drunk and finding a random dick to take home with you, but it didn't interest you half so much as fucking with Spencer Reid did. You'd never had the talk about exclusivity, but you knew just as well as he did that you were locked in. He was your boyfriend, whether he realised it or not.

And now, you simply needed his cock so badly, nothing else would do. The closest you could get was a piece of furniture he'd fucked you on before. 

You slipped your panties off quickly as your timer sounded a ten minute warning, knowing his plane would be landing any second now. You'd factored in the walk from the jet to the office, praying to the gods above that he took the initiative to get ahead on paperwork instead of going straight home. 

You rocked back and forth on the arm of the couch until his door opened narrowly and he let himself in, just as your clit rubbed the corner of the couch and you moaned out gloriously. 

“Y/N,” he hissed as he slammed the door shut. You didn't stop even as he crossed the room and grabbed your hips, instead lunging for his lips and meeting them with your own. 

Your tongue clashed with him for the first time in a lifetime, and you whimpered at how good he still felt pressed up against you. His chest was a solid shield, and your puffy nipples pushed up against it, rubbing deliciously with each grind. His hands were large, his fingers long as they clawed themselves around your hips and drew you up.

“You just can't follow orders, can you?” He asked between kisses, between breaths where you weren't sure if he'd slap you or shove his fingers down your throat. “I should fire you,” he whispered as he reluctantly pulled away. 

“But Spencer,” you said, gasping jokingly as you pawed at the front of his pants. “Who would you fuck on cases then? Who would be your controversially young fuck doll?” 

You meant it to be a joke, but the slap he delivered to your ass made you think twice as you clapped a hand over your mouth. 

His hands roughly pulled you into him again, and you were unable to rise up enough again before he hit you again. You jilted forwards with a little moan and just gave in to the sensation, pressing your face into the pillows as your hips rose. 

“You're acting like such a desperate little slut, I don't think you deserve to even lick my cock. Fuck, I don't even think you deserve to lick my shoe,” his words cut deep as you realised how angry he was, his fingers tangling in your hair he yanked you upwards. 

“Wait, please - Spencer, please, I need-” 

“Need what? You need to suck cock? You need to put yourself on display in a public place? Need everyone around you to know just what it is we do when we're alone?” With each question, he worked on bruising your ass cheeks harder, until he finally pushed you to the floor, and you sank down, automatically spreading your legs for him. 

“Pathetic. You don't deserve this cock, baby.” 

“No!” You cried out, not willing to accept that outcome at all as you panicked. “I'll do anything, please, Spencer, I'll do anything!” 

You whimpered and cried out in real frustration and fear, knowing that he absolutely would kick you out if you didn't act fast. Spencer may have been fine with you taking control some days, but this obviously wasn't one of them. You sat yourself on your knees and clasped your hands together, attempting to seem half the serious devotee and half the irresistible vixen whose chest was accentuated by the movement.

“Okay. Show me just how much of a desperate slut you are,” he said, lifting his foot from the ground and nudging it between your thighs. 

Reluctantly, you widened your stance, spreading apart just enough for him to notch his shoe against your clothed pussy. 

“Ride my shoe, Y/N. You're such a good little boot-licker. It shouldn't be a problem, right?” As if to answer your own question for you, he bobbed his knee gently, and your clit ground into the edge of his shoelaces, causing a sharp, fast burst of pleasure to spark through you. 

You still were too shocked to answer, but he smoothed your hair from your eyes as he continued to bounce his foot, and you left all of your concerns behind, slowly grinding down. 

“What a dirty little slut, I didn't think you'd actually do it.”

Wrapping your arms around his leg, you pressed your hips up and down hesitantly, looking into his eyes as your mouth dropped open in a silent moan. 

“That's it, good girl,” he said, letting his leg go still as you did all the work, shaking your hips back and forth on his shoe as you gave him pleading looks, unable to form words for the overwhelming shame and embarrassment.  

“You look like a puppy,” he blurted out, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling it back, hard, exposing your throat to him as he watched you with curious eyes. “Like one of those puppies who gets so excited to see you, she starts humping you. So fucking horny and desperate. You wouldn't even care who was in the room with us, right now, would you? You'd just keep going until yiu came.” 

You gasped as he slapped your face, tongue falling out of your mouth as he inspected his little play puppy. He smiled, as if happy with your reactions, and leant back on the sofa, releasing your hair from his grip as you continued to struggle in vain toward your orgasm. 

It was another two or three seconds before you realised he was pulling his hard cock from his pants, and another moment or two before he slid his hands back into your hair and guided your dumb, stupid, wet mouth over the top of his cock quickly. 

You let him move your head just how he liked, let him push you down almost farther than you thought you could go. You ground your bare clit down into his shoe as you deepened your breaths, relaxing your body as you took inch after inch of his cock down your throat. 

His hands were wound so tight in your hair that there wasn't space to move. You gagged, once and twice, but he held you in place still, enjoying the spit that spluttered around the base of his cock, the spasms of your contracting throat against the tip and length of his cock. You breathed deeply, ignoring the feeling of his pubic hair tickling your nose, scratching your cheek as you flattened out your tongue under his cock. You wished he would move, wished he would give you the space you needed to cum faster. 

The desperation of the last few months built up and built up, and you knew that you were close to cumming, your hips rocking out of tempo now, crashing into his foot wildly, ass shaking as you felt his shoelaces rubbing uncomfortably against your thighs. 

“God, what a pathetic little bitch, are you going to cum? Cum on my shoe, whore, show me how fucking desperate you are.” 

You felt the exact moment your body convulsed against him, you knew the exact movement that made you cum, because you felt the flood of moisture pool underneath you as you squirted all over his floor. You made a note of reminding him to replace the rug before Emily returned. 

Your whole body shook as you sat in the pool of your own cum, but he refused to let you pull away. 

“Has my little puppy made a mess? What a shame. You can't stop yet, though.” 

His grip on your face somehow became stronger, though not unpleasant, as he pulled your head up the length of his cock. You spluttered slightly, feeling the tension slip out of you as he emptied your throat. You didn't have more than a second to react before he quickly snapped your head back down over his cock, down to the base of his dick. 

“Keep up, Y/N, this is what you wanted, remember.” 

You choked on his cock, and he smiled down at you, taking your gags for nods as he proceeded to fuck your throat, deep and hard. 

“So wet and warm for me, like a perfect little pet,” he said, hips already lifting off the couch as he tried to sink deeper into you. 

You knew from experience that he'd soon grow tired of the limits of your mouth. He liked to hear you. He liked to see you drooling rather than feel it on his skin. As much as he could force his cock down your throat - and you deeply enjoyed when he did - he could get deeper if he sank into your pussy and you both knew it. 

This part was just to lube his cock up, nice and wet, until he could take you nice and quick without having to touch your pussy. He needed you nice and wet and ready for him, especially on days like today where you'd been nothing but a cock tease in need of a harsh fucking. You deserved nothing more.

As predicted, he pulled your head off his cock after a few seconds and hauled you to your feet. You tried to climb onto him, to grip his cock in your hand and just sink down where you belonged, but he stood, too, lifting you up with him. 

“Window,” he said, and you knew he must be close if he was ordering you around one word at a time. You nodded, but he kept his hands on you, moving you to the window quickly. 

You knew he'd bend you over, take you against the outdoor window, whispering in your ear that anyone outside could see you if they just looked up. Instead, this time, he moved you to the opposite side of the office. The window he pressed you against was the one overlooking your desks, the one where, should he happen to open the blinds, every member of your team would be able to look up and watch you take his dick. 

“Everyone left,” he whispered quickly as he shifted the blinds up an inch so you could see. 

You breathed a sigh of relief noting that it was as empty as he claimed, but it didn't last long as he gently pressed his cock into your cunt, finally filling you how you'd needed to be filled for the last 60 days. 

“Fuck, t-thank you, sir!” 

All thoughts about the office below faded as he lifted your leg in his hand and let it rest on the edge of the window, pushing your face against the cold glass. Your office may have been empty, but that wasn't to say that there wasn't someone working late in the other departments, a janitor happening to pass through. 

You knew, but you didn't care as you begged him to fill you up more and more. 

“Just like that, just like that, yes!!! Fuck yes, Spencer I missed this, I missed you. Missed you so much,” you moaned as your hands slipped down the glass, already fogged with condensation, your hot breath hitting the cold glass. 

“Needed this? You've been fucking yourself nightly for the last week. You didn't need this like I needed this,” he moaned, biting into your neck with a sharp kiss as you moaned loudly for him.

“Two m-months. You haven't fucked me for two months, what else was I supposed to do?” 

He groaned in your ear again, reaching a hand around you and slapping your clit as he formulated an answer. 

“Rest, you were supposed to rest,” he said, thrusts speeding up as your cunt gripped him tighter and tighter the closer you got to your second orgasm. 

He groaned and pressed your face into the glass, holding you there and screwing his eyes shut as you both chased release. 

“I didn't want to rest, I w-wanted to be by your side.” 

His head rested against your shoulder as he felt the last waves of pleasure race towards him. His hand pushed down to your clit and rubbed you, sending you right over the edge with him as he filled you with his cum. 

Neither of you could stay upright, collapsing down to the floor in a heap. Usually when he came inside you, he waited a few moments to pull out so he didn't make so much mess when he did. But in his exhaustion, in your shared bliss of finally reaching that precipice after so long, he slipped out early, as cum was still shooting from him. 

You heaped together on the floor, chests heaving as you lay on top of him, your peace only broken by a single thought. 

“We..-’ you gasped, breathing unsteady. “We need to deep clean this office before Emily comes back.” 

He looked down at you, a look so serious and shocked you wondered if he was angry. And then he laughed. Short and soft, he giggled, and you couldn't help but join in, wrapping your arms around your stomach as it began to hurt, chest heaving from the pain of all your joy. 

He sat up and gave you a hand up as well as you surveyed the damage. 

“The rug has to go,” you said, feeling hot and embarrassed as you noticed the new wet stain on the near offensive fluffy thing. 

“We should probably get some new throw pillows, too,” he remarked, and you nodded with a grimace. You made to stand up, but your legs felt weak, and you wobbled, but he was there to catch you, as he stood. 

"Maybe just a new couch," you muttered, flushed with heat as you remembered how you'd humped the arm rest not even twenty minutes ago.

He closed the blinds before moving back to the couch and sitting you down on his lap once again, such a familiar place for you to be these days.

“You….” He started, worrying g his bottom lip with his teeth. “You really missed me?” 

You startled, taken aback by the question. You thought the videos had made it clear, let alone the last half hour of intimacy. 

“I… Yes, Spencer. I missed you a lot. I always miss you.” 

“You… you do?” 

You nodded again and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. 

“Y/N, when I am no longer your boss, in approximately a weeks time, would you possibly consider being my girlfriend?” 

For the second time in the last two minutes, the man had you floored. And perhaps a little bit angry.

“I'm not… I'm not your girlfriend now?” 

“Hmm? Oh, I-” 

“Because I already told my friends about you, and I was definitely saying the word boyfriend, but if that's not what this is, I can correc-” 

You saw the panicked look in his eye as he pulled you in for one last kiss. 

“That's what this is!” he said frantically, cutting you off when you opened your mouth with another kiss. “I thought you wouldn't think that this was- no!” He kissed you again as you tried again to speak. 

“Listen to me! I'm o-older than you, I thought I had to ask still. Do people not ask anymore?” He kissed you before you could answer. 

“Rhetorical question.”

“I love yo-” you attempted to confess, but his lips covered yours swiftly, even as his eyes opened wide when he pulled away. 

“Wait, no, say that again,” he begged, eyes weak and shiny and absolutely endearingly pathetic. 

You shook your head and sealed your lips, miming, zipping them shut and throwing away the key. 

“Y/N! Tell me again, tell me you love me again,” he said, kissing each of your cheeks. You poked his chest hard, and he kissed you once more. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, and kissed you again, trying to draw from your lips the words he had cut off earlier, losing himself in the pleasure of the moment as you sat together in the dark office, totally enamoured with one another. 

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (4)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan wants to clear things up about the night out and his mystery companion, and the reader gets another surprise in LA. Will the two finally have their first date or will something get in the way once more?

Ewan's publicist Donna has never had any issue with her client before. Always present and accounted for, on time for whatever interview, photoshoot or audition he has booked for the day.

But she hasn't been able to get a hold of him in the past two days, which is worrying her to no end, because he is set to meet with a major casting director in New York some time in the coming week.

Donna may have a clue as to why. It's only been two days as well since the pub incident, when The Sun ran a story speculating on Ewan's lovelife - the exact kind of thing he's always been trying to avoid.

It had taken a life of its own, with fans taking it upon themselves to track down every clue of the girl on the internet. Her instagram. Her relation to the cast - apparently she is a cousin of Luke and Elliott. Even the marketing agency where she works. Louise, a 26-year old graphic designer, admittedly harbours a crush on Ewan, and when she heard that her cousins were hanging out with him at a pub nearby, she almost immediately invited herself and her friends over.

But that's all, according to Ewan. After talking to Luke, memories of the night came rushing back to him.

Stumbling out in the alley to send you that voice message. Rejoining the boys to see that they've got new company. Being introduced to Louise, with Tom joking that he should be careful with the missus. Wouldn't want her - you - to think that he's flirting with anyone else.

Even though that's exactly what happened. Not the flirting, per se. Not from Ewan's side, at least. Louise had been brazen with admiration, barely leaving his side the rest of the night. Asking him a bunch of probing questions he had neither the interest nor the patience to answer.

They had all thought the pub was safe from prying eyes. No one approached them for anything, not even a single look of recognition followed by the question, “Are you that guy from House of the Dragon?” Unfortunately, it only takes one rat for a headline to surface. Ewan Mitchell’s mystery girl has been the talk of the fandom and Donna has been trying hard to quell the rumours. 

Such is the nasty nature of the business, as she knows Ewan has quickly learned.

She dials him again, and to her surprise, the call actually patches through.

Her client's throaty voice is heard on the other line, "Hey, Donna, sorry if I've missed your calls."

"It's alright, it's alright, Ewan," Donna stammers. "Just glad to hear from you. Where are you? I've managed to do some damage control about those rumours and - "

"Oh, I'm in LA. I just landed about an hour ago," Ewan responds casually, not mirroring the stress in Donna's tone. Has he gotten over the fuss so easily?

"LA? You know your meeting is not till next week, right? And it's in New York. It's very, very important that you don't miss it, Ewan."

"And I won't," Ewan affirms, laughing dryly to console his worried publicist. "I just need to see about something over here."

Someone, he thinks. He's got his priorities straight.

"Work-related?" Donna asks, curious.

"Uhhhm," Ewan dithers, but decides against telling her about you. Not just yet. "Just visiting a friend. I'll stay here for a while then fly out to New York, don't worry."

"Okay, just keep in touch, alright? I'll send more details about the meeting soon."

"Sure thing. Thank you, Donna."

"Talk soon, Ewan. Take care of yourself."

Donna feels a huge sense of relief wash over her when the call ends, knowing the whereabouts of one of her biggest clients. But why LA? Perhaps Ewan just needed some time off after the flurry of annoying headlines put out in the UK.

