#this chapter felt a bit rushed

[bravevulnerability]

‘tis the damn season, chapter eight

fanfiction.net link

ao3 link

[secretsbehindthenine]

Thanks for kindly replying!

I sorta want to request a RC9GN story about Randy having a lonely birthday (which Howard has again forgotten about because… he forgets his bestie’s all the time!).

PS: Yeah, I’m a very sfw person but I don’t want to tread into shipping territory atm, so I’ll stay safe with the bromance friendship route.

Sorry about the late response! I'm currently halfway into the fall semester of college, so I'm working on a butt-load assignments at the moment. So, forgive me if any part of this feels rushed. 🥲

Also...I know your prompt wanted it to be centered on Howard forgetting Randy's birthday, but the whole "Randy having a lonely birthday" reminded me of a plot point in my Idol!AU that covers just that. Inspiration struck, so I had to write it out. I hope you don't mind! 😅

------

Time was a funny thing. Despite its consistency, the way it moves along at the same rhythm and tempo for everybody on earth, the way you process its passage will never be the same as how others go about it.

It had been six months since Randy came to Akemioka. 26 weeks since he decided to keep the other trainees at arm’s length, the last words Howard said to him replaying in his mind over and over again like a looped song. 181 days since he dedicated his time to testing the limits of his vocal range, improving his dancing skills, and practicing his Japanese. Anyone else would’ve thought those 4,344 hours were the longest they’ve ever endured, or the fastest that has ever managed to give them the slip. But Randy? He watched the clock in real time. Felt all 260,640 minutes pass by him like a classmate in a busy hallway. Time wasn’t a tangible thing; you couldn’t reach out and grasp it, as if it was a ball you had to catch or a bar you needed to grab. And yet, those 15,638,400 seconds churned something fierce in the depths of his stomach. It twisted his guts, pushed bile up his throat, got tears swelling up in the corners of his eyes. Every breath, whether slow-deep or shaky-shallow, was weighed down by the ticks that resonated from each clock Randy came across. All because Randy spent 15,638,400,000 milliseconds avoiding others like the plague, hoping—no, praying the thought of him being a major-league shoob would never cross any of their minds. Isolation was key. If he didn’t want to prove Howard right, if he didn’t want to run the risk of letting down anybody else, he had to alienate himself from everybody. He needed the loneliness, the company of himself and himself alone. That’s the only way he’ll be able to survive all this.

Except…

Birthdays weren’t a private thing. Not to Randy. It was unfathomable to him, to spend a day centered on the fact that you beat out the odds and lived another year in complete, utter seclusion. This accomplishment, this goal post, needed to be shared with others. It needed to be celebrated with the people you care about the most. That’s how it’s always been for Randy every time March 21st rolled around. He always had his friends and family at his side, congratulating him for the mere feat of being alive. He always had somebody to wish him a happy birthday, to give him a gift and lift up his spirits.

Until now, that is.

It had been 6 months since he left Norrisville right in the midst of the week before Thanksgiving break. 6 honking months since his fight with Howard and the end of a friendship he’d wholeheartedly believed would follow him to his grave. Randy knew 6 months after November was March. He knew he’d be spending his 15th birthday in Japan. Yet, it took his parents calling him at 6am sharp to actually accept that. It took his parents’ smiling faces on a tiny-ass screen, idly remarking that they had to get the timing just right so that their birthday message for him would be the first thing he woke up to, for him to finally acknowledge that, yes. It was his birthday now. Randy was officially 15 years old. And this phone call right here was all he’d be getting this year. No gifts. No parties. No…Howard. Just him and his parents on opposite sides of the Pacific, with only their phones keeping them connected.

If it wasn’t for the fact that his roommate was literally right next to him, Randy would’ve cried right then and there.

[glowingreverie]

the past two days, i've just been watching mukbangs

[tweetsongs]

Transmigrating into the Reborn Male Lead’s Ex-Boyfriend Chapter 155 (End)

prev chapters

last chapter! i hope this helped someone out there get closure for this book. it's a silly little thing, but i'm glad i got to know how these two turned out.

-

In the end, the doctor’s assessments were around an hour slower than the system’s. But their assessments held a similar pessimism regarding the viability of Xiao Yuanmu’s treatment when they spoke to Song Xuanhe.

As the head of the clinic, Xiao Yuanmu wasn’t wasn’t allowed to hear his own prognosis. It didn’t actually matter, as even without hearing it, he knew very well what the state of his body was.

He swept his eyes past the downcast expressions on his doctors’ faces, eyes only wavering when they fell on Song Xuanhe. He waved a hand to have the doctors leave the room, and broke the heavy air that had surrounded them when he had told Song Xuanhe to return to his world.

He said: “I want to go back to China.”

Song Xuanhe’s focus had always been on Xiao Yuanmu. When he spoke, he thought about it and then said: “Okay.”

He knew Xiao Yuanmu, knew that he wasn’t the kind of person who sat around waiting for death. Whatever this person did, he was the kind of person to do it without flaw. From the time that he went back to China for his assessment, to bringing everyone he trusted to his side without stirring up suspicions, to even now, he kept the fact of his condition so tightly wrapped that it was impossible to leak.

If Xiao Yuanmu was giving up on treatment, it could only be said that he knew the limits of his own body. The treatments available with modern medicine couldn’t give him a cure, at most, it could only bring him some relief, nothing more.

Even that relief was barely possible now.

Song Xuanhe felt like his heart was being crushed, heavy and painful. It was hard to even breathe, but he was somehow able to keep his cool. 

Maybe it was because Xiao Yuanmu was the protagonist of this world, or because the system was so advanced in technology. But even now, with overwhelming worry surrounding him, he still didn’t feel scared.

More than that, he even felt some strange sort of confidence. He thought that Xiao Yuanmu would definitely not die.

If the system knew what his thoughts were, it might mock him for his superstitious ideas. But right now the system was busy searching for the reason that Xiao Yuanmu was breaking down, it had no time to look through Song Xuanhe’s thoughts.

Seeing how quickly Song Xuanhe agreed, Xiao Yuanmu looked slightly surprised. He thought that Song Xuanhe would try to stop him.

“Once you’ve rested properly, we’ll leave,” Song Xuanhe said.

“I’ve already gotten Yang Jie to book us a flight, I can rest on the flight.” Xiao Yuanmu said.

Until the flight, the two had a tacit understanding not to bring up whether or not Song Xuanhe would return to his original world after three days.

The flight would take around eleven hours. The moment they boarded the flight, Song Xuanhe pulled Xiao Yuanmu into the bedroom. The two of them laid side by side in a cot, listening to the sound of the plane taking off, neither speaking a word.

Time passed like this, seconds into minutes. Xiao Yuanmu finally couldn’t resist the exhaustion in his body and closed his eyes.

Hearing the soft breathing by his side, Song Xuanhe slowly moved his hand, gently taking Xiao Yuanmu’s cool hand into his.

In his memories, Xiao Yuanmu’s hand and his icy personality were always different, his hand was always warm and dry. Now, though, his hand carried a faint chill, and was slightly damp. It made Song Xuanhe’s heart clench.

He couldn’t resist asking the system: [Have you found a way to treat Xiao Yuanmu yet?]

The system took a moment to reply: [No, his organ failure isn’t normal. It’s not because of any disease, and it’s impossible to find the source of the failure. Also, I can’t figure it out- Xiao Yuanmu is the protagonist of this world, his body shouldn’t be failing like this. If I had to guess, I would wonder if this is perhaps the result of some previous plotline.]

Song Xuanhe’s brows furrowed. [Xiao Baicong’s kidnapping?]

[Yes,] the system replied. [This world was made from an author’s time online, and revolves around the plot and circumstances they created. Because the author never finished the book, the plot that the world is controlled by can only go up to that point. If there aren’t any mishaps, the plot of the book should only finish after two years. Xiao Yuanmu should still be the protagonist in that time, so nothing should be able to happen to his body in the meantime.]

[But the plot of the book has ended now,] Song Xuanhe’s expression suddenly changed as he continued to speak to the system. [Xiao Yuanmu is no longer the protagonist of this world.]

[...Yes.]

Seeing Song Xuanhe’s face, the system didn’t continue, letting him have some time to digest this.

It didn’t take him long to speak again: [If Xiao Yuanmu isn’t the protagonist of this world, what will happen to him?]

The system said: [You already know.]

Song Xuanhe did already know, but he couldn’t help but act like a spoilt young master again, hoping that the system would give him an answer that still carried some hope.

[Will he really die?] Song Xuanhe found it difficult to speak.

The system fell silent, then avoided his question: [You still have sixty-nine hours to think about it. You said before that you had a reason you had to go back. Since it’s a necessary reason, I hope that you think about it properly.]

[Is that your answer for me, then?]

The system didn’t answer, and Song Xuanhe fell silent as well.

In this silence, he felt in the bottom of his heart a drop of despair begin to spread.

Before this, he had always thought that Xiao Yuanmu’s protagonist halo would help protect him. No matter how difficult the situation was, he never thought that it would turn that severe, since the world would always force things back on track. This time, since the world’s protagonist had an issue, the world would of course step in to save him.

But the system told him that Xiao Yuanmu was not the protagonist of this world anymore.

Now he was just like any other of the infinite beings on this planet, the world no longer cares whether he lives or dies. The world will treat him like any other being, allowing him to pass through the cycle youth, old age, illness, and death without care as if he were a being no more remarkable than dust, no more individual than an ant.

[Xiao Yuanmu is awake.]

The system’s voice pulled Song Xuanhe out of his own mind. His eyelashes shook for a moment as he pulled out his cell phone. The plane had entered the Chinese border, and the time zone had switched to this timezone as well. It was 10:50PM, and after half an hour they would be landing.

Song Xuanhe’s eyes were on his phone, his mind unable to untangle the mess of thoughts within. He hadn’t decided what to do yet.

Xiao Yuanmu grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him downwards, his lips turning upwards to fill them. He easily opened Song Xuanhe’s jaw, pressing into his mouth to make his claim. He alternated between passion and sweetness, leaving no corner of his mouth unexplored.

“Good morning.” Xiao Yuanmu let go of him, the corner of his lip turning upwards, a soft smile on his face.

Song Xuanhe looked at him dazedly, expression open as if everything were normal. After a pause, he replied: “It’s not morning right now, but. Good morning.”

He bit at Xiao Yuanmu’s lips again before speaking: “We’ll be landing soon. Put on your seatbelt.”

Xiao Yuanmu thought about how meticulous Song Xuanhe was about checking their seatbelts every time they drove and laughed a little, fastening his own seatbelt.

The plane landed steadily. Because it was already late, they didn’t contact anyone else, and directly went back to their previous residence.

Even though nobody had lived there in some time, there were still people who came over every few days to clean and lock up. When they returned, all they needed to do was change the sheets and they could go to sleep.

It was Song Xuanhe’s first time changing a duvet, and he stared at the zipper of the duvet cover for a long time before finally carefully replacing it, focusing with single-minded intent on the task.

Xiao Yuanmu watched him from the door, lips curling unconsciously into a smile.

“Let me.”

Xiao Yuanmu walked up to Song Xuanhe’s side and took the duvet from his hand. While tidying out the duvet that was being messily stuffed into the cover, he also taught Song Xuanhe: “You have to air out the duvet first, and then make sure that the four corners-”

Song Xuanhe listened to him intently, seeing how Xiao Yuanmu managed to neatly make the duvet in under half a minute.

Comparing the two of them felt embarrassing.

“This was my first try, wait ‘till I’ve practiced a bit more.” He said stubbornly. “Then we can have a duvet-stuffing contest, and whoever loses will have to listen to whatever the winner says.”

Xiao Yuanmu laughed and asked: “How much time do you need to practice before this contest?”

“At least three to five years, otherwise it’s unfair...” After he spoke, Song Xuanhe fell silent. Xiao Yuanmu’s smile dimmed a bit.

Looking at Xiao Yuanmu’s darkening eyes, he said: “Xiao Yuanmu, you will definitely be okay. Believe in me.”

Xiao Yuanmu lifted his eyes to meet his, curling his shaking hand into a fist. He made a soft sound of agreement.

“Well, now that the sheets are done being changed, we can go to bed,” Song Xuanhe said. “Or are you not tired anymore after sleeping for too long on our flight?”

“Let’s go to sleep,” Xiao Yuanmu changed into his pajamas and said. “I want to watch you sleep.”

Song Xuanhe suddenly walked forwards until he hit Xiao Yuanmu, beginning to peel open his pajamas. “Since you’re not tired, why don’t we do something else instead?”

-

For the next two days, Xiao Yuanmu and Song Xuanhe had congee together and went to visit the orphanage, went to visit the Song household to visit Li Nianan, visited Song Xuanlin, called up Xiao Shenglin and the others for a gathering, took the orphanage children to the playground together...

Time passed quickly, until it was down to the final three hours before Song Xuanhe had to make his decision about whether or not to return to his world. Up until then, the system still hadn’t given him any information on how to treat Xiao Yuanmu.

Xiao Yuanmu had long since given up, but Song Xuanhe refused to.

Until the system said to him: [I know why Xiao Yuanmu’s body is breaking down.]

[Xiao Yuanmu’s physical breakdown is not because of something happening to his body, it’s an issue with his soul...] the system said. [He said before that he had already been reborn twice. Maybe it’s this that wore down his soul, making it begin to break down. As his soul breaks down, so will his body. There’s virtually no way of stopping it.]

Song Xuanhe lifted his head to look outside at the night sky, bright with stars. With no change in expression, he asked: [You said ‘virtually’. That means that there’s still hope, right?]

 [Yes, the soul-replenishment elixir,] the system said. [From the System Miracle Store. If you choose to stay here, you can get it in exchange.]

Song Xuanhe’s eyes lit up, and he began to speak when the system cut him off. [However, the things from the System Miracle Store only work for you.]

[What do you mean?]

[The soul-replenishment elixir can only be given to you.]

Song Xuanhe’s eyes dimmed a little. The hope that he had been using all his might to hold onto these past few days began to break down, and he felt frustration and exhaustion well up in his heart. [Then what use is it?]

[You’re the system, it’s your store, isn’t there a way to bring the elixir out?] Song Xuanhe asked. [I still have two opportunities to ask for help, and a rebirth pass. If I give them all to you, can you give the soul-replenishment elixir to Xiao Yuanmu?]

[I can’t...] the system said. [I exist in your mind, I can only make exchanges with you. Those are the rules.]

Song Xuanhe fell silent for a few seconds, then his eyes lit up again. [You said before that you’ve crossed hosts before, right? That means you can enter someone else’s body. You can enter Xiao Yuanmu’s body and give him the elixir, right?]

[In theory, that’s right.] the system said. [But I can only enter someone’s body when I have a mission order. That would be against system regulations. Also, while I’m still bound to you, I can’t leave your body for someone else.]

[But after you and I unbind...]

After beginning to speak, Song Xuanhe stopped himself. The system had told him before what the consequences of breaking system regulations were. All beings had a fear of being annihilated. Just because it was a system, it wasn’t as if he could tell it to sacrifice itself to save Xiao Yuanmu.

[I saw a life conversion device in the System Miracle Store, what is that?]

The system didn’t want to answer, but felt compelled to. [It allows one person to extract their life force and give it to another person. But there are serious side effects. The person extracting their life force will feel extreme pain from the exchange process’ effects on their soul, and afterwards their body will also be much weaker.]

[If I gave my life force to Xiao Yuanmu, will he be able to live?]

The system was silent for a long moment. [Yes.]

[I will exchange for the life conversion device.] A smile floated onto Song Xuanhe’s face, and he said confidently: [Once my time in this world is over, let me exchange for it.]

The system didn’t answer, but Song Xuanhe took his silence as a tacit agreement.

He turned his smiling face to look at Xiao Yuanhe. When he saw the other’s sleeping face, his smile dimmed for a moment. He reached out and cupped his forehead gently, smile growing deeper.

He knew that there would be a way to save Xiao Yuanmu.

Xiao Yuanmu’s sleep was very light. When Song Xuanhe’s hand touched him, he woke up. 

He was lying on Song Xuanhe’s leg, and his eyes met a smiling expression that seemed to suddenly be relieved of a heavy burden. An idea began to rise from the bottom of his heart against better reason, though he found it hard to believe.

“You’re awake?” Song Xuanhe quickly noticed Xiao Yuanmu waking up. He lowered his head and said: “Do you want to sleep a little more?”

“It’s fine,” Xiao Yuanmu sat up, looking at his watch. “I’ll sleep after you leave.”

Song Xuanhe raised an eyebrow. “Then I’m afraid you’ll be waiting a long time before you sleep again.”

Xiao Yuanmu’s face was calm as he spoke: “You promised me before that you’d return to your own world.”

Song Xuanhe blinked, lips tugging upwards. “But that was on the premise that there was no saving you.”

Xiao Yuanmu paused, unable to hide the astonishment on his face. Looking at Song Xuanhe, he couldn’t bring himself to ask the question.

“You can be saved,” Song Xuanhe had never seen such clear astonishment on Xiao Yuanmu’s face before, and he couldn’t help laughing out loud at the sight. He reached a hand out to his shoulder, pulling him in by the back of his neck into an embrace as he said: “I told you there was a way to save you, so I will save you.”

“How?” Xiao Yuanmu lowered his hand, pushed down his astonishment until his face was calm again.

“My system found a way,” Song Xuanhe said. “If I stay in this world, I can make a trade for an item in the system store. Before, I couldn’t see what was in the store, but this morning I saw something-”

Song Xuanhe tried to dramatize the climax of his story, but Xiao Yuanmu’s face wasn’t impressed at all, only grew colder.

“The soul-replenishment elixir,” Song Xuanhe said, clicking his tongue. “Your organ failure was because of damage to your soul, and the damage to your soul was because of your rebirths. That’s why the doctors in this world weren’t able to cure it. But with the soul-replenishment elixir, we can fix the damage that your rebirths did to your soul.”

Xiao Yuanmu’s pupils shook. He was usually quick to react, but this time he couldn’t get his mind around what was being said. Song Xuanhe’s words were simple and easy to understand, but he found it difficult to believe him. He had already convinced himself so thoroughly of his inevitable future, and yet that inevitability was being shattered so easily.

“What’s the price you need to pay?”

Song Xuanhe pursed his lips, seeing the way that Xiao Yuanmu tensed nervously on top of him, and couldn’t help but let out a giggle. He said: “Before, I haggled three opportunities to ask for help out of the system, but I only used one. The soul-replenishment elixir is in exchange for me not returning to my world, and the other two opportunities for help. If we don’t count me not returning to my world, it barely costs anything.”

Song Xuanhe had always been good at scamming people. Xiao Yuanmu knew this, but he still was never able to find his true intentions from his eyes. It was the same this time, he couldn’t tell if Song Xuanhe was lying or not.

He wanted to believe it was true, he wanted so badly to selfishly be with Song Xuanhe for more days, more weeks. Even a few more hours would be enough.

But if it wasn’t true, then the consequences would be that Song Xuanhe would be trapped forever in a world that he had said he didn’t feel like he belonged in.

He couldn’t do that to him.

“You don’t believe me?” Song Xuanhe’s brows knitted together.

Xiao Yuanmu’s lips shook, then he said: “I’m just scared.”

“I’m afraid of you loving me more,” he pulled him into an embrace. “Afraid that you’ll be alone afterwards.”

Song Xuanhe’s eyes looked blank for a moment, then turned red. His throat moved, then he pushed Xiao Yuanmu away to say: “It’s going to be time soon. You’ll be able to know soon. We don’t just have these few moments. We still have days, months, years.”

“Z48,” Song Xuanhe laughed, and then spoke: “I have to thank you for taking care of me for all this time. I haven’t said it before, but I’m glad I met you. I’m also glad that you took me to this world. Even though we’ll be saying goodbye now, I’ll definitely remember you. Let’s do this.”

Xiao Yuanmu’s body was one long line of tension, staring at Song Xuanhe. It didn’t seem like anything was happening to Song Xuanhe, but he could feel his weak body beginning to feel a little stronger, his shaking limbs becoming steady again, his fuzzy mind clearing slightly, the pain in his body beginning to lift...

Not three minutes later, he could feel that his body was healthy again. And Song Xuanhe was still beside him.

He couldn’t believe it, it was actually true.

He grabbed Song Xuanhe’s hand, his clear voice becoming hoarse as an uncharacteristic quiver entered his voice: “You’re still here.”

Song Xuanhe’s eyes turned up. “Of course I’m still here.”

As he spoke, his face stilled as he felt something move in his mind, he immediately recognized that it was something moving out of his consciousness at last. He quickly said in his mind: [Thank you, Z48.]

[No thanks necessary,] the system’s voice had a smile in it. Its presence being removed from his mind felt weaker. [Goodbye.]

Song Xuanhe paused, said: [Don’t you need to extract my life force?]

He hadn’t felt any sort of pain up until now, and couldn’t feel his body becoming weaker. Actually, apart from the feeling of the system leaving his mind, he couldn’t feel much of anything at all.

[It’s already been extracted,] Maybe it was because of the extraction process, but the system’s voice became weaker and weaker. [I haven’t said it yet, but meeting you was the happiest thing to happen to me. My greatest wish is for you to be happy. In the future, you have to be happy, and brave...]

The system didn’t finish its words before dissipating. Song Xuanhe blinked and lifted his gaze to the stars outside. A gap he had always felt in his heart was gently being filled.

“I love you.”

Xiao Yuanmu pulled him closer, covering his lips. His eyes were full of love, and a happiness that he would never get sick of.

Song Xuanhe pulled himself back, heart full of relief and joy. He tilted Xiao Yuanmu’s jaw up, bringing himself into the moment. “I love you too.”

In the sky, a softly shining star lit up for a moment, then gently became lost in a sea of constellations.

[spaceshipkat]

idk i have thoughts about the finale but atm im not sure how to word them beyond hmm? (my tags are full of spoilers so don’t read them if you haven’t seen the finale yet)

[tariah23]

Literally never understood any of the ships in jjk akajkaa

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[nayziiz]

Meet the Parents | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Lando's parents had always been his steadfast pillars of support, unwavering in their encouragement through life's twists and turns. From his earliest dreams to his most ambitious endeavours, they stood by him with unwavering faith and boundless love. Yet, there was something uniquely daunting about the prospect of introducing the love of his life to them.

He longed for his parents to embrace this new chapter of his life with the same warmth they had always shown him his whole life. But with that longing came the fear of disappointment, the fear that this pivotal moment might not unfold as smoothly as he hoped. In the days leading up to the meeting, Lando was riddled with anxiety and doubt. He rehearsed conversations in his mind, imagining different scenarios and outcomes. Despite his confidence in her and their relationship, there was an undeniable unease lingering in his heart.

The surprise that Lando's parents experienced upon realising the true nature of his relationship added an extra layer of complexity to the anticipated meeting. They had caught glimpses of her at race weekends, exchanged polite pleasantries, but never did they fathom that she held such a significant place in his life. In their minds, Lando had always been the embodiment of the carefree bachelor, navigating life with a nonchalant ease that belied any serious commitments.

The sudden revelation that he had arranged a family dinner to formally introduce her spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings. This was no casual encounter or passing fling; this was someone special, someone he wanted to share with the most important people in his life. It was a departure from his usual approach, a signal that this relationship held a significance unlike any before.

With a mixture of anticipation and nervousness coursing through him, Lando stood before his parents' home, his heart pounding in rhythm with the uncertainty of the moment. As his hand hovered over the doorbell, he felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him, the culmination of weeks of anticipation and apprehension.

Lando's grip on her hand tightened, his fingers closing around hers with a fervent intensity. The pressure of his grasp increased, his knuckles turning white as he sought to anchor himself in the midst of his swirling emotions. Sensing his unease, she squeezed his hand gently in return, offering a silent reminder that she was there, steadfast and unwavering by his side. In her touch, he found solace, a lifeline amidst the storm of his thoughts and fears.

As the door swung open, revealing the familiar warmth of his parents' home, Lando felt a rush of emotions flood over him. His heart raced with anticipation, his palms grew clammy, and his breath caught in his throat. But as he stepped inside and his parents enveloped him in a tight embrace, all his fears seemed to melt away.

“Welcome home, son,” Adam, his father said, his voice filled with pride and affection.

“It's so good to see you, Lando,” his mother, Cisca, added, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Lando returned their embrace, feeling the weight of their love and support wash over him like a comforting blanket, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of home.

“Hi, Mum, Dad,” Lando said, his voice quivering with emotion as he stood beside her, his heart pounding in his chest. “This is Y/N.”

She smiled warmly, her hand finding comfort in Lando's as she met his parents' gaze with a gentle reassurance. The love and support in the room was palpable, enveloping them in a cocoon of warmth and acceptance.

Lando's parents exchanged a knowing glance, a silent understanding passing between them as they took in the sight of their son standing beside the person who had captured his heart. Their smiles widened with pride, reflecting the joy and happiness that radiated from Lando's eyes.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” Adam said, his voice filled with warmth as he stepped forward to pull her into a warm embrace.

She returned the hug, feeling a sense of belonging wash over her as she was enveloped in the embrace of Lando's family. In that moment, surrounded by the love and support of those who mattered most to Lando, she knew that she had found a home—a place where she was cherished and accepted for who she was.

“Thank you,” Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude as she pulled back from the hug, her eyes shining with emotion. “I'm so happy to be here.”

As Lando navigated the familiar streets of London, the city lights casting a warm glow upon the darkened streets, Y/N stole a moment to study him. She watched as the tension that had gripped his shoulders earlier in the evening seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of ease and contentment that radiated from his very being.

“I can't believe you were so worried,” she chuckled, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Lando glanced over at her, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he recalled the whirlwind of emotions he had experienced earlier that night.

“I know, I know,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “But you know how it is with parents. You always want them to approve.”

