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maddie0101 · 1 day ago

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𖤐 no escape (demon!dean x fem!reader)

𖤐 summary: when dean turns into a demon, the bunker becomes a hunting ground. sam isn’t the only one running, you’re caught in the middle, forced to confront the monster your best friend has become… and the feelings you’ve both been running from.

𖤐 warnings: gore, sexual tension, demon!dean, choking, reader almost dies, anxiety, brief pain, guilt, this fic is pretty emotional, somewhat dark?

𖤐 word count: 4.5k

Your breath came in short, panicked gasps as you pressed yourself against the cold metal shelving in the bunker’s storage room. The flickering light overhead buzzed, casting shadows that seemed to stretch and twist, just like the thing hunting you.

But it wasn’t just a thing, you reminded yourself. It was Dean. But that wasn’t really true, was it? Not anymore.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” his voice drawled from somewhere in the hallway, thick with amusement. “You really think you can hide from me?”

Your fingers clenched around the blade in your grip. It was barely steady. You hated that. You’d hunted monsters before, fought things way worse than this—but this wasn’t some random creature. This was him. Dean, your best friend, the man you’d spent years shoving your feelings down for. The man who always had your back. The man who wasn’t supposed to be the one you feared.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to shake off the memory of Sam’s warning before everything went to hell: Stay out of sight. If he finds you, run.

“Not very fair, is it?” Dean’s voice was closer now. A little too close. “Me, having all the fun while you’re stuck hiding like a scared little girl.”

The sudden clank of a pipe hitting the ground made you jump. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

“You know, Y/N, I always thought you had more fight in you.” His tone shifted, something darker slipping in. “Or maybe you’re just waiting for me to find you.”

You took a slow, careful breath. He was toying with you. Drawing this out because he could. Because he enjoyed it. And despite the terror curling in your stomach, you couldn’t ignore the way his voice—smooth, teasing, wrong—sent a shiver down your spine.

This wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t.

—but it was.

You peeked around the corner just as he stepped into view, and your stomach twisted. His green eyes, once full of warmth and mischief, were now black pools of endless night. His mouth curled into a smirk when he spotted you.

“There you are.”

You bolted.

The bunker’s halls blurred past as you ran, adrenaline burning through your veins. You could hear his footsteps behind you, casual, unhurried. He knew you weren’t getting away.

You rounded a corner, aiming for the weapons room—maybe you could grab something, salt rounds, anything—when a strong hand wrapped around your arm and yanked you back.

You barely had time to gasp before your back hit the wall. Dean caged you in, one hand braced beside your head, the other curling around your wrist. He was too close, heat radiating off him in waves. His breath ghosted across your face, and you swallowed hard.

“Running?” he murmured, tilting his head. “That’s cute.”

You glared up at him, ignoring the way your pulse betrayed you. “Let me go, Dean.”

He chuckled, dark and low. “See, that’s the problem. I don’t really feel like it.” His grip tightened slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me, sweetheart. Hurts my feelings.”

“Yeah? Guess you should’ve thought about that before you went full psycho.”

Dean grinned, but there was nothing soft about it. “You always were a mouthy little thing.” His eyes flickered over your face, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. “Gotta admit, though… I missed you.”

Your stomach twisted. “You don’t miss anything, Dean. You’re not you.”

He hummed, considering that. “I don’t know. Feels like me. Feels better than me.” His fingers lifted to brush a strand of hair from your face, and you flinched. His smirk widened. “Still the same guy underneath it all, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh, but I am. And you wanna know the real kicker?” He leaned in, lips a whisper away from your ear. “I remember everything. Every little moment. Every time I caught you staring when you thought I wouldn’t notice. Every time you got jealous over some girl at a bar.” He pulled back just enough to lock his gaze with yours. “Every time I wanted to kiss you but didn’t.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He smirked. “That’s right, sweetheart. It wasn’t just you.”

Your body betrayed you, a shudder rolling through you despite every instinct screaming to fight. Because it was him. The same Dean who had driven you crazy for years, the same Dean you’d secretly wanted for just as long. But now, he was something else entirely.