Or maybe he's visiting with a friend? Who is stateside right now? Fabien's filming in Philly. The rest of the boys are still in England. But then...

Her thoughts land on the one thing - the one person - that would make him fly out on such short notice. Without giving thought to anything else, especially after the speculation on his romantic life.

Ewan's never been one to share about personal affairs, not even to his close-knit team, but no matter how reclusive he is, no one can deny the way he looks at you. The way he lights up when you're brought up in conversation. The number of times he had excused himself from their meetings to make a call, standing in the corner with a permanent smile etched on his face.

Oh, Donna knows now just who he is in LA for.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Like inevitable spectres haunting someone of his profession, Ewan noticed the papparazzi snapping away as he arrived in LA.

He told no one he would be coming, so it must be an automatic thing in the city. The photogs are always scurrying in the periphery, ready to catch anyone of note, no matter the degree of fame or notoriety.

If you were keeping up with such news, you would know he is in the city.

But according to your assistant Clara, who was kind enough to inform him of your schedule, you are still finishing up on another day of rehearsals for your upcoming rom-com. Ewan checked in the same hotel as you, planning to seek you out as soon as you arrive back from work.

He hasn't spoken to you since the voicemail, and since those false news broke out. Not that he can blame you - wouldn't anyone be suspicious of a drunken confession made by a guy who was allegedly in the company of another girl?

He hates it, being subject to all of this. This nonsense that is keeping you from him, not even worth any consequence.

But he will deal with the blows. As long as he sets things right with you. As long he gets you in the end.

He settles in his suite, getting ready to meet with you once more. He showers, shaves, tousles his hair. He even checks whether he smells decent after all of that - once, twice, and another time. Being nervous to stand in front of a crowd is one thing; it's a whole other conundrum for him finally see you again.

Maybe the crowds are more manageable, and it baffles him to realise so. He can put on a persona, be the actor, and disappear inside himself as the cameras flash bright enough for him to disassociate.

But not with you. He wants to show you everything that he is, who he truly is, and it scares him. There is no team to help him get ready now. It's all him, just Ewan.

Clad in his trusty black jeans and a comfortable hoodie of the same dark colour, he looks in the mirror one last time after receiving a text from Clara that you've arrived at the hotel about half an hour ago.

He contemplates opening the bottle of bourbon from the minibar and taking a shot of liquid courage - something to help him get his explanation ready. Just so he wouldn't stammer in front of you.

Just so you he can make you see, without any error or trace of doubt, that he meant every word in that voicemail, no matter how embarrassing it might have sounded.

He decides against it, imagining the wrinkling of your nose as you catch a whiff of the alcohol. It's cute when you do it, and he adores it so dearly, but he knows that it isn't the right moment.

He rights himself, rolls his shoulders, and he's out the door.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Jacob trails you inside your hotel suite, laughing at some shared remark about the scenes you rehearsed for the day.

They were emotionally demanding and even after tossing around ideas for hours, the two of you were unable to achieve a satisfying approach to the scenes.

Which is why he had proposed practicing well into the evening, and you found yourselves heading back to your suite together. He has his own house in LA, but your hotel just happened to be closer to the rehearsal studio.

"Care for a drink?" you asked him.

"Why the hell not?" he immediately assents in that easy, Aussie drawl. "We might need it for this shite."

You laugh in agreement, "Indeed. I've got some canned gin and tonics if that's alright.. or beer... or whiskey... " you trail off as you study the contents of your fridge.

"G and t, please, mate," he settles down on the couch, legs stretching in front of him. "We were so unproductive today. I just could not get that line right."

"Tell me about it." You hand him his drink, and he clinks it with yours with a mumbled cheers. "It was me who can't land the right tone," you say. "I mean, is my character supposed to be confused in that moment? Or angry? Or sad?"

"Or all of 'em." he shrugs. "Tricky, isn't it?"

You hurriedly fetch your script from a table, getting right down to it. "So for the first scene in the third act..."

Moments later, with cans of gin and tonic discarded on the coffee table, you and Jacob sit with legs crossed on the couch facing each other. Scripts in hand, you go through the lines over and over, with only seemingly minor tweaks each time. To an actor though, even just the slightest change of pitch or expression makes all the difference.

"Is that better? I think we almost got it," you say after a read-through.

"Yeah, so much better," he grins, holding his hand up for a high-five. Just as your hands smack in the air, another sound echoes faintly from the door.

"Someone's knocking?" Jacob asks. "You expecting anybody? Room service or anything?"

"No," you shake your head, trying to think of whether your assistant or publicist said anything about dropping by. "Maybe it's just housekeeping?"

"I'll get it," Jacob states, already padding his way to the door.

A beat later, you hear Jacob loudly exclaim, "Ewan, mate! It's good to see you!"

Ewan? A shiver runs up your spine. Craning your neck to get a view of a doorway, you catch sight of him, half-obscured by Jacob's tall frame.

Confused, surprised, and feeling some other emotion you can't pinpoint, you head over to greet him.

"How are you doing?" Jacob greets, shaking Ewan's hand, oblivious to the poorly hidden distaste in his eyes.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Ewan finds himself asking Jacob, a bit rudely, just as you ask him the same.

"What are you doing here?" you mirror his question at the exact same time.

"Oh!" Jacob breathes out a laugh, "Well, I'll go first. We were just practicing lines."

"In her room? Isn't it a bit late for rehearsal? I thought you're supposed to be off work." Ewan asks, and it sounds like an accusation. He starts to feel all kinds of uneasy - were the twins right about life imitating art?

You narrow your eyes at him. "We decided to continue running lines after rehearsal. There's a scene we can't get right. It's quite tricky - "

"Just the two of you? Alone, here?" Ewan tilts his head, gesturing towards the room like it's some forbidden place.

Jacob shakes his head, smile steady on his lips. If he's caught on to how Ewan must be feeling, he doesn't let it affect him. He gives you a look, as if to check your reaction, and you give him a reassuring shrug.

Ewan does not overlook this exchange. He clenches his jaw, irate from the assumptions popping up in his mind. Before he forgets his manners, he says, "Excuse me, I just... wasn't expecting... I just wanted to speak to you."

"I didn't even know you were in LA," you say, before moving aside to usher him in. "But I'm glad you are, of course. Come join us - "

He nods, making his way to the seating area, where he spies the discarded cans of alcohol and dog-eared scripts. Maybe he should have taken that bloody shot after all.

He laughs joylessly to himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you guys. I just flew in today, and I must have been exhausted from the flight."

"Hey, no worries, mate," Jacob says. "You know what, I'll be on my way. Give you time to catch up and all." He picks up his own tattered script then gives you a kiss on the cheek, bidding you with a, "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, sweetheart."

If looks could kill, and if his dear mother hadn't raised him right, he would have incinerated Jacob in that moment.

He is snapped out of his thoughts when Jacob claps him on the shoulder, "Great to see you again, mate. Have a good night, eh?"

Ewan knows he's being ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with two friends and co-stars spending some time alone to rehearse. Besides, last he heard, you were adamant that you and Jacob are just friends.

So why is he being so irrational? Why does the idea of you spending more time than necessary with Jacob, possibly falling for him, bother him so much?

Ewan realises that this is what jealousy must feel like.

He's had career envy before. Another actor landing a role he vied for. Someone else getting the praise he deserves.

But nothing like this. It's petty and possessive.

He wants you to just be his.

You stand in front of him once more after you walk Jacob out of the suite.

"Hey," you say, smiling weakly.

"Hi, darling."

Both of you want to do more. Say more. Usually you would greet each other with a hug and a kiss on a cheek, his hands lingering on your forearms even after you pull away, but the air is thick with tension.

You look at him with those bright, expecting eyes of yours, and Ewan just wants to cave in and make a sloppy confession. But not after that voicemail, no. He's determined to do this right. Words not slurred, head clear.

"So I got your voicemail," you finally say, smiling coyly. "That was... something."

"Hmm," he can't help but mirror your smile, as always. "It was, wasn't it?"

"I understand," you continue, taking a step closer, "if you were drunk. We all say things when we're off it that we maybe don't mean - "

"But darling, I meant every word," he says, way too quickly.

You laugh, the sound of it erasing whatever apprehension remained in him. "Do you even remember what you said?"

"I do," he counters, moving even closer to you. Another step and he'd be able to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. "At least, some of - no - most of it."

"Oh yeah?" you ask cheekily, aided by the effect of gin. He still has your heart racing, but a part of you now knows that the feeling is mutual. "What did you say again?"

He sees that glint in your eye, and it causes him to smirk. "Why don't I make it simple for you, darling?" He closes the distance, one hand brushing the hair from your face.

"Okay," you swallow, getting lost in his blues.

"I missed you." He kisses your cheek. "I like you. A lot." He kisses the other. "And I, uh, I would like to take you on a date."

His eyes meet yours. His voice is steady, but you notice some nervousness in his gaze. How the tables have turned. You make Ewan Mitchell's heart go awry.

"Please, darling?" he timidly adds, the sentiment so sweet you want to blurt out yes immediately. Before you can, he's already leaned back, an explanation rushing out of his lips, "And... I'm not sure but you must have seen those headlines? They're not true, I swear. We were out drinking and - "

"I know, Ewan." You cut him off with a hand pressed gently on his chest but he keeps going.

" - some other people joined us. One of them being - "

"Luke and Elliott's cousin. I know. Elliott called and told me everything."

"Oh. He called you?" A huge sense of relief washes over him, better than any comfort he might have found in a shot or three of bourbon.

"Mhmm, he called me yesterday. So, you know, you didn't really have to fly out. I was about to call you eventually."

He smiles bashfully, eyes cast down as a blush spreads across his cheeks. Damn it, Elliott, you brilliant lad. He reminds himself to treat Elliott to a pint the next time he sees him.

"I still wanted to see you," Ewan maintains, pressing a kiss to your forehead and you're immediately enveloped by the familiar comfort of his scent. Surprisingly without the staple hint of cigarette smoke, due to his frantic scrubbing after the flight.

"I'm happy you're here," you say, wrapping your arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest. "And no offence to Louise or anything, but she needs to learn some boundaries with my - "

Ewan looks down at you fondly, squeezing your arms to prompt your next words, "Yeah, darling? Your what?"

"My - " you attempt to bury your face in his hoodie, but he keeps your gaze with a hand cupping your jaw. So you end up saving yourself with " - my Aemond."

"Hmm," he hums, lips curling, and it's so very Aemond of him it makes you feel warm all over. "Your Aemond.Your Ewan. I'm all yours, love."

The whole thing couldn't have gone any better, all things considered, and Ewan feels content to have gotten over his first brush with the rumour mill. What matters is right in front of him, and you know the truth.

"Are you staying in this hotel? How did you even know I was here?" You take his hand, guiding him over to the couch.

"Clara," is all Ewan says by way of explanation.

"Well, thank you, Clara," you declare. Ewan shuffles closer to you and rests his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your forehead again. The gesture is already becoming instinctive, providing the both of you with a sense of ease.

"Darling?"

"Yeah?" you respond absentmindedly, fingers toying with the soft fabric of his hoodie.

"Is that a yes?"

You exhale deeply. As if it wasn't clear enough already. "What do you think, handsome?"

"I don't know, angel. You tell me," he counters cheekily, his fingers playing with your hair as you playfully glare at him.

"What if I say no, baby?"

"Then I'll have to work hard to change your mind, princess."

"And how would you do that, honey?"

His gaze darkens, and something flashes across his blue eyes as he whispers intensely, "Use your imagination, bunny."

"Ri-right," you bite your lip, then shake your head to snap out of it. "We'll have to draw the line at bunny."

He laughs at your flustered state, pleased by the effect he has on you. "What's wrong with bunny?"

That elicits a groan out of you, but you smile anyway. "I already said yes, Ewan. Quit it with the bunny."

"Alright, beautiful," he relents, making you lean even closer against him.

The haze of gin after a long work day starts to subside and the rush of emotion is coming back to you. You find yourself gazing at Ewan in mild disbelief, in awe that he just confessed that he wants you.

Feeling antsy, you stand and pace around the room. You start tidying things, putting your scattered knick-knacks back in your handbag. If you sit with him any longer, you just might end up hurrying things through and jump his bones already, kiss him the next time he does that hmm.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask.

"No," he says smoothly. "I just need you." The words make you stop in your tracks. He still sits in the same position, looking at you with that undeniable desire in his eyes.

"Uhhhm," your mouth feels dry all of the sudden. Nothing his tongue past your lips can't fix, your intrusive thoughts barge right in. "So... the... the media rollout's still going on isn't it? Should we check and see?" You take your laptop and plop back down next to him. He doesn't miss a beat and cuddles against you once more, wrapping his arm around your tense frame.

"I think so, darling." The media rollout is how the interviews and promotional material filmed by the cast is being released gradually, on a weekly basis, after each new episode comes out.

A simple search on Youtube confirms it, and the first thing that popped up is the Where is The Lie? video you did for Elle.

It was slated for just Tom, Phia, and Ewan but your Blackwood character became such a fan-favourite that they asked you to join in. Not to mention the frenzy you and Ewan caused online with the initial interviews you did together.

"Shall we watch this?" Ewan offers, solely for the intent of seeing you in the video.

You click on it, and for the next 8 minutes or so, all you can take note of are the signs that had clearly already been there. The fans were on to something when they claimed that you and Ewan are a really good ship.

The video starts with a clip of Phia hitting her head on the overhead lamp when she stands, prompting her to uncontrollably giggle along with you and Tom. Ewan, being the exception, is beside himself with worry, and he appears to instinctively reach for your hand as you sit beside him.

"Huh," Ewan smiles, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Tom is the first to be put on the hot seat, and he slowly recites the three statements he prepared. "Ewan, pay attention," Tom blurts out when he notices that Ewan kept sneaking glances at you. "Sure, I'm locked in," Ewan says right back, as you and Phia share a look.

"What were you looking at?" you ask playfully, poking him in the side. "You seem plenty distracted there."

He snorts at himself in the video, when he ends up smiling as he caught your eye. "It was your fault. You were distracting me."

"I was not!" you exclaim. "I thought you were just being competitive then."

Phia is next to have a go. She tells you of a Wifi repellent necklace, a wrestling career, and saving a squirrel from a drainpipe. "The Wifi thing sounds like something Ewan would have," Tom jokes. "Oh sure," you concur, "except that he'd actually keep it so he can watch films." Ewan smiles at your acute observation.

"I'd also keep it to stalk your Instagram," Ewan mumbles from beside you. "And you know, just stalk you in general."

"I'm sure you do, Mitchell," you respond casually, but your face warms up anyhow.

It's Ewan's turn, and as he sits on the hot seat, you see Tom and Phia casting a look at each other then at the two of you, a secret message shared between them. "I bet she will know the answer right away," Phia says. "Yeah, how do we know the two of you didn't conspire together?" Tom asks. "Are you kidding me, you guys?" you laugh at them, thinking how silly they were being, not knowing then that they were definitely on to something.