Y/N reached out to gently squeeze his hand, her touch grounding him in the present moment.

“They clearly adore you. And I can see why,” she reassured him, her eyes sparkling with affection. 

Lando felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words, a sense of gratitude washing over him. In Y/N's presence, he felt understood and cherished in a way he had never experienced before. She saw him—the real him—and loved him all the more for it.

“Thank you, for being here, for being you,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. She smiled, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her.

“Always,”  she promised, her gaze meeting his with unwavering devotion.

[sundrop-writes]

Careful - Chapter Three

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Three: Turn It Off

Before it gets any better - we're headed for a cliff.

Summary:

Spencer finally gets to see his son for the first time, and there is absolutely no denying - that is his son.

Caught up in a whirlwind of love for the boy and navigating the first small steps in co-parenting with you, he accidentally trips into a minefield from the past when discussing Sebastian's conception, and you both realize with baited breath that you might not be over each other.

(Especially not when that lust still burns so close to the surface.)

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst, Fluff, and Smut.

Word Count: 13,400

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: basic warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing; mentions of the reader being the target of a serial killer; angst/emotional tension between Spencer and the reader; (technically) Spencer being unprofessional by staying on the reader’s case; Sebastian is described to be a combination of the reader and Spencer’s looks, so this does not describe or exclude the reader’s looks/race; the bulk of this chapter is fluff because Spencer is bonding with Sebastian for the first time; most of the warnings for this chapter are because of the smut scene (which is a flashback to Sebastian’s (unintentional) conception) - so warning for smut; (kind of) phone sex; mentions of the reader masturbating; (Spencer calls the reader and she’s touching herself and he realizes it, but there’s not any real dirty talk in this section); the reader calls Spencer ‘baby’; Spencer calls the reader ‘darling’; mention of Spencer feeling emotionally worn down from looking at casefiles; unprotected penis in vagina sex (though Spencer is unsure if the reader is taking oral birth control consistently or not); there is a lack of communication about alternative birth control methods aside from condoms (like plan B and oral birth control) - but both partners enthusiastically consent to having unprotected sex in that moment, knowing the potential risks; creampie kink (not quite breeding kink?); mentions of Spencer eating out the reader after cumming inside of her; there is a scene with a lot of sexual tension between Spencer and the reader in the main timeline. Other than that - Morgan teasing Spencer? (and then having a serious moment with him). And I think that’s it.

A/N: This is by far the longest chapter - I don't know the official length of the final chapter yet, but this might be the longest chapter in the series. It was a bitch to edit, but I hope you guys enjoy it! Especially because I know a lot of people have been anticipating Spencer meeting Sebastian for the first time, and this is the big moment. I'm not gonna lie, when I was writing the first bits of this fic, I rushed to write the moment where Spencer meets Sebastian - and it gave me chills to write it. So I really hope that you guys enjoy it, and you enjoy the sweet moments in this fic, as well as the more saucy ones lmao.

...

Spencer churned with nerves as he walked back up to the house, two gift bags clutched in his shaking hand. 

He had walked around the mall for a long time - partial aimless wandering, partial sweaty anxiety causing his feet to move along rapidly. He felt like everything he looked at was not the right gift to apologize to you with after so long. He felt like it needed to be perfect. 

After about an hour of wandering, Hotch called him and tore him a new one. Apparently JJ had pulled him aside and explained the delicate nature of his situation privately. Hotch knew how dangerous it was to get so personal and emotional when it came to things like this, and he wanted Spencer back at the police station and far away from you. He said that if you needed protective custody, then he would put Morgan or Prentiss in charge of it. 

Spencer didn’t care if it was unprofessional. He begged to stay on the case, to stay with you and watch over you. Apparently you were the only viable lead - with the flowers that had been sent to you, you were the only potential next victim. 

After a while of back and forth, Hotch folded. 

He sent an unmarked car to watch over your house, and told Spencer to hurry up and get back there. He needed to try and convince you to agree to around the clock protection. At the very least, if Spencer was in the house when the UnSub tried to break in, he could catch him in the act. 

The rest of the team tried to farm other leads. They went through the other victims’ lives to see if anybody connected to them had any connection to the firm that handled the preschool applications, if any of their neighbors remembered anybody suspicious lurking around their homes in the days before the murders. 

Spencer spent another hour rushing around the shopping center before he found the perfect gifts for you and your son - his son. (He really, really hoped that he was right about that.) 

He picked up a couple of gift bags - one with a brightly colored pattern of teddy bears eating birthday cake and the other with a more mature pattern of soft roses. He put the gifts inside and rushed to get back to the house before Hotch called him again. 

And now that he was standing on the porch, facing down your door again, he almost couldn’t work up the ability to knock. 

But he knew that he had to face the inevitable. 

He reached out and gave three firm knocks once again. 

This time, what he heard surprised him. 

A loud, squealing giggle, and a round of thunderous footsteps across the floor, slightly muffled by the door. Clearly - the sound of a young child. 

Spencer’s blood rushed through his body like a tidal wave and he found himself dizzy as he stared at the white panels of your front door, anticipation thumping through him. After a tedious moment that felt like four long years, the doorknob slowly turned, and the door creaked open. 

Peeking out of the crack - a big, curious eye, and half a chubby cheek poked out at him. 

Your son had answered the door by himself. 

Spencer swallowed down nerves as he prepared himself to meet Sebastian for the first time. 

Upon instinct, Spencer crouched down lowly on the balls of his feet, getting down onto the child’s level. 

“Hey, buddy.” He said, using a light voice, trying to be as non-intimidating as possible. “Where’s your Mommy?” 

Mommy. 

It felt so strange - using that word to refer to you. But yes, you were his mother. 

You were a mother. 

That fact truly hit Spencer like a truck in that moment. 

Unexpectedly, Sebastian then flung the door open fully. It seemed that he had fully assessed Spencer, and deemed him as someone friendly, rather than some kind of threat. 

A large knot formed in Spencer’s stomach then, as he saw his son for the first time. Because in that moment, there was no denying - this was his son. 

He saw his own big eyes staring back at him, reflecting the same epic curiosity that he had at that age. He had your complexion, most definitely your same skin tone. The boy had your sweet smile, your cute nose. Spencer ached as he realized that Sebastian was quite literally the perfect combination of the two of you. His own wild, untamable tendrils (hair that clearly hadn’t been cut for a while) with tones of your natural color in it - your sweetness, your laughter. 

Spencer used all of his self control in that moment to keep himself from fainting on the spot. 

“Who are you?” Sebastian asked, tilting his head slightly, inspecting Spencer with a distinct up-and-down glance. “Are you the police? Mommy’s talking on the phone. She said the police are coming to our house. But she didn’t like that. Her face made a big frown - like when that man at the grocery store asked if she’s ‘free’ on Friday. And I said: you can’t buy Mommy, she doesn’t have a price. You can’t buy people. You buy bananas. That’s why we came to the grocery store, pal!” 

Spencer frowned. 

This was a lot of information to receive in such a short span, and Spencer quickly tried to sort it all out in his mind. 

Technically, he was ‘the police’, but he didn’t want to introduce himself to Sebastian that way if it would bring a negative connotation. Clearly, this was a very observant child - he had picked up on the fact that you didn’t want police protective custody around. (Spencer just hoped that you hadn’t mentioned why you might need that kind of protection around the very clever ears of your son - someone who had interpreted a man asking you on a date as a barter for ownership of your person, apparently.) 

Not wanting to upset Sebastian, he chose to introduce himself in another way, rather than saying he was with law enforcement - which is what he would have done with any other small child. 

“I’m a friend of your Mommy’s.” He said. “My name is Spencer. Can you-” 

Before he could finish talking, your voice entered the conversation. 

“Sebastian! Seb!” You called out urgently, looking for him now that you had realized he was gone from your field of view. 

You came around the corner in a panic and found your son standing there with the front door wide open. Your eyes naturally flickered toward Spencer, and surprisingly, a look of relief flooded your face at seeing him. 

As much as you disliked Spencer for your own reasons - at least someone who wasn’t a predator was with your son. You hadn’t meant to leave the door unlocked. It was just easy to forget things when you were chasing after such an energetic kid. 

“Sebastian, Mommy told you not to open the door unless I’m here with you.” 

You scolded him, rushing to scoop him up in your arms - unconsciously protecting him from the outside world as you propped him up onto your hip, hugging an arm around his back to hold him there. 

Spencer’s insides fluttered at how natural you looked with him in your arms. It was a picture perfect sight: you with his son in your arms. It was something he had been dreaming of for years. And now, for so many reasons, it left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“Spencer is my friend!” Sebastian proudly proclaimed, motioning toward his very new ‘friend’. “You said it’s okay to answer the door for friends.” 

You clenched your jaw, clearly resisting the urge to make a foul comment about this in front of your son. You wanted to correct him and say that Spencer was not a ‘friend’ - that he was far from it. But you held that back, knowing that Sebastian was too young and innocent to be stung by your anger. (Especially anger from a fight that was older than he was.) 

Before you could speak further or insist that Spencer had to leave, Sebastian spoke up again. 

“What’s in that bag?” He asked, extending his little arm and pointing a pudgy little finger toward the gift bags that Spencer had in his hand - items that Spencer himself had nearly forgotten about, swept up in pure awe at meeting his son for the first time. 

“Oh, it’s a gift for you.” Spencer smiled at him, holding one of the bags up toward the boy. “Because I missed your birthday.” 

Sebastian took the bag excitedly, but didn’t get a chance to examine the items yet, still awkwardly trapped in his mother’s arms. 

You glared at Spencer over Sebastian’s head. You thought it was a cheap attempt at buying his affection. Spencer avoided your eye. (If you were a lesser woman, you would have banned Sebastian from having the gift. But you weren’t going to take away his joy based on your own rotting emotions.) 

“What do you say, bud?” You prompted, wanting him to thank Spencer for the gift - even if you thought it was ill-intended. 

“I’m four now!” He excitedly announced, believing this was what you meant. “I just turned four. I had a big boy birthday. So I go to the toilet all by myself - as long as I don’t wee on the floor. And I had a princess at my birthday party, but apparently she doesn’t bring the letters to Santa Claus, the mail does that. Did you know that the U.S. Postal Service was founded in 1775, and Benjamin Franklin was the first postmaster-” 

“Seb, that’s not what I meant.” You said quietly, gently cutting off his unrelated string of ranting. 

Spencer was grinning widely from ear to ear - he found himself so utterly charmed by Sebastian’s bright, enthusiastic personality. 

“Sebastian, you have to say ‘thank you’ to Spencer for the present.” You reminded him, getting his mind back on track. 

“Thank you!” He parroted back. 

“You’re very welcome.” Spencer replied, his cheeks hurting from how hard he was smiling. 

You then put him down, and he ran back into the house, excited to open his gift and see what was inside it. 

A tense silence fell over you and Spencer. You continued to glare at him with fury tightening in your jaw. Any joy he previously felt over seeing Sebastian for the first time was completely zapped from him. 

He now felt like a groveling idiot, desperate to get back into your good graces. He felt like the picture perfect life with a perfect family was right there, and he was missing out on it because he had messed up all those years ago. 

“That was a nice try. With the gift.” You huffed out. “I don’t even wanna know what’s in that one.” You said, motioning to the other bag. 

“Y/N-” He said your name, ripe with desperation, and you cut him off again. 

“When did you know?” You asked. 

The question utterly confused Spencer, and when you saw this flash through his features, you took pity on him for once, and decided to clarify. 

“When did you know that he was yours?” You said this lowly, edging on a whisper, not wanting your son to hear it - even though he likely wouldn’t understand what the words meant if he did. (But he was an observant, smart kid. You couldn’t risk him hearing either way.) 

“I did the math.” Spencer told you, matching your whisper. “I knew for certain when I saw him.” 

You let out a rugged sigh. With your tense body language, your tight jaw - Spencer feared that even now, you might ask him to leave. 

For him, that simply wasn’t an option. 

“Look, you can’t keep me from my son-” Spencer said, speaking normally now - he knew that eventually, the two of you would have to tell Sebastian that he was his father. 

He wanted a relationship with his child no matter what. 

“Keep your voice down!” You hissed, looking over your shoulder as if the small child was some boogeyman who would sneak up on you specifically to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

From the distant sounds of giggling and some playful voices - it sounded like he was far too busy playing with his toys to care about what was going on between you and Spencer. 

“This changes nothing.” You added on bitterly. “You still have no right to be around me after what happened, and-” 

“You’re seriously telling me that this changes nothing?” Spencer barked back, intensely offended by that assessment. 

You refused to look Spencer in the eye, and he barreled forward, believing that he could convince his way in the door with his stubbornness alone. 

“He is my son.” He spit back sharply, so much passion in the words that it gave you chills. “He is a part of me as much as he is a part of you. Even if - even if you hate me,” Spencer said, unsure if that was the right term, and feeling a rock in his stomach when you didn’t protest. “Even if you hate me now and always will, I still have a right to be in his life.” 

Guilt flashed across your features. You had always regretted not contacting Spencer in order to let him meet Sebastian. And now all of those late night ‘what ifs’ were coming back to haunt you. With a vengeance. 

“And I know you might not view it that way, but it’s been a long time. And I have changed.” He continued on, trying his best to convince you, knowing that these words were hollow. 

Spencer didn’t even think about the potential consequences of his next words before he spoke them, but he went on anyway. 

“And I would really, really like a second chance with you. I understand if you and I are over. If everything we had is completely… gone.” 

Your eyes flickered toward him at this, a dreadful ghost lingering in the back of your pupils. This was the last thing you had expected to hear from him, and you had a difficult time processing it. 

His tone was incredibly mournful when speaking these words. He still had so much love for you in his heart, and he could not imagine being around you and interacting with you to co-parent a child and not being with you. Not sharing your bed. Not having more children with you. 

“But you and I at least need to be civil, for his sake. Tell me that he really would be better off without both parents in his life.” 

Spencer resisted the urge to cite statistics about single parent households and the likelihood of forming antisocial personality disorders - mostly because he didn’t want to think of his son like that, and because you being a single parent household was the entire reason he was here. 

He didn’t want to bring up the UnSub again, and the potential danger you might be in - because he didn’t want you to brush him off or get even more angry. 

You looked intensely thoughtful, then, clearly mulling over his words in your mind. 

He thought that something else might sway your opinion in his favor. 

“Plus, if you don’t let me inside, that means I got you this gift for nothing.” He said, giving you his absolute best puppy eyes as he held up the bag in your direction. 

You rolled your eyes with a huff, but you took it from him anyway. 

“Don’t think you can bribe your way back into my good graces, Spencer.” You said, accepting the bag, and then: 

You stepped aside and let him in. 

Spencer didn’t waste a moment, gratefully accepting this. He took off his messenger bag and set it beside the door as you closed it behind him. You made a point of locking it this time, putting the deadbolt on so that Sebastian wouldn’t be able to get the door open by himself. 

“You used to be very easy to bribe back in the day, if I can remember.” Spencer told you, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you. 

That grin, the light in his eyes. Him bringing up memories of ‘the old days’ - for a moment, it was all too much. It was too easy. It reminded you of simpler times - a time when you would have just leaned over and kissed him in order to shut him up. 

“Enjoying and accepting gifts is a lot different than being bribed.” You muttered under your breath, leaving the gift bag on the table beside the door as you walked back into the living room where Sebastian was playing. 

Spencer left it there for now - but he would have you open the gift before the day was over. That much he was determined of. 

“Mommy, look!” 

Sebastian ran toward you excitedly when he saw you walk back into the living room - he was waving something in his hand to show you. You quickly recognized it as a character from his favorite show - it was a rather large plush toy of Rubble from Paw Patrol. It still had a tag hanging off its ear, so it must have been what Spencer had brought him in that gift bag. 

Your stomach tightened. You knew that it was likely something to do with profiling - the fact that when he had been here before, he had only been in your home for fifteen minutes, but he had likely been able to observe so much about your life (and about your son) just from the simple things you had sitting around. You hated it. You hated that he had so many skills and tools at his disposal that meant you could hardly keep any secrets from him. 

“Oh wow, that’s so nice, baby.” You grinned widely, putting on your happiest voice for your son even though you didn’t like that Spencer had so easily bought his affection. 

“And look, look at this!” 

He nearly tripped over his own small feet, racing back over to the gift bag to fish out something else. He ran back over to you and handed it to you. It was a children’s picture book called ‘Dino ABC’ - it appeared to have a different dinosaur for each letter of the alphabet on each page. Educational and cute. Just what you would have expected from Spencer. 

You felt a deep pain emanate out from the center of your chest - your heart literally aching as you fought your hardest to keep a big smile for your son. 

“Seb, you still have to finish your snack.” 

You told him, tossing the book aside to put it on the couch and walking back over to the coffee table in order to draw his attention to the abandoned plate with his food on it. 

“Come on. You can play with your toys later.” 

You had been part way through his snacktime when JJ had called you, trying to convince you to come into the police station for a briefing about ‘protection’. Ultimately, that conversation had distracted you when Spencer had knocked on the door. 

He tucked Rubble under his arm and rushed to sit in your lap, shoveling cheese and crackers into his mouth off the frog shaped plate while you turned your attention toward Spencer - who had been watching the whole exchange while leaning against a wall, a tentative smile forming on his face. 

“I have to hand it to you, you’re good.” You said, trying to keep your tone neutral, straying away from anger. “You hit on two of his biggest interests - Paw Patrol and dinosaurs. That profiling stuff is a lot more accurate than I thought,” 

Spencer didn’t want to admit that he had just picked a book about dinosaurs because that was what he liked at that age, and the Paw Patrol thing had been all JJ’s doing. He had been far too busy caught up in anger at your initial stubbornness to try and ‘profile’ you. 

“Well-” Spencer attempted to reply, but he was cut off by Sebastian’s loud, enthusiastic voice. 

“What’s profiling?” He asked, nearly shouting, unintentionally spraying crumbs out of his mouth as he struggled to chew and speak at the same time. 

“Buddy, what did we say about talking with your mouth full?” You huffed quietly, grabbing a napkin to wipe up some of the crumbs he had sprayed out. 

You didn’t expect Spencer to indulge him with an honest answer. 

“Well, you see…” Spencer thought for a moment, wanting to explain the concept to him in an honest, but child-friendly manner. “Profiling is when I look at the things around you, and how you act, and I can tell what you’re thinking.” He replied. “Like… if you have a secret.” 

He moved toward the coffee table and once again crouched down to Sebastian’s level - and his cheeks curled into a smile at his son’s eager, curious eyes staring him down. 

You watched the interaction quietly. You never would have admitted it, but it gave you butterflies to see how natural, how perfect Spencer already was with Sebastian. 

Sebastian chewed a bit more before he spoke again. 

“I have a secret.” Sebastian whispered - a dramatic stage whisper that kids his age always did. 

“Hmm…” 

Spencer put his thumb and forefinger against his chin, and cocked an eyebrow, looking around the room like a cartoonish detective, acting like he was trying to piece together exactly what this big secret was. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sebastian’s entire body go stiff, as if he could better hide while not moving - and one small, cracker-crumbed fist clenching tight under the coffee table as the boy tried his hardest to contain his laughter told him everything that he needed to know.  

“You’re trying to hide part of your snack from Mommy!” Spencer declared, laughter in his voice as he pointed an ‘accusing’ finger toward Sebastian. 

The boy burst into laughter and surrendered his hand, dumping a single crumbled up cracker onto his plate as he curled over with epic laughter - apparently finding the whole thing to be a very amusing game. 

“You got me!” He chuckled. 

You had difficulty hiding your own smile at all of this, and you tried to encourage Sebastian back into an upright position as he wiggled around from laughing so furiously. 

“Well maybe we need Spencer around when you try to hide your carrots at dinnertime.” You said, your tone flat, not at all reaching that same joy. “Now come on, you joker, finish up please.” 

You caught Spencer’s eye then - and he had the dangerous realization that you weren’t entirely kidding. 

“I’ll be around whenever you need me.” Spencer replied, seriousness seeping back into his tone. 

You wanted to argue this - but of course, you held back with Sebastian sitting in your lap. Instead, it dissolved into a sharp huff out of your nose. 

When it seemed that you had nothing more to say on the matter, Spencer turned back to Sebastian, who was licking the mushy, bright red remnants of some strawberries off his fingers. 

“What’s your favorite dinosaur, bud?” Spencer asked. 

He was eager to get to know his son better - and he was expecting a rather generic answer from a four year old, like T-Rex. 

He certainly did not expect what came next. 

“Plesiosaurus!” Sebastian cried out excitedly, accidentally spitting out some food (again), which you rushed to wipe off his shirt and face with a nearby napkin. “They lived in the Jurassic period, and could grow to eleven feet long!” 

Spencer beamed with pride. 

Even though Spencer hadn’t spent that much time around children, he knew that this seemed to be fairly advanced knowledge for a four year old. 

You gave Spencer a very distinct look over Sebastian’s head. You could see that glint in his eye, and you knew that you were both thinking the same thing. 

He had interented his father’s big, big brain. 

It was something you had known for a long time now. And you knew that it wouldn’t take Spencer long to see it. 

“Wow, buddy.” Spencer smiled widely, eager to praise the boy. “That’s so awesome. My favorite is the Brontosaurus.” 

Sebastian smiled, and nodded. 

“They’re herbivores. Which means they only eat plants.” He replied. “Not like Mommy. She eats steak. And it’s gross.” 

You couldn’t help but to let out a laugh at this, and Spencer easily joined you. 

Leave it to the random stream of thoughts of a four year old to actually make you forget about your anger towards Spencer - at least for a little while. 

“Mommy, can I have more strawberries?” Sebastian asked, holding up his now empty plate. 

Something a lot of people don’t realize about little kids - they eat a lot of fruit. 

“I’ll see if we have more.” You told him, moving to scoot him off your lap. 

“I’ll go-” Spencer moved to get up, and you gave him a sharp glare that cut off his words. 

Luckily, Sebastian didn’t see this as he jumped off your lap and rushed toward Spencer, picking up his dinosaur book with still sticky fingers along the way. 

“I got it.” You grumbled quietly, picking up the plate and moving toward the kitchen. 

You wanted to make a comment about how you had been taking care of him by yourself for the past four years, so a single plate of strawberries was not that big of a deal. But you didn’t want to be so passive aggressive in front of Sebastian, especially because he wouldn’t understand why. 

You cleaned and cut up the few strawberries that were left, and when you came back, Sebastian was sitting on Spencer’s lap. They had the book propped open in Spencer’s hands while Sebastian gawked at it and explained in detail about whatever they were looking at - likely far greater detail than the book already had written in its pages. 

“Ferrisaurus.” He said, nearly out of breath with excitement. “He has a very sharp beak. He was discovered in 1971 by Kenny F. Larson. He belongs to the Leptoceratopsidae family, and-” 

You put the plate down in front of them, and Sebastian frowned when he saw it, cutting off his own words. 

“Is there any more?” He complained loudly. “I wanna share some with my friend Spencer.” 

Spencer’s mouth flattened into a thin line, clearly trying his hardest to hide a beaming smile at being claimed as Sebastian’s ‘friend’ once again. 

“No, sweetie, that’s all the strawberries we have in the house.” You informed him. “I’ll go to the store and get some more tomorrow. But you can’t keep eating all the fruit and then complain when it’s all gone.” 

It was a common theme in your life - Sebastian could eat an entire carton of raspberries in one sitting, and then became upset when there was no more in the fridge. 

Sebastian shrugged and reached up over the book to grab one off his plate. He shoved it into his mouth before reaching for another, looking up over his shoulder to then clumsily aim for Spencer’s mouth. You were expecting Spencer to dodge it and tell him ‘no thank you’ - a man who was a germaphobe, someone who you had seen use disinfecting wipes on forks at restaurants because he didn’t trust other people to clean the utensils well enough. But instead, he leaned down and captured the half-mushed fruit from your son, giving a small grin as some of the juices smeared across his lips. 

Your stomach twisted into knots as you moved to sit on the couch. 

You didn’t want to call it affection. You would deeply deny that it was fondness rising in you at seeing Spencer clearly soft and loving toward your son. 

Toward his son. 

Especially because it was a sight that you thought you would never witness in your lifetime. 

“Thank you.” Spencer mumbled out as he chewed, and Sebastian chirped out a ‘you’re welcome!’ - even reaching to grab a napkin to help Spencer wipe his mouth before he then turned back to his book. 

“You know, if he wants more fruit, I can run to the store. It’s really no trouble.” Spencer offered, clearly eager to give your son whatever he wanted - whatever he needed. 

“He’s fine.” You sighed in return. “It’ll be fine until tomorrow. Do you have any idea how much fruit this kid eats in a day? How much fruit he’s eaten just today alone?” You remarked. 

Spencer saw it as the rhetorical question it was, and waited for you to continue on. 

“He ate an entire carton of raspberries before he left this morning. I had to change his shirt because he looked like a character from Texas Chainsaw.” You explained, feeling safe that Sebastian would not understand that reference. 

“It makes sense.” Spencer replied. “The natural fructose found in most fruits make it an incredibly appealing taste to the underdeveloped palette of a child. It’s actually believed that before puberty, people have a higher concentration of taste buds on the apex of the tongue, which is the area associated with sweet and salty sensations, so children are more likely to crave sweet flavors. And most fruit has a mild but naturally satisfying fructose level, essentially making it less assertive than artificial candy that pubescent children would enjoy with a more developed tongue. Basically - children like it so much because fruit is nature’s candy.” 

Spencer let out a breathy laugh as he finished this statement, and you knew that your eyes were glowing with delight as you stared at him. 

Sebastian was staring up at him - clearly absorbing every single word that he spoke with eagerness. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sebastian was able to repeat back those facts word for word later on. He was startlingly like his father. 