And that terrified you. “You’re lying,” you whispered.

Dean exhaled a quiet laugh. “Am I?”

His fingers skimmed down your arm, slow, deliberate. You hated how your skin burned where he touched. How your body still knew him, still wanted him, even when you knew he wasn’t the same.

His head tilted, studying you. “Y’know, if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll let you keep running.”

You clenched your jaw. “Go to hell.”

His smirk widened. “Been there, sweetheart. Wasn’t all that fun.”

Then, without warning, he let go. You stumbled forward slightly, eyes snapping up to his.

“Run,” he murmured, voice full of amusement.

You hesitated, pulse hammering.

“C’mon, Y/N. Make this fun for me.”

Your fists clenched, anger flaring through the fear. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, wanted to scream at him for twisting everything between you into some kind of sick game. But you knew better.

So you ran.

And behind you, Dean just laughed.

Your legs burned as you sprinted down the bunker hallway, lungs straining for air. Every muscle in your body screamed at you to keep moving, keep running, but it was useless.

The hallways twisted like a labyrinth, but you knew them like the back of your hand—better than that. You and Sam had spent hours mapping every inch of this place, making sure you had an escape plan for anything. Except for this. Except for him.

You rounded a corner too fast, nearly slipping—And slammed right into a broad chest. A hand clamped over your mouth before you could scream. “Shh! It’s me,” Sam whispered, his grip firm but careful.

You exhaled sharply as he let you go. His eyes were wild, his hair damp with sweat. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “No. He’s coming.”

Sam swallowed hard, gripping the demon blade tight. “I know. We have to keep moving.”

A slow, mocking clap echoed through the hallway. You and Sam froze.

“Oh, look at you two,” Dean’s voice drawled, smooth and lazy, like this was fun for him. “Working together. Just like old times.”

Your blood ran cold.

Dean stepped into view, and the sight of him made your stomach twist. His green eyes, the ones that had always been so full of warmth, were black as the void. His lips curled into a smirk, dimples flashing like this was some big joke. Except it wasn’t. Not to you. Not to Sam.

Dean twirled the First Blade between his fingers like it was weightless. “Y’know, this is kind of sweet,” he mused. “The two people I loved most, standing side by side.” His smirk sharpened. “Too bad I have to kill you both.”

You barely had time to react before he moved. One second he was ten feet away. The next—Sam shoved you aside just as Dean lunged. The brothers collided in a blur of movement, Sam’s blade flashing, Dean’s grin widening. You scrambled to your feet, heart hammering as they fought, the sound of metal clashing against metal echoing through the hallway.

But Sam wasn’t winning. Dean was only toying with him. You knew Dean’s fighting style better than anyone. He always fought with purpose—every move calculated, every strike meant to end things fast. But this? This was different. Dean was dragging this out, laughing between attacks, dodging at the last second just to piss Sam off. He was enjoying this.

Sam swung the demon blade at Dean’s ribs, but Dean caught his wrist mid-strike and slammed him into the wall. Sam grunted in pain, dropping the knife.

“Sam!” You surged forward, but Dean turned his head, giving you a look.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tsked, holding up the First Blade. “I’ll get to you in a minute, sweetheart.” He pressed the Blade against Sam’s throat. And for the first time since this started—Dean stopped smiling. Something dark flickered behind his eyes. “You always wanted to save me,” he murmured. “And look where it got you.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Dean—”

“That’s not my name anymore.” The words were low. Dangerous. Your stomach twisted. Dean pressed the Blade harder, just enough to break skin. Blood beaded along the edge.

“No,” you choked out, stepping forward. “Please.”

Dean’s jaw tensed. His grip twitched. For a split second, you thought he was going to do it. Kill the person he loved most in the world. Kill his brother. And then—He turned his head, locking eyes with you.

“…You’re crying,” he murmured, almost fascinated.

You hadn’t even realized it. Tears streaked your face, your whole body trembling. Not from fear. Not from anger. From him. From watching him like this.