"Darling, you have to know this," Ewan tells you specifically as you all try to guess the answer. "Oh, darling!" Tom mouths to Phia, dramatically flipping nonexistent long hair over his shoulder. Phia laughs at his antics, before nudging you and saying, "Which one is it? Which is the lie? I trust you." You respond, "Why me? You two should know this too!"

"Because I wasn't trying to date them, my love," Ewan says, smiling at the screen.

"Oh, come on now." You crane your neck up to press a soft kiss against his cheek before turning your attention back to the video. So you don't notice the switch in Ewan's breathing. The jumps in his heartbeart. The way he subtly clears his throat to deal with his flustered state.

The video comes to a close after your turn and even at the very end, Ewan can be seen admiring you as you give the closing remarks with Phia.

Admiring you, as he does in the moment.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he says, when you turn to look at him.

"Thank you," you reply softly, your voice barely audible.

Some time passes with the two of you catching up, talking about your upcoming projects, his big meeting in New York - all the while his fingers trace patterns on your exposed skin, his arm wrapped around you snugly.

"Have you been keeping up with the show?" he asks.

"The last episode I saw fully was... the second one? I got pretty busy after that. How about you?"

"Oh," he looks down in thought, piquing your curiosity, "so you didn't get to see the third episode yet then?"

"No, not yet," you shake your head, "but I've seen some stuff here and there."

He hums again and he wants to ask, have you seen his stuff? There are around a dozen or so potential jokes at play here. He has an inkling to tell you to watch the episode so you can see just what you're in for. So you can see him and all he has to offer. He'd also fumble through a justification, as he had done in some interview, about the new studio they had filmed in being cold as a fridge freezer.

What to say? What to say? He picks at some lint on his jeans, smirking to himself.

"Yeah," you eventually giggle at his obvious hesitation. "I've only seen some of the episode. But what I've seen... is enough to make me jealous of Madame Sylvie."

He stiffens, throat suddenly dry, but one look at your smile does away with his concerns.

He soon finds himself laughing, a muffled, "Oh, darling," whispered lovingly against your hair.

"That was very brave of you, Ewan," you express sincerely.

"Thank you, love."

"So... just how cold was it in there?"

Your shared, unrestrained laughter echo throughout the room.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Your first date was meant to happen the following night, but such is the nature of the job that Ewan's schedule gets moved up all of a sudden.

Once the bigshot casting director in New York found out that Ewan is already stateside, he requested that the meeting be held at the earliest possible opportunity.

He calls you while you are in rehearsals, profusely apologizing and promising to fly back to LA in the next two days, right after his meeting is all sorted.

"It's okay, Ewan," you reassure him, genuinely understanding. "I will see you when you come back. Good luck, I know you're going to smash it, whatever opportunity this is!"

"Thank you, darling," he says, already wanting to have you back in his arms already, mentally kicking himself for not kissing you when he had about a hundred chances to do so. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," you respond, blushing silly with the phone pressed to your ear. "But it'll only be two days."

"Hmm, doesn't matter. I need to take you on our bloody date, darling. I've already taken so damn long."

"Don't worry," you say, "I've already seen you way more than I should before the first date."

"Wha - " a protest forms on his lips, but he gets your point right away. "Oh. Clever, darling."

"I know."

"But I'm planning to give you something that's just for you. That the whole world won't ever be privy to."

You swallow hard, your very being heating up at his insinuation. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Mitchell."

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Bonus chapter!

Nocturnal file 🤫

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @luckyfirebasement @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff

The cast's Where is The Lie? video is an actual thing! I hope yous got the reference!

Notice how the two nerve-wrecked shites didn't have their first proper kiss yet??? Will they ever?? 😩😩😩

Taglist is officially closed for this one. Please bookmark this series or the masterlist (or follow my page) to keep up with updates <3

I can't even overstate how mad all the love for this series has been! I'm always looking forward to hearing from you guys - suggestions, comments, complaints are always welcome!

See you in part five! (preview: something will happen in NY that might cause Ewan to question things!)

[astrophileous]

A Well-Kept Secret

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.

Warning(s): established secret relationship, mentions and/or depictions of death/physical violence/gun violence/injury/attack, signs of trauma, survivor's guilt, curse words, hurt/comfort, nudity but it's not sexual, allusions to sexy times, mentions/implied alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5900-ish

Author's Note: hiya! I decided to write this lil piece after seeing the fic challenge posted by @imagining-in-the-margins abt the family/found family trope. I had a lotta fun writing this one and I think it's got potential to be something more. So pls comment or message me if you wanna see me exploring with this idea (either turning it into a series of connected one-shots or multi-parters). Don't forget to like/comment/reblog and give me a follow :) I hope you enjoy! 💞

Criminal Minds Masterlist

When Hotch had notified the team to haul their asses up and drove all the way to D.C., Spencer never expected that it would also entail him having to suffer through a mini heart attack.

The series of attacks around D.C. had been dominating the 6 PM news segments in the entire country. What was initially perceived as a suspected sequence of robberies gone wrong--since the first two targets to have been hit were a bank and a prestigious auction house--soon turned into a nationwide panic as people realized that there was a bigger game at play.

After the third attack was found to have occurred in the headquarters of one of the top, up-and-coming renewable energy startups in the states, the D.C. police finally started to entertain the idea that perhaps they hadn't been dealing with their usual petty robbers at all.

And naturally, that was when the BAU had been called in.

As soon as the team entered the Metropolitan PD bullpen, they were struck with the smell of panic and the sight of chaos.

"Agent Hotchner?" A middle-aged man in a gray shirt and blue tie appeared in front of them. "My name is Detective Mills, we spoke on the phone."

"Of course, Detective." Hotch shook the other man's hand. "This is my team. Agent Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. I have two others already at the latest crime scene. What can you tell us so far?"

"As you can see--" Detective Mills gestured towards the frenzied scene behind him, "--the entire D.C. area is going haywire after news broke out about yesterday's attack. The public is demanding the city to be put on lockdown, and I'm getting pressure from above as well. We received information that nearly half the city has called in sick today."

"A classic response to mass paranoia," Spencer noted.

"Well, paranoia or not, I just want to start getting some answers." Detective Mills began to lead the team further into the bullpen. "I have every pair of hands I could spare in this. If they aren't out there chasing leads, they're here interviewing the victims, friends, and families."

"Any luck so far?" Emily asked.

"Nothing more than what you've probably seen in the files."

Detective Mills pushed open the door to an office in the corner, away from the havoc in the center of the station.

"Lieutenant Jeffreys retired a couple of weeks ago. The lucky bastard." Detective Mills scoffed jokingly. "It's the most decent space I can spare at the moment. Think you'll be fine in here?"

"It's more than enough, Detective. Thank you," Hotch replied.

"What about the witnesses from yesterday's attack? Have you had the chance to interview them?" JJ asked as the rest of the team started setting up.

"Some of my men are with them right now. But I doubt they'll have anything useful. Just like the other two cases, the attack happened while most of the office was out. The rest left behind were DOA at the latest scene."

"They're rapidly devolving," Spencer pondered out loud as he skimmed over the case files. "They went from killing a non-compliant security guard during the first attack to executing almost every witness in the last one."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"

"It says here there is one survivor." Spencer showed the word he had underlined in the case overview to JJ.

"Yes, there is," Detective Mills confirmed. "I had one of my men talk to her. There's not much she could give us. Thing is, she wasn't even supposed to be there."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"She didn't work in that office. She was a consultant who just happened to be visiting. Poor girl's pretty shaken up. She hid in a supply closet the entire time. She was the one who found the bodies and called 911."

"So, the perpetrators never checked the rooms while they were holding the victims hostage?" Hotch questioned.

"Not according to her statement, no. See, I thought it weird myself. Do you have any idea why?"

"Not sure." Hotch hummed, deep in thought. "Perhaps our UnSubs didn't think to check because they didn't know someone was in there. Detective, you said all of the victims were the only employees of the company who didn't attend the event downtown, correct?"

"Yeah, they were the only ones who weren't listed as attendees. Why? Do you think those people were specifically targeted?"

"Unfortunately, we can't rule out anything yet this early in the investigation," Hotch said. "We need to talk to the witnesses to know more. JJ?"

"On it." JJ nodded. "What can you tell us about yesterday's sole survivor, Detective?"

"Not much. I didn't interview her personally, one of my men did. She works at a consulting engineering firm in town," Detective Mills replied. "I believe her name is... what is it called?"

When Detective Mills mentioned the name, Spencer's heart instantly crashed inside of its cage.

"What?" His hand had stopped scribbling on the board. In a matter of miliseconds, Spencer had crossed the room towards the doorway where Detective Mills was standing. "What did you say her name was?"

Dumbfounded, the detective stared at a dread-stricken Spencer before spelling out the name once more.

"Why? What's wrong?" Detective Mills asked in confusion.

JJ touched Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

But Spencer, either too alarmed or merely choosing not to acknowledge both questions, asked instead, "Where is she? I need to see her."

"In the waiting room by the pantry--"

Spencer didn't even wait for Detective Mills to form his complete thought before dashing out. JJ exchanged a glance with Emily following Spencer's sudden exit, perplexed by his odd turn of behavior.

"I'll go get him," JJ announced before leaving the room, chasing after a flurry of wavy hair and a wool-knitted purple vest sprinting across the bullpen.

The roaring commotion inside the station was almost loud enough to rival the intensity of your racing thoughts.

Almost.

At this point, you didn't think there was anything you could do anymore. The vivid images from yesterday's attack were playing continuously in your head. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

Rubbing your eyes from exhaustion, you mourned the loss of sleep that you failed to get the previous night. As if the waking nightmares weren't torment enough, the images had somehow translated even more cruelly into your subconscious. You could barely close your eyes for three seconds without feeling like you had been brought back to that place.

Cold, cramped, and alone. Fearing for your life in the tiny supply closet that smelled more like death than bleach.

At the sound of the door opening, you quickly turned around in your seat to hide your face away from prying eyes. The last thing you needed at that moment was having a complete stranger seeing you fall apart in the middle of a police station.

But when the voice came carrying the sound of your name, it wasn't the voice of a complete stranger you had heard. It was a voice you knew more than you probably knew your own. A voice you loved and a voice you had longed to hear for the past gruesome twenty-four hours.

"Spencer?" You turned back towards the door, seeing the face you adored most in the whole world staring back at you.

"Sweetheart."

At the speed of a lightning, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you and gathered your broken little pieces into his arms.

Spencer's touch was everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your shoulders. As if he was checking whether you were real. That you were actually there inside his arms, and you were not a simple imagination that his mind had conjured up.

Surrounded by the safety of his embrace, you could feel the shattered pieces of yourself beginning to mend once more.

"Spencer," you uttered his name again as you pulled away, still in disbelief that he was physically there with you.

"I'm here," he promised you as he cupped your face gently.

"Spencer, what are you... How..."

"My team is working your case. We arrived half an hour ago," he explained simply. "Sunshine, why didn't you tell me? I thought you were still in Alaska?"

You had previously apprised Spencer that you would be hard to reach during your trip since you would be spending most of your time at the power plant site where cellphone receptions were scarce. So when an entire day went by without him ever hearing from you, Spencer didn't have any reason to be worried.

Never in a million years would he have ever predicted that you'd be caught in the middle of a hostage situation.

That thought alone caused Spencer to squeeze your hand a little tighter than usual.

"I'm sorry, Spence," you said sincerely. "My trip ended earlier than planned. I arrived back yesterday morning. I actually wanted to surprise you last night. After yesterday's... incident, I wanted to call you, but my phone was shot--"

"Wait, what? You were shot?"

"No! No, baby. Not me. Just my phone," you assured him. "But that's why I couldn't call. I did attempt you once using this station's phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

At the new piece of information, the colors immediately drained from Spencer's face.

"That was you? Fuck. I didn't--I didn't know. I rejected the call because I didn't know it was you."

"Hey." You stopped his guilty rambling with a hand to his cheek. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm just glad you're here."

And then, because Spencer needed to make sure that you really were okay, he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter this time.

"Uh, Spence?"

The sound in the doorway snapped you both out of your mutual reverie. You looked up to see a blonde woman there, staring in an equal mixture of shock and confusion at the sight in front of her.

Spencer begrudgingly untangled himself from your arms before getting up to approach her.

"JJ, do you mind if I do the cognitive for this one?" Spencer asked.

The woman--JJ-- shifted her eyes a few times between you and Spencer. "Um, of course. I'll just go and inform Hotch. Tell us if you need anything."

After JJ's departure, Spencer closed the door again to award you both a much needed privacy.

He grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and dragged it before sitting down right in front of you.

"I need to start the interview now, sweetheart. Think you're up for it?"

Your whole body went rigid for a matter of seconds before you forced it to restart again. It was gone as soon as it came, but Spencer noticed it just the same.

"Look at me," Spencer ordered softly, using his delicate finger to nudge your face up until he was looking straight into your eyes. "I know it's scary. I don't want you to have to relive yesterday either, but it will help us catch whoever did this."

"I've told the police everything I knew yesterday. I was hiding the entire time." Like a coward. "I didn't see anything. I don't have anything else that could help you."

"I know that, sunshine. But as I've told you before, our method is slightly different. We won't be just focusing on what you saw, but also what you smelled, or maybe even heard." Spencer took your hands then, squeezing affectionately. "I'll be here with you the entire time."

The nod you gave him was hesitant, but it was a start nonetheless. You listened intently to Spencer's words and closed your eyes just as he had instructed.

"We'll start at the beginning," you heard him say. "Why don't you tell me why you went there yesterday?"

"I, uh, received a call from my friend, Nick, after my plane landed. We had been communicating back and forth since his company seeked my consultation for one of their upcoming projects," you began. "I wasn't even supposed to work because I had requested the day off. But Nick said it didn't have to be a formal meeting, so I agreed to meet him."

"Tell me what you remember after arriving at the office."

Your mind traveled back to that specific time one day prior. You remembered walking into the place and seeing its unusual state of vacancy even though there was still a good half an hour left before lunchtime.

"I just assumed everyone had gone to lunch earlier and shrugged it off," you recalled.

Spencer nodded his head. "Did anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?"

"No? I don't... I don't know. It was only my second time being there, I'm not sure what was normal and what wasn't."

"Okay. That's okay. You're doing good so far, sweetheart," Spencer quickly interjected, trying to get you to calm down before your distress could turn into a full-blown panic. "Now, what did you do next?"

"I followed Nick into his office."

Nick was keeping his promise true. It hadn't felt like a formal meeting, just two old college buddies reminiscing about the past and discussing possibilities of the future that, of course, included the company's upcoming project which you would be working on with him.

"I excused myself to the bathroom at some point," you added. "When I first heard the commotion, I thought nothing of it. It's like the idea that a group full of armed men had taken over the building didn't even cross my mind. I mean, why would it? I was on my way back to Nick's office when I saw them."

You recalled turning a corner after exiting the bathroom only to see those figures carrying machine guns and shouting at everyone to get on their knees or put their hands above their heads. You remembered sprinting the way you had come from and opening the first door you could reach that just happened to be the supply closet.

"Let's go back to the moment you saw them," Spencer urged gently. "How many people were there? Do you remember any conspicuous detail? Maybe one of them had tattoos or spoke with an accent. Anything that distinguished them."