You almost hated it, but this reminded you so much of the Spencer you had fallen in love with. The man who excited you with his passion; the person who made your knees tremble because he was so chalked full of knowledge, but never pretentious about sharing it. 

“Is that so?” You grinned in return. 

Before Spencer could get too caught up at that affectionate sparkle in your eye, something barreled to the forefront of his mind. 

“Wait - what did you mean by ‘before he left this morning’?” Spencer asked. “Where does Sebastian go during the day?”

He needed to know more about your life. There could be something small lurking in some corner that could lead him to the UnSub before the man had a chance to even consider attacking you.  

“I go to see Abby!” Sebastian piped up, answering the question as he turned a page in his book. “And my friends: Paige, and Jimmy, and Emma.” 

“Abby is his babysitter.” You explained. Spencer nodded at this. “He goes there four days a week. From nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. They have three other kids, Paige, Jimmy, and Emma. So he has friends there. He likes the social interaction. And I get my work done while he’s gone.” 

“But you’re on a waitlist for a daycare in the area?” Spencer prodded. You grew confused at this, so he added on: “That’s how my team found you. Through the daycare applications.” 

It felt like a violation of your privacy, but you didn’t point that out. 

You felt like the conversation was straying into ‘grown-up’ territory. Things that you didn’t want to speak of in front of your son, because children are sponges and you don’t really know how much they absorb. So you decided that it was time for him to have some independent playtime while you and Spencer talked. He had finished his snack in the meantime, anyway. 

You picked up a napkin and wiped his hands, and then you gently took the book from Spencer, who had been holding it open for Sebastian to look at it. 

“Seb.” You spoke to him gently, leaning into his view. You brushed away one of his wild curls and he looked at you attentively - Spencer’s heart rate sped up uncontrollably, and he knew that he was looking at you much the same way. “Can you go play in your room for a while, buddy? I need to have some grown-up time with Spencer.” 

“I want Spencer to come with me!” Sebastian argued gently. “I wanna show him my toys!” 

“Yes, you can show him later.” You told him. “After we’re done talking, he’ll be right up, and you can show him all your dinosaurs, and-” 

“And the stars!” Sebastian added on excitedly. 

“Yes.” You nodded. “Whatever you want.” 

Sebastian then let out a bright ‘okay!’ and Spencer helped him up, and there were more thunderous racing footsteps as Sebtastian went upstairs to go and play in his room. 

“Grown-up time?” Spencer asked, quirking a brow at you. 

You hated that the tiny bit of innuendo in his voice drudged up heat between your thighs. 

You labeled it as desperation because you hadn’t been touched by another person in so long, not your genuine attraction toward him coming back again. 

“Yes.” You said firmly. “You and I need to talk. About a lot of stuff. And he doesn’t need to hear all the gory little details.” You sighed. “Coffee?” 

“That sounds great.” He nodded. 

He followed you to the kitchen loyally and leaned against the counter while you went about the mechanical, ingrained movements to make a pot of coffee. 

“So, why isn’t he in preschool?” Spencer asked. 

He neglected to bring up the fact that the UnSub had likely targeted you through the preschool applications. He knew that you would become annoyed again if he brought up the fact that you were in danger - so he left that alone for now. The longer he stayed in the house, the better chance he had of convincing you to leave, to come into police custody for your own protection. 

If the worst case scenario were to take place, his gun was in his bag. He would protect you if anyone tried to break in. He would protect you at all costs. 

“They wouldn’t accept Sebastian into daycare because… they thought he was too advanced for their program.” You explained, answering his question. “They wanted me to have him IQ tested. And I refused, so they put him on the waitlist.” 

You weren’t facing Spencer as you filled up the coffee machine with water, but he could hear it in your voice. Grit. Disdain. 

Did you dislike the fact that your son was so advanced? Did you harbor annoyance because he had likely inherited that incredible intelligence from Spencer? 

“Why didn’t you get him the IQ test?” Spencer probed, brimming with frustration. “Get him an assessment with a professional, at least?” 

Sure, you disliked Spencer for your own reasons, but it was no good reason to have your son held back in life. 

You shrugged. Obviously, you were holding back the truth. 

“My mom thought it was a good idea.” You remarked. “But…” 

You clicked the coffee pot into the coffee maker and turned it on, and then turned to face Spencer. 

“I remembered all the stuff you said.” You said gently. 

This confused Spencer, and he eagerly listened as you continued. 

“About feeling ‘socially isolated’, and how you were upset that you didn’t have a ‘real childhood’ because you didn’t get to go to school with people in your own age group.” You explained. 

Then it truly hit Spencer. 

You weren’t avoiding having him tested to hold him back in life - you thought it was for his betterment. 

Because you had truly retained something from your relationship with Spencer. From all those late night hours the two of you had spent talking, tangled up in the sheets together after- 

Spencer forced himself not to think about it. 

“I want him to have friends.” You continued on. “To have socialization. Even if he’s special - he can have education individually. Hell, having a tutor will probably be better for him if he’s so advanced, right? He probably needs individual attention.” 

Spencer nodded at this. 

“I wanted him to go to daycare - not because he needs to learn the ABCs and shit. He could recite the alphabet when he was eight months old.” 

Spencer felt a wave of shock at this, and then intense pride. 

“I wanted him to go there and make friends. So I guess him going to the babysitter and making friends turned out to be a better fit for him anyway.” 

Spencer couldn’t describe the depth of the pride he was feeling. Not just at knowing how truly intelligent his son was, but at knowing that your instincts as a mother were so well tuned. 

Not just because you knew what your son needed, but because you had listened to Spencer talking about regrets from his own childhood and you had tried to keep from making those same mistakes with his son. It was likely that you even saw how socially underdeveloped he was when you met him as a twenty one year old and that was a huge part of your reasoning. 

In the few minutes he had spent with Sebastian, he already saw that brilliant intellect colliding with the nurturing you had shown him. His ability to make friends easily, his eagerness to share, his natural curiosity. He was leagues ahead of where Spencer had been at that age - shy, apprehensive, constantly clammed up around new people. 

You had raised such a brilliant, beautiful boy. 

“It seems like the right choice.” Spencer assured you. “I can already tell that the socialization is doing him well. He - he’s such a great kid.” 

He couldn’t hold back his beaming smile this time, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, highly resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. He wanted so badly to pull you into a hug - to kiss you. 

But he had to remind himself that he had lost those privileges so long ago. 

He had to be thankful for the simple privilege of basking in your smile when you returned the action. 

“I - I am actually kind of glad that you’re here.” You admitted meekly, a moment of shy honesty shining through. 

Spencer resisted the urge to cheer loudly. 

“I’ve been trying to teach him, but I barely know where to start.” You added on, exasperated laughter escaping your lips at the thought. “I can barely keep up with stuff that’s on his level. I read to him a lot, but I have trouble picking books that are appropriate for him? Anything that’s on his level academically has too much violence or racism or complicated themes for his age. At least, when it comes to fiction books. And I can’t really comprehend the scientific stuff. He picks out dinosaur books when we go to the library and reads them on his own, and half the stuff… he just tells me all the stuff he’s learned when he reads on his own and it amazes me.” 

You chuckled, and Spencer easily returned it. 

His son was truly an egghead after his own heart. 

“I’ve been trying to teach him the periodic table, but I don’t even remember half of it myself. I haven’t needed it since high school chemistry.” You remarked with another dry laugh. 

Spencer smiled brightly at you. 

“You - you were right.” You hated to admit it. “He does need his dad. He needs you. He needs someone who can nurture that big brain of his.” 

The detail oriented part of Spencer’s brain was eager to jump into planning - he wanted to ask you about creating a schedule, the logistics of how and when he would see his son, especially considering that the two of you lived in different cities, in different states. (Truthfully, he wanted to ask if you were willing to move closer so that he would be able to see Sebastian as often as possible.) 

But he forced himself to set that aside for now, because something else was bothering him. 

You reached up to the cupboard and grabbed two mugs, and poured up the coffee, and Spencer watched carefully as you went to the fridge and grabbed some creamer for yourself before you handed him his mug. 

“The sugar is behind you.” You told him. “Spoons are in the drawer to your left.” 

Naturally, you remembered how he liked his coffee. Black with regular sugar. It was something fond, that left an ache deep in his soul. He set to the gentle task of getting some sugar while he conjured up the courage to ask the question. 

“Have you ever told him about me?” He asked. “I mean - have you told him about his father? Does he know who his dad is?” 

He knew that obviously you hadn’t told Sebastian outright that Spencer was his father - not with a photo and a name. But he wondered if you had ever told him stories about who his father was - a doctor, a man who fought against bad guys. Did you only have room for malice against Spencer in your heart, or would have told Sebastian some of the good things about his dad? Had you told him how you and Spencer had met? Had you told him that the two of you were once in love? 

He hated to think that you resented Spencer so much that you had lied. That you had made up some falsehood. Perhaps you had told Sebastian that his father was dead, or someone who never existed at all (because someone his age would believe that). Spencer’s insides flooded with anxiety at the thought that perhaps you had a boyfriend. Someone who was a fixture in Sebastian’s life already who the young boy called Dad. 

Before Spencer could flare with too much jealousy at a completely made-up figure, you answered his question. 

“I - ugh.” You stuttered out. “No.” You admitted hesitantly, capping the creamer and moving to put it back into the fridge. 

You moved to sit down at the kitchen table and Spencer followed you with his own mug in hand. He found it quietly adorable that there was a rubber dinosaur placemat and a booster seat on one of the chairs - clearly the place where Sebastian sat to eat his meals. He pulled out the chair opposite of yours and carefully waited for you to continue talking. 

“It was one of those things…” You stared down into your mug, a wave of embarrassment spiking in you. 

Seeing how put together Spencer was now - how mature. It filled you with regret, and made you feel quite embarrassed about not contacting him before. 

But the Spencer you had last seen was nothing like this. So previously, you had no intentions of seeking him out in order to introduce him to his son. But every time a major life event came up - toward the end of your pregnancy, the birth, filling out the birth certificate and leaving the section of his father’s name blank… The first time Sebastian sat upright on his own, his first words, seeing how truly intelligent he was, his first steps, potty training him. 

Through all of it - you ached with regret. There were more than a dozen times (sometimes more than a dozen times a day) when you considered reaching out to Spencer and telling him the news. But you thought that he might lash out at you in anger for not telling him when you found out that you were pregnant. (And then you thought he would be even angrier for not telling him sooner). 

You had considered that with his job, and with the other circumstances - he might be dead. That there might not even be someone on the other end if you did reach out. 

You didn’t want to go looking for a father for your son, only to have to mourn over someone you once loved. 

You didn’t want to open the door for more hurt to come your way. 

“It was one of those things, that… the older he got… I never considered that he might ask.” You explained. “I just thought I could get away without telling him who his father was. Without talking about you at all. Because I was so hurt over what happened between us.” 

Oddly enough, Spencer understood this. That night - things had been so messy. Spencer had always wanted a chance to apologize. He would have pushed harder - he would have chased after you better if he knew that there was a child hanging in the mix. 

“You had no intention of ever finding me again to introduce me to my son?” Spencer asked. 

He needed to hear you say it. 

You shook your head, entirely solemn, even more guilty. 

“It was selfish.” You admitted. “I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the pain of seeing you again. I didn’t consider how it might affect him.” 

“So… he has been asking about me?” Spencer probed. “He’s been asking about his father?” 

You shrugged. 

“He’s old enough to understand the concept now.” You said, sipping your coffee. “He sees stuff on TV. Cartoons where characters have a Mom and a Dad. And he reads science books about animals - so he knows that other ‘species’ need two parents to ‘reproduce’.” You were almost annoyed by the fact that your son was so smart and still so young. You couldn’t trick him with gentle lies anymore. “I don’t think I can convince him that I am the only asexual reproducing woman on the planet.” 

Spencer let out a harsh chuckle at this. He knew how it was at that age - too smart for his own good. 

“What have you told him?” He wondered aloud. 

“I have been trying my hardest not to tell him anything.” You replied. “Whenever he asks about his own father, I just… dodge around it.” You told him honestly. “What do you think all the strawberries are for? I mean, I can’t lie to him, but I can distract him. He’s still at the age where his attention span is not that great if he gets excited about something.” 

“Would you be willing to have that conversation with him?” Spencer asked meekly. “The three of us? Would you - would you be okay with him knowing me as his dad?” 

He was terrified that you might reject him. That you still hated him enough after that horrible night that you wouldn’t want your son to see Spencer as his father, even if it was the truth. (A truth that you and Spencer knew intimately well.) 

“Spencer.” You choked out his name, looking at him with tears dancing in your eyes. 

You knew that you had been harsh upon first seeing him again, perhaps unrightfully lashing out due to your own vendetta. But you didn’t think that you had made such a nasty impression. 

“Of course. Spence, I-” You choked on your own words for a second, taking in a sharp breath in an attempt to regain your composure. 

Spencer tried not to get excited at you calling him ‘Spence’ again for the first time in so long. He couldn’t take the familiarity, the sweet nickname as meaning the same thing it used to. He couldn’t take it as a signal of affection. 

“Even if you and I can’t get back to where we were…” You continued on. 

(Which would be something you would gratefully regret now, those feelings for him locked up inside of you, banging on the door, just begging to get out.)

“My son is so lucky to have you as his father. And I am sorry that it was due to my own selfishness that he missed out on you in his life for so many years.” 

“It’s not all your fault.” Spencer replied. “You don’t have to apologize.” 

You nodded at this, and the two of you fell silent once again. 

Of course, both of you wished that you could go back to that night and do things differently. 

You wished that you would have told him about the pregnancy as soon as you took the test - so if he was going to scorn you, he could make an informed choice about doing so. 

Spencer wished that he could have chased you - that he could have been in his son’s life from day one. 

Which made him curious about something. 

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind. 

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.” 

You chuckled, motioning toward the stairs - where Sebastian would surely be running down soon, waiting for Spencer to come and play with him, so Spencer could be shown all of his toys, introduced to each dinosaur by name and species. 

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?” 

He didn’t even have to fully spell it out in order for you to know exactly what he meant. 

Had you known that you were pregnant when the two of you had broken up? 

You could have easily lied to him. But just like every other moment on this day, stupidly - you felt like you owed him the truth. 

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.” 

“You - you just unilaterally decided that you were going to raise my son alone?” Spencer snapped, some of that spite from early coming back like the coals from a fire being stoked. 

“Yes. I did.” You said firmly. 

You didn’t have to remind him of why. 

Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes, and then plowed forward with another question. 

“So - so do you know when-?” He began, and you cut him off. 

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’ 

“No.” You quickly replied. 

But it was a lie. You knew. 

You felt like you couldn’t easily tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived. 

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember. 

And you knew exactly when. 

The night was so vivid in your mind. 

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer. It was one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why he had changed. 

…

Spencer had come over to your place late one night. 

He had a key, but usually he was afraid to wake you up by using it. But that night he had been swamped with paperwork, writing up consultations on cases less urgent for police precincts that the BAU couldn’t get out to attend to in person. Images of mangled bodies stuck in his mind and by the time he finished up, it was well past dinner - well past a decent hour to be seeing you. But his insides felt hollow with a unique kind of grief as he imagined all the people who wouldn’t be getting home to their families - the people in the photos. 

He fingered over the key to your apartment on his keyring as he walked out the front doors of the office. He had taken the metro that day, and the last trains ran late into the night - until two or three am, to ensure that people drinking could get home safely. But he needed some fresh air, so he decided to walk. He took out his cellphone and decided to call you. 

If he let himself into your apartment unexpectedly so late - he didn’t want to scare you. 

“Spencer.” 

Your voice had a breathy, airy quality to it. He wouldn’t quite call it tiredness, not like he had woken you from sleep. 

“Y/N.” He called your name back softly. “Did I wake you?” He still wanted to ask, even though he wasn’t sure that was the case. 

“No.” You replied. “I - I missed you, baby.” 

The slightest quiver in your tone gave you away. That gentle, needy curl around the word baby - it practically brought him to his knees on the sidewalk. 

All at once, his mood changed. 

It was something beautiful that you often did for him. 

Every single bit of brick-like grief was pushed out of him in favor of that flowery, dreamy lust. 

“You missed me?” He parroted the words back, mischief seeping into his voice as he continued the walk toward your apartment on slightly weaker legs, the cool night air brushing up against his now heated cheeks. “You’ve been thinking about me a lot tonight, haven’t you, darling?” 

You let out a fluttering moan. You knew that you had been caught, so you felt no sense in holding back now. 

Spencer pulled his messenger bag to sit in front of his crotch, praying that he wouldn’t look indecent in public. It took so little effort from you to make his cock swell to attention - with his intense attraction toward you, and with you being so perfect, such a beacon of beauty and sex. 

“You caught me.” You huffed out. “Been thinkin’ about you all night, baby. The bed feels so empty without you.” 

You both knew that it was a subtle admission. The downright filthy way you said the word ‘empty’ - Spencer bit his lip to hold back a moan just hearing it. You knew that those clouded innuendos turned him on so much. The veil. The intention. 

You were touching yourself, and Spencer had called with perfect timing to ‘catch you’ in the middle of the act. 

If Spencer strained his ears enough, he could hear the wet slide of your fingers against your pussy on the other end of the line, and he knew that you could hear the increase in his breathing - the hard huff coming out of his nostrils because of it. 

“Where are you?” You whined, clearly needy. “Need you, Spence.” 

You hoped that he wasn’t too busy, caught up at work. 

“On my way to you now.” He told you, his voice leaking desperate breaths. 

He was already grinning widely at the thought of what would be waiting for him - how you would be leaking wetness, so warm and ready for him; how he would be able to simply slide his hard cock into you with no resistance and your gorgeous pussy would so eagerly swallow him up. He forced himself to focus. 

“Wait for me, okay?” He added on, trying to have some firmness in his tone - but he knew that it sounded too much like pleading and you would be kind to comply. 

Wait. 

You let out a strained, harsh sound at this. 

You knew that it was another subtle code. 

He didn’t want you to make yourself orgasm until he got there. (You had already had one before he called, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as one by Spencer’s hand, or his tongue.) 

He likely wanted you to stop touching yourself all together. He wanted to leave you on edge, to make you even more needy for him. Even if he would only take a few minutes to arrive, he wanted you hungry. 

You had the urge to argue with this, but you held back. 

You knew that it would be worth it. 

Spencer always made it worth it. 

“Okay.” You huffed back, an undertone of frustration in your voice that got Spencer even more excited. You needed him. And he planned on providing every single inch of what he knew you needed so badly. “I’ll wait.” You agreed. “But hurry? Please?” 

Please. 

The way you said it, asking so nicely - it nearly knocked the wind out of him. You would never truly have to ask him to touch you. Truthfully, he should have to ask for the privilege of providing you with pleasure. He would never say no to you. 

But there was something beautiful about hearing that from your lustful voice. 

“I’ll be there before you know it.” He promised you gently before hanging up the call. 

Spencer would have broken out into a full run if - one, it wouldn’t have made him look entirely idiotic, and two, it wouldn’t have stolen all his energy. Energy that he needed in order properly fuck you. He didn’t need to arrive at your apartment sweaty and panting and then collapse onto the floor in a heap and miss out on his chance to make sweet love to you. 

He got there as fast as his legs could carry him (at a reasonable pace), and he estimated that it took him less than four minutes - because your apartment really wasn’t that far from the office. Conveniently enough for him. He skipped the elevator ride and took the stairs two at a time in his eagerness (and long legs). And soon enough, he was putting the key into the lock, welcomed by gentle shadows, the smell he recognized as the air freshener you loved to use, and a single guiding light that must have been the tableside lamp in your bedroom. 

“Spence?” 

You called out from down the hall as he closed and locked the door behind him. 

“It’s me.” He assured you. 

He tossed his keys into a bowl that you kept on the counter, toeing off his shoes, ditching his bag off to the side, and shrugged off his jacket as he walked down the hall. 

“That was fast.” You remarked with a giggle, making him smile. 

“A lady should never have to wait.” He replied, coming to stand at your open bedroom door, already working open his tie. 

“Then you better hurry up.” You told him, your voice melting into a purr as you stared at him with honey warm lust in your eyes. 

You were completely naked, laying in the middle of the bed, propped up on a few comfortable pillows. The comforter was down by your ankles; perhaps you had crawled into bed with the intention to sleep (some of your sleep clothes strewn across the floor, as though you had stripped them off and tossed them aside) - but then found yourself feeling that deadly ache between your thighs and kicked away the covers to relief yourself. 

Spencer had called you with perfect timing. 

Perhaps your soul had sung out to him like a siren - luring him here to perform his duty to you, to act as the servant meant to bring you pleasure. He could think of no better duty meant for his existence than to serve you. Ideally, it was something he wanted to spend the rest of his days doing. He would buy you a house, give you kids if you wanted them, support you in whatever ways you needed. He felt like he lived to make your life better - to make you smile, to make you laugh, to make you moan with pleasure. 

If he didn’t have that, then he was lost. 

In the low lighting, the star shaped necklace that he had given you for your birthday sparkled between your breasts, and Spencer found that you were most gorgeous wearing only that - a kiss of his claim on you, a perfect symbol of the beauty of your relationship among your goddess-like curves. 

He felt entirely overdressed and he rushed to play catch up; fingers fumbling over buttons, his movements becoming downright frantic as he stripped out of his clothes. He almost knocked his glasses off his face while ripping his shirt off his head, and he had to place them on your bedside table for safekeeping. And then he nearly tripped out of his pantlegs on his way to the bed, which had you giggling, and he flashed you a smile. 

But finally, he was freed, as naked as you were, and he crawled between your open, welcoming thighs. It felt like coming home. Your hands reached up to settle onto his ass - gently smoothing from the skin there, up his back, spreading warmth across his body as you groped him smoothly with soft, open hands. 

He planted one hand on the pillow beside your head and used the other to gently lift your chin toward his. He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day. Even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart. 

He really should ask you to move in with him soon. 

Even if he had to be away for days on cases, he should get to come home to you. 

The two of you should start building a proper life together. 

But of course, any thoughts about the clippings of property listings that Spencer had hidden away in a desk drawer fled from his mind when you rubbed your knee across his thigh, sending shivers through him - reminding him exactly what he was here for. 

Typically, he would be the kind of man to go down on you, thoroughly, before he fucked you. He loved the feeling of your legs tightening around his head - he loved the taste of you on his tongue. 

But when he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him - his self control broke down. He had missed you so much. He realized that he needed you just as badly as you needed him. He moaned even harder against your mouth, and he pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip.

Then, he asked a very important question. 

“Do you have a condom?” 

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him. 

He knew that you typically kept a box of condoms in your bedside table. But the last time he had reached for one, the box had been empty. And he had resorted to using ‘the emergency condom’ that he kept in his bag. He didn’t have one in his bag now and he wasn’t sure if you had gotten a new box of condoms for the nightstand. 

While he contemplated all of this, he kissed along the side of your breast, and then gently tongued at your necklace, still loving how it looked against your bare skin. 

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply. 

You combed your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward. It was something that made it far more difficult for him to concentrate. Especially when he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat. 

He didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you. 

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. Or that you meant to pick up a Plan B pill in the morning. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.) 

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.” 

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this. 

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up - and then he gently guided the length of his cock into you. 

This was always his favorite part. 

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect. 

But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way. Spencer always thought that it was a myth, men talking about how condoms actually reduced the feeling. It was such a thin piece of latex, how could it truly affect the overall sexual experience that much? Sex with you was so amazing, he couldn’t possibly imagine it getting any better. 

But this - this was so much better. 

He could feel your wetness sliding against every inch of his cock, he could feel your heat drowning him, he could feel every little clench you made - every little movement. He felt like he was truly drowning inside of you. Like he was being smothered inside of your perfect body. 

His head collapsed against your breast, and he sucked in a sharp breath, struggling through it all, as though he was trying to swim through thick, warm honey. His head was hazier than it had ever been - if someone asked him to recite a most basic fact at this moment, he wouldn’t be able to. 

“Spence,” 

You whined, arching your hips into him, forcing your pelvis into him just slightly more - he felt your pubic hairs grazing against the base of his cock, the sensitive head of his cock angling at a new place inside of you. He let out a pathetic moan, struggling not to cum too early. 

“Move, please.” Your voice was breathy, and desperate, and he had to remind himself of his purpose - bringing you pleasure. 

“Yes.” He sighed, trying to regain his composure. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, just-” 

Whatever else you were going to say was promptly cut off when Spencer put both hands on your hips and bent his knees slightly, gaining the traction needed to properly fuck you. 

He didn’t initiate a brutal or rough pace, but he pistoned his hips well enough to take the air out of you. His movements rang a moan out of your lungs as pleasure hummed through your body, finally getting what you had been craving all night. You loved the feeling of his long cock finally plunging in and out of you, especially without the barrier of a condom. It was enough to create the delightfully filthy sound of skin smacking through the air, well timed with the chorus of moans that began to echo out from your lips. Something that was complemented by Spencer’s own grunting and whining - something he tried to partially hide by biting his lip. 

It was perfect. It was so easy, came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other. It was a perfect dance that made your entire body relax - the beautiful tingle of knowing that he was touching you. 

“Thank you.” You moaned, reaching around to plant your hands on Spencer’s ass again. “Fuck, thank you.” 

You bent your knees and spread your thighs more, angling your body perfectly for him to fuck into you even deeper. At the same time, you used your hold on him to pull him closer - to shove his cock even deeper into you. Something that both of you grunted harshly at. It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible. 

With your wetness gathering around the base of his cock and dripping down over his balls - with your hot, thrumming cunt squeezing over him, he was getting dangerously close. 

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning. 

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.” 

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’. 

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and you forcibly held him close by digging your nails into the flesh of his ass. Any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond. Especially when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth. 

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time. 