Dean tilted his head, studying you. Something in his expression shifted—just slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. And then, slowly, he smiled. “Oh, sweetheart.” He sighed dramatically, stepping away from Sam like he was bored now. “If you wanted my attention that bad, all you had to do was ask.”

You stiffened as he took a step toward you. Then another. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. “Stay away from me, Dean.”

His grin widened. “Make me.”

He lunged. You barely had time to react before he slammed you against the opposite wall, knocking the air from your lungs. His hand wrapped around your throat—not cutting off air, just holding you there, keeping you still. Keeping you his.

Your breath hitched as his body pressed against yours, his strength caging you in. His free hand trailed up your arm, his fingers grazing your pulse.

“God, you’re shaking,” he murmured. “I love it.”

“Dean,” you whispered.

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something almost human, but as quickly as it came, it soon disappeared. His smirk returned.

“You know what I think?” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “I think you like this.”

Your whole body stiffened. “I hate you.”

Dean chuckled. “Mmm. Keep telling yourself that.”

His grip tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he could. That he had all the power here. Sam groaned from the floor, struggling to move. Dean ignored him. His black eyes locked onto yours. “I could kill you,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Right here. Right now.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs and Dean smirked. “But where’s the fun in that?” Then, before you could react—before you could even breathe—he moved.

Pain exploded through your ribs as Dean slammed you back against the wall, his grip tightening around your throat. You choked out a strangled gasp, fingers clawing at his wrist, but he was too strong, too cold—too gone.

“Let—go—” Your voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

Dean only chuckled, tilting his head as he watched you struggle. “You know,” he mused, almost thoughtful, “I always wondered what you’d look like under me. Writhing. Squirming.” His grip flexed, just enough to send a sharp spike of fear down your spine. “Begging.”

Your nails dug into his wrist, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even feel it. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your cheek. “C’mon, sweetheart. Give me something. A scream, a sob—anything.”

Your vision blurred at the edges, black creeping in. Your pulse pounded in your ears, and you couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t—

A low, broken gasp forced its way from your lips.

And Dean—Dean shivered. “Fuck,” he exhaled, voice rough with something dark. “That’s it. That’s it.”

You hated him. You hated him so much it burned. But your body was weak. And he knew it.

His grip tightened—And then, just as the darkness nearly swallowed you whole.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice rang out, sharp and furious, and then—CRACK.

Dean jerked as something slammed into his head—a crowbar, swung with everything Sam had left. His grip loosened, just enough for you to suck in a ragged breath, just enough for Sam to shove him away from you. Dean stumbled, blinking, his cocky smirk faltering for the first time.

Sam grabbed your arm, pulling you up. “You okay?”

You coughed, nodding weakly, your throat throbbing.

Dean’s smirk returned, but this time, there was blood in his grin. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Atta boy, Sammy,” he drawled. “I was wondering when you’d finally get back in the game.”

Sam positioned himself in front of you, demon blade in hand. His chest rose and fell in quick, angry breaths. “We’re not gonna let you win, Dean.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Win? Win?” His smirk sharpened. “Sammy, this is me winning.”

Then he lunged. You barely had time to react before Dean tackled Sam, sending them both crashing into the wall. The knife skidded across the floor, out of reach. You scrambled for it, but before you could move, Dean punched Sam across the face, the sickening crack of bone echoing through the hallway. Sam grunted, his head snapping to the side. Dean grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. “Y’know, little brother, I gotta say…” His fingers dug into Sam’s shirt. “I always knew you’d be the one to break first.”

And then he threw him. Sam hit the opposite wall with a thud, sliding to the floor with a pained groan. Your stomach dropped. Dean turned to you and this time, his smile was gone. He stalked forward, his black eyes locked onto yours, the First Blade tight in his grip.

“No more games,” he murmured.

You grabbed the demon blade and lunged but Dean quickly caught your wrist mid-swing and twisted. A sharp cry tore from your throat as pain shot up your arm. The knife slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor.

Dean laughed. “Nice try,” he cooed. Then his grip shifted—from your wrist to your hair—before yanking you forward, dragging you against him. You gasped, your hands flying to his chest, trying to push him back. He didn’t budge.