Taking a deep breath, you tried replaying those crucial seconds slowly in your head.

"There were four of them. I couldn't see much. They were all wearing identical black clothes."

Suddenly, an unexpected piece of memory rushed to the front of your mind. You opened your eyes in shock, meeting Spencer's curious gaze that had been kept intently on you the entire time.

"I think at least one of them is a woman," you told him.

Spencer's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"One of the guys said something about... fucking this place up. And then she laughed. I heard her. It was definitely a female laugh."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah? Do you think it'll help?"

Spencer nodded assuredly, bringing his hand to leave calming strokes on your head. "I know it will. You've done a great job, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."

The praise Spencer gave eased the tension in your shoulders. As if having been granted fresh air after decades of confinement, you were finally able to let yourself breathe again.

Spencer continued his loving strokes on your head. Little by little, the weight of his touch melted the resolve you had built into a pathetic puddle on the floor. Without its mental shield protecting you, your tears sped forward, gathering in your eyes until they spilled on the vast path down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey." Spencer's voice was laden with panic after seeing you start to cry. "Sunshine, what is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I-I just... God." You struggled to get the words out in between sobs. "I'm a coward, Spencer."

"What?"

"All of those people... They died because I was a fucking coward."

Your admission tore into the air before stabbing Spencer right through his chest.

"Sweetheart, you know that's not true."

"But it is!" you cried out, pulling away from Spencer's grounding hold around your shaking body in favor of your own arms. "I was a coward. I ran and hid because I was too scared to die. Too scared to fight. If I had just tried a little harder, I could've called for help. That way, maybe all of those people wouldn't... And Nick wouldn't..."

A haunting image flashed behind your eyes. The image of Nick's limp and lifeless body on the floor, among those of the others. You remembered crying next to him, punching his chest, body, and arm despite having seen the gunshot wound on his forehead. It took you another five minutes before you eventually managed to gather yourself together, found a phone, and dialed 911.

Not that it made any difference. They were all already dead.

Spencer could hear his heart breaking at the sight of you curling into yourself, recoiling from his touch because you somehow believed you didn't deserve his affection at that moment. If Spencer could just transfer all of your pain towards him, he would. Seeing you beat yourself up that way over something that happened and was done to you was the worst kind of torture he ever had to endure in life.

And Spencer had been through more kinds of torture than the general population in the world.

Deciding that he had seen enough of your self-deprecating torment, he reclaimed your hands inside of his palms and urged you to look at him.

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Spencer asked incredulously. "How can you even think that way? Sweetheart, what happened to those people, to Nick, it is not your fault."

"B-but, if I hadn't run away--"

"Then you would've died, too," he cut you off. "Sunshine, there were four of them with machine guns. No one stood a single chance against them. Those people were there to kill. There was nothing you could've done."

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Spencer needed you to hear it.

He needed you to know the truth no matter how unacceptable it was.

"If you hadn't hid from them, we would've found seven bodies there instead of six. And I--" Spencer took a shuddering breath, "--I would've lost you."

Your shoulders deflated at his revelation. "Spence--"

"So please--" he searched your eyes then, using his thumb to sweep away the remaining tears under your eyes, "--stop holding yourself accountable. I promise I will do everything I can to find those people and make them pay for what they did."

Spencer's vow triggered a new wave of tears that compelled you to sink into his awaiting arms. He let you stay there until you had cried your tears dry. It was something he also secretly needed for himself after suffering through the short-lived horror over the mention of your name in relation to the heinous case. He just needed to make sure that you were okay.

A few minutes passed by with you in his arms. Eventually, Spencer had to tear himself away to finish his job. He asked you to wait as he wrapped up the transcript of your cognitive interview, along with his professional report over it.

"I need to run somewhere real quick. I promise to be back in a couple of hours," he notified JJ as he handed her the interview report. "Tell Hotch for me? Thanks."

Without waiting for his friend's reply, Spencer rushed back to the waiting room before leading you out to take you home.

Back at your apartment, Spencer guided you towards the direction of your bathroom as soon as you had stepped into the threshold.

"Are you trying to get me naked, Spencer?" you remarked playfully after he refused to let you take your clothes off yourself.

"Yes." The gleaming mischief in your eyes caused him to flick your nose lightly. "Just to get you ready for your bath. Get your head straight, will you?"

You scoffed at his back as he turned around to check the water temperature in the tub.

Once you were submerged safely inside, Spencer left the bathroom to give you some privacy. Meanwhile, he began rummaging through your drawers to pull out a change of clothes, a towel, and a clean sheet for your bed.

By the time you exited, Spencer had changed your bedsheets and lit one of your favorite candles on the bedside table. He asked you to sit down on the bed as he kneeled before you, helping you put on the pajamas he had picked out with little prints of sunflowers on them.

None of Spencer's touches were sexual. They swept over your skin with the care of an artist handling their most precious work. When his eyes found yours, you swore you could almost cry from the intense adoration that seemed to shine so brightly out of them.

As he guided you to lie on the bed, you were surprised to see him following suit. He got under the covers with you, pulling you close to tangle every inch of your limbs with his.

"I love you, Spencer," you admitted to his chest, heart heavy with the deep appreciation and overwhelming affection for the man beside you.

Spencer looked down at your confession, finding his favorite pair of eyes already looking earnestly at him. Instinctively, he reached for your chin with his fingers, tugging your face upward until he could capture your lips with his.

The kiss was slow. Careful. Filled with silent promises and discreet reassurances. When you both parted, Spencer didn't pull himself away. Instead, he let his forehead touch yours while his eyes stayed closed.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" you asked quietly.

"Yes, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

Although the two of you knew his answer was a lie, you both chose to pretend otherwise. You knew Spencer still had responsibilities to fulfill, along with a promise to you that he intended to keep. You knew that when you woke up later that evening, Spencer would already be long gone, and you would be forced to bask in the traces of himself that he had left behind.

But for now, Spencer was still there, in the comfort of your bedroom, lying on the bed next to you. And that knowledge alone was good enough for you to finally drift further into the land of sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Spencer's loving embrace.

"I'm telling you," JJ insisted, looking at her entire team minus Spencer and Hotch. "There was definitely something going on between them. Why else would he request to take over the cognitive for me?"

"Maybe he was feeling generous," Rossi deadpanned, earning an unimpressed glare from JJ.

It had been a full week since the BAU team had arrived in D.C. to investigate the series of gun attacks in the city. Just the day prior, they had successfully made their fourth arrest, bringing this case to yet another satisfying conclusion in the eye of justice.

If nothing else was amiss, they should have been on their way back to Quantico in less than an hour. In the meantime, though, JJ felt obliged to gather her team members in the middle of the bullpen to share her suspicion about a certain scene she had accidentally caught on their first day working the case.

"Pretty boy did seem more emotionally involved in this case than he usually does, though," Derek pointed out.

"Right? Right?" JJ replied almost too enthusiastically. "Come on, aren't you guys at least half as curious as I am about who this mystery girl might be? Don't you wanna try finding out who she is while we're still here?"

They all stared at each other in hesitation.

"Or, we could just ask Spencer directly and let him explain?" Emily suggested, receiving incredulous looks from the other three in response. "Yeah, you're right. What did you say her name was again?"

"I don't remember," JJ answered.

"It must be listed in the files somewhere, right?" Derek immediately sprung into action, reaching towards the scattered case files that might contain the name they were looking for.

"Just to be clear, I am not taking any part in this." Rossi sighed.

"Got it!" Derek waved the offending file in hand, giving it to JJ, who instantly began skimming over it.

"Alright. Says here that her name is..."

JJ read the name aloud when unexpectedly, an answering sound sprouted from behind them.

"Yes?"

Every single one of them turned in shock at your voice. You smiled at their wide-eyed expressions, waving your hand a little awkwardly in the air.

"You!" JJ exclaimed.

"Me?"

Emily nudged JJ in the ribs, making the blonde woman wince.

"Y-you're the witness from the startup case, right?" JJ said, trying to rectify the situation.

"That's me."

"What can we do for you, Miss?" Rossi asked, stepping forward and away from the rest of the group.

"I'm actually looking for Spencer. Do you know where he might be?"

"Spencer Reid? You know Reid?" Emily asked.

Before you had the chance to reply, the man in question came strolling into the bullpen, rambling animatedly to Hotch who was walking beside him. The moment Spencer caught sight of you, though, he immediately abandoned Hotch's side and rushed towards where you were standing.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," you told him, fitting yourself easily into Spencer's side as his arm went around your waist. "Hi, Hotch."

The older man called your name in greeting. "I got your message. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I wanted to ask you--well, all of you, actually--" you glanced around at the other team members, "--if maybe you all would let me treat you to lunch? As a thank you for your hard work on the case."

Hotch nodded in response. "It's fine with me. We don't have to be back until tonight, anyway. Everyone?"

Instead of replying to your offer, Emily voiced aloud the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"You know her?" Emily looked at Hotch before dragging her eyes away towards you. "And you know him? You know each other? How?"

You gazed up at Spencer's eyes, seeing them shining with the same mirth as the one you felt dancing in your stomach.

"I guess this is supposed to be the part where I introduce myself, isn't it?" You chuckled.

Extending your palm, you shook each of their hands while telling them your name, them responding back with theirs even though you already knew who was who long before you had even met them.

"I still don't understand," JJ admitted after you finished shaking her hand. "How did you know Spencer and Hotch?"

Once again, you looked into Spencer's eyes, a question bouncing around in yours. Spencer's nod of affirmation was the only go-ahead you needed.

It's time.

"I'm Spencer's girlfriend."

"She's my wife."

You turned your head towards Spencer in shock.

In front of you, Spencer's teammates were causing an uproar.

"Wait, what?" Emily stared dumbfoundedly.

"You have a girlfriend?" Derek asked in disbelief.

"You're married?!" JJ shrieked.

"Hold on a second," Rossi interjected, holding his palms out as if to tell everyone to stand down and calm themselves. "So which one is it? Girlfriend or wife?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting in the private VIP room of your favorite restaurant in the city with some of Spencer's closest people on earth.

"That's the craziest story I've ever heard," Emily pondered in astonishment.

Rossi, Derek, and JJ were all wearing an identical look on each of their faces after hearing the story of how you and Spencer met: by drunkenly getting married in Vegas after only knowing each other for barely one night when you both weren't even twenty-two yet.

"If someone were to tell me yesterday that there's another member of this team who also went to get married while drunk in Vegas, I would have never even thought of mentioning Spencer's name," JJ mused.

At your curious expression, Spencer explained, "Rossi also got drunkenly married in Vegas to his third ex-wife,"

"Why didn't you two get a divorce?" Emily suddenly asked.

It was something that everyone who knew about your situation with Spencer had questioned at one point or another. The real answer was because you and Spencer had both been reluctant to go through the nasty and lengthy legal process of getting a divorce. Therefore, you decided to part ways without doing anything about it, vowing to only track each other down if one of you ever needed to end the bond because of another impending marriage or any other urgent matter.

But that reason alone was usually not enough to appease people's curiosity. And over the years, you and Spencer had poked fun over that particular fact by coming up with the most outrageous lie you could muster up.

"She wanted to get a divorce," Spencer fabricated smoothly. "I persuaded her otherwise because I had this inkling that someday we were gonna fall in love."

Usually, any other people would coo sweetly at Spencer's statememt.

But these weren't any other people. These people were Spencer's family in more ways except flesh and blood, and even without their profiling skills, you knew they could see right through Spencer's little deception.

"That sounds like bullshit to me. Doesn't that sound like bullshit to you?" Emily asked, turning to JJ for support.

"Yeah, that was bullshit, alright," JJ claimed vehemently, prompting an innocent-looking grin from Spencer and a series of chuckles from everyone else.

"When did you two start dating, then?" Rossi spoke up from one end of the table.

"About two years after Vegas, right?" you estimated, to which Spencer nodded in confirmation. "He strolled into my place of work while he was on a case, and then he asked me out."

Derek sat up on his seat after hearing the new information. "Wait, when was this? Why didn't I know about this?"

"The beginning of my second year in the BAU," Spencer offered. "Elle knew."

"Elle? Elle Greenway? You told Elle but not me?" Derek looked offended.

Spender shrugged nonchalantly. "Elle was assigned with me that day."

"Unbelievable." Derek slumped back down in his chair. "Penelope is gonna freak when she finds out what she missed today."

"Penelope? Oh, she already knows," you told him.

That revelation earned a collective disbelief look across the entire table.

"Yeah... I, uh," you cleared your throat, "I actually just went shopping with her two weeks ago."

"You've got to be kidding me," Emily muttered.

"You told Penelope but not me?" Derek sounded hurt as he pointed his accusatory stare at Spencer. "You even told Hotch!"

"I didn't tell Garcia. She dug through my history and found it out herself. Had to bribe her with candies and chocolates for a whole month to keep her quiet," Spencer grumbled. "And I had to tell Hotch. We needed to add her number to my emergency contact list."

Despite Spencer's concise explanation, Derek still seemed unsatisfied by the whole ordeal.

"How long have you known?" he finally decided to ask Hotch.

"A while," the man answered from his seat at the opposite end of the table from Rossi. "They even babysat Jack a few times for me."

"I don't believe this," Derek scowled. "Pretty boy's got himself a girl for the last six years, and I never knew? Outrageous."

"Technically, we've been married even longer than that," Spencer responded, as if he was unaware of the imminent glower that Derek was sending his way. "Eight years since Vegas."

"That's longer than any of my marriage," Rossi remarked before sipping his drink.

The laugh that resonated upon Rossi's little comment elicited an affectionate smile on your lips.

"So, you live in D.C., then?" JJ asked, at last stirring the conversation away from the topic of your and Spencer's secret marriage-slash-relationship.

"I do, yeah. But most of the time, I live out of my suitcase," you answered. "My firm has clients all over the country. A few overseas, as well. I'm lucky if I even get to have an entire week to sleep uninterrupted in my own bed."

Even then, you truthfully quite enjoyed the work you had to do. You didn't mind having to travel some place new every other week. In fact, you somehow believed that your constant need to travel for your job, and Spencer for his, was one of the reasons why the two of you worked so well together.

Although people might think that two adults who had to travel for a living were a recipe for a disastrous relationship, you and Spencer had so far proven otherwise. Because of your respective schedules, you could sympathize more with the other anytime they had to go somewhere urgent for work. It only made you savor every single second you spent together because of how much precious each one of them became.

The rest of lunch unraveled with the same bucket of smiles, jokes, and laughter. It felt good to finally tell the few people who meant the world in Spencer's life the truth about your relationship. It was also a huge relief to see them opening their arms and welcoming you into the family without an ounce of hesitation.

"Hotch?" Spencer called out after everyone exited the restaurant. "Will it be okay if I stay in the city for one more night?"

"As long as you promise to be back for tomorrow's briefing," Hotch reminded sternly, but the meaningful look he passed over you before he entered his vehicle spoke of a thousand things left unsaid.

"It was so nice meeting you," JJ said as she took you in her arms. "And I'm sorry again about your friend."