Spencer collapsed on top of you - even as tired as he was, he was careful not to hurt you by putting too much of his body weight onto you. (Even though you professed that you liked feeling his weight on top of you because he didn’t weigh all that much). 

“Wow.” Spencer breathed into your neck - finding himself speechless after such a fantastic moment. 

“That - that was amazing.” You remarked, breathless. 

After a few moments, his cock began to go flaccid and slipped out of you, and he still felt your pussy practically beating with heat. He was reminded of something. 

“You haven’t had an orgasm.” He mumbled quietly. 

“It’s okay, I-” 

‘I made myself cum earlier.’ 

Your words were cut off as Spencer descended down between your thighs. He felt his cock twitch with interest at the sight of his thick, white cum leaking out of your used cunt, mixing with your clear wetness. 

So perfect. 

He didn’t hesitate before putting his hands on your thighs, holding your legs apart while he shoved his tongue deep inside of you - partially with the purpose of cleaning up his own mess and partially with the newfound curiosity to taste what the two of you were like together. 

You gripped onto his hair and moaned out, not a single complaint to be found on your lips. 

It was the most perfect night that either of you could have imagined. All topped off by falling asleep in each other’s arms after a hot shower together. 

Three days later, Spencer was called away on a case in Atlanta, Georgia that changed his life forever. 

…

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’ 

“No.” 

Spencer could see the lie reflected in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night. 

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about - if his memory served him well enough. Which it usually did. 

He couldn’t hold himself back from calling you on it. 

He locked his eyes on yours across the table, the memory of that night possessing him - the ghost of your warm skin pressing against his own only further driving the words from his lips. 

“Don’t lie to me.” He said, his voice a deadly, low rumble. “Look at me now, and tell me in all honesty that you don’t remember that night. Tell me that you don’t remember the way I felt inside of you. Tell me you don’t remember how good it was.” 

Maybe it was pure spite on Spencer’s end. Desperately wanting to know that after all the resentment, the arguing, the years he had lost with his son, with you, that you still felt something for him underneath the anger and the annoyance. 

Even if that underlying thing was lust. It was a strange victory, but he mentally cheered when he saw you clench your thighs together past the table - when your jaw tightened up. Your fingers twitched, and he knew you well enough to see the subtle signs of your lust from a mile away. 

Old habits die hard. 

Spurred on by this, and your steely silence, he kept going. 

“Tell me that you don’t remember how perfect we were together - how good it felt when it was just us, nothing but skin on skin for the first time.” 

You exhaled sharply. 

“Spencer, we are not doing this right now.” You declared, your voice quivering slightly in your throat. 

This didn’t deter him. 

It was your use of the words ‘right now’ - even if unconsciously, you thought that there might be a ‘later’. 

(In your mind, having sex with your ex, the father of your child, just to get off, sounded like the worst idea ever. But he looked so good and you knew that he was good in bed and if you had to be cooped up in the house with him for much longer, you would be making that stupid decision against your own will.) 

“Tell me you don’t remember how good it felt when I came inside you that night.” 

Spencer’s words were becoming more graphic now, looking to get more of a reaction out of you. 

It worked in an instant - you swallowed thickly, your whole body tingling with the imagery his voice carried. The underlying lustful rumble in his tone making your insides quake. Your leg twitched with that unconscious desire to have some friction between your thighs. It was working so well, and he hated how much he loved it. 

“I mean - what was your intention that night? Did you want me to fuck a baby into you? Is that why you were so desperate for me to fuck you raw? Is that why you kept pushing my cock deeper inside of you? Were you just that desperate to get knocked up?” 

His words were making you utterly dizzy with heat. If it wasn’t for the common sense blinking loudly at the front of your brain, you would have jumped across the table and tackled him just to hump him for some sort of friction on your aching cunt. 

Of course, he could read this plainly all over your face. 

“Spencer-” You breathed out. 

Just then, Spencer’s phone rang, cutting through the dangerously palpable tension in the air. 

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and when he saw Morgan’s contact name on the screen, he thought for certain that the man was calling to discuss some development in the case. 

“I have to take this.” Spencer sighed. 

“That’s fine.” You nodded. You were glad to have some relief from the dangerous tension - you needed a few minutes to collect yourself. 

Spencer got up from the table and naturally moved toward the back door - a sliding glass door that he was disappointed to find unlocked. He would have to remind himself to have a talk with you about having better security protocols in your home, even during daylight hours. 

Spencer closed the door behind himself, creating a small barrier of privacy as he answered the call. 

“Hello.” 

“Hey, pretty boy,” Morgan chuckled. 

Spencer rolled his eyes, immediately knowing that this wasn’t a work call - this wasn’t anything serious in nature for Morgan to be greeting him that way. 

“What do you want?” Spencer replied, his patience already in short supply. 

“Oh, come on, man.” Morgan kept up that airy, light tone. “You think you can sneak around with your secret little family and not have it be the hottest gossip we’ve had in years? I wanna hear more about this kid of yours. Me and Prentiss got a bet, goin’ - so, was it an accident or not? Did you really know what you were doin’ when you stuck your little genius thang in her back then? Or no?” 

Reid was going to kill JJ. (Well, not really. He was likely just going to glare at her firmly and ignore her for a day - or, just until she apologized.) 

He knew that it had likely been an accident - the information about his private life getting leaked to the entire team. But, if JJ could keep important information about killings away from the media, why couldn’t she keep this out of the team’s hands? Why couldn’t she have made up some excuse about where Reid was? 

“No, no.” Spencer ground out harshly, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I am not telling you if my son’s conception was an accident or not just to satisfy some stupid bet.” 

“Ooh, a son.” Morgan seemed stuck on this piece of information. “Rossi, you owe me a drink. It is a boy.” 

Reid heard Rossi and Prentiss arguing in the background, and he let out another frustrated sigh. 

“Don’t you have work you should be doing?” Spencer asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

“Hotch has us spinning our wheels here.” Morgan replied. “Goin’ through more of these daycare forms while Garcia runs more background checks - but, so far, we’ve come up with squat. Your Baby Mama is the only real lead we’ve got so far.” 

Reid sighed. 

“So, was it a one night stand? An epic night of passion?” He chuckled, still using a teasing tone. 

Spencer didn’t answer. 

“At least tell me this - is she cute? What was it about this woman that got Doctor Reid to chase after his Darwin instincts for once?” Morgan pressed on. 

“She’s beautiful.” Spencer replied without even thinking, his eyes looking at you through the glass door. “She… she’s perfect in every conceivable way.” 

Sebastian had come back down stairs, clearly looking for Spencer. And now you had him in your lap, still sitting on your kitchen chair, playing with a couple of plastic dinosaurs that he had brought down from his bedroom on the tabletop. 

There was a distinct, humble beauty in the fact that you didn’t know you were currently under Spencer’s attention. You looked at Sebastian with such intense love in your eyes - a way you had once looked at Spencer, before that love had been replaced by scorn and disdain. Before he had messed it all up. 

“Woah.” Morgan wisped in reply. “That sounds like a whole lot more than just one night of baby makin’.” 

Maybe he was still fishing for information to ‘win’ the bet, maybe not. Spencer couldn’t quite tell from his tone alone. But he did sound a bit more serious, and that wedged Spencer open a bit more in order to feel comfortable continuing. 

“It was.” Spencer sighed. “She - she was the love of my life.” He added on, feeling safe to tell Morgan this. “But I messed it all up.” 

Morgan instantly dropped his joking and teasing when he heard the choked off tears in Spencer’s voice. 

“What happened?” He asked. 

“Long story.” Spencer sighed. “But - it ends with me being excluded from my son’s life. For a good reason.” 

“I don’t see any good reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to see your kid.” Morgan replied. “Reid, I’ve seen you with kids, man. If anybody deserves to be a father, it’s you.” 

“I was different back then. Around the time she got pregnant.” He explained. “It was just after Hankel.” 

There was a tense silence as Morgan sat with the truth - as he absorbed it. Clearly, he was unsure of what to say, and Spencer found himself naturally continuing on. 

“He’s so smart.” He added on, looking at the way Sebastian ran his fingers along the neck of the brontosaurus - maybe he had brought that one down for Spencer, remembering that he had said it was his favorite. “He’s such a good kid.” 

He almost choked on these words, more tears welling up that he forcefully pushed down. 

He turned away from the glass door then, just in case you looked up to see his tearful face. He wiped his eyes with a stiff hand, and he was surprised by what Morgan said next. 

“So be good to him.” He said. “Be there for him now. Step up and be the dad that we all know you can be.” 

Before he could reply, Morgan continued. 

“I don’t know if I believe in fate, but Penelope always says that everything happens for a reason.” He said. “And she would tell you to use this as an opportunity to be reunited with your girl, and become a real family. Even if it is because of some scumbag killing people that brought us here.” 

Spencer smiled at this. 

“That is very Garcia.” 

“And you know she’s always right.”

...

Continue reading here: Chapter Four - Last Hope

[fangswbenefits]

Reading Session

Summary: Astarion walks in on you reading a rather suggestive book, and far be it from him to interrupt your learning process. 

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Innuendo. Edging. PiV. Creampie. After care. Precum.

Word count: 3.5k

Author's note: Yes. The book exists in BG3. Thank you to @hmdeath for helping me find it 🩷

You flipped through the last pages of chapter four of ‘The Quarta Sune: A Guide to Sexuality, Eroticism, and Emotional Fulfilment’, your eyes widening slightly from all the intricate and rather impressive positions illustrated with some notes on how to maximise pleasure for both parties involved.

Needless to say, it had your heart racing as the faintest of throbs settled between your thighs. You bit your lip, pressing your legs together as the thought of putting some of these pointers in practice gradually took over.

You flipped back to chapter three, taking mental notes and humming softly as you rolled onto your stomach, placing the heavy book on your pillow.

‘If one is to indulge in the ‘Waterdeep Caress’, it is mandatory that the one on top sets the pace, looking into their lover's eyes.’

It seemed simple enough.

‘...one arm should be wrapped around their neck as the other is set on their chest, caressing a nipple with gentle fingers…’

You nodded attentively.

The images drawn across the pages had your undivided attention to the point you didn't even notice you were no longer alone in your room until a swift hand snatched the book from your grip.

You were about to voice out a protest, but ended up deciding against it once you realised who the perpetrator was.

Astarion.

Of course.

He looked as amused as ever, inspecting the cover before his gaze travelled down the page you had been so focused on.

“Reading ‘The Quarta Sune’?” he tutted with a knowing smile. “My, my… feeling naughty, are we?”

You were on your feet in an instant with both hands reaching out in a pointless attempt at retrieving the book.

“Give it back!”

He held it aloft, effortlessly keeping you at bay. “I don't think keeping secrets from me is very nice, is it?”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as you let out a groan of frustration. “Please. Just… give it back.”

“I am merely wondering why you'd need to resort to this in the first place, darling,” he asked, feigning hurt. “I'm an open book in these matters – you need only ask.”

And that was precisely why you had bought a copy from Nansi Gretta at The Blushing Mermaid. 

Astarion was a very considerate lover, and you found yourself wanting to surprise him, too. To have a few tricks up your sleeve that he couldn't see coming his way.

But now you just felt disappointed as your plan vanished into thin air.

He was still holding your gaze, now with a hint of delight.

“This is not fair…” you eventually said, flopping onto the bed with a prolonged whine.

“Now, now, darling,” Astarion began, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat down on the edge, caressing the nape of your neck. “Far be it from me to interrupt your studies.”

You groaned against the bedsheets, feeling the urge to throw a tantrum from having had your hopes crushed.

“Go on,” he said, shifting closer. “Tell me why you were so enthralled by it.”

Oh, he was goading you.

Of course he was.

He excelled at riling you up and smearing it in your face.

So you chose silence, scowling deeply.

His hand moved to your back, toying with the clasps of your nightdress.

“Pouting? Really?” he said with a click of his tongue.

But his taunt was only met with more silence.

He then began to tug gently, undoing each clasp with an expertise that only his level of dexterity could provide.

A chill ran down your freshly exposed skin, fingers pushing the fabric apart in their wake and travelling down your back.

That persistent throb in between your legs from before threatened to quicken as you caved under his touch.

You flinched away from his grasp, throwing him an irritated glance.

He held the book in his other hand, and extended his arm to you. “Feisty today, sweetheart? Here, have your book.”

With a pout, you promptly retrieved it.

Astarion chuckled, his eyes dropping to your chest. “Do carry on being a tease – I am rather enjoying the view myself.”

You followed his gaze, suddenly made aware that the sudden motion had caused your nightdress to come apart and roll down your arms, exposing your breasts.

“Shit,” you hissed, dropping the book and fumbling with fabric to regain your modesty.

But the damage was done and you were left all flustered under his unwavering gaze.

“Will you tell me why you were reading this book?” he insisted, offering a coy smile. “Was it a fit of depravity that overcame you?”

“No!” you said, the impending feeling of defeat looming over you. “I just… I wanted to see if I could find something – anything – to surprise you with.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Surprise me? How come?”

Your face was swallowed in heat as your eyes darted to the book. “Well, you've probably read it, haven't you?”

“I haven't, but I reckon it's a pile of utter rubbish.”

What?

“But… I got it at The Blushing Mermaid.”

An understanding smile curled his lips. “All the more reason. See, darling,” he said, bringing his knuckles to caress your arm, “you don't learn these tricks from books.”

A frown settled on your face. “But…”

His hand found yours and he rubbed each finger with the pad of his thumb. “Experience is still the best teacher.”

“You're no fun,” you said, sticking your tongue out before rolling over on your stomach and snapping the book open to continue your reading.

For a moment, you chanted victory inwardly as not another teasing remark was heard from him.

But Astarion wasn't easily silenced.

Not for long, anyway.

You tried to focus on erotic drawings in front of you, ignoring how the bed shifted slightly under you.

And then each of his legs was on either side of your thighs, caging you under him.

“Very well, then,” he said, hiking the hem of your nightdress up until it was resting at the small of your back, exposing your backside to him. “If you're so adamant about this, who am I to deny you?”

You glanced over your shoulder and were met with the most devious grin ever.

What was he up to?

His hands settled on each cheek, groping the rounded and taut flesh underneath.

Oh…

He alternated between soft and firm squeezes for a long while, and you had already lost any semblance of concentration.

You felt him pat one cheek twice before his cool lips were suddenly at your ear, drawing a shiver from you.

“Astarion… what are you doing?”

You felt a soft kiss being pressed to your neck. “You're obviously eager to learn a few tricks from this book,” he whispered, as his hands travelled down your sides before gripping your waist rather firmly. “So teach me, darling.”

Inevitably, your eyes widened at his proposition and you immediately propped yourself on your elbows, turning your head to meet his eyes.

The new angle gave him the perfect opportunity to steal a kiss from you.

It was fleeting and clearly not his main focus, so he pulled from your lips.

“You are going to read to me your favourite passages.”

“What?”

“I am sure you've managed to find something interesting by now,” he carried on, pecking the tip of your nose. “And I don't mind being proven wrong about this book.”

It would have been easier to dismiss his request if his hardening cock wasn't so firmly pressed against the swell of your backside.

“I can just tell you…” you said, swallowing hard.

He simply chuckled. “You said I was no fun, so I am making sure this is fun.”

You gazed down at the open book in front of you, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue.

“And, darling?” he called from behind you. “If you stop, I stop.”

And suddenly, the sound of fabric being ripped filled the room.

Your underwear had been effortlessly torn apart, granting him exclusive access to your now soaked core.

You shuddered under him, tilting your head to meet his crimson eyes. “What do you mean?”

“If you stop reading, I stop fucking you.”

The crudeness in his words was enough to draw a gasp from you, and mainly because you knew he meant what he said.

Astarion wasn't one to hand out empty warnings.

It soon dawned on you that he had caught a glimpse of the page you were currently gripping, providing him with enough material to use as leverage against you.

Fuck.

“Isn't this the one you want to try out?” he cooed, pressing his erection against your backside once more. “It seems like we are already halfway through.”

Instinct guided the next few rolls of your hips, yearning for more friction, not at all interested in wasting time reading anything from this book, when the subject of your desires was all you wanted to focus on.

But Astarion disagreed.

In fact, it was the loud tapping of his fingers next to the explicit diagrams of the ‘Prone Delight’ position that snapped you out of your lust-filled haze.

“Read it out loud.”

You groaned, frustration evident in your voice. “But you can see it…”

He pressed his strained cock harder into you and you yelped from the sudden pressure.

“Read. It.”

Somehow, you found the will to fix your gaze back on the now crinkled page, fingers quivering as you skipped the first steps of the visual guide, darting your eyes down until you found what to read out loud next.

The urge to arch your back nearly overtook you as you read through the instructions.

You cleared your throat. “‘As soon as your partner is flat on their stomach, proceed to place a firm pillow under their hips to elevate them to place them at an ideal angle.”

Astarion quickly darted to his side, launching forward to grip a pillow on the far end of the bed.

You glanced to your side as soon as you heard the sound of laces being unfastened, freeing his cock with a hiss of pure relief.

He pumped it twice as if urging it to harden even more.

“Why did you stop?”

You jolted from how harsh he sounded, but his tone had an immediate effect on your clit, causing it to pulse more intensely than before.

The bed dipped and creaked under his knees as shifted before patting the side of your waist. “Up.”

You immediately complied, raising your hips high enough for him to place the pillow under them, effectively causing you to gasp.

Astarion smacked your backside softly, urging you, and you felt a gush of wetness spill down your folds as you clenched again.

“‘The legs must be pressed tightly together to further increase the tightness’,” you said, but your voice faltered as soon as his firm hands were suddenly on your thighs, ensuring you followed the instructions, which caused your swollen clit to be squeezed in between your soaked folds. “Gods…”

He pulled away at once. “You stop, I stop, darling.”

You immediately clenched hard around nothing, your body yearning for his cock.

“Please…” you pleaded, wanting nothing more than to tear the page apart and spread your legs to invite him in.

Tough luck.

Astarion was in no mood to cooperate with your request.

“You wanted to surprise me, didn't you?” he cooed, lovingly stroking your plump cheek before giving it a squeeze. “Then go ahead and show me how you can keep your pretty head focused whilst taking my cock.”

Another clench.

A more violent one this time.

Followed by a groan of frustration as you desperately clawed at the book, knowing you'd have to carry on.

“‘The other partner must straddle their legs from behind and…’” your voice cracked when he positioned himself atop your thighs, his cock already nudging at your entrance. “... and…” Astarion stilled right away and you groaned. “... and slowly initiate the act of p-penetration’.”

He seemed satisfied enough with your performance as proceeded to drag his tip along your folds, coating it in your wetness.

“Like so?” he then asked as he slowly began to stretch you open, earning a sob from you from how thick he was. 

“Yes…” 

His thighs caged yours, preventing you from parting your legs as he struggled to bottom out.

“Gods… why do you have to be so tight,” he hissed in frustration, probably realising this position wasn't all that favourable. “Keep reading.”

You wanted to protest, but you just couldn't speak as you tried to take all of him in spite of your tightness.

And before you could feel full with his cock, Astarion withdrew from you in one swift motion, causing you to almost cry out.

“No! No…no…” you sobbed, feeling your walls squeeze as if that would magically bring him back inside. “Astarion… please…”

He had the nerve to chuckle. “Trust  me. I want nothing more than to sink all the way in, but we had a deal. Now, read.”

This was pure torture.

He was too good at making you crave him.

And you were too weak to resist him.

With newfound strength, you managed to move to the next step, sniffling. “‘A gentle pace should be initiated first, before setting for a more forceful one, with long and deep thrusts’...”

Just as expected, he was sliding back inside you once again, rewarding your perseverance.

“‘If there is any sign of discomfort, it is advised to halt at once’,” you managed to say in between throaty moans.

Astarion bottomed out before you could initiate the next sentence, letting out a delicious groan of pleasure. 

You needed more.

You needed him to roll those sweet hips of his.

“‘It is advised to alternate the pace according to…’” A sobby moan left your throat as he slid all the way out before plunging back inside and setting a relentless pace. “... ‘...according to the partner's body language and vocal cues…’” You paused again as creamy lewd sounds filled your ears. It was getting harder and harder to keep your vision straight as he fucked you so good.

But, as soon as you failed to deliver an unwavering diction, Astarion stilled inside you, causing you to instinctively clench around his cock, silently urging him to move again.

“What's the matter, darling?” he mocked, caressing your backside with both hands, fingers digging into your flesh. “You wanted to teach me, so do it.”

There was nothing in this godsdamned book you could use to teach him.

And he knew it.

Astarion knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew what made it tick and what had you beg for more.

But still, you endured, as your lust for him overcame everything else.

“‘This position has been described as one that allows the partner on top to get as deep as possible whilst experiencing unprecedented tightness.’” 

You weren't sure how you managed to say all of it in one go, but it was enough to have him slam into you harder than before.

It was almost embarrassing how easily soaked you got from being told what to do, but you didn’t care anymore.

And it seemed that Astarion was too lost in his own pleasure to notice you had stopped, so you allowed yourself to enjoy each thrust and groan you squeezed out of him.

He always sounded so pretty buried inside you.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he rammed hard.

As expected, his pace never faltered, but you wanted to give him more incentive and flipped the page, ready to commence your diction.

“‘The suggested position after–”

But before you could continue, Astarion snatched the book in front of you and sent it flying across the room with a growl.

“Enough of that idiotic book,” he snarled, lifting your hips. “On your hands and knees.”

He kicked the pillow from under you, without sliding out.

Your muscles were slightly numb from the previous position and it took you a moment to adjust yourself.

Once he was sure you were ready for more, he pressed a hand down your back, causing you to arch for him.

“You're too soaked for this to last much longer,” he said, sliding all the way inside, his balls hitting your swollen clit. “You don't need a book to have me come undone for you, sweetheart.”

You shuddered.

It was almost criminal how good this man was with his words and body alike.

Your mouth dropped open as soon as he began to speed up once more, wet and creamy sounds being heard in between the snap of his hips against yours.

The familiar coil in your lower abdomen signalled how close you already were with each slap of his balls against your clit. Judging by his grunts and less spaced out hisses, you could tell your own climax would trigger his.

But you needed more.

You needed the sight that would have you topple over the edge.

So, you looked down along your body, almost whimpering from the view: a single thick strand of precum mixed with your own wetness was dangling from your swollen clit, swaying with each thrust.

Gods…

You took a deep breath, embracing the wave of pleasure that was about to hit you as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

It came all at once and your arms quivered under you until you had no choice but to fall forward on the side of your face as your climax violently tore through your entire body, initiating a sequence of contractions that further had you tightening around his cock.

It was almost blinding and your mind blanked at once a string of moans spilled from deep without you, breath taken away from your lungs.

Astarion cursed loudly and you knew then, even through your haze of pleasure, that he had reached his peak.

Each contraction aided him in spilling himself deep inside you, your body craving his seed.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from your clit and how swollen it was, parting your folds. Then, you shot a brief glance at his handsome face, wanting to witness it contorting in pleasure and relief as he rode out his own climax.

As you came down from your high, you began to see the first drops of thick cum dribbling down his balls as he began to pull out. 

By the time he was fully out, a gush of cum leaked out, coating your folds and dripping from your clit.

It never ceased to amaze you how hard he always came… the amount of cum was obscene to say the least. 

He nearly lost his balance and you saw his cock completely covered in cum as he growled through clenched teeth, his fangs fully visible.

Somehow, your knees hadn't quivered and you remained in the same position for a while, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Eventually, you found your voice again. “You… shouldn't have thrown it away… it has some post-encounter care suggestions…”

Astarion was on his knees, his cock still hard and thick as his half-hooded eyes met yours. “Lay down.”

Was he not done ordering you around?

You chuckled weakly, but did as you were told.

He slid from the bed at once and you admired his backside as he sauntered across the room, taking a towel in his hand before returning to your side.

“On your back, darling,” he said, voice soft and caring as he placed a kiss on your flushed cheek. “Allow me to properly take care of you.”

You offered him a smile, eager for what was to come.

“You know, that was mean of you…” you said in between shallow breaths.

Astarion pressed a kiss to your forehead, parting your legs. “But was it fun?”

You chuckled, feeling your muscles sore. “No.”

He feigned hurt as he dabbed the soft towel along your folds, earning a jolt from you when it reached your oversensitive clit. 

“Do not lie.”

A thick layer of his cum slowly dribbled from you, which he promptly wiped clean.

“It was mildly entertaining,” you groaned as he kept on pressing adoring kisses along your cheek. “I'm surprised you were able to hold back.”

“Oh, darling… I didn't.”

And for the next few minutes, you enjoyed the comfort that came with the silence of being next to the person you adored the most.

Astarion was a dedicated lover.

He would have you come undone for him, but he would ensure the after care was just as rewarding.

As such, he would clean you up and offer you water and even a bath. And if you couldn't walk? He would simply carry you.

But you never wanted it to be a one-sided courtesy.

He deserved to be taken care of just as much and you would often be the first to pat his cock clean with a soft piece of cloth. 

Sometimes, you would aid each other simultaneously in between tired kisses and hugs, finding bliss in the trust that held you together. 

Masterlist

[viennakarma]

Everything I Wanted III.

LESTAPPEN x READER (PART 3/FINALE)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 10k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, open ending, HEA, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are also a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is a tiny bit angsty. Maybe I should've mentioned it before, but both Max and Charles are single in this story. I'm sorry if it feels rushed or if it has any mistakes, I just let my heart go with the flow!

Find me on Twitter!

-

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You spend a few days in some happy daze, just shamelessly bashing in your Championship. Everyone knew because you were positively giddy during the last race week in Abu Dhabi, you were seen smiling more during that one week than you had been seen smiling in your three years of Formula 1. 

Some of the drivers were even more amicable towards you and your closest friends were even teasing you all the time, calling you Champion so they could see you blush and giggle.