“God, you’re stubborn,” he murmured, his nose brushing your cheek. “That’s what I always liked about you.” You trembled, anger and fear battling inside you.“You’re a monster,” you spat.

Dean grinned. “And yet…” His hand slid down to your waist, grip firm, possessive. “You still can’t look away.”

Your stomach twisted. You hated that he was right.

Dean tilted his head, his lips barely inches from yours. His grip tightened. Your breath hitched as his fingers dug into your waist, his body pressing against yours, keeping you trapped. His black eyes were locked onto yours, filled with something dark, something hungry.

“You’re shaking again,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your cheek. “God, I love that.” His grip tightened further, and before you could react, before you could even think, he moved. A sharp, searing pain tore through your stomach. Your lips parted in a silent gasp.

Dean exhaled softly, like he’d just taken his first real breath in years. His forehead rested against yours, his smirk softening into something almost… tender. “There we go,” he whispered. “Took you long enough.”

You blinked, struggling to focus, your hands clutching at his shoulders—at him—as warmth bloomed beneath your ribs.

Dean pulled back just slightly, his gaze flickering down. The First Blade was buried deep in your stomach and it was still in his hand. Your fingers trembled as you curled them around his wrist. “D-Dean—”

But a sudden gust of wind roared through the bunker.

Dean’s smirk vanished.

Bright, blinding light filled the room, illuminating the darkened bunker like lightning striking at midnight. A deep, commanding voice echoed through the space.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Dean was suddenly yanked away from you, violently thrown back by an unseen force. He crashed into the wall with a grunt, the First Blade slipping from his grasp as invisible restraints pinned him in place. The moment his body left yours, your knees buckled. A strong pair of hands caught you before you hit the floor. “Y/N, I’ve got you.”

You could barely lift your head, your vision swimming, but you knew that voice anywhere. “Cas—” you rasped, your fingers clutching weakly at his coat.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured, easing you down carefully. His blue eyes flickered over your wound, his jaw tightening. “I need to heal you.”

“No,” you croaked, shaking your head. “Not yet. Get—get Dean first.”

Castiel hesitated, his gaze darting to where Dean was still struggling against the angel’s hold. Dean snarled, his black eyes burning with rage. “Let me go, you feathery son of a bitch!”

Sam didn’t waste a second. He grabbed the syringe from his jacket and slammed it into Dean’s neck. Dean jerked, eyes going wide, his entire body going rigid as the purified blood surged through his veins. His breath hitched, a choked noise leaving his lips. His body trembled violently, black veins creeping along his skin.

Sam stepped back, watching him carefully, his own chest heaving. “Come on, Dean,” he muttered under his breath. “Come back.”

Dean gritted his teeth, a strangled growl ripping from his throat. His body convulsed, his hands clenching into fists, and for a moment, you thought…

But then his entire body shuddered and the black bled from his eyes. Dean’s head snapped up, his gaze wild—his green eyes wide and panicked as he gasped for air, as if breaking the surface after drowning in darkness. Then his gaze locked onto you and every single ounce of breath in his lungs vanished.

“Y/N?” His voice was hoarse, almost broken. His expression crumpled the second he saw you slumped in against the wall, blood soaking through your shirt, your body trembling from the pain.

Dean’s entire world stopped. “No.” His voice was barely a whisper, barely even a sound. “No, no, no—” Dean collapsed forward, catching himself just in time to crawl toward you. His hands shook as he reached out, as if afraid to touch you, as if afraid you’d break. His fingers hovered over your wound, barely brushing your skin. “Oh, God,” he rasped. “Oh, God—I—I did this.”

His breath hitched, his whole body trembling. His hands curled into fists, his knuckles white.

“Dean—” you tried to say his name, but your voice was too weak.

He wasn’t even listening. “I hurt you,” he choked out. “I—I almost—” His jaw clenched, his eyes shining. “I almost killed you.” His hands finally landed on you, gripping your arms, his thumbs stroking your skin like he was trying to keep you here, keep you real.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so—so sorry.”