"Thank you. And thanks for all of your hard work in catching those guys."

"Of course, it's what we do." JJ smiled as she pulled away. "Invite me and Emily the next time you and Penelope hang out, okay?"

"Will do," you promised.

You watched as every single one of them scrambled into the two black SUVs, waving your goodbye until the cars drove out of your sight.

"I think that went well," you commented before looking up at Spencer. "Do you?"

"I think it went as well as it could."

"So--" you began, circling your arms around Spencer's neck, "--we have more than twelve hours until you're expected back at Quantico. What do you wanna do?"

Spencer nudged your nose with his. "I can think of a few activities we can partake in."

"Really?"

"Really."

Just as he was a hairbreadth away from pressing his lips to yours, you suddenly tore yourself out of Spencer's arms.

"Like getting some frozen yogurts?" you asked giddily, smirking at the dumbfounded look that you managed to put on Spencer's face.

"Fine. Let's go get some frozen yogurts."

Spencer had to hide his amused grin at your elated squeals. He was more than content at that moment to let you produce those addictive sounds at the mere prospect of frozen yogurts.

But later that night, he had a whole different set of activities lined up to pull those same sounds out of you once more.

And it might or might not potentially involve an entirely different yet creative use of frozen yogurts as well.

Spencer simply just hadn't decided yet.

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

Next ->

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae

[soullessdianthus]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐱 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠)

Summary: During the mission somewhere in Austria, König takes an interest in TF 141 medic. Little did he know, she's Lieutenants Riley's girlfriend.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

A/N: Possessive/Protective boyfriend Ghost? Yes, double and give to the next person. Also inserted Hank/Connor "lieutenant" reference, I just find it funny. Y/C ━ Your Codename (have fun, pick something babes) Poorly translated German ━ correct me if needed!

Warnings: nothing, reader is eastern european coded (we deserve more recognition as reader inserts ꃋᴖꃋ )

Word count: 1.8k

The tree line of the thick forest melted into the base of the rocky mountains. Your gaze traveled across its pointy shapes and up higher - there hadn’t been a single cloud on the sky that day, causing a slight heatwave.

You let your body slightly wag as the car passed over surface bumps on the earthen road. The dry lump grew in your throat as the dust hovered all over the convoy and all you could think of was a sip of cold, mineral water. 

Soon, you reached the small town in Austria, secluded from the ring roads. The cars were parked near the surrounding forest at the entrance of the village. Lieutenant Riley's sight crossed with yours as he helped you get out of the truck. 

He could be such a gentleman sometimes. 

A handful of soldiers gathered near the vehicles - some of them wearing a KorTac patch on their shoulders, the other ones (from your unit) a Task Force 141 badge. But besides those sigils, none of them were wearing full battle gear. 

There was no active fighting against the enemy at the moment. It was just a careful chase after the terrorists - following their footsteps, interviewing associates, gathering proof. Because at the end of the day, the military (or army related organization) cannot shed blood over a defamation.

But KorTac and TF 141? Quite an unusual partnership between the two groups, right?

━ Ghost, Y/C you’re goin’ with me ━ Captain Price announced, adjusting his hat as he closed the car’s doors behind him. ━ Gaz, you’ll stay here, is that clear? 

Captain heard a firm ‘yes, sir’ from your teammate Kyle who was to stay at the parking spot. Meanwhile the KorTac colonel gave an order to his soldiers in German. “Such a tough language” you thought to yourself. Only two of his people went along the wood road with the rest of you.

The Colonel. 

Exceptionally tall, Austrian man who served many years for his country. The one you found yourself in on the latest mission. 

Each time you wanted to look at him while Colonel König was speaking, you had to chin up. And even though, a black hood with a red paint on it covered his whole face besides his cold, blue eyes. He was lowkey intimidating with his massive size, but just like your captain, the Austrian’s rough looks didn’t reflect his character. At least to you and your comrades he was quite nice. 

Unfortunately, you couldn’t say the same about his teammates. 

You didn’t have to walk for long as the isolated, one floor house emerged behind a hill. By the quick peek at that building and the noises coming from the inside you knew, it felt like a warm home. 

As you approached the building, you heard a child’s cry. 

Price knocked at the front door and soon after a man with dark bags under his eyes opened them slightly. He was peeking through the crack.

━ Jakob Hausner? ━ The Captain asked with a playful smile under his mustache, his thumbs interlocked with the gear straps over his chest. 

━ Ja, wie kann ich helfen? [ger.: Yes, how can I help?]

━ Can you ask him if he speaks english? ━ John looked over his shoulder towards König, asking for a favor. 

━ Yes, I speak english ━ master of the house answered with a thick accent, before colonel could translate. ━ What do you want? 

He wasn’t trusting at all, well, how could he? You were all strangers at his doorsteps, two of your partners wearing scary looking masks. But it all had a purpose - they were supposed to look… intimidating, yes? 

A loud wailing made their ears hurt, it was that damn baby again. Jakob sighed loudly, his shoulder collapsing as he opened the doors a little bit more.

━ We just want to talk about the company you were working for. ━ Price continued talking. 

━ About them again? ━ Mr. Hausner frowned his eyebrows and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Poor man was exhausted apparently. ━ Okay, okay, ja, come in. 

The man let you all inside, however König told his soldiers to have a look outside the plot - to make sure it’s safe here and you’re not being watched. Poor Jakob wasn’t even fully aware (because of his state) that he let in a group of military people inside of his home.

As soon as you crossed the hallway into the dining room with a big, wooden table, you noticed a struggling toddler in a children’s chair. The girl was crying, her face red from the tantrum. 

━ I’m sorry, it’s just my daughter, she… she doesn’t want to eat her–. Lina, bitte. [ger.: Lina, please.]

Being a parent. Must be tough, huh?

Not when you were forced to babysit your siblings or cousins since you were a teenager. 

━ She’s not hungry. ━ You noticed the way the little girl pushed her plate away and how she tried to climb out of the seat. Christ, that man really had to be exhausted. ━ Can I?

You took a few slow and calm steps towards the sitting child - a warm smile painted over your face. Even your boyfriend Ghost was slightly… surprised? Seeing you drop the apathetic shell, then becoming more warm and gentle towards the little girl.

━ She’s our medic ━ your Captain explained to the worried father ━ let her take the kid and we’ll have a talk. In peace. 

Mr. Hausner let you take care of his unsettled daughter, so they could have a conversation about his former employers. You took the girl out of her chair and placed her over your left hip, pushing it outward. 

━ Come, Lina ━ you addressed the girl by her name, even though she probably couldn’t understand what you were saying ━ let’s leave the stinky men alone, ja?

You left the dining room and entered the seemingly endless garden behind the house. Since you took that girl in your hands she already began to calm down, perhaps a woman's touch was all she needed? 

“Where was your mother? Was she at work working a long shift? Did something happen to her? Did the bad men–” your thoughts seemed to take a rather pessimistic route, so you had to quickly change it. 

You didn’t know much German. Well, you didn’t know any at all. 

Fuck.

But at that moment you were thanking the heavens that your father watched movies about Hans Kloss or war on a regular basis. You were happy that your father was taught some phrases and somewhere in your subconsciousness he passed them to you.

You sat on the wooden bench somewhere in the garden not far from the building. Then, you placed the child on your lap and began talking to her - mostly in your mother tongue. Then you added some words in German that you knew, like: 

━ Schau, schmetterling! [ger.: Look, a butterfly!] 

Soon you grew more comfortable around the girl named Lina, even though there was a language barrier. Without your knowledge, your legs began to bounce her, pretending she was riding a horse. 

If anyone would point that out later, you would certainly deny it. You, getting soft for a child? No, no, no. 

You were so occupied with entertaining her that you didn’t even notice a looming, black figure in the corner of your eye. Watching the scene from somewhere nearby.

König was standing just next to the doors, leaving against the white plaster on the outside walls. He listened to your attempts to speak German, finding it… adorable? 

Never did he meet a woman in his profession so empathetic and gentle. Especially the one who managed to catch his attention. Let’s be honest, most of them were cold blood murderers and he was a colonel - he couldn’t let himself have such a luxury of having a family. 

Until now.

His imagination began to play a nasty and stupid trick on him - just because he saw you speaking German with a kid. What if it was you to take care of his children? Were your hands usually this delicate? Would you care for him as much?

The tall soldier was intrigued by you and his dreamy stare exposed him for it.

━ Don’t even think about it. ━ Ghost voice snapped him back to the reality. The British soldier emerged from the building the same way the colonel did after the conversation came to an end with Mr. Hausner.

Simon Riley wasn’t a fool. He noticed all the little peaks at his girlfriend other soldiers usually would take, she was in fact a pretty thing. So it didn’t take much to notice that the tall guy from KorTac took a liking of you. Too much liking in Ghost’s opinion. 

━ Verzeihung [ger.: Excuse me] ━ König apologized, flustered slightly by obviousness of the situation. He instantly understood the reference. ━ didn’t know she was… taken. 

━ Yeah ━ British lieutenant scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His dark irises didn’t even dare to stare at him. His eyes were on you ━ she’s very much taken. 

There was a dead silence between the two of them - for a short moment, before Ghost gave you a heads up. 

━ Y/C, we’re moving. 

The rough and firm tone of Ghost’s voice made you snap back into reality. You were in the middle of something, right? Yet, you almost jumped on that little bench painted in floral patterns. 

━ Coming, lieutenant. ━ You declared quickly, before putting the little girl over your hip again and heading inside of her home. 

Ghost was a few steps ahead and so you had to pass the massive figure of König to go inside again. You pressed the child’s head into your cleavage as she was a little scared of colonel’s hood. 

Well, you would be too, if you saw his cold stare in the middle of the night from under that veil, right?

━ Don’t worry, he just looks scary. He won’t bite. Isn’t that right, sir? ━ You sent him a polite smile as you tried to comfort the petrified girl. Your hand caressing her golden locks.

But he was speechless at the moment. He couldn’t form a simple sentence. A fucking grown ass man. “So fucking pathetic”, he thought to himself. Your lips twisting into a wide smile for him. It wouldn’t be easy for him to erase that sight from his memory. König would have trouble falling asleep that night, thinking of you.

A/N: ♪ Two big guys and they grab on my thighs ♪

[crushmeeren]

MEN WHO ARE SECRETLY PUSSY HOUNDS. (✿˶˘ ³˘)

⋆ ft. izuku, tamaki, megumi, tobio 𓌹-𓌺

master list link

࣪ . ˖˙ 𖥦 I kind of hate this…… and I made it way too long on accident. But once I started I wanted so badly to finish it, so….. please enjoy while I crawl into a hole. (՞߹ - ߹՞)

Izuku never fails to stand tall in the face of whatever comes his way. The man is an unyielding force in his resolve if he believes in what he’s doing.

Such a statement is simply a fact of life. It’s like declaring that the sky is blue, grass is green, and Midoriya Izuku happens to be the single most determined man you’d ever met.

He’s clever, wicked smart and, as he’s gotten older, he’s managed to get a handle on his nervous stuttering and rambling.

Hell, if you watched him in an interview now, you wouldn’t think to associate him with the humiliating first interview he’d had right out of school that managed to make him go viral overnight. The comments were not kind.

So, as calm and well spoken as Izuku is today, you never expected him to be such a….. such a pussy hound for you. It’s the best way you can describe it.

Izuku fucking loves that tight little pussy of yours in such a gut wrenching manner that he day dreams about it often enough it’s resulted in Bakugou smacking him upside the head to “pay fucking attention,” more than once during department meetings.

The scenarios that run rampant through his mind are more than enough to send all his blood rushing below his bellybutton while he’s at his desk. With the way his stomach clenches and the ache that burns and nags at him to just get. inside. your. fucking. pussy. — well, he’s sure his briefs are sticking to the tip of his cock in the most lewd way.

So, Izuku takes a long lunch.

Just like that, as soon as he gets home, Izuku becomes the stuttering, blushing, babbling mess he was not so long ago. He strides into your kitchen, snaking his arms around your waist and groans when he smells the sweet vanilla scent of your lotion on your neck.

You easily let him grip your hips and lift you up onto the edge of the counter, fingers slipping into your soft sleep shorts and tugging them down and off your ankles. Izuku kisses you frantically, shoving his pants to mid thigh and allowing his cock to bob free and smack his stomach.

He shivers, giving you the prettiest high pitched whine that shoots straight to your pussy when his heavy dick starts stretching you a bit too eagerly. His lips part and his cheeks blossom with a blush so intense you’re sure steam will come from his ears as he bottoms out.

It’s too much too quickly and when you hiss, sinking your nails into his shoulders, all he can do is bury his face in your throat and whimper in apology. You can tell he’s desperate when his voice starts to shake and his hips thrust in shallow motions controlled by a mind of their own.

He babbles, “M’sorry princess, m’so sorry! Your pussy’s so good squeezing my cock, I can’t stay still. God — oh my god, please please let me fuck you!”

It’s fruitless to resist his begging. So suffice to say, you let your blubbering, stupidly hot, pussy hound of a husband use you until you’re both curling your toes and seeing stars.

Tamaki is shy on a good day.

He blushes bubblegum pink, he stammers, he avoids eye contact to the absolute best of his ability during interviews. Of course, he does manage to put on a more approachable front to face the public. If only to show impressionable children that if he can be brave, then they can, but still he struggles with his own anxiety.

It’s only common sense that everyone assumes you’re the more dominate one in the bedroom, and well, they aren’t wrong, per se.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and Tamaki is nothing if not a pussy hound for you.

Granted, his inner dog only comes out every so often, and even then he’s still a desperate puppy who seems to wiggle his way into having control.

And tonight, that’s where you find yourself.

Tamaki swears he can’t help it.

“T-Tamaki, stop!” You push at his shoulders, the warmth of his slick chest presses firmly against your tits and it does not help your resolve in any way. “Let me finish washing my hair at least,” you protest weakly, steam curling up into the air around you both, blanketing the shower in a fog.

Tamaki whines childishly into your throat, sucking at the hollow of it until you shudder in his hold. His fingers tighten on your hips, thumbs tracing the bone softly.

“Please pretty girl, I need you so bad. I wanna feel your pussy sucking on my cock. I’ve wanted it all day,” he pleads against your collarbone, voice pitching higher, dragging out the words at the end as he complains continuously.

He’s been at this for almost the entirety of your mutual shower and, really, it’s not as if you don’t want to have sex with him, you just wanted to finish cleaning off first! Decidedly, you lace your fingers in his drenched purple hair and yank until he pulls back and meets your gaze.

His face is a pretty rosy pink and his eyes are so hooded they’re almost shut, no trace of your shy husband to be found as he stares you down with a searing heat.

Within a heart beat of your agreement he spins you, pushing a hand into the middle of your back and tugging on your hip until your ass is sticking out. You yelp, catching yourself with palms meeting cool tile.

His cock is full and jumps steadily when he rolls his hips to drag it over the lips of your pussy, gasping softly and hanging onto your waist with an iron grip until his weeping tip catches. Then he’s sliding inside and stretching you out completely with one sharp thrust.