“Hey there, Champ,” Lewis would greet you.

“Buenos días, campeona,” Fernando would say and laugh at your reaction.

Lando even joked to some reporter that you were in love with the championship.

There was a dinner organized by the drivers to say farewell to Sebastian. Despite knowing most drivers confirmed their presence there, you planned to go and leave early because you always felt left out whenever most drivers got together.

That’s why you texted Lewis to ask what he was wearing that night, and you ended up wearing high waisted suede pants, and a white T-shirt, finishing with a classic black scarpin in your feet and a purse. 

Since you and Nando were in the same hotel, you decided to go together with his driver. Only when you got to the car, Charles was also inside the car, and you had to sit quietly by his side, his thigh brushing yours. Nando was in the passenger seat, and you started small talk with him to diffuse the tension he was unaware was happening in the backseat. You were engaged in conversation with Nando when you felt Charles fingers touching your knee. Jolting, you immediately slapped his hand away.

“You ok there?” Nando asked from the front of the car.

“Uh, yes! Just an- annoying mosquito!” You said, faking a smile.

Charles pouted, crossing his arms and pointedly looking to the window of his side.

As the three of you arrived there, half of the grid was already there, seated and chatting. Lewis welcomed you first, warning that he purposefully invited Sebastian to arrive thirty minutes later, so he was the last to arrive. As you sat beside Nando, you noticed how Charles sat beside you again, facing Pierre across the table, and you ended up facing Max. Your eyes met, but you looked away, deciding to focus on conversation with Nando and Lando, who was in front of him.

When Seb arrived, he was welcomed with a round of applause, which made his cheeks redden a little as he laughed. The dinner went well, and you shared red wine with a few of the others, some of them preferred other drinks. It was nice chatting with everyone, and it was the first time you really felt part of the group, everyone together laughing and eating.

“Y/N, who’s your idol from this table?” Carlos asked with a smirk.

“You wanna put me in trouble,” you eyed around. Everyone knew that the people you were closest with, Lewis, Seb and Nando were your racing idols.

“Come on, your favorite, Lewis, Seb or Fernando?” Lando joined in, and the others joined too, egging you on.

“Kimi is my favorite,” you muttered before taking a sip of your wine. Everyone started shouting and calling you a liar, “fine, fine, it doesn’t mean I’m not a big fan of the other two, but growing up, I’ve always wanted to race like Fernando.”

“And now you do,” Fernando said, raising his glass in a toast, which honestly made you blush. Everyone started making fun of you because you were shy and giggly.

You ended up staying until the end, when everyone had to leave to get a good night of sleep for the free practices the next day.

Race day there was a small ceremony to say goodbye to Sebastian, and it was the only part of the week that made you a little sad, even though part of you were really happy knowing he would get to spend time with his family and dedicate himself to his projects of sustainability. When the drivers made a little corridor to applaud him, Sebastian hugged you and you felt a little teary eyed.

The race was great, and you put some effort into winning that one, because you wanted to finish the season with a bang. And a bang it was, holding the P1 trophy again, kissing it and then raising it high as homage to mom.

After the season ended officially, you went straight to Woking to visit the factory and thank everyone personally for making you a car fast enough to make you the champion. Then you had a few media commitments, had to go over some marketing and legal meetings about brands deals and whatnot interested in your image.

Finally, by the beginning of December, you went back to Monaco and slept in for a few days, relaxing body and mind.

When Lando found out you were living in Monaco, he invited you to a padel match, and despite not knowing the game very well, you never said no to any form of competitive sport that could take your mind off things.

“I’ll let you know, I’m a fast learner, Landito.” You pointed when he gave you a padel racket.

“Come on, you have 20 minutes to learn the basics before our competition is here,” he said.

“Oh, we’ll be playing as duos?” You smiled, letting him lead you to the court.

Lando taught you the basics for a while, and you were getting the hang of it when you heard voices behind you. You stopped short as you noticed your competition were Charles and Max, and as they saw you, they too seemed surprised.

“Hello,” you greeted them with a nod.

Luckily Lando didn’t waste any time with pleasantries and went straight to the game. Which was great, since that was a language you could speak. You soon noticed Charles and Max had a bit more experience than you, so you had to up your game a bit, using strategy to outsmart them.

You and Lando won three games and Charles and Max won four.

As you finished, you went to the net and shook their hands. Max stared at you intensely, but you ignored him and went grab your bag.

“You’re leaving?” Lando asked, “we were going to grab a snack after.”

“Oh, um, yeah- I gotta go, I still have a lot to do around the apartment and I’m waiting for some furniture to arrive,” you gave an excuse.

“You’re living in Monaco?” Charles asked, visibly surprised at the info.

“Yeah. So, bye. Thanks for the game.” You started walking away, but Lando jogged to catch up to you.

“Hey, uh- text me when you’re free this weekend. I wanted to talk to you privately about… McLaren” he whispered your team’s name and you raised an eyebrow, you had no idea what he wanted to talk about, but you nodded.

Lando ended up coming over to your apartment Saturday afternoon, he helped you paint your living room walls a soft green, and after you finished, you were eating a few snacks when he finally said what he wanted to talk about.

“So, I know that legally we shouldn’t be talking about it, but- for how long is your new contract with McLaren?” He breached the subject. You paused.

“What? You know my contract ends by the end of next season.”

“Yeah but- the new one-”

He silenced himself abruptly, probably realizing you didn’t get a new one. You pressed your lips in a thin line. You had a contract similar to Lando’s, that would end by the end of next year. But now- now Lando had been offered a renovation, and you weren’t.

“They offered you an extension already?” You asked, shocked.

“No- I mean- It’s just-” Lando realized by your face that he had fucked up.

“Lando.”

“Yes, from 2024 on, with possible extensions,” He said, apologetically.

“Oh” you whispered.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sure they are just taking their time putting your contract together since you’re, you know, the world champion,” Lando startled rambling, until his phone started ringing, “I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’m streaming tonight and I need to set up. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sure they’ll offer your renewal soon.”

You bid him goodbye, still processing his words. You tried to be reasonable and not be upset, but the prospect of not receiving a proposal being the world champion didn’t sit right with you. You meditated, thinking to not let that get to you, but a few days before the FIA Gala, you received a proposal from Mercedes, and another from Aston Martin. Both were great, great contracts. They offered a lot of money, security and great publicity.

The night of the Gala, you went all out. Amanda helped you hire a glam team, so you had make up, hair and stylists helping you dress. You wore a silver dress, long with a high slit on the leg, black heels, and your hair was short now, shoulder length and dyed black. You wanted a femme fatale look, and that’s what you got.

Unfortunately, Kimi and Minttu couldn’t go with you, and you didn’t bother to find a date, opting to go by yourself. When you arrived at the ceremony, all eyes were on you. You posed a little by the red carpet and answered a few questions about the championship.

During the ceremony you sat with Lewis, chatting up until the main awards were called. You watched as Charles went up the stage for the third place trophy, he was handsome wearing some designer suit and tie, and glasses that made him even more attractive. He said a couple of words, before making his way down. Then was Max, wearing a gorgeous tux, perfectly tailored to his shoulders and waist. While he was talking, you fixed the bust of your dress and waited for your name to be called alongside the words world champion.

When you got to the stairs, Max was down there, and he offered you a gentlemanly arm to help you up, you hesitated for a brief second but then accepted, letting him guide you up the steps.

Your eyes were on the beautiful trophy. The smile on your face was big, almost giddy, as you went on the stage. You kissed your trophy, leaving a red lipstick stain on the side of it, and you stopped by the mic. After a brief second to recollect your thoughts, you sighed.

“Wow! It’s such an honor to receive this as a token of my hard work and all my years facing pushback for this dream,” you smiled down at the trophy, “I’ll try and keep it brief. I know I have already said some of this, but I’d like to thank my team, not only for making this amazing car that became part of me during this season, but also for giving me a chance three years ago. Thanks to Jace and Amanda, who were such great help this year. I’d like to thank Kimi for seeing me when I was on the brink of giving up and when no scouts looked in my direction, and Minttu for taking me in as one of her own,” you put a hand on your chest, above your heart as your voice choked a little, heavy with emotion, “Thank you, Sebastian and Fernando for accepting my friendship when everyone else turned their backs on me,” you found them both around the crowd, Nando sending you a wink, and Sebastian smiling wildly, “and last but not least, I’d like to thank my mum for working hard to put a roof over my head and food on the table while I was out there hustling for my dream.”

Everyone clapped and you waited for the applause to die down. You could end your speech there, but you wouldn’t be the Lioness if you did.

“Oh, and for those who said I wasn’t gonna go far… You can suck my-” you interrupted yourself, showing your tongue cheekily, making almost everyone in the room laugh.

That night you drank, danced and sang like never before. You woke up hungover and a little blacked out, not remembering the whole night, only some glimpses of it.

You stayed the Holidays with Kimi and his family, and despite being invited by Lando to a big New Year’s Eve party, you opted for a chill celebration. You still found time to send Sebastian and his family some Christmas presents and you managed to go karting with Fernando on his track in Asturias. 

After meeting with Fernando, you went on a solo trip around Spain, visiting cities and learning a little bit about history while practicing your spanish. You also tried a few hobbies, out of curiosity. You tried playing tennis, skydiving and surfing.

Soon, you were back in Monaco to resume your training for next season and traveling to Woking to see your new car. You also sat with Amanda and your lawyer, and accepted a few brand deals, one for makeup and another for a big fashion brand. You were genuinely happy with both, you always wanted to get into fashion but never had the time or knack for it, but now with your deal, they would link you to a stylist and give you outfit options.

You entered the new season fresh, feeling good not only about your talent as a racing driver, but about your looks and new style, feeling that your championship could finally back you up.

Only if the media got the memo.

“Y/N do you believe when people attribute your championship win to Verstappen’s mistake?”

You felt fire in your throat, anger bubbling up.

“No, I believe I won the championship because I drove well the whole season. I attribute my championship to myself, my talent and my hard work,” your tone was harsh, and you didn’t even bother to sound pleasant, “I wonder if this was asked to every other Formula 1 champion of the world or just me?”

You huffed, putting your mic down, and you saw Fernando leaning towards you to whisper, “it’s good to have the Lioness back.”

It was different seeing Nando wearing green now and Sebastian’s absence was noticed from day one. He had sent you a text wishing good luck in the season.

There was also a weird shift that you noticed soon, right in the first few races. The rivalry between Max and Charles had been placated a little. They were still rivals on the track, but out of it, they were seen chatting and discussing, all in good spirits and friendly. Whatever rift had caused the tension all these years was apparently mended. So now, they were only your rivals, together against the greater evil. You.

Without a win in the first three races that season, you were sure something was wrong. Could it be your car, but it could also be you.

You came out of debriefing feeling a stress induced headache starting. You walked around the paddock aimlessly, just trying to clear your head and not face any photographer or reporter. That’s why you were around the moving boxes and trucks, trying to find a secluded spot to breathe and meditate.

Unfortunately, you ended up facing two people pressed against a wall. Frowning, you tried to understand what was going on, when you realized it was Max and Charles. Their sides were pressed on each other, but what caught your attention was that they were holding hands, whispering to each other.

You paused, trying to make sense of it. And then Max caressed Charles’ jaw. Then you decided, it was none of your business whatever they did.

Turning around, you were leaving when you stepped on something and it broke loudly. You just kept walking away, not looking back, you were almost leaving the lot when someone held your wrist, making you turn back around.

“Wait, Y/N, we- we can-” Charles’ voice failed him, visibly nervous.

“We can buy your silence,” Max added, suddenly. You frowned, shaking your head.

“I didn’t see anything,” you muttered trying to walk away, but now Max also held your other wrist.

“Say your price,” Max pressed further, making you angry.

“I don’t know what kind of psycho you take me for, but I didn’t see anything,” you say, suggestively, “I wouldn’t want someone to out me, and I wouldn’t do that to anyone else either. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Fuck,” Max whispered, letting go of your hand.

“You- you promise?” Charles asked, still not letting go of you.

“I swear on my mom’s grave.” You said softly just because you could understand their fear, you knew first hand how cruel the motorsport world could be. Whatever was going on between them was none of your business.

You left without another word, hoping they believed you. 

The season kept going, and your car wasn’t as good as the year before which was really upsetting you and forcing you to work even harder to match your quality the previous year.

But also both Max and Charles stopped publicly taunting you, making people wonder if your rivalry had ended. It was annoying because that dynamic was all that you’ve known from them, and the fact that they stopped shading you because they were scared to anger you and you eventually exposed them to the world was even more annoying. You wondered if you should talk to them, to let them know it was never coming out of your mouth.

You decided silence was the best course of action. You had enough problems with your car as it was.

Before the fifth race of the season, all the drivers were called for a meeting, to talk about a few safety measures that were being put in place for paddock safety. You sat through it quietly, only listening to the FIA representative. You knew that meeting was because of what had happened to you in Zandvoort the year before, you had taken your complaints to the FIA and miraculously, they had abided by it.

You left the meeting as soon as it was over, walking away. But then, you touched your wrist as a nervous tic.

No. No.

You noticed you didn’t have your watch with you the moment you left the building, patting your pockets to make sure it wasn’t there as you ran right back to the meeting room where the drivers debrief had been.

As soon as you entered, you saw both Max and Charles checking the watch, the monegasque was the one holding it.

“Hey, uh-” you paused, trying to not sound rude, “that’s mine, can I have it back?”

Charles looked at you with that smirk as Max moved away a few steps. Charles opened his hand in your direction, handing you the watch. But as you were to grab it, he pulled back and threw it. You froze, seeing the watching flying directly into Max’s awaiting hands behind you.

“Please, don't-” you gasped as Max pretended to throw it back to Charles. But he didn’t, he just extended his open hand to you, probably noticing the worry in your face.

Skittishly, you got closer to him and grabbed the watch from his hand. He didn’t pull away like Charles had done.

But as you pulled it back, your own hand slipped the watch, and you eyed it with horror as it hit the ground immediately breaking the crystal. You felt like your heart was breaking along with your mom’s watch.

“No, no,” you whispered, kneeling down to take it back.

“Hey, what is happ-” you heard Lewis’ voice entering the room but he stopped short as he saw you almost crying on the floor. He immediately helped you get up.

Both Max and Charles were shocked, still rooted to the spot as it was the first time they ever saw you show any kind of extreme emotion, and the pain in your eyes made both of them get filled with guilt.

You stood up still holding the watch in your hand as a fragile thing, pretty much like your heart.

“Hey, kiddo. Come on,” Lewis put an arm around your shoulders, pushing you away softly after giving the other two drivers a nasty glare.

You didn’t try to get it fixed, and you still wore it even with the crystal shattered. You knew it was a relic, vintage and probably handmade since it was generations in your family. But also you were too emotionally attached to it to get rid of the watch.

After the race, once you got a P2, finally, you went to the hotel, skipping the celebration the team wanted to throw for you but still picking the bill for their night out. 

It was late at night when you were rewatching the race, trying to see whatever mistake caused you to miss that P1 that was just within reach but you didn’t manage to take it. You were taking notes, typing in your laptop, when a knock on your door interrupted. You had already ordered room service, but sometimes Amanda did it for you if she thought you weren’t eating enough.

You opened the door to be faced with Max and Charles.

“Can we come in?” Charles asked, and confused, you opened the door wider to let them in.

“We came to apologize about the watch, we’re sorry.” Max started, looking at Charles for his cue.

“That was really immature of us, sorry,” Charles added.

“It’s alright,” you sighed, a little tired, “it’s not your fault, really. I dropped it, not you.”

“But it wouldn’t have happened if we just didn’t mess around with you.”

You sighed again, despite being sad about the watch, you didn’t really blame them for it. Charles took your hand suddenly, making you stare up at them, both of them looking at the broken watch you were still wearing. Max opened the bag and handed you a small box. It was a Rolex.

“We’re really sorry, Y/N,” he handed you the watch. You stared at the box, taking it as a sign of good faith from them.

“Thanks,” you whispered, “I was just eating, you wanna join me?”

They nodded, uncertain. They followed you to the en-suite, the most recent race paused on the TV. You closed your laptop.

“I appreciate the gesture, but-” you unclasped the watch in your wrist, handing it to Charles who was sitting closer to you, “it has emotional value, it was mum’s.”

You waited as they read the inscription, Charles gasping when he realized it had way more value to you than the stupidly expensive Rolex they managed to buy you. Running his thumb on the inscription, Max looked at you.

“I know a guy back home, he- he can fix the crystal,” Max told you, “would you trust me to take it to get fixed? It’s the least I could do.”

“You don’t have to,” you shook your head, “I don’t blame you for breaking it.”

“Please?” Max asked, and something inside you spread warmth in your chest.

“Fine,” you sighed, seeing Max pocket your watch in his bag, “please, help yourselves.”

They went to the table of room service and grabbed a bit of food. They sat around.

“You were rewatching the race?”

“Yeah, I like taking notes, seeing what I can improve…”

You closed your laptop and the TV, not wanting them to check your confidential information.

“How are you feeling this year?” Max asked, awkwardly trying to start a conversation.

“I’m alright, I guess. I mean, the car could be better,” you shrugged.

“And about your mom?” Charles looked at you intently.

“It’s grief, right?” You blinked slowly, “it comes and goes in waves. Sometimes they’re tiny waves breaking on your ankles, and sometimes it feels like you’re going to drown in them.”

There’s a brief silence, but when you meet his eyes, Charles’ eyes shine in understanding.

“I know.”

Max managed to change topics, talking about the track, the race and his impressions. Was a safe topic, lighter. You didn’t notice how, but you three ended up sitting in a small circle on the floor. Max was passionately talking about track adherence, and he was so focused on his explanation that it was actually funny. You eyed Charles, and you two bursted out laughing, which made Max stop, looking at you confused.

When you stopped laughing, sitting straight, Charles was suddenly very close. Way closer than before. His face was just a few centimeters away from yours, and it made you dizzy.

You snapped your head to Max, who was looking at you with just as much desire as Charles. He nodded to you, giving you permission.

Charles held your face and kissed you, softly and tentatively. You broke the kiss, looking from Charles’ beautiful eyes to Max’s. You watched as Max shifted closer to you, holding your jaw as he kissed you too.

You couldn’t wrap your head around what was happening, but you were very shocked and equally turned on.

Max’s hand slid from your jaw, down to your neck, and you were still wide eyed, your breathing progressively more shallow. You felt Charles behind you, his hand on your waist, pressing softly. You closed your eyes as Max slowly closed the distance between you again, and you felt his lips pressing against yours. With shaky fingers, your hands trailed beneath his shirt, up his back, nails grazing his skin. While you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss, you moaned, feeling Charles leaving open mouthed kisses to  your neck and shoulder, goosebumps rising in your skin. It was overwhelming, because they were everywhere, hands, lips and bodies stealing your breath. Everything was so hot, you felt like removing your clothes and the pulsing in your shamelessly wet panties.

“Take it off,” Max breathed after breaking the kiss, he helped the monegasque, who quickly tore your clothes leaving you only in panties. Max pushed you until your back was on the floor, and he and Charles were kneeling on each side of your body. “Charlie, come kiss her.”

Charles laid down, kissing you gently first, then deepening the kiss until you were pawing his waist and torso under his shirt. Seeing your struggle, he removed the shirt himself, while Max watched, running both hands up and down your thighs. Max suddenly pulled Charles closer, kissing him, their kiss was just as hard and messy as the kisses they had given you. Seeing the way their lips explored each other made you even wetter, and you couldn’t help but run your finger above your slit, your pussy still clothed. They removed each other’s clothes very fast.

They stopped, and Max soon removed your panties, laying between your legs. You moaned as his tongue lapped at your pussy, tentatively and Charles leaned down to kiss you again. Your heart was running insane, so fast you thought it would stop. Charles went lower and mouthed at your nipples, and you reached for his cock.

“Spit,” you ordered Charles, offering the palm of your hand. A little hesitantly, he did, a glob of spit on the palm of your hand and you grabbed his cock again, and he moaned out loud feeling the glide of your hand.

You felt one of Max’s fingers inside you, twisting so good that you had to hold his head, grinding your hips into him. The pleasure of Max working your cunt was so blinding that you lost focus on the handjob, but it didn’t deter Charles, who just decided to fuck into your hand.

You looked down, just to see Max looking straight at you through his lashes. He sucked at your clit, watching you writhe and come undone, grinding your hips on his face, wetting half of his face as he devoured you.

“Charlie will fuck you now, yeah?” Max asked as you recovered, and he carried you to the couch, positioned you on his lap, facing Charles, who just knelt between your legs.

Charles filled you up in one swift movement, and you moaned at the tight fit, melting into Max just behind you, holding you firmly, one hand on your neck, the other across your abdomen. The dutch kissed your neck, biting and sucking your skin, but his eyes trained on the way Charles’ hips started moving into you, you pulled Max’s hand that was on your neck and put it over your mouth, to muffle your moans, he pushed two fingers in your mouth and you sucked. The pressure was deliriously good, and Charles kept blabbering about how good you felt, and how warm was your cunt, and you were making him feel so good, mixed with lots of french expletives. Charles pressed further, his chest against yours as he found Max over your shoulder and kissed him. You felt Max’s hand that was between your bodies, find its way to your clit, rubbing in circles and pushing you even faster to your second orgasm, drooling over the fingers he still had in your mouth, you hips shaking so much you were rubbing Max’s cock with your ass, at the same time that Charles came crashing down, filling you up as he moaned out loud.

“My turn now, yes?” Max said, repositioning you like a ragdoll, while Charles laid down, pulling you on all fours on top of him, as Max took his turn behind you.

Charles pulled your face closer, kissing you all sloppy and open mouthed as Max filled you up to the hilt, making your knees shake. As if he knew, and he probably did, Charles held your hips up when Max started pistoning into you, fucking you so good you could only hold onto Charles and bite into his shoulders to keep yourself from being too loud.

You did not sleep that night. Max and Charles’ stamina wa otherworldly, and you three kept fucking until morning came. Sometimes you just watched them, sometimes you took one while the other rested, sometimes you took them at the same time. With them, you tried more adventurous positions than you had tried your entire life. They had a different way of finding out the workings of your body, of discovering the rhythm you liked and the sound of your moaning echoing on the walls.

The second time they slipped into your room was almost three weeks later, under the guise that they wanted to give your watch back now fixed. 

After a little chit chat Max pulled you into his lap and Charles pressed his chest to your back and in minutes you three were naked, touching and kissing and moaning into each other's mouth.

It became some sort of routine, every few weeks, they would sneak into your room, and you’d bang them any way you wanted.

Then they would stay more, bring dinner or put on a movie. They would snuggle with you in bed while the movie played, Max holding your thigh softly and you playing with Charles’ hair. It was good to unwind and forget about Formula 1.

Every day, after they left, you’d whisper to yourself.

“Don’t get too attached, Y/N. They’re your rivals.”

You didn’t want to poison all the sexy moments and all the tranquility they made you feel, but at the same time, you didn’t want to get too caught up in this. It should be fun, but it couldn’t be more than that.

Racing was never a topic of conversation between you, not only because those few hours together were sacred but also because all three of you were rivals and were in different teams, which could get very messy, very quickly.

Eventually, after Barcelona, McLaren brought a new upgrade. Which for you, it was a godsend. Finally, you could get back on your feet again. The car felt lighter and you had much more control. And in Montreal, you finally got the first win of the season. A huge weight was lifted from your shoulders and you even cried a couple of tears finishing the race first for the first time that year. And it was also the first 1-2 you and Lando had ever, which was even more reason for celebration.

You and Lando ended up closing a club for your celebration, inviting the whole team.

Max and Charles were there too, and they spent most of the night in a booth, chatting among other drivers. You knew they were watching you even pretending not to, and it was a matter of time until they had drunk enough to approach you. So you decided to not stay late and just leave.

You bid Lando goodbye quickly, telling him you were tired even if it was relatively early for a clubbing night. As you made your way to the most discreet exit, you felt a hand on your forearm, pulling you to a corner, and you were faced with both Charles and Max.

“Leaving so soon, chéri?” Charles asked, eyes glossy and probably a little tipsy.

“We came here to celebrate you,” Max said, one hand going around your waist. Wide eyed, you immediately pushed his hand away, taking a step back. They were confused.

“Not here. Too public, someone might see us, or even take pictures.”

“Don’t be like that, there is no one around now,” Charles pointed around, and granted, it was really empty on that side of the club, but anyone could walk in any moment.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, “not in public.”

“You’re ashamed of us?” Max squinted, looking into your eyes.

“I never said that. I can’t risk anything happening to my image just because I wanted to screw someone.”

“So that’s how you see us? A good fuck and nothing else?” Max pressed you further.

“Again,” you repeated slowly, your patience running thin, “that’s not what I said,” there was a tense pause and you pinched the bridge of your nose, “look, we all had more than enough to drink, and this is not the moment or the place for this conversation.”

“No, no,” Charles shook his head, “I believe you made yourself clear enough.”

With that, they walked away clearly pissed with you. Going back to the hotel, you knew there was nothing you could do at that moment to change their minds. They wouldn’t understand your point of view that easily, not only because they were drunk, but also because they weren’t a woman in Formula 1. Everyone fed off your failures like vultures, and if it leaked that you were going out not only with one, but with two other drivers, you knew you could kiss your career goodbye.

The media was never the kindest to you, and the majority of the fans weren’t either, so you knew how it would look if anyone found out about you three. They already call you slut without any knowledge of your romantic history, they would ruin your life if they were to know. And most certainly question not only your seat in Formula 1 but also your World Championship.

You just hoped you could explain that to Charles and Max when they were with clear heads.

Only you didn’t.

They never came back to your room, nor did they answer your texts.