You managed a weak, shaky breath. “Dean, it wasn’t you—”

“Yes, it was.” His voice cracked. His forehead dropped to yours, his fingers tightening their hold. “It was me, sweetheart.” His breath was warm against your cheek, his whole body trembling. “And I can’t take it back.”

You swallowed, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion threatened to pull you under.

Dean’s grip tightened in you, worry wracking his body.“Cas!” His voice was raw, desperate. “Fix her!”

Castiel placed a firm hand on your shoulder, his other hovering over your wound. A soft, golden glow emitted from his palm. Your body jolted as warmth flooded through you, the searing pain easing just slightly.

Dean’s eyes never left your face but as seconds passed your eyes remained shut. You weren’t moving. You weren’t even stirring. The color in your face was too pale, and your body was too still. His grip on you tightened. “Cas.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried every ounce of fear that was ripping through his chest. His throat was tight, his hands shaking as they brushed over your cheek. “Why isn’t she waking up?”

Castiel remained quiet for a moment, his gaze steady as he observed you.

“Cas,” Dean snapped this time, his panic rising. “She should be awake—why the hell isn’t she waking up?”

Castiel sighed, his expression unreadable but calm. “Dean, her body needs time to heal.”

Dean shook his head, jaw clenching. “No—no, you fixed her. I saw you. She should—she should be okay.” His fingers brushed against your forehead, then your wrist, searching for anything—any twitch, any sign of you coming back to him.

“She is okay,” Castiel reassured. “But she went through immense trauma. Her body is simply resting. She will wake up.”

Dean let out a sharp exhale, but his panic didn’t ease. His hands framed your face, his thumbs stroking your skin as he muttered, “C’mon, sweetheart. You’re stronger than this. You’re—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to force the lump in his throat down.

Sam stepped forward cautiously. “Dean—”

“Don’t,” Dean cut him off, his voice raw. “Just… don’t.”

He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut as he let out a shuddering breath. “Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Don’t do this to me.”

Sam and Castiel shared a look but said nothing. They knew there was nothing they could say. Dean stayed there, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. His fingers curled into your shirt, his breath uneven as he muttered apologies over and over again. “I swear,” he whispered against your skin, “when you wake up, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything.”

Two Days Later

The bunker was quiet. Too quiet. Dean sat slumped in a chair beside your bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him. His head was bowed, his shoulders tense, and his face was drawn with exhaustion and guilt. He hadn’t left your side since Castiel healed you. Two days.

Two days of watching you sleep, of waiting, of replaying every horrific thing he’d done under the demon’s control. The image of you bleeding out in his arms was seared into his brain. The memory of your broken voice saying his name in a weak, rasped breath haunted him like a goddamn ghost. And the worst part? He did it. Demon or not, it had still been him.

Dean let out a slow exhale, dragging a rough hand down his face. His jaw clenched as he stared at the floor, unable to look at you, unable to face what he’d done. He’d almost lost you. He should have lost you.

If it weren’t for Cas, you’d be—Dean swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. The chair creaked as he leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. His fingers curled into his hair, his chest tightening.

And then—A soft sound. A quiet, barely-there groan. Dean’s head snapped up, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes darted to you, heart slamming against his ribs.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets. Then, with a slow, exhausted inhale, your eyes fluttered open. For a second, you just stared at the ceiling, dazed and unfocused. But then—your gaze shifted, landing on him.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. “Sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

You blinked sluggishly, your lips parting as if trying to form words. Your brows pinched together slightly before your gaze finally sharpened on him. “…Dean?”The sound of your voice—soft, fragile, but alive—hit him harder than a damn bullet to the chest.

Dean let out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the mattress like he needed to ground himself. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasped. “I’m here.”

You swallowed thickly, your throat dry, and tried to shift, only to wince at the dull ache in your stomach.

Dean was instantly on his feet, leaning over you, his hands hovering—like he wanted to help but didn’t know if he should. “Easy,” he murmured. “Don’t push yourself.”

You blinked up at him, confusion flickering across your face as you took in his disheveled appearance—dark circles under his eyes, unshaven stubble, the way his shoulders were practically hunched under invisible weight. “…How long?” you croaked.