One low moan of his name and Tamaki’s wrenching you back to meet each desperate push of his hips. The smack of your skin is so loud it makes your face burn, and the force of it pulls you up onto your toes to keep your balance. This man’s got you biting your fingers just to keep yourself grounded.

Your poor husband’s been so worked up all day that when his panting turns into stuttered breaths and cut off whimpers after about three minutes, you’re not surprised.

“Oh, oh god, I’m gonna cum baby, wanna cum inside. Please can I?” He pleads, eyes glued to where his cock disappears inside your pussy and returns even shinier than before.

He’s crying out, shoving his dick to the root inside you and stuffing you full before you finish nodding yes.

But, it doesn’t bother you much that he finished so fast. Soon after, a soft, warm tongue starts playing with your clit, lazily eating your pussy until you’re licked clean of his release and squirting on his face.

Megumi pretends to be aloof. He pretends that he’s cool, collected, and apathetic. As if nothing ruffles his feathers, and to give him credit, he can be those things.

Yet, he’s also much more. Once you sneak past his prickly exterior, Megumi is the kind of guy who cares so violently that he has to pretend he doesn’t or it’ll tear him to shreds. Actions speak louder than words with him.

Most people aren’t privy to the softer side of your sweet husband and he maintains his uncaring attitude to the majority nonetheless. Like it’s some kind of secret.

So you’re sure people would be unfathomably shocked to find that Megumi can and has, on several occasions, dissolved into a messy, needy, unraveled pussy hound when it comes to you.

When Megumi falls into this sort of mood, he really lets go. He’s been sending you increasingly toe curling texts and pictures all day while you were at work and you just knew what was coming once you returned home.

You find the dark haired man sitting on your couch, shorts and briefs shoved to his thighs and t-shirt rumpled at his collar bone. Slender fingers curl tightly around his cock, jerking himself off slowly, a delicious peachy blush trailing from his cheeks to his nipples.

His head raises up when he spots you, eyes heavy and smoldering when he reaches a hand out to you and makes a grabbing motion.

“C’mere baby, want you so bad,” he murmurs pitifully, hips rolling up to meet his hand when he drags it back down his shaft. You raise an eyebrow in amusement and he pushes out his lower lip.

“You need it that bad Megumi?” You tease, sauntering over to the couch to get a better look at him. He scowls in return but his hand never leaves his cock, thumb swiping over the head which makes him bite harshly onto his lower lip.

He sinks down a little lower into the couch, brows pinched together to emphasize his pretty little pout. “Don’t be mean. Just ride me.” He pauses, eyeing you. “Please.”

“Awfully demanding for someone who needs my pussy so badly, aren’t you?” The smug smile on your face makes Megumi huff indignantly.

You don’t waste much more time teasing after that, too riled up from all the nasty texts he’d sent you throughout the day.

You strip off your clothes until you’re bare. Megumi kicks off his shorts and yanks his shirt off in similar fashion, tossing them aside carelessly. You crawl onto the couch and straddle his lap, raising on your knees and steadying him at the base until you smoothly sit all the way down on his cock.

Megumi’s hands fly to your waist, head tossing backwards and eyes rolling back with a throaty moan when he finally gets the unrelenting tight squeeze on his dick that he’s been longing for since he woke up this morning.

You thread a hand through the hair at the base of his skull and pull until he looks you straight in the eye. He looks pussy drunk already with his glassy eyes and pink cheeks, jaw hanging open as his chest heaves. To think, you haven’t even moved yet.

You ride him slowly at first, listening to his bitten off gasps each time you sit back down. When you start to pick up the pace, Megumi’s eyes widen and his nails pinch your hips.

Megumi pleads with you to no avail. “Oh fuck, your pussy feels amazing princess, I can’t.” His voice takes on the whiny quality that you adore. “Please, s-slow down baby or I’m gonna cum.”

You don’t slow down. You kiss him sweetly, brace a hand on one shoulder, tangle the other in his hair again and fuck him until his breaths are shuddering remnants of a sob and he’s limp on the couch beneath you.

Tobio, without sugar coating it, is arrogant. Don’t get it wrong, he absolutely can back that confidence up with the seemingly natural intelligence he has when it comes to volleyball, but he’s clueless with relationships. Not to mention he has zero filter.

But he’s kind. He’s sweet, and you love Tobio so much for trying his very best to understand the ins and outs of what it means to be a good boyfriend to you. He becomes such an easygoing version of himself when he’s alone with you and you get more enamored with him by the day.

That’s why you’re sure people, mainly Hinata, would pay good money for the information that “the king” is a desperate fiend for you. Your very own personal pussy hound.

Tobio commands the court, but he melts into the mattress and becomes something akin to putty when you have sex.

Your usually indifferent boyfriend has been persistently begging you all night to sit on his face and now that you are, you wonder why you didn’t do it sooner.

“Jesus Tobio, you’re so good at eating pussy — fuck,” you praise, voice slipping into a whine as you roll your hips to drag your swollen clit over his velvet tongue. Your fingers tangle in silky black hair and pull until Tobio’s eyes flutter shut with a husky moan.

One of his hands slide from your hip to your ass and he spanks you harshly, grabbing a handful before he moves it down to squeeze the base of his cock.

You keep your heavy lidded gaze on his pretty face, chest rising and falling with choked off gasps the closer you get to cumming. Tobio licks lazily at your pussy, pushing his tongue inside you and then sucking on your clit.

He cracks open his eyes and his stare makes you feel as if warm honey rushes through your veins instead of blood. His cotton candy pink cheeks paint him as the picture of pussy drunk between your thighs, whimpering when you yank on his hair that much rougher.

It doesn’t take much more for you to cum with a shiver and then Tobio’s wildly shoving you down his body until his heavy cock is nestled against your pussy.

“Baby please,” Tobio whines, large hands kneading your ass and spreading you until cool air brushes over you. “I was good yeah? So let me put my cock inside you.”

“Why should I? You’re already about to cum, aren’t you Tobio? Just from eating a little pussy.” You can’t resist the urge to tease him, tone dripping in condescension and a wolfish grin tugging at your lips.

He glances at the wall with a frown, blush roaring back to life with a vengeance but the cock twitching rhythmically between your thighs contradicts his petty actions.

“You’re gonna cum as soon as you get inside of me.”

Your boyfriend shoots you a halfhearted glare. “No, I’m not.”

Tobio, in fact, does cum the instant you sit all the way down on his cock. His voice cracks when he does, a sweet cry of your name falling from his lips.

Lucky for you, he stays rock hard afterwards, and he only looks a little dazed. Tobio flips you both and fucks you until your pussy is raw and he has nothing left to give.

[kitscutie]

snow and roses: part II (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none except the nature of the Hunger Games franchise! later on in the series there will be hints to dark!coriolanus snow and lots of angst so be prepared!

summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.

a/n: part two is here! hope you enjoy, remember requests are open and there are more parts to come :) p.s - all of the love on part one means the world!

word count: 2.3k

find part one here!

join my taglist here!

Over the past eighteen years you couldn't picture a single day you and Coriolanus hadn't spent together. Birthdays, school days, even throughout the war, you spent time together.

Today was different. He hadn't met you this morning and you couldn't help but miss his presence. His character enveloped a room, always making it clear he was there without really having to say a word. You found it comforting, others found it threatening.

The Tributes arrived early this morning and it was something you had dreaded, very soon you would actually have to meet Wovey. Mentor her, care for her, and it riddled you with guilt knowing that it was all a challenge. Her life was a challenge to you.

Coryo's presence could've softened that burden and yet, he wasn't here. No warning no explanation he just didn't show.

"Where's Snow?" Asked Arachne as you all stood outside your classroom at the Academy, preparing for yet another lecture from Casca.

"I wouldn't know." You shrugged, secretly seething at your boyfriends disregard to tell you where he was going before he disappeared.

"Oh please. You two are practically attached at the hip." Scoffed Festus. Fixing his hair in a small compact mirror which he carried around in his bag.

"I heard he's with his songbird." Mock sang Felix. Knowing it would most likely piss you off to the high heavens.

"And where did you hear that, Felix?" You asked, tilting your head in questions, eyebrows furrowed. While Felix was a tease he was not a liar.

"Lucky's newest interview. He was in the zoo with the tributes, I mean it was almost comedic. But, I've got to say the most interesting part was when they held hands." He said. You couldn't hide the anger on your face no matter how hard you tried and it was only made worse when you spotted Sejanus' sympathetic glance from over his shoulder.

"Well, he is very motivated to win the Prize I suppose." You murmured, now embarrassed, even if they weren't aware he was your boyfriend he was supposed to be your closest ally and here he was prancing around with his new decoration.

Much to your pleasure the large wooden door swung open, everybody filing into the room and taking their assigned seats, the one next to yours empty.

His seat.

Finally, minutes later he entered looking rather sheepish. If he was ashamed you were glad, he should be.

"Your little excursion is in violation of about five Academy rules Mr Snow." Spoke Casca. Deep down you were pleased that he had broken rules, pleading in your mind that this would prevent any further ventures. "Amongst them, endangering a Capitol student."

"Who?" He asked, stopping in his tracks as though he was insulted by the accusation.

"You. I'm moving for the Game makers to disqualify you as a mentor immediately." Casca answered. Guiltily you were happy, you just hoped your face didn't show it as Coriolanus sat down next to you.

"You said that we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away." He said leaning against the banister of your seats.

"I don't believe holding their hands was in that agreement." You snarled from behind him and you immediately regretted it as he turned to you, hurt that you weren't defending him.

"Right you are Miss L/N." Casca replied.

"Holding her hand, introducing her to people. You make it look as if were one in the same as those animas." Arachne added. You didn't agree with that, they were very much the same as us but his effort to care for her wounded you internally.

"Coriolanus didn't show those people anything they didn't already know. That the tributes are human beings. Just like us. That's why nobody wants to watch the Games, because people know deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn't justify starving peoples children." Sejanus added, yet you couldn't help but feel like Coriolanus didn't truly agree, he just wanted to be let loose for his wrong doings.

"Snow fell. Down in the cage, it fell down in the cage but it landed-" Doctor Gaul appeared, frightening you and many others. She had an atmosphere similar to Coriolanus, threatening and brazen. Maybe that should've scared you more than any District Twelve girl, yet it didn't.

"On stage." Snow finished her riddle without hesitation.

"You're good at games. Maybe one day you'll be a Game maker like me." She grinned evilly. You didn't miss Coriolanus' smile when hearing this and something deep within you stirred.

"Only if the games continue at all." Casca replied.

"Oh they'll continue, with performances like young Mr Snow in that zoo. In fact I came to ask your star Mentor a question. What are the Hunger Games for?" She said confidently.

"They're to punish the Districts for their uprising. To commemorate the end of the war." Coriolanus answered thou hit felt scripted and to some extent it was. That very answer was drilled into your heads from the moment you entered the Academy.

Sejanus began to discredit the Games, calling them what they are. Cruel. Doctor Gaul didn't like that.

"Perhaps the Capitol students are ill suited to be mentoring tributes, perhaps the Games time has passed." Casca said and something about it told you he was on Sejanus' side, that he didn't agree with the very games he created.

"Dean Highbottom is wrong. My classmates too. Maybe Sejanus is onto something, maybe we should be viewing those tributes as human beings." Coriolanus spoke and you tugged at his shirt for him to sit down, to stop defending this inhumane act but he slapped your hand away. "I mean you saw those kids in the zoo, they just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch we should be letting them get closer to the tributes before the games. Make the stakes personal." You felt embarrassed by his every word. Embarrassed by his obsession with Lucy Gray and embarrassed that he believed in these games.

"Who will watch the games if they care what happens to the tributes?" Asked Doctor Gaul and even to you, the answer was obvious. Everyone.

"Everyone." Answered Snow, predictable. "If they thought the tribute they cared about had a chance of winning, people need someone to root for and against. We need them to invest. If we bend a few Capitol laws, we could even have them place bets." He continued his proposal.

"You forget you're talking about real people Coriolanus, not just characters in your wider game." You said, eyes cold as he once again turned to you seeming betrayed, you no longer cared.

"Look I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena but if you give her a chance, I would bet the Plinth Prize that she can win peoples attention." He ignored you, instead once again talking about Lucy. You felt sick by his obsession, betrayed. How long had you been the one to care for him, to root for him and here he was digging a dagger in your heart.

"I would like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight Mr Snow." Doctor Gaul stated. "Perhaps your classmate can help you?" She smirked towards you in question.

You shook your head while keeping your eyes trained on the front of the room, you refused to be apart of his play for Lucy Gray's victory.

You sat alone at lunch, thinking. What was going on between him and that girl and why was he suddenly the Games biggest supporter. You understood the Plinth Prize meant a lot to him. That it would open doors but this was a step too far.

"Y/N, a pleasure." A voice you knew all too well said as it took the seat across from you.

"Coriolanus." You answered bluntly before taking another bite of your sandwich. He could tell something was off from the moment you used his full name, usually calling him Coryo.

"What was that little show back there, hm?" He asked, blue eyes a weapon as he glared at you. Something you had never been on the receiving end of before.

"I could ask you the same thing." You replied, putting your food down to glare back.

"It's a competition, Y/N. One which could change my life, I know you don't have to worry about winning but this means everything to me. You know that. I know the games are animalistic but they'll go on either way-." He defended though you cut him off.

"That's what you think I'm upset about?" You said, exaggerating the 'that's'.

"It's not?" He asked, now curious.

"I don't know, Coriolanus maybe I'm upset about you being obsessed with Lucy Gray. I mean, she's all you've spoken about since the Reaping, you held her hand! Risked your life for her!" You exclaimed in angry, drawing attention to your table.

"Oh what, so your jealous?" He smirked, clearly amused by your outrage.

"Jealous does little to describe what I am feeling, Snow. This is another level. When will you realise that that girl is using you, just as you are using her. Nothing more nothing less. I however am still here, I have been there for years, for you!" You shouted once more and he grew agitated as the room stared, grabbing your wrist with unnecessary aggression to pull your face down to this.

"Don't make a scene Y/N. You're acting like a little girl." He gritted out through his teeth.

"Fuck you, Coriolanus Snow." You replied equally quiet and with menace laced in your words. You saw his face change, as if the anger once there was replaced by a mask of sympathy. It felt ingenuine.

"Come on, Y/N. You know I love you right? I have for how long now, years." He said with kind eyes.

"Don't kid yourself." You scoffed. Though his face stayed the same his grip on your wrist tightened, leaving pink indentations.

"I love you, Y/N. Okay? Not Lucy Gray. She's my tribute just like you said, nothing more nothing less." He once again reassured, never giving up his hold.

Finally the fire in your heart gave out to him and his stupid Snow charm. It never failed to make you swoon and hearing those three words, ones you gave to each other not very often, you just wished to be in his arms.

"Okay." You retreated.

"Okay and?" He asked.

"I love you too." You answered, relieved when he let your wrist go, you were quick to move it below the table, scared to see what he had done to your wrist.

"Good. Now come on, I'm going to give some food to Lucy Gray, strengthen her, I assume you would like to meet Wovey." He said, getting up from his chair. You didn't want to meet Wovey, not really, scared to look her in the eyes. You did however want to meet his pretty little Songbird.