Two entire weeks passed with only anguish gnawing at your insides, trying to reach them privately, but failing miserably. They were not only ignoring you, but also avoiding you. You couldn’t take it anymore, so in Austria, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You’d corner the first one you saw.

And that was Charles right before the drivers parade. You were the first ones to get there, which gave you some sense of privacy, well, as much as you could.

“You need to listen to me, this is a misunderstanding, Charles.”

But he straight up ignored you, not even bothering to look in your direction. With a heavy heart, you nodded, moving away from him. Making peace with the fact that maybe this was the end of your little affair. They had not understood you, and had ignored all your efforts to explain, closing the door of whatever was going on.

Resolute, you decided that maybe it was for the best. If they couldn’t understand where you were coming from, then better say farewell already. But you couldn’t help that anguishing feeling in your stomach.

It showed to be true during the race, when you were P4 fighting to get into the podium at least. Max was P3, and he fought tooth and nail to not allow you to pass, even if you had the pace to overtake him. You tried a risky move, one you had learned from Fernando Alonso. Pretend you’re going to overtake on one side, let him defend that side, then push your car to the other side and dive for the position.

You almost did the full move, but when you were going for the position, Max just pushed his car into your side, which caused you to lose control and you spun to the gravel. You just decelerated as much as you could. You left the car and went back to the pits with the help of marshals. You didn’t bother to even look into Max’s direction, feeling your eyes getting teary. You weighted with your helmet on, and only took it off inside the garage, because you didn’t want people to see you cry.

It was relatively normal to DFN because of a crash, and given the history of rivalry between you and Max, it was also very common to collide with him. What made you upset wasn’t him protecting his position, but him purposefully taking you out, like he was just getting back at you because he was angry. You had left enough space for him. Despite the overtaking maneuver being a little risky, you never once got close enough to him that you could cause an accident. He had not slipped and lost control. He had not tried to avoid you. He just ran straight into your sidepod.

“What happened today?” A reporter asked you when you went to the post race interviews.

“What is there to say? I think the images speak for themselves.” You shrugged, feeling tired but not wanting to give the media too much as to not cause a PR nightmare to Amanda.

“Seems like the FIA will investigate Max Verstappen because of today’s incident.” Someone else mentioned, and you couldn’t help but scoff.

“I’m sure they will,” you muttered, voice laced with sarcasm.

The debriefing was just as bad with your Team Principal calling you out in front of the whole team not only for damaging your car but also for putting yourself at risk like that.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, I did what any other driver would do in my position!” You sighed trying to calm down, “don’t make me quote Ayrton Senna to you. If you no longer go for a gap that exists, then you’re no longer a racing driver. You and everyone saw that Verstappen didn’t have the pace to match me, so he just plunged into me to take me out!”

God, you needed an ice bath. And maybe a new punchbag.

You were getting ready to leave when Max came up to you. You didn’t say anything to him, you honestly didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. You just wanted to go home and cry under the shower.

He was red in the face and looked distressed. You couldn’t help but feel defensive, holding your bag to your chest.

“I really don’t want to talk to you right now,” you said, trying to walk away but he blocked your path.

“Listen,” he started and the moment he raised his hand to remove his cap, it triggered you, and you flinched as if he was gonna hit you.

He stopped immediately, because he knew that was a trauma response. He knew that him being angry must have reminded you of your father growing up. He knew all that because he too, sometimes, had this kind of knee jerk reaction.

But you felt sick to your stomach. It wasn’t intentional, but it made you look like you believed he would’ve hit you, and rationally you knew he wouldn’t do that. But your stupid body did.

You avoided Max and walked away as fast as you could.

Back in the hotel you just packed your bags and left, going straight to the airport to fly back to Monaco. You were exhausted by the time you made it home, but you still took a shower and cried a couple of tears under the streaming water.

In bed, you tried to convince yourself this ending for your fling with them was for the best. It was too complicated anyway.

And you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t miss the feel of Max’s lips against your neck, or the feel of your hands pulling Charles’ hair softly. Or the way Charles used to mumble French mindlessly whenever he was concentrating on something. Or how often Max would do his maxplaining with his vast knowledge of the most random topics.

Your body was so tired but your mind just did not shut off.

You were a couple of hours into staring at the ceiling when the doorbell rang. Carefully, you went there, it was the middle of the night, so you checked the door camera to see both Max and Charles by the door.

Slowly, you opened to them. You swallowed, waiting for them to say something. You felt so vulnerable, this knot in your stomach had been tormenting you since the day they walked away.

“I’m- we’re really sorry,” Max started.

“For ignoring you and mistreating you and never once giving you the chance to explain your side,” Charles took a small step inside.

It was like a dam broke, and you ran into their embrace, sobbing. All three of you hugged, Charles with a comforting hand on your back and Max kissing the side of your head. They patiently waited for you to calm down, and then closed the door and walked you to the sofa.

“I missed you,” you murmured, holding Max’s jaw to peck his lips, doing the same to Charles, “I’m so sorry about everything.”

“Can we talk?” Charles asked, “you said it was a misunderstanding.”

You nodded, taking your phone from your room. You sat on the coffee table as you gave them your phone with your instagram profile opened.

“Check the comments on my last post,” you pointed and they sat side by side scrolling through it, the horror on their faces getting worse every second they kept going.

You knew the kind of comments you had on your profile. Hateful, hurtful comments. It had been that way since you made it into Formula 1.

“What a slut” “I bet there’s a reason why Charles hates her” “She never deserved that championship! #Retire” “Ugly bitch” “Whose dick she had to blow to get a seat?” “Overrated dumb whore” “I bet she tried to fuck her way through the grid, that’s why most of them hate her” “Max should’ve crashed into her harder”

It was nothing new to you, Kimi and your PR team had prepared you for years for this type of treatment. And you honestly had grown used to it, learning to ignore.

“This is disgusting, Y/N!” Charles exclaimed, trying to put the phone away, but Max snatched it back, still reading the comments.

“That’s just a regular Monday for me,” you shrugged, “I’m not trying to victimize myself or anything, but-”

“You are a victim, this is not okay!” Charles said.

“What I wanted to say is, I can’t risk us going public. This is what I face just for doing my job, and it would get so much worse if people ever found out. They already believe I fucked my way to the top, to them, we would just confirm their suspicions,” you felt Charles holding your hand for comfort, “it is very different for a woman. And I adore what we have, but I can't put you above my career and my dreams.”

Max extended his hand to you, and you grasped it, letting him pull you to sit between them. Charles kissed your cheek.

“We would never ask you to do such a thing,” Max said.

“I’m sorry we didn’t see what you are going through with the media and our fans.” Charles muttered, pulling your hair back with a hand, and holding your waist with the other.

“We missed you,” Max whispered against the other side of your neck.

In a couple of minutes they had you spread open on the sofa, Charles’ head between your legs and Max’s lips latched on to your nipples. They made sure to apologize orgasm after orgasm, cooing your moaning mess and kissing you stupid.

Routine went back to normal after that. You still didn’t name your affair and decided that for now, it was better this way.

With the upgraded car, you actually managed to pick up the pace and find yourself rising up the standings.

Silverstone was promising, being one of your favorite tracks, and one you knew you could win again this year. You did great both of the free practices, trying to keep your focus now more than ever, to get a chance at the championship again. There were specific races that you’d amp up your security team for safety, but Silverstone wasn’t one of them.

Qualifying day, you went to the track early morning, to meet with your team, talk about the results of free practices and your input. As you walked to your garage quietly chatting on the phone, you felt a hand on your arm, pulling you aside. You yelped, jerking around and you ended up facing the person. A man, and it took you a couple of seconds to recognize all the gray hair, but the evil eyes were still very much the same.

It had been more than a decade since you saw your father for the last time. Gasping, you took a step back to walk away, but he gripped your forearm, forcing you back.

Funny how fear worked, you hadn’t seen him for years, and you always imagined that now that you were all grown up, you’d be fearless, a big girl, brave and face your father head on. But it wasn’t how things happened. Immediately your fight or fight kicked in. Your eyes darted around, trying to catch someone you knew or someone from security.

“Let. Go.” You said, with gritted teeth.

“Is that how you greet your father?” He said, and you pulled your hand from his grasp.

“I don’t have one,” you spat, anger rising in your chest, hand in hand with fear. You wanted to bolt, to ban him from your life forever, to cry and shout all at once.

“I made you. I spent thousands investing in your career so you could be here, a little gratitude would be good,” he said with a fake smile, and it disgusted you.

“I’ll never attribute my success to you, you disgusting piece of-”

He held your face with a hand, pressing your jaw with such force that it made you stumble a step back. You gripped his wrist, trying to pull away but he pressed your face harder, pressing your head against the wall.

“Very careful how you speak to me!” He rasped, gritted teeth and all, “you little shit, you think you are better than me? I turned you into who you are! The least you own me-”

“I owe you shit!” You said, and spat on his face.

“I gave money and a house to that whore you called a mother-”

You snapped, getting a hold of the fear, and you punched him in the face, hard enough for him to get away and you get space to run. You took one single step when you stumbled into someone, and your eyes found Max.

It was a brief second between looking at you, looking behind you and recognising your father. Recovering from your punch, your father tried to get to you again, but Max stood between the two of you, pushing your father’s chest so he stumbled back. Charles arrived soon after with security, as Max explained that this man was to be escorted out and never allowed to come back.

“Chéri, are you ok?” Charles asked, seeing you taking a step back and leaning against the wall.

You nodded, trying to talk but your voice caught on your throat, trying to make sense of what was happening. Your legs gave in and you slid down until you were sitting on the floor.

“Amour, talk to me, hey-” Charles was worried, you were pale and shaking. Max also knelt down beside you, holding your face to try and see if your father had hurt you.

“Get him out,” you said, and Max nodded, going to talk with security.

“Amour-”

“Guys, there’s cameras around the corner!” Lewis showed up out of nowhere.

“I’m fine,” you managed to blurt, holding on the wall to stand up.

“Hey, hey-” Charles tried to hold your arm but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, walking away back into the garage.

Your mind was spinning, all over the place, and through text you told Charles and Max that you were fine and wanted to be alone. The qualifying was a shitshow. Your mind was completely all over the place, and even making it to Q2, you couldn’t go farther than P14, it felt like the car wasn’t responding to your commands.

You came out of qualy completely pissed. At your father, for showing up and ruining your good streak of races. At yourself, for letting him get to your head, for still giving him so much power over you. You walked away without a second thought, went to your room and kicked your boots off.

Press talk was another shit. You couldn’t pay attention to most questions, gave monosyllabic answers, and couldn’t explain why your qualifying performance was so bad compared to the rest of the year.

You just apologized to your team during debriefing, and silently acquiesced to whatever the strategy for the race was. Kimi had texted you asking about what happened, you didn’t want to talk to him just yet.

You were getting ready to leave for the day, when Fernando came into your room.

“I don’t want to talk, Nando,” you held your bag, not even bothering to look at him.

“Good, because I do the talking then. Go, sit down.” He pretty much ordered, his face stony and serious in a way you hadn't seen before. “What happened today?”

“I’ve got a lot going on,” it was all you said.

“Your father showed up, messed with your head and with your confidence,” Fernando said, with the certainty of someone who knew you really well. You wondered if the whole grid knew about your father’s presence today. You gulped. “Look, this is something you will master with time, but I’m going to tell you now. When you put your helmet on and get in the car, you’re a racer, nothing more. Your problems, your worries, they stay back and they never cross your mind for the entirety of the race. Out on the track, you’re one with the car, doing your best is the only thing that matters.” Fernando pressed his index finger softly to your forehead, as if he was quite literally putting it in your head, “Clear. Your. Mind.”

You sniffled, wiping the one tear that came down. Fernando’s face softened, but you knew he wanted only the best for you. And he was right. You kept giving your father this power. You handed him the power. You couldn’t keep letting him get away with it. This was the one thing you knew you were good at, your calling, your destiny and all your hard work. And you’d be damned if your father would keep a hold over your life.

“Clear my mind,” you inhaled, nodding.

You did your best to study your strategy for the day, to focus on what you could do to achieve the best result. 

Early the next morning, you went to the FIA, to request access to the camera footage to find images of the altercation between you and your father the day before. The representative you talked to was initially reluctant but once you told him what had happened, he was quick to help you. You explained that it was for the better that none of that came to light, and hopefully you could get your father to be completely banned from Formula One. The representative prepared a report and assured you that your complaint would be taken seriously and they’d work on the matter as fast and as discreetly as possible.

You went to meet your team and go over and over plan A, B and C. When you got in the car, ready to race, you still hadn’t talked with Max or Charles, and you were hopeful to catch them after. Attaching the helmet, you breathed in, slowly, remembering Fernando’s words.

Clear your mind.

You raced like there was no tomorrow, only thinking of the next turn and the next car you had to overtake, you didn’t think of who it was or when, you just did it. In the future, that race was going down in history as a masterclass in overtaking and taking every little opportunity thrown your way. The time passed really fast, and when you came to be, you heard Jace screaming in your ears that you had made it. You had made it to P1 and taken the checkered flag.

Your voice was shaky as you thanked the team and Jace on the radio.

When you left, running towards your team, they congratulated you and despite the great desire to run towards Max and Charles, who were on the podium with you, you somehow managed to find Fernando. You ran towards him, jumping in his arms, not even minding the way your helmets hit with a loud thud. He hugged you, removing your feet from the ground.

“Thank you! Gracias, muchas gracias, Fernando!” You shouted hoping he could hear you with both visors up.

He patted your shoulder as you had to run back to get weighted and to post-race interview. 

“Wow, I’m at a loss for words right now! You were a true Lioness during this race! Can you tell us what happened after the difficult Qualy yesterday?” Jenson Button was the one to ask.

“I was in a difficult place yesterday, and I’m very thankful for a pep talk Fernando Alonso gave me, that helped me get back into my jam!” You said, breathless, wiping sweat from your forehead, “I’m also grateful to my team for making the car that matched my energy and focus today!”

“And what did Fernando tell you?” Jenson asked, probably out of curiosity.

“Well, I can’t go out telling my secrets, can I? My rivals are all around!” You winked, and left a laughing Jenson behind.

In the cooldown room, where Max and Charles were already watching a montage with all your overtakes on a screen, you walked up to Charles, taking his hand. He looked a little concerned as you had agreed to keep your relationship private. Max joined, patting a hand on your back, and the three of you made a little triangle.

You looked at them with so much adoration, that it hit Max right in the chest and he wanted nothing more than to hold your face and kiss you silly. Charles held his breath for a brief second, being in the moment with the two of you.

“You were brilliant, today,” Charles muttered, low and hoping no mic would catch the sound.

“Unbelievable, Lioness.” Max also said with a discreet wink, then taking a step back and interrupting the moment.

That wasn’t your first podium, nor your first win, but something was different when you kissed the trophy and raised it to the sky. You felt like you’d taken back control of your life and your career. There was nothing that could actually stop you if you put your mind to it, and you knew now. You shitty father couldn’t squander your dreams when you were fourteen, and he couldn’t do it now either. You were so much bigger than him, greater than that pathetic man could ever be.

And you didn’t need him.

You had a mother that, despite not being there anymore, but she’d always be in your heart, a constant source of strength and faith. You had Kimi, who believed you when no one else did, who put his own hand over fire for you. You had Fernando, Seb and Lewis, your idols in this sport, and such good friends. You had Charles and Max, your lovers, and hopefully your future.

That night, as you were laying down in your suite, sandwiched between the two men that stole your heart, came the email with your renewal contract proposition. A five year offer, possible extensions, to make you the face of your McLaren.

You made love with Charles and Max with renewed energy, enjoying yourself and the feel of their love for you. It was just the assurance you needed to say the words.

“I love you. I love you two very much,” you whispered, running your hand through both their hairs, “I can’t promise much right at this moment, like a normal, public, relationship yet, but I do love you.”

“We know. We love you too.” Max whispered and Charles took your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“We love you too much to risk you facing awful dangerous things just so we could call you ours publicly,” Charles agreed.

That year, you didn’t get a second championship as you had dreamed, but you proudly stood with your P2 trophy during the FIA’s Prize Giving Ceremony, your chest swelling with pride as you watched Charles’ beaming face with the P1 trophy.

There was some renewed sense of purpose in yourself as you held the trophy, and in your heart, this one meant just as much as the champion trophy you had gotten the year before. This year you had overcome all the demons that had controlled you for a long time, this year you had not only learned to live with the undying love for your mom, but you had also learned about new forms of love. You had somehow rekindled that love for racing, for believing you were the best and could prove it amidst adversity.

And of course, many adversities were still to come, but now you were sure you had in yourself the power to face them.

When the next season started, you had your eyes on the prize.

Even spending a great amount of winter break with your boyfriends, they were still your rivals on track.

You were fixing your suit on the pitlane when they walked up to you.

“I hope you know this championship is mine,” Max said with a smirk. You caught his playful tone fairly quickly.

“Well, I am the current champion of the world, so we’ll see about that,” Charles crossed his arms.

“Boys, no crying when I leave the both of you eating dust, yeah?” You added, biting back a giggle.

“Baby, go easy on us,” Max joked, and you shook your head.

“Never going easy on my rivals,” You added with a whisper, “not even when they’re my handsome boyfriends.”

“See you after the finish line,” Charles winked, and they both walked away.

“Hope you enjoy the view of my rear!” You said, and they left, laughing.

Always rivals, but much more than that.

NOTE: If you want to know why I chose to end the story this way, or have any questions about the characters future, or any random headcanons, drop by my inbox and I'll try to answer most! Thank you so much for the support in this little adventure! Thank you to everyone who dropped a little ask/message asking for more, I'll try and answer you if I haven't yet! (also, sorry if i missed any tag)

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[oweninadaydream]

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞) || 𝐀.𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary : Can anybody blame a young lady for indulging in her deepest desires despite suspecting that the end is imminent?

song inspo: Fortnight by Taylor Swift (ft. Post Malone)

pairing : Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

word count : 1564 words

contains : rake!Anthony, unrequited? love, mentions of alcohol and I think that's it!

a/n : I am not the owner of the gif or the dividers ( I don't possess such talents jakjhakjshda). This will have a second part (already working on it). The next chapter of the Feel the rush series will be posted after my exams, sorry :((( Anyway, enjoy !!!

The maid finished working on (Y/N)’s makeup and she turned to look at the final product in the mirror. Her  hair was perfectly held at the back of her neck with a chignon. Her grandmother’s diadem added that sophisticated touch the young woman craved. After taking in the breathtaking shade of her dress in the mirror, she started twirling and giggling around her chamber in a fairy manner. Someone could wonder, what on earth was going on inside the girl’s head? The answer was easy, yet so complicated. Lady (Y/L/N) was simply smitten with someone she knew very well, a lifelong friend that seemed interested in her as well. The problem? That man was no other than Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, the most infamous rake of the Ton. 

“Your carriage is ready, miss (Y/L/N)” the butler informed the young lady.

At almost the same time, another voice echoed around the house.

“(Y/N) dear, we must go now. Lady Danbury will not let me hear the end of it if we show up late yet again. I’d also like to chat a bit with Violet, I haven’t seen her since the Featherington ball.” her mother urged her from the hall.

“I’m ready, mother” she answered loud enough for the woman to hear.

On her way to the barouch that would transport them, she realized that the burgundy dahlias that had been planted at the beginning of the summer were finally blooming with the arrival of autumn, contributing to the embellishment of the front garden. She stared at them for a second; her mind was searching for something in them but she couldn’t explain what exactly. She shook her head and she got inside the carriage.

Pacing around the ethereal gardens of Aubrey Hall, her mind couldn’t help the quick escapades to the first time they kissed. Sitting under the blossoming tree, Anthony and her were watching the sunset taking with itself the traces of winter, welcoming the first of many spring nights. The two of them were abnormally quiet, as if the sight of the moon had bewitched them both. (Y/N)'s spine could still feel violent shivers traveling down her spine when recalling the way the Viscount had lightly brushed his nose against hers before capturing her lips into a slow deep kiss. His chapped and demanding mouth stole a couple more pecks before laughing airly, rising from their hidden spot and offering his hand to help her on her feet. 

That glorious evening marked the beginning of … Well, she couldn’t quite state what it was. The rest of the summer was filled with fleeting glances, embraces away from prying eyes and laughing, lots of laughing. (Y/N) had never been happier; after all, the Viscount was by her side every other night. Still, a series of dark thoughts anxiously floated around her head whenever he walked away to attend the gentlemen’s club, or whenever he tried to avoid her gaze after implying anything that had to do with love or compromise outside his mattress.  Shaking her head and changing the subject usually did the trick, but for the last few days, Anthony had been acting ever so strange. 

(Y/N) was absent in deep thoughts when she felt a familiar touch on her back. 

“Anthony” It was not a  question, but the most confident of statements.

“How did you know it was me so surely?” he said while flashing her with one of his infamous smiles.

She raised her head so her eyes stared at him directly. “I could recognize you by smell, by the prints you leave when you step on the ground on a rainy day or simply by tracing your features with only one finger, eyes completely closed. You are no mystery to me” her answer was sweet and sincere, with a touch of flirting attitude.

He went quiet, very quiet. Every bit of the playful attitude  he had shown earlier had disappeared, now replaced by a hard expression. “You ignore plenty of things about me, so stop acting like my-”

“What has come over you? Your usually particular temperament has worsened these past two weeks. I do not appreciate that you talk to me in such a way” she abruptly interrupted in hopes of obtaining any kind of answer that would help her understand.

“I cannot bear with this any longer. I just feel like we have gone astray from the path we had established for us. I wish for us to be on the same page, and that implies remembering the casual nature of our… deal. Please tell me you understand” his pleading eyes accompanied the request perfectly.

“Forgive me, Anthony but I can’t wrap my head around what you are saying. I thought we were evolving, like our relationship. I know you are not the most kin on marrying or doing this as everyone else does, but after all we’ve been through, don’t you dare tell me that I have been delusionally imagining all these romantic gestures and moments”

“Mademoiselle Parisot is upstairs waiting for me. I would love to continue to discuss this in another time, unless there’s anything that must be told in this exact moment” Was his voice meant to sound confident? (Y/N) could almost feel some sorrow slipping through the cracks of his quick confession. 

The astounded expression on (Y/N)’s face showed that she did in fact not comprehend any of what Anthony was rambling about. A quick sight that denoted shock and upset preceded the lady’s monologue.

“I love you, Anthony, and it’s ruining my life. I can’t keep sighing like a damsel trapped in the highest tower, as I yearn for a future that my eyes will not behold. I can’t keep masquerading my true desires, in hopes that you will choose to stay. I will not continue to morph into whatever kind of woman you fantasize about at the moment, making all those efforts for a man who could never spare a glance at me in such a way, and losing myself in the process. I always thought my worst misery would originate in a forced, loveless marriage with some old earl at best , that would little by little drain every spark of joy within me. But oh, what fool I have been. This senseless affair we have going on has come to distress me more than the worst of husbands ever could. So, go on, run straight into her arms. I do not care, not one bit, my lord. You have shattered my heart a million times throughout the years, I cannot feel it tearing apart anymore.”

His stupidly handsome face showed an evident feeling of distraughtness ; she had never raised her voice like that, nor had she ever used similar words around (or against) him. He quickly shook  his head to wash away the initial shock, substituting it with his typical stoic mask.

“I have never intended to inflict any kind of pain upon yourself, my lady. But, as my dearest friend, you should have known what you were getting yourself into, (y/n).”

His casual condescending  tone made her sick to the stomach and the loudest of silences entered the scene. After a minute or two, a gentle breeze interrupted (y/n)’s pondering. She then raised her head up in a defying manner. After making sure her voice wouldn't give up on her (even though her lower lip was trembling), she decided to voice her thoughts. 

“That's the thing that bothers me so much about infatuation. It makes humans stupid, it makes them believe it can fix anything, even lost causes such as yourself, Viscount Bridgerton. I do not desire to disturb my lord any longer, so excuse me.” And just like that, she was heading back inside the ballroom.

The sound of her heels furiously hitting the floor with every step matched perfectly with the accelerated heartbeat of the man left stranded in the gardens. Without much thought he decided to return to the chambers where his seemingly perfect mistress awaited for him.

Not very far from the action, a slightly inebriated Benedict was laughing obnoxiously loud with Eloise and Colin. The sight of  (Y/N) crossing the doors so rapidly while trying to contain her sobs and tears made the three Bridgerton siblings turn their heads to follow their friend’s trajectory. 

“Should we-” Benedict was eager to console (Y/N) despite his clouded reasoning.

“I would say that she needs a moment to collect herself, Benedict. Our presence could do more harm to her already poor state.” Colin spoke.

“I will try to approach her later. I wonder what has happened… Wasn’t she talking with Anthony?” Eloise recalled perfectly how Anthony had started to converse with Miss (Y/N) earlier that night, right in front of the thriving gardenias. Everything seemed perfectly normal when she was passing by, but it was obvious that something had happened after she had gone back inside.

Eloise moved rapidly to peek around the corner, followed by the two males whose curiosity was unbearable as well. On the other side of the garden, an obviously tense Anthony was making his way to his chamber with a light emanating from the inside of the room.

Without a second thought, Benedict voiced what the three of them were thinking in that moment.

“I think that is exactly the problem, my dear sister…”

[yumeka-sxf]

In addition to Yor's epiphany scene, this scene was the other one I was most looking forward to in season 2 - a scene that, in my opinion, is one of the most Twiyor-ish scenes in the series so far 💖

Why is it so significant? Because there was no reason for Twilight to put on any Loid Forger acting in that moment. He wasn't conversing with nor being scrutinized by anyone. So why would he give that soft smile followed by such affectionate, comforting words as "お疲れ様/otsukaresama"? (this can be translated in many ways, but generally it's something you say to thank someone for their hard work).

The answer is because it's something he truly felt...he understood the sacrifice Yor made for Anya's happiness and genuinely appreciated it (if only he knew the sacrifice she made on the larger scale, lol). While he's a bit perturbed at first since some onlookers were snickering at him, it didn't take long for him to soften and then graciously carry his queen and princess the girls back to the ship 😭

But Twilight overall was really soft in this episode and I loved it~ From his blush upon seeing Yor to the several times he gave that same soft smile when talking with/looking at her...I think Anya was right when she called him out on the ship about missing his wife 😅

I liked how the anime conveyed his shock when noticing her bruised face...what must have been his thought at that moment? 👀

The scenes of the family activities translated better in animated form in my opinion. While they were each only a single panel in the manga, they lasted a few seconds each in the anime, plus the addition of the insert song helped the with the comfy, wholesome vibe~ Also the part where Yor inadvertently chucks Anya across the ocean is still hilarious.

Loid's dorky skip at the beginning of the episode translated very well in animated form too 😅

The ending of this chapter in the manga always felt a bit rushed to me...it quickly jumps from the aforementioned scene of them returning to the ship, to suddenly being home, reuniting with Bond and Franky, having a meal together, then Twilight meeting Sylvia, all within a few panels. Even though I wish the anime added more than just some additional scenes of the ship leaving the island, I felt it flowed much better in the anime since, just like the family activities, each scene in the ending lasted a second or two instead of being a single illustration.

But I love how this chapter/episode ends, with Yor, Anya, and Bond napping while Anya draws about her family vacation. This seems to take place the next day or maybe later the same day they got home, so makes sense they'd still be tired from the trip!

By the way, the manga has this additional scene showing that Olka and company are safe. Weird that the anime didn't stick it in at some point.

Also, the anime team didn't have to go so hard with this episode's key visual but they did...and I love it 😍 Might actually be my favorite of the key visuals so far!

I was very happy to see the "surrounded by liars" panel finally animated! This is such a funny scene and a great way to fully wrap up the cruise arc.

I also burst out laughing at Yuri's locker 🤣

Damian is surprisingly laid back in this episode. I think the reason is because Anya's antics aren't directly involving him. He tends to go total tsundere only when she's actually talking to him, lol.

The new scene of Yor getting the keychains for her coworkers was a nice addition! Guess it's canon that Yor and Anya didn't sleep for the entire trip back, lol. Glad they got to spend family time on the ship too! (though I wish we could have seen Yor's reaction waking up in Loid's bottom bunk bed, haha. He must have brought her to his room since he wouldn't know where her room is. Unless she woke up before he even put her in a bed, in which case she would have been super embarrassed knowing he was carrying her around in public 😆)

Looks like next week the anime will be changing the order of things a bit and giving us the Becky home-wrecking and Fiona chapters (the latter of which seems to have some anime original content?) The Becky chapter is one of my favorite stand-alone chapters...I'm already dying of laugher thinking about it 😂

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 46 || The Drama (part 1)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, semi-smut, fluff, & angst (according to ☃️anon…)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——“OH FUCK-, S-SATORU WAIT,” You moaned into the air as Gojo got carried away in kissing you. Your back was against his apartment door by this point and he had one of his legs in between yours, his hands on your hips and his lips all over your neck.

Gojo sucked, licked, and even nibbled all over you, his hands feeling all parts of your body as he did so. You felt him knead your ass in his grasp as his focus went just under your jaw, soft smacks of his tongue and lips against you filling the air.

“You said I could kiss you,” Gojo hums. His voice was so low, lower than you’d heard it in a while.

One of his hands slides up and you sigh when you feel his fingers run over your chest, gently groping you as his kisses trail back up. His eyes meet yours for less than a second before he steals your breath by crashing his lips into yours again.

“M-Mmh,” You hum, feeling as his tongue works the insides of your mouth and his leg rubs against your clothed sex, “T-This… This isn't just k-kissing,” You mumble against him.

Gojo moves to clasp your lower lip in between his teeth and as he gives your skin a slight tug, his eyes open and both of you make contact through a low-lidded gaze. “Should I stop?” He asks huskily.

His eyes were drowning in lust, his leg yet to stop the constant rub over your cunt. You were getting all too worked up over this and your breathing grew unstable, “Ha-ah… Y-Yeah, maybe…” You hum.

He tilts his head, “Maybe? You sound unsure, sweetheart.” His thigh suddenly angles a bit differently and presses up against your clit.

Your jaw drops, “S-Shit,” You whine.

“If you want me to stop then tell me to stop-”

“Don’t s-stop,” You breathe out, confused by what you want at this point, rolling your hips forward against his leg.

Gojo bites his lip, “We shouldn’t be doing this, y’know.”

“Then you stop,” Your voice was so light and airy already, simply over some kisses and the slightest touches.

“I won’t if you don’t tell me to.” He tells you.

You shake your head, “I s-should be… mmgh,” You fold over a bit as his leg rubs over you just right, “Should’ be leaving…” You manage out.

Gojo snickers, “Then leave, sweets.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and move to grab onto his arm, “Then s-stop… haah… stop-, mmh… moving your leg,” You moan.

He’s trying his best to control himself but… He hasn’t seen you like this in months. Gojo forgot how whiney and fidgety you get when you’re flustered and turned on. The sight aroused him like crazy.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute,” Gojo teases, “I might cum in my pants if you seriously get off on my leg right now.”

Your head flips up to him with a glare, “We shouldn’t be doing this. I-It was supposed to be one little k-kiss… mmmh…”

“When is it ever one little kiss, love?” He asks softly.

“I can’t stand you,” You breathe out.

“Mhm,” Gojo nods, “I know. But you know the second option for you if that’s the case.” You furrow your brows and he makes up for his lack of explanation, “You can pick my face or my lap, either way, if you can’t stand me then sit on me.”

You roll your eyes at him and move to straighten yourself up. Abruptly, his leg kneads up into your pussy and you release a very light moan, your eyes flickering for a moment, “O-Okay… fuck, s-stop.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His leg freezes in place and Gojo removes his hands from your body, instead bringing them to cup your face in his palms once more, “Sorry,” He apologizes.

You nod weakly, “Uhuh, whatever.”

He chuckles at the clear rush of heat to your face, “You didn’t cum, did you?”

“What? No,” You scoff, finding it funny he thought you’d get off that quickly, “It takes more than that to make me cum…”

“You were about to though,” He suggests, raising a brow, “Weren’t you?”

You look off to the side and roll your eyes, “Fuck off.”

Gojo hums, smiling a bit at the way you simply avoided his question, “Sorry I got carried away.”

“I need to go now,” You sigh, moving carefully to collect yourself and calm down the arousal that was stirring within you.

“Alreadyyyy? Gojo whines with a pout.

Damn him for going from normal, to this obsessive freak, and now to this cute persona within a matter of minutes. It’s getting difficult to keep up with his constant switch-ups. One minute you think he loves you, the next you think he’s using you, and another you figure he’s just crazy.

“Yes, Satoru,” You huff, your hands going to his chest as you lightly push him away. Gojo takes a step back and you feel like you can breathe again, “We’ll see each other again sooner or later.”

He simply gazes at you, his heart throbbing for some reason. The list was truly over? Just like that? You’d completed it already… and in the process, you went and fell for someone… That thought stings Gojo’s heart.

He knows he just wants you to be happy and he thought he’d shed enough tears on the matter but damnit now that it was all over, things really started to hit him hard. For example, that was probably his last time kissing you, the real last time kissing you. By the time you see him again, nine times out of ten you’ll be in a relationship.

He hated that. Gojo hated that he was happily letting you run off with someone else. For only a moment, his thoughts went somewhere darker than ever, yet another scheme, another form of blackmail…

Gojo genuinely debated on blackmailing you into a relationship with him.

Just as quickly as the thought came, he shook it away, repulsed by himself for a moment. What the hell was coming over him? He’s done enough to you already and more than anything, the whole point of this was for you to be-

Gojo takes a deep breath as he centers his thoughts, “Right…” He finally murmurs to you, “Sooner or later…”

You frown, “Oh c’mon, don’t make me feel bad for leaving-”

“I know I’m an asshole but,” Gojo unintentionally cuts you off, his feelings getting the better of him, “I really do love you.”

You swallow. His confession feels weird now that you know he may be fusing love and obsession together into one singular emotion, “I’m sure you do…”

“I’m serious,” He says, “I love you so much that it pains me.”

You begin to roll your eyes, not exactly in the right head space to hear yet another confession, “Satoru-”

“And no, I’m not confused or mixing anything together,” Gojo claims, “I mean it. If there’s one thing I’ve never lied about or said to manipulate you, it’s those three words; I love you.”

There’s not much you can say to that by this point. So, you simply nod, “Thanks, I guess.”

He chuckles, “Thanks?”

“Thanks for loving me, Satoru.” You tell him, “If I had one wish, it’d be that you did that from the beginning.”

Gojo opens his mouth to say something but then he swallows his words down. He nearly fucked up.

“All you had to do was talk to me,” Your shoulders raise into a shrug as you move a hand to the doorknob, “Things could’ve been different if you did.”

“Even if I’ve been obsessed with you since the beginning?” He questions and he’s stepping closer to you again. He can’t possibly wrap his head around that possibility-

You laugh a bit, “Especially if you were obsessed from the beginning,” You didn’t know it but that statement right there made the man feel as though his world was falling apart, loads of regret tumbling over him as he stares at you with wide eyes, “Satoru I think you forgot but, before all this started, aside from Shoko… I was lonely.”

Gojo’s throat goes dry and he fails to form a response to that, “I…”

“If you had just talked to me one time, and more than a hey or how are you,” The way your eyes soften, a slim sheer gloss of tears coating your gaze as you speak to him, “I would’ve fallen for you.”

He grits his teeth, “Don’t tell me that.”

“But it’s true.” You say.

And just like that, Gojo was crumbling all over again. If only you knew how much he regretted everything after hearing you say that.

He has to grit his teeth and hold his emotions in due to your words, “I’m sorry-,” He whispers, voice cracking ever so slightly, “S-Sorry I didn’t do that.”

You smile slightly, “It’s okay ‘Toru, maybe in some alternate world… maybe you and I work out.”

Gojo nods, his eyes glossing over, “Yeah…”

You have to turn to the door to stop yourself from falling victim to his saddened state, “I’m uh… I’m gonna’ go now.”

Gojo whispers your name and you turn back to him once more, “Please, no matter what happens, promise me you’ll be happy?”

A smile spreads across your face, “I promise.”

Then, he steps closer once more and you turn your body to face his. Gojo places an arm up against the door and leans down to you. He shouldn’t be doing it and you shouldn’t be leaning into it but, his other hand goes to tip your chin up and both of you move for just one more kiss.

Your heart is thumping in your chest as you kiss Gojo one last time, this moment feeling like the final action between the two of you for real this time. You couldn’t help the way your lips molded against his so perfectly or how your hand moved to touch his chest ever so slightly.

As you do so, you feel how his skin tenses up and the way he whines against your lips makes you smile. Pulling away, just barely, you open your eyes, “Satoru,”

“Y-Yes?” He squeaks out.

“I’m gonna leave now,” You murmur.

He smiles a bit and nods, “Mhm..”

“But, before I do,” The way your words leave you so slowly has him on edge but the next phrase is leaving you before you even think about it, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while and…”

Gojo tilts his head and his pupils are all dilated, palms sweaty just from kissing you, and his heart pounding, “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I loved the way you confessed to me,” You tell him.

His expression sours into something sad, “Why do you tell me such things just as you’re about to leave?”

“Because,” You shrug, “I don’t want to leave with you thinking the only thing I’ve ever loved about you was the way you kiss me.”

“But why tell me this now?” He asks, his brows pushing together in distraught, “Do you understand how difficult it is for me to allow you to walk out of this door?”

You snicker, “What’re you gonna do, kidnap me?”

“I might,” Gojo whispers in full seriousness.

You swallow, “Satoru…”

“It’s so hard to let you go,” He tells you, his voice ridiculously low and dark for yet a second time, “And I hate myself for it.”

“You’re crazy, y’know that?” You hum, halfway joking with him.

He shrugs, “For you, yes, yes I am.”

You chuckle a bit uneasily, “Right well… I’m uh, I’m going to leave for real this time.”

“You need to,” Gojo warns.

“Mhm,” You hum, staring up into his eyes in a way that says you kind of don’t want to leave, “Bye, Satoru.”

He shakes his head, “Say something else, not that. This isn’t bye.”

You scoff, “Fine, like what then, cya later?”

“Y-Yeah,” He mumbles.

God, he’s so cute. You roll your eyes, “Fine, cya later Satoru.”

“Mhm,” He hums, smiling at the way you corrected yourself, “I love you.”

“I…” You almost said it back.

Gojo smiles, “Careful now.”

With a heavy sigh, you tear your eyes off him and finally turn around, twisting the doorknob and moving to open it, “Okay, okay, see you later,” You rush out.

Gojo steps back away from the door and his hands are quickly shoved down into his pockets, “Cya, sweets.”

And with that, you finally leave his apartment, unknowingly leaving him with a boner and a heartache. He got hard from making out with you and was surprised you didn’t notice…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ��:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As for you, you’re taking quick steps down the hallway, trying to get your mind together.

Okay, you managed to stay calm but truth be told, you were panicking the entire time from the moment that man told you he was obsessed with you. In love is one thing but fucking obsessed?

What the hell do you do with that information?? How is he obsessed with you? Why? What the hell? What does that even mean for you?

How does a man both in love and obsessed with you blackmail you into completing a list to clear a debt that’s not even real? Like always, it doesn’t make sense. With Gojo, nothing ever makes sense.

So why do you continue to waste your time trying to figure it out and why are your feelings for him so damn strong? Deep down inside you think you knew.

You knew that somewhere inside you’d fallen for that man. But, in no way would you allow such an emotion to grow and blossom into the unavoidable toxic flower of corrupted love and obsession.

You didn’t need that. The list was over so all the stress in your life should be too. Allow Gojo Satoru to fade into the dark parts of your past and focus on the future and what’s important-

Your phone suddenly starts buzzing in your pocket. You scramble for the device and when you get it out, you see Sukuna’s name plastered over your screen.

Batting your eyelashes at it for a moment, you hesitantly answer the call and stop in the middle of the hallway, bringing your cell to your ear.

“Hello?” You greet timidly.

“Wait, who the hell-,” Sukuna’s voice fades a bit and then you hear him scoff, “Shit, called the wrong whore.”

And just like that, you were appalled, “Excuse me?”

“What?” Sukuna hums. You swear his stupidly sexy voice is the only thing saving him right now, “You liked it when I called you that before-“

“That was different.” You interrupt.

You hear his voice fade away yet again but you could still make out what he was saying, “Did this damn woman just cut me off?”

His annoyed tone makes you laugh and you can practically picture the frustrated and very faint pout on his face, “Yes, Sukuna, yes I did just cut you off.”

He brings his phone back to his ear, “Apologize.”

You giggle, “Apologize? Oh please-“

“I’ll have you kidnapped if you don’t.” He threatens, which is funny considering the fact that you remember him being like this that morning after you had sex with him.

Often would he make the wildest threats, like how he told you if you didn’t stop moving your feet as he put your shoes on, he’d have your toes cut off. He was quite the dramatic man but that oddly made him entertaining for you.

“Shiver me timbers,” You uttered sarcastically. Were you smiling? Was this accidental interaction with Sukuna making you smile??

You hear Sukuna groan and again, you can picture his annoyed expression, “You have ten seconds.” He tells you. You roll your eyes and open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, “And if you roll your eyes at me again, I’ll have you in my bed again and fuck you until they’re stuck in the back of your head.”

You blink and look around the hallway. For some reason, the way he knew what you did kinda scared you. Maybe Gojo’s little confession of being obsessed really had you on edge…

“Whatever,” You hum, disregarding his threat, “Sorry Sukuna.”

“Say it like you mean it, whore.” He scowls.

You frown, “Stop calling me a whore.”

Sukuna chuckles and raises a brow, “Or what?”

You don’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought, now do as I said.”

You groan and put on this fake dramatic tone, “Please accept my humblest apologies, lord Sukuna, for I have-“

“Okay you can stop now,” He says. You could hear him laughing and you knew he was smiling from ear to ear, “Lord Sukuna, hmm, that has a nice ring to it. Call me that from now on.”

You scoff, “In your dreams.”

He frowns, “Oh don’t be like that, sweetheart.”

Why are you even talking to this man right now? “How do you go from calling me a whore to sweetheart?” You ask the man.

“Well, whore is a generic term I use for all the women I sleep with. And sweetheart…” Sukuna starts chuckling lowly, “That nickname just has a little ring to it, don’t you think?”

“No.” You say, in your head, only one person is allowed to call you such a thing.

“Tch, you’re no fun,” Sukuna tells you, “Anyway, let me go call the correct whore this time.”

You blink, “I-“

He hangs up on you.

You stare at your phone for a moment, processing that short yet entertaining phone call. Then, after your moment you simply brush it off. 

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You should’ve gotten off the phone with Sukuna sooner if anything, you were supposed to be calling Choso.

Which is precisely what you go to do. Your fingers tap against your screen and you steadily pick your feet up to walk toward the elevator once more and soon dial up Choso’s number.

Once you do, the phone rings only one time before the man is answering and by that time, you’re pressing the button to go down on the elevator.

“Choso?” You murmured into the phone as you held it to your ear.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” He greets simply.

And just like that, you think your world is finally rotating on its axis again. It’s kinda scary how this man’s voice centers you so quickly. You forget that you just made out with Gojo a few minutes ago, found out he’s obsessed with you, and just got off the phone with Sukuna all too quickly.

Who cares about any of that when you have Choso on the phone?

“I thought you were taking a break from me…” Choso adds on.

You laugh, “I was buuut, that’s over now.”

He smiles, “How so-“

In the background, you suddenly hear someone speak. “Cho, who’re you on the phone with all of a sudden?” It’s… It’s a woman’s voice.

Your heart sinks a bit at the sound and you fall quiet as Choso responds to her, “My girl,” He claims, “Give me sec, please?”

“Oh?” The woman snickers, “Your girl? Choso you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend!”

You can hear the shift in Choso’s voice, he sounds annoyed, “She’s not exactly-,” He sighs and decides not to correct her, “I think we both know why I didn’t say anything.”

The sound of the woman laughing a bit louder can be heard and your heart is just sinking and sinking and sinking. “If that’s the case then she must be cute, let me talk to her!”

“What the fuck?” Choso spits out, his face scrunching up in frustration, “No, piss off.”

“Why’re you so grouchy all of a sudden?” She asks, giggling at the man. You can’t tell if she’s flirting or if this is the kind of behavior she’s used to, “I just wanna ask her something!”

“The same bullshit question you ask everyone?” Choso quizzes in a dull tone, “Yeah, no.”

She pouts, “Whyyy-“

“Choso…” You suddenly call out, interrupting it all as you make your way out of Gojo’s apartment complex and to your car.

The way Choso’s every ounce of attention goes to you and how his voice lights back up doesn’t go unnoticed, “Sorry about that, yes princess?”

The woman’s voice is heard yet again, “Ohhh? Princess? You never called me that-“

“Shut the fuck up, oh my god,” Choso groans out to her. He sends her a glare too but you don’t see this since you’re on the phone. Then, he returns to you, “Ignore her, what were you saying?” He asks you.

You swallow, “Who uh…” Your hand is working to open your car door and you’re trying not to feel displeased right now, “Who is that?”

“Huh? Oh, a friend, why?” Choso says simply.

You grit your teeth a bit, attempting to chill the burn in your heart, “Choso, I asked who not what.” You tell him, your voice firm and clearly pissed off despite the way you tried to control it.

“I-,” Choso sighs and although you can’t see it, this slow and sexy smile spreads across his face, “Baby… Are you jealous?”

Your brows furrow, “W-What? No, I-“

“It’s okay if you are.” He purrs almost excitedly.

“I-I’m not, I was just curious.” You lie, “Do you want me to be jealous or something?”

Choso shrugs, “It’s kinda hot if you are.”

“I-, wait seriously?” Your eyelashes bat in disbelief, “So you do want me to be jealous?”

He gets quiet for a second and then hums, “I was gonna’ say yes but actually, no it’s better if you’re not.”

Now you’re confused. Furrowing your brows, “Huh, why?” You ask.

“Cause’ uhhh…” Choso shifts around a bit, “Hold on,” He tells you. Then you feel your phone buzz and you receive a text from him.

Remaining confused, you move to look at the message he sent you. Then, your eyes widen, “Oh?”

“Yeahh…” Choso sighs.

“Sooo,” You smirk, “You don’t want me to be jealous because it makes your dick hard?”

His face goes red and he drops his head into the palm of his hand, “Shit… Y’know, the whole point of me texting it to you was so that it wasn’t said out loud.”

You giggle, “Choso, that's one toxic kink to have.”

“Shut up,” He teases, “It’s not a kink.”

“Me being jealous turns you on, sounds like a kink to me.” You argue with a shrug.

“It’s not, I swear. I just thought it was hot.”

Your voice dips into something sultry for just a moment, “Hot enough for your cock to spring up-“

“Jesus,” Choso choked, “Baby you’re killing me over here.”

The sound of him struggling is cute and you can only imagine how red his face was, “Am I?”

“Yes, enough with the dirty talk.” He pleads.

You chuckle, “Fine, fine. Now answer my question.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m with Yuki.” Choso finally tells you.

Well, you weren’t exactly jealous before but now…

Yuki? As in, the woman he was fooling around with when you first met him? Why is he with her now?

You swallow, “Where are you guys?”

Choso bites his lip, “Why?”

You frown and your voice gets serious, “I’m not playing with you, Cho.”

“You’re also not my girlfriend so you can’t exactly ask those questions.” He responds sassily.

You wanted to be pissed off but he made a very valid point. “I was thinking about changing that but y’know what, since you wanna be like that, never mind.” You say sweetly, a faux smile on your face.

“Wait, wait, baby I was just joking, we’re at a cafe,” Choso says quickly, “Holy shit, you’re really fuckin’ sexy when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes, “I wasn’t mad…”

“Liar,” He chuckles, “Anyway, I’ll send you my location.”

“Mhm, as you should,” You comment.

Choso smiles, “You’re such a shit talker over the phone but every time I see you, you know not to say things like that.”

You laugh as you move to start your vehicle, “Is that so?”

“Yeah-” His voice is cut off by something that you don’t see which is a small piece of bread being thrown at him. Choso is pissed off with his company all over again, “Yuki, fuck off for a second, please?”

She chuckles, “I gave you a few minutes but listening to you flirt is so annoying.”

Choso’s brows push together, “Excuse me-”

“I mean, you’re not very good at it after all. I wonder how the hell you managed to get a girlf-” There’s a shuffle over the phone and you hear a shriek, “Hey! C’mon, this is my favorite shirtttt!”

“Cry about it,” Choso snickers, then he returns to you once more, “Anyway, are you on your way here?”

“I dunno, it sounds like you’re having a great time.” You comment, “I wouldn’t wanna interrupt anything-”

“Baby,” Choso hums, “You’re not interrupting shit, trust me. I’d actually prefer it if you were here.”

Although you’re currently backing out of the parking lot and have in your head that you’re definitely showing up after hearing another woman, you roll your eyes, “Uhuh…”

He sighs and he doesn’t exactly like how you sound upset anymore, “Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah,” You tell him.

“Good.” He nods.

“So that means I can meet her!” Yuki chimes in, her voice so loud in the background that you honestly thought she may be sitting right next to Choso.

The dark-haired man sends the woman another glare, “I want you gone by the time she gets here.”

“Whaaat, whyyyyy?” She whines.

He groans, “Because you’re annoying as shit and she’ll never like you.”

She pouts at him, “You’re so mean to me when you’re on the phone…”

“Yuki, you’re pissing me off,” Choso says, his voice revealing just how agitated he is.

“Awww, am I?” Yuki coos.

Choso rolls his eyes, “Please leave me alone.”

“But-”

“Fuck off,” Choso cuts her off, then, you don’t see it but he stands from where he is and simply walks away, “I’ll see you soon, then?”

The sound of him talking to you again has you feeling weird. You hated that you could hear the obvious banter between Choso and Yuki so clearly and it made you feel almost forgotten over the phone.

“Sure,” You voice out plainly.

He stops walking and his brows furrow, “Are you upset?”

Kinda, but you don’t want to express or entertain that emotion, “No.”

“You sound like it.” Choso points out, seeing through you as he always does.

You’ve run out of things to say so you simply hum, “Oh.”

“C’mon princess what’s with the one-word responses?” He asks, his voice filling with concern. It’s like he doesn’t see anything wrong with what just happened, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Cho.” You murmur.

He sighs frustratedly, “You’re lying.”

You don't know why but there was just this ill feeling in your chest. Whether it was jealousy or something else goes unknown. “I’m gonna hang up now, see you when I get there.” You tell him.

Choso’s completely confused and he doesn’t know if he likes this demeanor of yours as much as he said he did earlier, “Wait-”

You hang up anyway. Were you actually upset? Not really but you did feel some type of way. You didn’t know what to make of Yuki based on what you heard over the phone. 

Maybe you were being dramatic or even a hypocrite given the fact that you literally just left Gojo but you didn’t really care. Something about Yuki and Choso being together just threw you off. Why would he be with her now? Is it because you were unavailable? Were they on some kinda date?

You felt like you were going crazy trying to figure it out and your assumptions weren’t making it any better. Why was this bothering you so much? Since when do you care that Choso’s with someone else, it’s not like he never told you about Yuki before.

But, maybe that was why. Maybe it was because you knew they had something going on before and given how clingy of a person Choso is, maybe he’d run back to her while you took your break from him.