You walked together, hand in hand towards the zoo. He was back to his caring self after the flash of rage you previously saw. It wasn't the first time that side of him had flashed and you knew it wouldn't be the last but moments like these made it all worth it.

Your relationship was secret, but you felt no need to hide it anymore, now determined to show he was yours. Show everyone.

At first you stuck by his side, even when he spoke to Lucy Gray and you felt yourself flinch as she rushed over.

"That for us?" She asked as he held food out to her. Watching as she gave some to her fellow District Twelve Tribute, Jessup. "And who might this be?" She asked, eyeing up your joint hands.

"Wovey's mentor." He answered, without a second thought. Though when you squeezed his hand, his answer changed. "My girlfriend, I mean. Y/N L/N."

"Well Miss L/N, you sure do have the cream of the crop here with Mr Snow. He's a lovely young man." She smiled at you, you couldn't tell if it was your own paranoia telling you it was ingenuine or if she really didn't feel happy for you.

"Oh, and don't I know it." You smiled back. "You've equally had such luck I must say. He's a fine mentor." You added, patting his chest as you boosted his ego.

"Well, thank you." He said, kissing your forehead. "But uh, could you give me and Lucy Gray a moment, Mentor to Tribute?" He asked and that once burnt out flame of jealousy flickered within you as you left to speak to Wovey. You watched as they now leant against the fence to talk, lips inches away, crouched together.

Wovey was a sweet young girl, grateful as you gave her food and she shared it with Bobbin who she had been sat with, you didn't mind her sharing seeing as some Mentors has made little effort to offer any help.

You patted her shoulder through the fence, promising your support to help her reach the end of the games though it seemed she didn't care about winning and you admired her bravery.

A scream cut said conversation short as you looked to see Arachne's neck being stabbed with a smashed glass bottle. Play stupid games win stupid prizes.

You and Coriolanus both rushed over. Even if she was mean and bitchy she was your friend for the last five years and you had grown fond of the girl.

You whispered reassurances as she cried, placing pressure on her neck until you were literally dragged off of her by Peacekeepers, watching as her final breath left her body.

"No, no, no." You whispered with glassy eyes as her body became smaller and smaller on the ground - until it was too far into the distance to see.

It was clear the games had officially begun, and the tributes were winning.

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[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

It's Okay To Ask For Help

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: angst, unwanted touching (grabbing one's ass without permission), creepy men

Summary: Things don’t look good from where you are. You work at a run-down bar, you’re a single mother trying to keep a roof over your head, and you’re trying to give your daughter the childhood she deserves. You don’t see yourself going up from here until reconnect with Spencer Reid.

Square Filled: bartender au (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

“Sweetheart! Another round!”

You have to keep the disgust off your face as you pour the man another round of whatever he is drinking. Sweetheartisn’t the worst thing you’ve been called at your job, but it’s the way he said it that has your skin crawling. You slide him the beer and pull your hand away fast enough before he can reach out and touch you. He grabs his beer and goes back to talking to his friend but keeps one eye on you.

You move to the other patrons of the bar and push the creepy man out of your mind. It’s not that you hate this job, you hate the people that come in. You’re the only female bartender which warrants unwanted attention from men nearly twice your age. Your boss isn’t any better as he usually lets this type of behavior slide, but at least he doesn’t try to touch you every hour.

The alcohol is running low so you step off to the side to grab some more while your coworker mans the bar. You walk into the back and bend over to grab two bottles when you feel someone press against your ass.

“Damn, baby, I have been thinking about this ass ever since I stepped foot in the bar.”

You stand up so fast that you would have gotten dizzy if it hadn’t been for the stranger groping your ass.

“Get your hands off me!” You turn and push the man away. “You’re not even supposed to be back here!”

“Come on, darling, just give me ten minutes of your time. I promise to make it worth your while.”

You’d slap him if you thought that would keep him away from you. Fucker probably likes that shit.

“No! Get the fuck out of here!”

You’re loud enough to cause your boss to enter the back room, and you look at him with wide eyes that have tears threatening to spill out.

“What’s going on here?”

“Sorry, man, I was trying to find the bathroom.”

“It’s the other hallway,” your boss points.

“Right. Thanks, man.”

You don’t wait for the door to fully close before talking to your boss.

“That man was lying. He came in here and grabbed my ass! I want him thrown out of the bar!”

“Whoa, calm down. That man has paid a lot of money tonight. I’m not going to just throw him out,” your boss sighs.

“He grabbed my ass. Don’t you care that he assaulted me?”

“Don’t be overdramatic. I’m sure he was just looking for the bathroom and accidentally knocked into you.” Your mouth opens. You can’t believe your ears. “Kevin is getting swamped out there. Get the alcohol and get back to work.”

You stay in the back room and cry for the next ten minutes. You’d quit if you didn't need this job. You have a daughter at home to support, and her father is only doing the minimum to help you. The court ordered him to pay you a thousand dollars a month for child support, and that barely covers your rent. You still have to work long hours just to put food on your table. You can’t afford to lose this job because no other place will hire you.

You’ve applied for other places and have even gotten an interview once, but nothing ever came of it. It’s like they back out as soon as they hear you’re a bartender at this bar, or the fact that you’ve got tattoos that you can’t exactly cover up with normal clothes. You don’t have any on your face or neck, but you do have some on your hands and chest. Darren, your boss, only hired you because of the way you look in a crop top--at least that’s what you believe.

You wipe your tears and join Kevin behind the bar to continue as if nothing ever happened. The man is gone but that only; means two more people just like him replace him. The only thing getting you through this shift is the fact that your sister is kind enough to watch Delilah until you get off at five in the morning. She’s agreed to the arrangement since she leaves for work around the same time you get off.

You’re saving what you can even if it’s only fifty bucks a paycheck, but it’s not nearly as much as you’d hope. Something needs to change or else you’ll drown in pain.

The rest of the shift goes by relatively smoothly, and you leave just as the sun is peeking over the horizon. You drive to your sister’s house where she is getting her lunch ready for work. Her husband is already out of the house since he’s a contractor and works before the sun is out, and Delilah is still in her pajamas watching cartoons in the living room.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

“No. Just a rough night, I guess.”

“You really should look into getting another job.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh. “Are you ready, Delilah?”

“Yes, Mommy!”

You leave with your daughter and head back home where you get her ready for school. You drive her to the bus stop and watch as she gets on. After the bus has left, you manage to make it home without crying. As soon as you step through the door, the waterworks are in full effect. Once that dam has been opened, it’s hard to close them. After a quick shower, you crawl into bed to try and get some sleep. You don’t have blackout curtains so the light still shines through the dark curtains, allowing you to see all the artwork you’ve hung on the walls.

You’re a good artist but you can never make any money off it. If you could, you’d be doing that full-time instead of bartending to a bunch of assholes. You manage to fall asleep until three when you leave to pick Delilah up from school. Your shift starts at seven in the evening so you have a little time to spend with your daughter before dropping her off at your sister’s.

“How was school, baby?”

“Good! I got to sit next to Lily today. Her and her Daddy are going to the fish zoo this weekend. Can we go?”

You chuckle at what she calls an aquarium. Your smile is lost when you think about Lily and who her dad is.

“You mean Lily Reid?”

“Yeah. Can we go? Pretty please?”

“Sure, baby. That sounds fun.”

You’ll have to work a double in order to pay for it, but you’ll do it if it means giving your daughter a normal childhood. Back before you had your daughter, you used to live right next door to a man named Spencer Reid. You two were joined at the hip and did everything together, often spending the night in each other’s apartments to keep each other company. You never did figure out how you felt about him until he left for the FBI academy.

By then, it was too late. You haven’t seen him since.

There are rare times when you see Spencer drop his daughter off at school before he goes to work, but you hear about him more than you see him. Delilah and Lily have a lot of after-school playdates at your sister’s house when you have to go to work early or need a bit more sleep, so you hear about Spencer from your sister. She knows about the two of you and often tells you about how he’s doing. She’s rooting for the both of you even though you don’t think he’d be interested in you now.

It was rough work but you managed to make it to the weekend without too much of a problem. Kevin agreed to take your shift on Saturday so that you can spend it with your daughter, and you agreed to take his Monday so he can have at least two days off in a row.

“Come on, Mommy!”

Delilah practically drags you into the aquarium hoping that Lily is there waiting for her. Spencer and Lily aren’t there yet so you two decide to wait in the large waiting area. The place is a large glass tunnel where you have an unobstructed view of every sea creature swimming by. Due to the excess water, the entire room has a blue hue to it. Delilah is mesmerized by the animals and runs over to the glass to press her face into it. You’re kind of nervous at seeing Spencer after all this time because you finally figured out how you felt about him after he left.

You were in love with him… you might still be.

You take out your phone and take pictures of her posing in front of the animals and some when she’s not even paying attention. She looks to the right and squeals when she sees her best friend.

“Lily!!”

You watch the two little girls run and hug each other, and your eyes lock on Spencer’s. Seven years apart but it feels like no time has passed when you look into his eyes. The girls go off to explore while still being close enough to you and Spencer.

“It’s been a long time. How have you been?” you ask.

“Still in the FBI and catching bad guys.”

“That’s so cool to be in the FBI.”

“Not as cool as you might think. How have you been? What are you up these days?”

“Bartending at the moment. Remember Skull Bar?”

Spencer stops walking and looks at you in shock. “You’re still bartending here? Didn’t you hate that place?”

He must remember the nights when you’d come home crying because you hated how you were treated by sleazy customers.

“I still do, but what am I going to do? I have Delilah to support, and it’s not like her father is helping much. I should ask for more since he is making a lot of money, but I haven’t had time to go to the courts.” You two continue walking after both of your daughters. “I miss living next to you.”

That’s your way of telling him you miss him dearly even if he doesn’t pick up on it.

“You know, the apartment next to mine just opened up. You two can move there. I know Lily would love it.”

It hurts knowing your lives would be much better staying at a place that doesn’t have broken appliances, but how will you ever afford it? You can barely afford the dump you live in now.

“Spencer, it’s a nice thought but it’s not like I can afford it. I make good tips but bartending barely puts food on my table. I can barely afford the twenty-five hundred dollar rent I have now. Apartments in the city cost a lot more. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“Are you still drawing? I remember you always making me something. You were and probably still are incredible.”

“Some but it doesn’t pay the bills, so I had to put it on the back burner.”

“You’re talented enough to make it a career.”

“Well, when you know of a job that will benefit me, let me know.”

Spencer nods in thought and you two continue to walk after your kids in silence. His phone rings and he steps off to the side to take the call while still following the girls. You look at Spencer and admire him without him knowing about it. He’s grown a lot since you last saw him not only physically but mentally. He must have been through a lot of shit to have that faraway look in his eyes.

He ends the call ten minutes later and walks back over to you. Lily and Delilah are busy petting the sting rays which will give you another twenty before they’re ready to move on.

“I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to shut it down immediately. I want you to think about it,” Spencer says.

“Okay…”

“My team is looking for a sketch artist, and I know you’d be perfect for the job. You have the skill. It pays well, better than bartending, and the benefits are so much better. You and Delilah would be taken care of.”

You gasp at the thought of finally leaving that shit hole, but you remember the promise you made Spencer. You bite your lower lip to prevent yourself from denying it. After two minutes of thinking about it, you release your bottom lip.

“What do you think I’d say to that?”

“That you’re not a charity case and you don’t need help.” He’s right. You would have said that. “Just think about it. Think about Delilah. It’s still within the school’s boundaries so she doesn’t have to switch.”

You look at Delilah and Lily who are laughing from the water the sting rays are splashing. This job would offer you a more normal schedule and allow you to spend more time with her. You’d be able to provide her with a better childhood.

“Your office is on the other side of town from where I live. My car isn’t that great.”

“I know of a place a lot closer,” he smirks.

“Is this a ploy to get me to move in next to you?”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Sometimes people need help, and it’s okay to ask for help. That doesn’t make you a bad mom or a bad person. It makes you strong because you’re doing it to get better.”

Tears well in your eyes at the opportunity being presented to you. You don’t hesitate to give him your answer.

“I’ll take it.”

You pull Spencer in for a hug and wrap your arms around his neck. Spencer wraps his arms around your waist and closes his eyes from the feeling of you being back in his arms. You pull away from him but don’t step away from him. He glances down at your lips wanting to kiss you but not wanting to overstep.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Lily says loud enough for you two to hear. “Look at them. They’re gonna kiss. I told you bringing them here was a good idea.”

You giggle at the thought of both of your daughters being little masterminds. Well, if money is on the table, you better make Lily ten bucks richer. You lean up and kiss Spencer, finally feeling like everything is right in the world.

x

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[atskiruma]

he makes you cry

expl: he doesn't usually care about others' feelings, so how was he supposed to know what he did to you was mean?

a/n: appalled that this is my first time doing my favorite geo boy, appalled and ashamed; also exhausted this might not be my best work, requests sent will be fulfilled soon, i just need some rest! just got hired at a job that i went for an interview with today, so work will slowly be coming out later and later, sorry!

ask me anything

masterlist

second-person writing no pronouns used, 2,818 words

Xiao was not fond of caring about others' emotions, nor did it ever occur to him that he should care. He tried to keep his life as simple and as peaceful as possible because he deserved it after everything he went through before. Which was why he was so confused when someone would cry in front of him. Xiao never cried when times were hard, what made those salty tears escape human eyes so easily?

Most of the time, he never saw people cry, and if he did, he ignored it. That's how he was taught to deal with emotion, he'd ignore it.

It began when you were up in your room at the Inn, minding your business and trying to figure out how to make the woven bracelet that the Traveler had taught you. Frankly, it was pretty difficult, and when the Traveler was teaching you, you were so busy watching them that you never actually learned.

The hours were beginning to fly by and you could hardly make out the original pattern you were trying to replicate. Repeated failures over and over and piling yarn began to stack up on the bed next to you. It was when you had finally gotten it down to only mess up again because something distracted you was when you finally snapped.

Throwing the bracelet across the room where it rested under the table, streams of hot tears began to roll down your cheeks in frustration. You were doing everything right, why wasn't it working!

It happened to be the same time you were leaving your room when Xiao was strolling down the hallway. The two of you made eye contact and his eyes flew to where the tears were running toward the bottom of your neck. His eyes widened only a little bit and his mouth opened and closed like a fish only to not know what to say.

You also stood still and stared at him. Why? Maybe you were just waiting for him to comfort you or you were curious about what he had to say. But when it was clear that he'd keep gapping like a fish, you started to walk off again. Only for him to grab your wrist before you made it too far and pull you a bit toward him.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a soft voice, hardly making eye contact with you and finding his shoes on the floor more entertaining. It was shocking to see him show such concern in general, but you remembered why you were upset and started to ball again. Pushing yourself into his chest and crying warm tears into his shirt.

His hands fumbled on the sides of you for a while until he rested them softly on your hips. Awkwardly patting you in a form of reassurance he'd never shown anyone before.

His face was pretty flat when you began to show signs of distress and sadness. Albedo was too focused on his experiment to even realize that something went wrong on your end. The sound of a beaker crashing to the floor sounded across the room, but he still kept looking forward, hardly hearing anything at all.

That sound kept up for a while, you were pretty sure you broke at least 5 beakers in the time it took for you to get them from the spare cabinet. It wasn't until the 6th beaker that you managed to catch did Albedo actually turn around to see what had happened.

His experiment seemed to be going fine, the color of the liquid sitting at the bottom of the beaker matching the picture right next to it perfectly. You sighed when you saw he had already beaten you to make the antidote.

"I don't know how you do it 'bedo. This one is probably the most difficult I've done." You said before wiping your forehead which was littered with sweat from how hard you'd been concentrating.

"Just try again, I'm sure you'll be able to complete it." He said, his encouraging words going little to no length and falling straight to the floor. It didn't help that the trashcan full of your previous broken beakers was so close. It was extremely discouraging to see how much damage you've caused just trying to learn how to brew the antidote.

Then Albedo took his leave, putting his things down when he realized the clock read 9 PM. Bidding you goodbye, he looked back one last time with his handle on the doorknob and spoke. "Humans sometimes do not carry the skill to complete such a difficult task, do not push yourself to do something you simply can't achieve."

And then the door shut. All you did was stare at where he previously had been, his words repeating in an endless loop shrinking infinitely into your mind.

"Huh?" Was all you said before a warm feeling rushed down your cheeks and landed on the toe of your shoes. Did he just call me stupid? You thought to yourself. The frustration you felt along with the fact that he just said that, caused a rush of salty tears to leave your eyes. Your eyelashes stuck together as tears mended them together.

You continued to stand there and cry, until the door opened again and the alchemist stuck his head back in the door, announcing he forgot something towards the floor. That was until he lifted his head up to see you standing there, crying. For once, he stood still and just stared at you unable to conjure any words for the scene he was witnessing.

The sniffles and the silent sounds of tears padding the floor were all that was making sound in the room. As Albedo continued to stare at you like the two of you were playing a game of freeze tag.

"I'm stupid aren't I 'bedo?" You said, which made him flinch when the sound of the nickname you gave him came out in a harsh and rude manner. "Too stupid to figure out the dumb potion because I'm just a mere human in your eyes."

"What're you talking about?" He said, with the quietest and most emotion-full voice you've ever heard him use. Albedo continued to step closer to you, almost as if he was never moving at all. When he finally did reach you, his hand brushed against your cheek and his eyes held so much concern it could fill up the sea.

"I don't think you're lesser than me, is this about what I said? I didn't mean it like that..."

You kept sniffling while looking at him, still stubborn for more than what he was giving you. His arms reached around you and held you close, something he often did when Klee would sob, which he learned from Jean.

The two of you stood like that for a while, until the blazing sun rested its eyes in the distance, and the sorrowful moon began to creep up the valley.

"What is wrong with you??" Tighnari's harsh voice came out in a way you only heard once in a while. His irritated look glared at you from where you stood, all you had done was knock down a few books, but it looked like other things were really beginning to upset him.

You expected to greet the forest ranger and spend some time together, seeing as the both of you made those plans a while ago, but it seems that he was really busy with something that he was supposed to finish a while ago.

He whipped his head back to look at the beakers on the table, making a very loud and audible sigh at your appearance here. "I'm busy, so make another time for..." He waved his hands around dramatically and quick, "Whatever it was you were planning and leave me be."

You stood silent for a while, shocked that he was giving you such an attitude, but at the same time, you had no idea how to respond to what he said. So, you did just that and didn't respond, turning on your heels and leaving. Unfortunately, Tighnari didn't hear you leave and assumed you were still sitting there waiting for him like usual. So when he turned around and opened his mouth to address you and apologize, he stopped in his tracks to see you weren't there.

When you saw Tighnari again, it was actually just his voice you had heard and your eyes didn't flicker to see if it was actually him. Collei was holding some sort of dinner for the forest rangers in the area, to both thank them and congratulate her for beating Eleazar. But you finally did see him when it was too late, and you were bumping into the forest ranger with food in your hands.

A shocked gasp came out of your mouth till the echoed noise of a bowl rumbled onto the ground and crashed down, the food flying along with it. Your distressed state increased, and you immediately flew down to try and clean it up.

In fact, you were so busy trying to clean the bowl of food that had spilled over that you didn't even realize the forest ranger was standing behind you with his hands behind his back. Until the call of your name was repeated for the 3rd time, did you turn around to look at him, tears in your eyes from how frustrated you were?

Tighnari's eyes widened before he immediately dropped to his knees and put his hand on your shoulder for comfort. It shocked him to see you in such a vulnerable state, especially with how cheery you always seemed around him.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Tighnari said, before moving his eyes down to the food splattered all over the dirt. You didn't even realize how much helping out at the party would stress you out. As soon as Tighnari muttered the words are you alright, tears flooded out more and more as you tried to hide your face in your hands. Your shoulders and body shook with how much you were crying. Tighnari moved closer to you and shielded you with his body.

Not only did he treat you terribly before, but the first time he sees you in days, you were crying? His heart felt like it could break then and there. His hand came around your back to soothingly rub circles on it while you continued to sob. His ears even flattened a bit on his head in guilt.

When Collei had come around the corner to see the pasta salad splattered on the ground, and Tighnari hugging you with his tail between his legs. She smiled and sighed a bit, before walking away to leave you two be.

It felt like a long time while the two of you sat like that, his hand never stopping to rub your back. You finally pulled away to look at him and Tighnari rested his hand on your cheek in a comforting manner.

"I'm sorry I treated you like that, I was irritated and you came in at a bad time. I never want to hurt you." His guilt-written face and ears practically flattened to his head making your heart beat in a painful rhythm.

"You can make it up to me by helping me clean this up?" You said as a sly grin grew a little bit on your face. He smiled back and rolled up his sleeves to begin cleaning.

Scaramouche was a mean boy, everyone knew that he had no filter and he acted as if he didn't care about anyone when in reality it was the exact opposite.

"You're pathetic!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, looking at your shocked expression and stance from across the room. You had just failed to do the task that Nahida assigned you again, and it seemed like the newly-found anemo holder was growing more and more impatient watching you fail over and over.

"Excuse me?" You spat back, clearly irritated with his outburst and pushiness. Scaramouche scoffed again before trailing over to where you were, Nahida watching the interaction from her desk.

"You've been doing it all wrong, and that pathetic idiot brain can't seem to comprehend that." His fingers flew a swift flick to your head, pushing you back a centimeter. "If you keep failing, shouldn't you be trying something else instead of pushing the same solution over and over? Moron."

His insults over and over were hurting, sure, but you were used to it. When you felt good. Right now, this was the last thing you needed after failing again and again. At one point you even glanced over at Nahida after failing and saw her face look a bit reluctant about your skills. Which increased your anxiety tenfold.

"I never knew someone could be so stupid. I even worked with morons every day in the Fatui, but none match up to how idiotic you are." Scaramouche just kept blasting insult after insult at you. What was with him today? Was he really that peeved you didn't wait for him in the morning to walk over here?

Moving aside and putting your hands up defensively, you made way for the prince and his smart brain. He moved in front of you and began looking down at what you were doing. It looked like Nahida was still working with you on Fermat's Last Theorem, which was an extremely difficult math equation, back in the 17th century. Scaramouche made a noticeable eye roll before sitting down to begin writing out how to solve it.

What he didn't see was your reaction to the last flinching insult he threw your way. He didn't witness the tears swell up in your eyes and he also didn't see you walk away and leave the sanctuary. Only witnessing your presence gone when he looked up to turn another sarcastic comment towards you. Scaramouche's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before looking around him to see where you went. He turned towards Nahida when he couldn't find you and she looked up at him before looking back down at her papers.

"Tsk, whatever." He pushed his seat back and sat up to leave, wondering what he should have for dinner instead of concerning himself with where you went. It wasn't until later in the evening when he saw you again, sitting back at the desk, not uttering an obnoxious sigh or an irritating "What does this mean??"

He eased himself over to you with his hands in his pockets before leaning behind your shoulder to see what you were doing. You were working on the problem again, but his copy of it was nowhere to be seen, that is until he looked towards the trash and saw his handwriting on the paper barely crumpled and resting near the top of the bin.

"You threw away my paper?" He said with irritation lining every letter. You kept writing though and paid him no mind. The silent treatment seemed to be really riling him up because he continued to berate you over and over as you sat there taking it and continuing to work.

It was only an hour later that it really started to bother him with you being quiet. Maybe what he said earlier was too harsh, he didn't really feel that bad, but if it meant you weren't going to speak to him then he had to do something.

Leaning over you again, he placed his hand on your upper arm, grabbing your attention from the unusual act. His eyes met yours and held the stare for a couple seconds before he spoke,

"I'm sorry." That was all he said.

You raised an eyebrow at him, before squinting your eyes in confusion and responding.

"Sorry for what..?" The sarcasm dripped from every syllable and landed on his fragile ego.

His eyes widened and he took his hand from your arm, frowning and shouting back,

"I don't repeat myself! Accept the apology I gave you."

"You're such a child, does saying sorry really hurt that bad?"

"You heard me!"

Your eyes rolled and you turned back to your paper as if you were going back to ignoring him, his eyes softened again and he grabbed your arm once more.

"I'm sorry I said those mean words to you. I didn't mean it, I don't like it when you leave without me and I don't like it when you're upset."

When he grabbed your arm, you didn't turn to face him again, but after hearing the words he spoke, you turned again with a smile on your face and leaned closer to his.

The blush was evidently growing the more you leaned in, and you could see his adam's apple bob with nervousness.

"I accept your apology Kunikuzushi."

[suashii]

— 𝒶𝓊 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑜𝒾𝓇! ౨ৎ

multicharacter (atsumu, kuroo, sugawara, akaashi, kenma, & suna) x reader. 1.2k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ meet cute scenarios with them ! ! ﾉ repost from old blog :3

ᡣ𐭩 you pretend to be ATSUMU’s date so he doesn’t have to face an awkward interaction with his ex. you’re a little surprised when the random man approaches you and practically begs for your help through slightly slurred words. the desperation behind his cocoa-colored eyes and the soft pink hue flushing his cheeks convince you to go along with his deception. your mediocre night at the bar transforms into something much more entertaining as you get to know the blonde stranger. the two of you effortlessly click, bouncing jokes back and forth and breaking out in fits of rowdy laughter. despite the feel of angry eyes burning a hole into the back of your head (which must have meant his plan was working), you enjoy your time with the man you’ve come to learn is miya atsumu, who now holds the title of the most interesting person you’ve encountered at your regular drinking establishment. by the end of the night, the two of you are exchanging numbers and promising to meet again. maybe you’ll upgrade from a pretend partner of convenience to his true significant other.

ᡣ𐭩 KUROO holds the elevator door when he sees you rushing towards it. you’re out of breath by the time you make it into the lift, but you use what little air you have left to thank the man profusely for the polite gesture. he’s a lifesaver, you tell him—you surely would have been late without his kindness. when he asks what floor you plan on getting off at, you laugh, explaining that you’re also stopping at the already-lit floor twelve. the two of you share small talk before getting off, both of you making your way to the receptionist. you ask them to point you to kuroo tetsuro’s office and that’s when the man finally reveals his identity. he’s the one interviewing you for the position to become his personal assistant. your cheeks heat with embarrassment at your lack of punctuality, but kuroo assures you that he understands that life happens—he’s willing to look past it, especially considering the effort you put in to attempt to make it here on time. his reassurance and your conversation with him in the elevator make the process of the interview a lot less nerve-wracking. kuroo is impressed with your resume, your experience, and most of all, you. he hires you on the spot. looks like you’ll both be seeing a lot more of each other.

ᡣ𐭩 you and SUGA help reunite a lost child with their parents. it’s hard not to jump into action when you see a distraught kid on their own. though, as soon as you make it to them, another person is also on the scene—the more help, the better. you share a knowing look with him before he turns his attention to the kid. you can tell he’s a natural when it comes to children. he isn’t bothered by the crying and easily calms the kid down, wiping away their tears with his thumbs, a gentle, comforting smile not once leaving his face. you’re both knelt down in front of them, quietly asking questions to see if they might remember any information that would help you get them back to their guardians. it’s not long before the kid nods and agrees to show you where they wandered off from. they take each of your hands, leading the two of you back to where they had last seen their parents. your hand and suga’s rhythmically swing with the kid’s before they spot a familiar couple and release you both, running into the arms of their mother. after plenty of apologies and many words of gratitude, you compliment suga on his great abilities with children and he says likewise; “the two of us make a great team.”

ᡣ𐭩 AKAASHI catches you after you slip on a patch of ice. his hands cuff your biceps as he steadies you and helps you regain your balance. you thank him, call him a lifesaver, and quickly apologize for the inconvenience. akaashi brushes it off as if it’s nothing, but he insists on accompanying you on the rest of your walk to your destination, you know, to make sure you get there safely. you accept his kind offer, after all, there’s no harm in having a cute guy keeping you company on the way to your stop. he introduces himself and you do the same. he’s soft-spoken but easy to talk to, the kind of guy everyone is comfortable around. he attentively listens to your words and answers each question you throw his way. he’s got a warm, soothing aura that draws you in. distracted by the pleasant discussion, you almost walk straight past the cafe you meant to stop at. turns out that the very coffee shop you were going to was the same one that akaashi frequented each day before work. he’d never run into you before, but he certainly wouldn’t mind seeing you again.

ᡣ𐭩 you text the wrong number and KENMA happens to be the receiver. the paragraph you type out excitedly rambles on about the release of the new game you had been anticipating for months. you don’t even realize you’ve sent the message to the wrong number until you get a reply. the unknown soul on the other end informs you of your blunder, but follows up with a text in response to your initial message in which they mirror your excitement for the upcoming release. it’s easy to ignore your mistake when the person you unintentionally reached out to has such an extensive knowledge on one of the things you find interest in. all the advice you’ve absorbed about not talking to strangers is out the window as you continue your conversation with your mystery companion. despite the amusing result of your slip-up, you have to bid your newfound acquaintance farewell. when you tune in for your favorite streamer’s live gameplay the next night, you’re more than surprised to hear him retell the exact same events you experienced the night before. turns out you were talking to the famous kodzuken.

ᡣ𐭩 SUNA accidentally knocks on your door instead of your neighbor’s. it’s his first time visiting the twins in their new apartment and he can’t be bothered to confirm whether the unit was 32A or 33A, so he trusts his gut and sticks to the former. his knuckles knock against the door and he wonders which twin will answer before he’s met with an unfamiliar figure. you greet the man with a smile despite not knowing who he is or what he’s here for. suna explains the misunderstanding and you laugh, confirming that the place he’s looking for is next door. though, suna’s in no rush to meet the twins and since you aren’t entirely opposed to making a new friend, the two of you stand at the threshold of your doorway and joke about the funny situation. it’s about ten minutes past the time the miyas were expecting him but he hasn’t bothered to check the time—hell, he’s almost forgotten why he’s in the hallway until the door next to yours swings open and atsumu emerges. he’s reminded of his original plans and reluctantly says goodbye, mentally making a note that 32A is the door he wants to knock on in the future.

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