Fuck, you hate how much you’re thinking about this. You knew you were being a hypocrite about it and yet it still bothered you. Even though Choso spent that whole call cursing the woman out, with the way she responded to it just seemed like that’s how he always treats her…

You hate that. You hate that it feels like there’s someone else-, fuck, is this karma? Is this what you get for falling for the man you once hated and Choso at the same time?

Shit, so lost in your thoughts, you nearly missed how fast you were driving and got lucky you snapped back into reality. Slowing yourself to the speed limit, you tried to refocus your mind on where you were going.

Choso had sent you the address and you noticed that this cafe was roughly a few streets away from that one nightclub… The way everything in this city keeps connecting to one another kind of frightens you. What would happen if you were to run into someone else from the list while you were with Choso?

You chuckle, the chances of that happening are slim to none, right?

Funny. You were actually so wrong to assume such a thing because as soon as you entered that damn cafe, things decided to take an interesting turn.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡�� 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Five-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Toxic Behaviours, Possessive Behaviours, Mentions of GunPoint (enchanted gun but still), Italian, Flirty!Theodore!Nott, Angst, Sexual Tension.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"I don't know about this, Em..."

Giggles danced through the air, originating from your blonde companion, currently immersed in a thorough investigation of your shared closet. Her voice, laced with amusement, murmured something indecipherable, the words muffled by the solidity of the wooden door. A long sigh escaped your lips, a potent release of pure exasperation.

"This is crazy," you muttered to yourself. "Nott is going to need an entire bloody medical team when he catches sight of me..."

The enchanting red dress, a gem sourced from a privy boutique in Hogsmeade under Mattheo's explicit direction, molded itself to every contour as you confronted your reflection in the mirror. As your eyes traversed the fabric's journey, or rather, the lack thereof--there was no escaping the undeniable truth; the dress was exquisitely tight, sparing no nuance of your silhouette to the imagination.

"Doubt he'll even get the chance..." Emily replied, finally reemerging from the closet, "lover boy will likely claim his head the moment he fixes his gaze on you for too long."

Emily's cheeky response added a layer of playful anticipation to the charged atmosphere, earning an exaggerated eye roll from you in response as you fought hard to suppress your smirk.

When you'd embarked on the hunt for the ideal dress, you had brought Emily along for her valuable opinion. As your gaze fell upon this specific piece, uncertainty gripped you, convinced it might be a touch excessive. Yet, Emily staunchly opposed that notion. Her unwavering belief in its perfection became a contagion, subjecting you to prolonged minutes of relentless persuasion. Gradually, her infectious enthusiasm chipped away at your resistance until, inevitably, you succumbed--reluctantly handing over Mattheo's gifted galleons.

"And do I truly wish to burden my conscience with the death of the schools most popular Italian playboy? And not to mention Riddle's certain Azkaban sentence...all but a couple months from graduation?" you deadpanned, fingers instinctively rising to massage your temples in an attempt to alleviate the burgeoning headache. "Maybe I should just borrow something from your-"

"Absolutely not," Emily interjected, her voice cutting through your proposal with firm decisiveness. She approached you, a sparkle in her eyes, and added, "you look perfect. Trust me on this."

Meeting your eyes in the mirror, Emily's irises shimmered with a warm reassurance. She adjusted her flowy emerald green dress, a garment she had acquired at Tom's request--they were going to the masquerade together, though the status of their relationship still remained uncertain.

Emily, ever the advocate of going with the flow, a concept apparently foreign to Tom, said she wasn't in any rush to make things official, understanding that perhaps it would look a tad bit odd for him to start dating her after he'd just paraded you around to all of his friends, merely less than a few weeks go.

And as a result of this, you and Emily had a long, in depth heart-to-heart conversation where you made sure to unravel any lingering issues--the liberating honesty and the comfort of having someone in your corner again felt tangible. Although initially perturbed by the extended secrecy, Emily eventually grasped the rationale behind your discretion, acknowledging the protective measures taken for yourself and your desired career.

The depth of your longstanding friendship played a pivotal role in fostering this understanding, and you'd never been more thankful to have such a wonderful, supportive friend in your life.

"What do you think Michael will do when he spots you wearing traitor colours?" you teased, an impish grin playing on your lips as you watched Emily fix her long blonde hair, adjusting herself in the reflection.

"I reckon he'll be rather unamused," she snorted, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But he'll be in for a real surprise when he sees you cozying up with Theodore Nott, the traitor extraordinaire."

"Cozying up with Theodore?" you retorted with a smirk, feigning innocence. "Absolutely not, I just recently cleared my conscience, I intend on keeping it that way."

"I wouldn't underestimate the Italian playboy; word on the street is he can be quite insistent..." Emily spun back around to face you, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. "My suggestion is that you tell him about Mattheo before he unwittingly finds himself sharing a bed with Berkshire."

Your expression sank, and a twist formed in your stomach. "Oh, gods, Emily, I need to change," you exclaimed, spinning around and making a beeline for the closet. "Surely there's a garbage bag or your grandmas old moo-moo hidden in here that I could wear instead, right?"

Emily's sudden snort echoed through the room, reverberating far louder than you'd expected. With swift precision, she wielded her wand, slamming the closet door shut before you could reach it.

"Come on, it's going to be fun," she teased, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Give those cocky Slytherin boys an experience they've never had before. Making them squirm is a rare opportunity--after all, they're not used to being denied anything."

You hesitated, a reluctant smile crawling across your face at her words as you silently considered the prospect. Mattheo had always made it abundantly clear that girls were typically within arm's reach for him, and he could have anyone he desired. The idea of driving him to the brink tonight, knowing he couldn't do a thing about it after explicitly instructing Theodore to ask you, ignited a rebellious spark within you.

"Alright, but this better not turn into a disaster," you responded, your internal thoughts dancing between uncertainty and a subtle thrill. "If the mafia comes after me because I smacked their most prized possession, I'm blaming you."

"You look fucking hot. Own it," she encouraged, a playful smile dancing on her lips. Turning her attention to the door, a sudden realization struck her. "I've got to run. Promised Michael I'd help him with his bloody tie--but don't forget to check the mail. Something arrived for you earlier."

With a swift goodbye, she whisked away, grabbing her matching emerald green eye mask, leaving you to contemplate the mysterious package. Not one to dawdle, you approached the table by the door, spotting a small brown box with your name inscribed on it.

With eager anticipation, you unwrapped the package, unveiling a stunningly bejeweled red mask. A note accompanied the alluring accessory, bearing the cryptic message:

"Something about me, I fucking hate the colour yellow."

A smirk played on your lips as you extracted the exquisite gift from its velvet cradle. The crimson mask lay in your hands, a stunning creation adorned with gemstones that caught and reflected the light with each subtle movement. Blush flooded your cheeks as you approached the mirror, slipping the mask on. Turning your head in every direction, you marveled at the way it enhanced your features, making you feel like a mysterious enchantress.

The beauty of the mask was beyond words, and even though the logical part of you knew it had to be from Mattheo, the sheer magnificence of the gift made it feel almost surreal.

After what felt like an eternity lost in the mirror, admiring the stunning mask, the realization hit that you needed to meet Theodore. He'd mentioned waiting for you at the entrance to your common room, so as swiftly as possible, you adjusted your dress, attempting to cover up your chest, and gracefully slipped out of your room, navigating the familiar halls with a sense of purpose.

The chilled corridor welcomed you as you emerged, and after a brief moment of searching, there, like an awakening spell, you spotted Theo--and your stomach nearly leapt into your chest at the sight of him.

"Holy shit, Nott...are you...are you actually wearing enemy colors?" Your jaw dropped as you beheld Theodore in a Ravenclaw blue suit, a sight you'd never expected in a million years. "Hold still, I need to take a bloody picture of this."

Theo's arrogant response came with a sly smirk, his dark eyes tracing hungrily over your figure. He stood before you in a pristine suit, accompanied by matching vest, and a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The ensemble was adorned with exquisite gold links and buttons, showcasing his impeccable taste. His confident demeanour suggested that he indeed cleaned up more than nicely, and this was only a slight indication of his professionalism.

"Sure, have your laughs," he quipped, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. His eyes moved deliberately, scanning the curves of your figure. "Enjoy the view while it lasts, little bird. This suit's debut is a one-time thing—I might just set it ablaze once the night is over."

"Well you certainly know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?..." you teased, grin stretching past your ears as you took another step closer. "How honoured I am to accompany you in this suits first and only outing."

"Your wit is far too sharp for a Ravenclaw," Theo huffed in amusement, his stormy eyes glistening behind his dark blue mask. "You look properly fucking flaming by the way...do pardon my French."

You snorted, gracefully taking his arm as he offered it, intertwining yours around his. "French? I was under the impression you were Italian, Signor Nott."

"You speak it?" Theo raised an intrigued eyebrow, briefly glancing down at you as the two of you strolled towards the ballroom.

"Partially," you replied, a playful glint in your eye, your attention split between the conversation and the challenge of navigating gracefully in your black heels. Each step resonated with a confident clack on the school floors. "I dabble in a multitude of tongues...a side effect of an inquisitive mind."

"Is that so?" he said, pure intrigue in his tone. "Talk to me in Italian then,"

"Are you serious?" You snorted, far louder than you'd intended, waiting for him to say he was joking. He simply looked down at you, eyes locked on yours behind the mysterious mask.

"Absolutely serious," Theo chuckled, the breathy tones dancing in the air, a subtle spark of challenge in his eyes. "A little ball of knowledge, huh? Prove it."

A warm flush crept up your cheeks as you stifled your laughter. Theo had a charm of his own, a natural way of drawing people in much like Mattheo, although the troublemaking wizard had a slightly more breathtaking allure with those dark, intoxicating eyes and that unruly mop of chocolate curls. It wasn't a shortcoming on Theo's part--it was simply the irreplaceable magnetism that Mattheo possessed, but you couldn't deny the way Nott was making you feel.

"Alright, you want me to put my money where my mouth is, I respect that." You teased, clearing your throat as you pondered an Italian phrase that might leave an impression. After a brief moment of contemplation, it dawned on you. "Non c'è rosa senza spine."

(There is no rose without thorns.)

"Buona scelta," he replied with a smirk, his tone holding an air of both appreciation and subtle challenge. "Sei più astuta di quanto pensassi."

(Good choice; you’re more clever than I thought.)

"You underestimate me, Nott," you chuckled, a surge of pride coursing through you. "Consider that your first mistake."

"You know, the more I get to know you, the larger my desire to figure you out becomes,” he said, dropping his tone into a husky whisper as the two of you turned a corner. "You are...intriguing."

It was at this moment, as the two of you entered into the bustling main hall, that you were extremely thankful this event was a masquerade. The mask provided a welcome veil of anonymity, shielding you from the prying gazes that threatened to make you uneasy. It seemed you were blending seamlessly into Theo's arm, a part of the enigmatic allure rather than a subject of scrutiny.

"You couldn't figure me out in a million years," you retorted, a sharp edge to your tone, the corners of your lips subtly playing with a hint of a smirk. "Better men have tried."

Theo, as expected, didn't like that response. "Don't tempt me, little bird...I will make it my life's mission."

You rolled your eyes, chewing on your cheek. "You're far too sure of yourself, Theodore."

"Look at that, Bella...you're already using my first name," he quipped, smirking. "I'm making progress without even trying."

You fought the urge to smack him, your eyes narrowing in a playful challenge. "To know me, Signor Nott, I'll put you through hell...just ask Riddle, he can certainly attest."

"Mm, thats precisely the thing, little bird..." he said, his smirk holding a touch of intrigue. "Riddle's a closed book when it comes to you. Doesn't spill a damn thing, makes me wonder what secrets the two of you are hiding.”

"Quite a conspiracy, I'd say," you chuckled, relishing the light banter between you two as the distant sounds of music and laughter from the ballroom grew louder. With a nod and a playful smile, you gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

Theo nodded, a playful glint in his eyes, as he released your arm and extended a hand to the small of your back, ushering you forward. "After you, milady"

Upon crossing the threshold into the ballroom, a breathtaking scene unfolded before your eyes. The room was adorned with vibrant spring decorations, an enchanting celebration marking the approaching end of the term. The fragrance of fresh flowers wafted through the air, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns bathed the room in a warm, golden radiance. Hogwarts students from all years, dressed in their finest attire, wore a dazzling array of masks, each one a unique work of art.

As your eyes darted around the room, the search for familiar faces led you to a moment of anticipation. The diversity of masks, ranging from intricate designs to whimsical shapes, made it challenging to discern familiar faces.

Finally, your gaze landed on the only man you'd ever go out of your way to search for, his distinctive chocolate curls drawing your attention like a magnet amidst the sea of masked enchantment. The mere fucking sight of him, cloaked in newfound sophistication, sent a thrilling pulse through your veins, awakening sensations in your body that you were unprepared to face.

He stood there, like a fucking silhouette of elegance, adorned entirely in black--black mask, black suit pants, a sleek black dress shirt, and a finely tailored black suit vest. The only splash of colour adorned him in the form of a satin red tie, perfectly mirroring the shade of your dress. The entirety of your being froze in place, your throat resembling a parched desert, the sole reminder to keep moving coming from the steady pressure of Theo's hand on your back, coaxing you forward through the enchanting crowd.

As the two of you veered closer to them, the tension in your body was almost painful. Truth be told, it wasn't the singular presence of Mattheo that set your heart racing like a high-performance sports car on race day--oh, no, the true accelerant was his fucking date. The very girl from the washroom, the one you had directed him to accompany, and the vibrant colour of her long, flowing dress:

Yellow.

"Riddle, Malfoy," Theo uttered, initiating a firm handshake with each of his Slytherin comrades as they exchanged greetings. "Parkinson, Lanalock."

"Nott," Parkinson remarked, a smile gracing her features. "Never expected to see you in blue. You could easily pass for a Ravenclaw, you know."

Theo's response carried a touch of cunning arrogance, sneaking you a glance. "A choice made with utmost consideration, you might say."

In the midst of the social dance, your gaze and Mattheo's remained locked, an unbroken connection that felt more like a silent conversation than a mere exchange of glances. The unspoken tension between you two hung thick, and in that charged moment, it was uncertain if either of you had even blinked. Your heart pounded not only in your throat but also seemingly echoed in another, more intimate part of you as well.

Mattheo had never looked more fucking captivating, and the longing for him intensified by the millions--that merciless irresistible force effortlessly working to pull you closer.

Just as the tension threatened to become all-encompassing, Professor Dumbledore's voice reverberated over the lively chatter, his warm tone weaving through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the enchanting Spring Masquerade. I hope the magic of the night unfolds to your desires. Now, if you would kindly make your way to the dance floor, we are about to commence the first slow dance of the evening. So, let the celebration begin."

The resonance of Dumbledore's voice snapped you from Mattheo's visual captivity, prompting a few deliberate blinks and an expelled breath laden with tension. Theo, with a gentle glance, took your hand, guiding the group to choose spots on the dance floor directly adjacent to one another. It required every fiber of your being not to steal a glance at Mattheo, aware that the mere sight of him holding another girl would induce a wave of nausea within you.

Your attention became an exclusive affair with Theo. As he placed his hands on your hips, his grip was tender, a sensation entirely distinct from anything you'd experienced with Mattheo. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the elevation of your arms, led your palms to find a gentle perch on Theo's shoulders. In the depths of his stormy blue eyes, you unintentionally delved, oblivious to the intensity of the eye contact you established--you were so lost in your own thoughts that a bomb could go off in this very room, and you were certain you wouldn't even flinch.

Then, Theo's voice broke the silence. "Little bird, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes," you blinked, your voice escaping your throat in a cracked whisper, as though each word were a struggle for breath. "And you?"

"More than," he quipped, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

Your watchful eyes tracked the journey of his gaze, starting from your eyes, sliding leisurely to your lips, lingering provocatively before venturing lower, dipping over your chest with a seductive grace before sinuously slithering back up. The subtle intimacy of the visual exploration ignited a warmth within you, and you glimpsed his lips, recalling Emily's advice from your dorm. Make these men squirm.

"Glad to hear it," you mused, a playful edge to your tone, your fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders as he delicately drew you closer. "Wouldn't want the Italian playboy to be anything other than alright."

His grip tightened perceptibly, the sensation almost tangible as if his nails could breach the delicate fabric of your dress. The room plunged into a soft dimness, signaling the beginning of the slow dance. The shift in atmosphere was unexpected, enough to make you jump slightly. For a fleeting moment, you locked eyes with Mattheo, finding his gaze fixed on you, his hands scarcely making contact with his date.

Hastily looking away, Theo's voice reached your ear, dangerously close, "Italian playboy, hmm? Is that what they're calling me these days?"

"Don't act like you weren't already aware," you chuckled softly, the resonance carrying a hint of mischief. "Though, I must say, the rumors might be onto something."

Theo smirked, his voice a low murmur tinged with arrogance. "Well, uccellino, despite the rumors, I assure you I am a proper gentleman..."

A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as his nails dug deeper into the fabric of your dress, compelling you closer as the two of you gracefully swayed to the music.

"How gentle you are, indeed," you mumbled, chewing your lip as you met his gaze, the two of you dangerously close together.

Theo's gaze deepened, his lean frame bending down as his lips brushed against your ear. "I may be a gentleman, Bella," he murmured, the words a seductive whisper. "...but if you keep looking at me like that--with those big eyes, biting on your goddamn lip...we might just be fucking on the nearest surface I find."

Oh, no. This was bad. Your response stammered out before you could even think to stop it, panic flickering in your eyes.

"I-I, excuse me," you stuttered, hastily breaking away from the dance just as the song was nearing its end. The abrupt departure carried a mix of flustered embarrassment and a desperate need to collect yourself.

Seeking refuge, you maneuvered toward the drink table nestled in the far corner of the room. The dim light and distant chatter provided a momentary escape as you began to slam back drinks, attempting to drown the intensity of the encounter with Theo.

As the remnants of a calm facade settled within, a subtle shift in the atmosphere stirred your senses. A tingling awareness compelled you to glance over your shoulder, only to find yourself ensnared in the dark, intoxicating depths of Mattheo's eyes. A strange yet undeniable wave of relief washed over you, despite the fact that he stood looming directly behind, adopting the guise of casualness while pretending to grab a drink.

"Mattheo," you breathed his name, the syllables escaping your lips like a breathless sin, a recognition of the forbidden allure that surrounded him. "What are you doing?"

Mattheo's breath, a tantalizing whisper, brushed against the nape of your neck, setting your nerves ablaze. "I can't stand the way he's touching you, Raven...I can't even stand the way he's fucking looking at you..."

Your lungs seemed to stall. "This was your idea, Matty..."

"I'm well aware," he hissed, the energy radiating from him palpable in the charged air. "Fuck, you look so fucking sexy...you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?"

"I'm not sure I do..." your heart melted, a subtle heat pulsating through your thighs. "I think I need you to tell me again."

"You are so, so fucking beautiful..." he muttered, his voice a deep husk, strained with lust as it left his throat. "You are the most captivating girl in this entire fucking room...I can't stop staring at you...I can't stop needing you..." you gasped as his hand grazed over your ass, subtly, but a feeling you'd never miss. "What do you think you're fucking doing to me, hm?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip, the flush of blood coloring your face. "At this moment...nowhere bloody close to enough."

Mattheo's voice, saturated with desire, responded, "You're absolutely right, princess...and I can't wait to have you all to myself, as soon as this dumb fucking dance is over."

A soft hum escaped you as your lids fluttered, reveling in the warmth of Mattheo's body behind you. "Unless Nott gets to me first..."

As though a switch had been flipped, Mattheo's hand seized your wrist with a subtle yet undeniable warning, a silent caution against uttering anything remotely similar again.

"Don't even joke about that, Raven," he growled, the intensity in his voice cutting through the air. "I swear to Salazar himself, what I did to Berkshire will pale in comparison to what I'll do to Nott."

"So jealous, Matty..." you purred, smirking as he slowly released your wrist. You couldn't deny that his possessive tendencies did something to you, however fucking insane they were. "So angry..."

"You like that, don't you?...dirty little slut..." you could practically hear the smirk on his perfect fucking lips, your entire body vibrating with need. "Keep tempting me, princess...I'll bend you over this table, fuck you in front of the whole fucking school...I'll point my gun at Notts fucking head and make him watch, on his knees in front of you as I fuck you stupid...how does that sound for jealous, hm?"

Breath eluded you, the sheer intensity threatening your consciousness. "Godric, help you..."

"Sorry, Raven, but the only help from above that I believe in is a sniper on a rooftop..." Mattheo's voice, a deep, honeyed drawl, slipped from his lips. "And just so you're aware, I know eighty different ways to kill a man--and I can make an easy seventy nine of them look like a bloody accident...understand?"

"Fuck..." your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. It had been days since his last touch, and the way he spoke now made you crave him more than the very air you breathed. "I don't think I do...I think I need you to tell me again..."

"I've never been a jealous man, Raven..." Mattheo's gaze swept the surroundings, ensuring no lingering gazes were watching. Satisfied, he shifted slightly, his lips now at your other ear. "I've never envied someone for what they have or who they're with, and yet, I'm damn jealous of every asshole you smile at, everyone you openly converse with...I've never fucking wanted something that I couldn't have, a girl I couldn't get...so this, all of this...is fucking maddening."

Your lungs seemed to stall, a momentary freeze as if he'd submerged you into the heart of a raging inferno. A surge of warmth flooded through every fiber of your being, an intoxicating heat.

"I need you," your voice murmured, the words dripping with a desperate longing. "I need you in every fucking way imaginable..."

"Mm," Mattheo hummed, the warmth of his touch tracing the curve of your hip. "Such a delightfully dirty mouth for a princess..."

Feigning innocence, you lifted your gaze to meet his, a coy smile gracing your lips. "Perhaps...but even princesses have their secret pleasures, don't they, Matty?"

For a moment--a fleeting, beautiful fucking moment--your eyes locked, and it was in that secret realm, where slight smirks played on each of your lips, and the tension was fucking so thick that you could hardly breathe--where you both knew you've found what the whole fucking world was still carelessly searching for.

And it was there, that you knew--no man, no job, no fucking career could ever make you feel as happy and needed and treasured as Mattheo Riddle did. In his own, crazy, fucked up way.

Mattheo blinked. "Meet me in the washroom in forty minutes.”

—————————

Chapter 26->

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

Stumbled upon your blog, and Lord!! I was wanting to request slashers reactions to s/o squirting(I've recently become oddly interested in how each of them would react)

If you're uncomfortable with the concept please ignore!! Have a great day!

Oh I love some squirting!

NSFW MDNI 18+, gender neutral AFAB reader, racially ambiguous, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers (any), Brahms Heelshire, Bo Sinclair, reader gets eaten out, overstimulation, lingerie, mild bdsm

Jason Voorhees

This man had already made you cum twice before he had his dick in you

The first time, he was fingering you on his lap and the second time he had you ride his face

Now he was deep inside your spent pussy, taking whatever he wanted

One hand stroking your cheek as you moan and whine his name while the other toyed with you clit

The whole time, Jason has maintained eye contact with you

His piercing gaze as he fucked into you like it would be the last time he had you beneath him made you absolutely lose yourself

You arched your back up from the mattress screaming his name

A jet of liquid splashed against his pelvis the entire time you came

Dripping down between your bodies and onto the sheets below

While Jason had stopped fucking his throbbing cock into you, he did rub your clit through the entirety of your squirting orgasm

The only time his eyes left your face was to watch the spray of fluid erupt from your pussy

He didn't know you could do that

And now that he did, he needed to have you do it again

Bo Sinclair

It was his goal the first time he got you under him

Fucks you senseless then has you ride him until you're crying from overstimulation

The sound of your sopping cunt plapping against his pelvis is music to his ears

He'll put you in every position known to man

Could probably add a couple chapter to the Kama Sutra with how he handles you

You always come out of his room wobbly and needing to sit on a donut pillow

Bo loves using toys on you just to see your reaction

Your pretty wrists bound to his headboard, vibrator on your clit, as he slowly pumps his cock into you

He's in no rush and just wants to watch his pretty little thing come undone for him

Bo places the vibrator onto the very tip of your clit making you scream out his name and sob from the intense pleasure

His thrusting picked up a bit excited to see how you reacted to the toy

Then you felt wetter

A lovely stream of squirt erupted from your pussy and onto his pelvis

Bo bit his lip holding back a low groan

Now he had you right where he wanted you

Michael Myers

You are pretty much his fleshlight

His main goal is to use your pretty little cunt as his own personal cum dump

If you get off on that then that's a happy accident on his part

Michael will pretty much take you anywhere at anytime

Your pussy is pretty much free real estate and Michael is ready to move in

Fat cock bullying your pussy open while he pushes you into a wall

He had already came in you once today, his previous load now getting fucked further into you

You were practically boneless and only being held up by Michael's hands on your hips and cock buried deep inside you

After he had made you cum this morning, you ended up playing with yourself a little bit using the cum he left in you

Your mind felt fuzzy and pink like you were sat in a cloud of pure bliss

You couldn't even be bothered with how your own squirt sprayed out of you and onto the floor in a puddle

But Michael noticed

And he knew that once he was finished in you he was going to make you lick your mess up off the floor

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms had you dressed up in some lacy white lingerie

Something you'd expect to hidden underneath a wedding dress as a surprise a bride had put on for the groom on the night of their wedding

He had pulled your garter off with his teeth and practically shoved his face into your pussy after

For a while he just laid between your legs mouthing at your clothed cunt and inhaling your scent

When Brahms wanted more, he practically ripped the panties off of you and dove into your cunt like a man starved

Sloppy and loud was the best way to describe it

But he made you cum anyway

Juices trailing down his chin being lapped up by his tongue

Again he needed just another taste

Then another

And another

His strong hands kept you legs pinned to the bed so you couldn't kick him away from your drooling pussy

Your orgasm felt like a kick to your stomach as juices erupted from your body

Brahms happily lapped up everything he could

Now he had to get you to do that again