Dean let out a small breath of relief—because you were talking—before sinking back into the chair. “Two days.”

Your brows lifted slightly. “Damn.”

That almost made him smile. Almost. But then, reality crashed back down, and the guilt returned with full force. Dean swallowed and glanced away, his jaw tight.

Your gaze softened as you studied him. Even without him saying a word, you could see it. The self-hatred. The way he was drowning in it. “Dean,” you whispered.

His throat bobbed as he clenched his fists. “I almost killed you.” His voice was rough, raw. “You shouldn’t even be—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Cas saved you, but it doesn’t change what I—”

“Dean.” Your voice was a little stronger this time, but still soft.

His green eyes flicked up to yours, filled with nothing but pain. You swallowed, forcing down the lump in your throat. “It wasn’t you.”

Dean let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s what they all say.” His fingers curled into his jeans, his whole body wound tight. “That it wasn’t me, that it was the demon, but I remember it. Every damn second of it.” His voice cracked as his gaze locked onto yours.

You felt your heart ache at his words. Dean exhaled sharply, running a rough hand over his face. “I hurt people. I hurt you.” His voice lowered to a whisper, like he hated even saying it. “And I don’t know how to come back from that.”

You took a slow breath, gathering what little strength you had, and reached out, resting your hand over his.

Dean froze. His eyes darted to where your fingers curled over his own, then back to your face, his breath hitching slightly. “You already came back,” you murmured.

Dean swallowed hard, his thumb twitching under your touch. Dean stared at you, like he didn’t understand how you could even look at him, let alone forgive him. For a moment, the room was silent. But then Dean turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours, gripping your hand like it was the only thing keeping him here. His gaze softened, raw with emotion.

“I almost lost you.” He murmured.

“You didn’t,” you whispered back.

Dean took a slow breath, staring at you like he wanted to memorize every detail of your face. Then, after a long pause—“I love you.” The words were so quiet, you almost thought you imagined them. But the way Dean’s grip tightened on your hand, the way his eyes stayed locked on yours, made it real. Your breath caught in your throat.

Dean exhaled, a small, almost broken smile tugging at his lips. “I do,” he whispered. “I don’t know why the hell it took me so long to say it, but… I do.” His thumb brushed against your skin, gentle, reverent. “And I swear to God, sweetheart, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes, your throat tightening. You gave him a soft smile, squeezing his hand. “Dean Winchester,” you murmured. “You are a damn idiot. I love you too. ”

A surprised chuckle left him, the first real smile cracking through his grief. And then, with what little strength you had, you tugged his hand toward you. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over your forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss. And for the first time in days—He finally breathed again.

author’s note:

I finally posted it! This fic has been sitting in my drafts for over 2 weeks. I feel like I’ve posted so much this week already. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone 😅 I’m also thinking about writing for soldier boy soon. (Even though I haven’t watched the show yet but I plan on watching it this weekend!)

Anyways, I was going to continue the story with some smut at the very end but decided not to. Ending on a softer note is not usually my forte but we’re trying something new! Lmfao

tags:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear

If you would like to be tagged in all dean fics please lmk! drop a comment and I will add you to the list! ☻

my works

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ihavethedreamies · 23 hours ago

Text

Thirsty | S.Coups [NSFW] (2)

Choi Seungcheol (S.Coups - Seventeen)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~3.8k

Pairing: S.Coups x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Even Less Plot, Sequel but just Filth

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Doll, Princess, Pumpkin, etc.), Daddy Kink (its required), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Facefucking, Deepthroating, Spanks (two), Car(?) Sex, Table Sex, Hot Tub Sex, Anal, Double-Penetration (Surprise~!) Soft Dom! S.Coups, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!), He's still got some ~fancy~ tattoos ;)

Author's Note: So...I got this request. Anyway, this is a sequel to Oasis, which is S.Coups's part for my Seventeen Sci-Fi series, but you don't really need to read it first since the plot doesn't matter and there is even less plot here.

~Part 1~

-> Series Hub <-

-> Hoshi's <-

-> Woozi's <-

-> Wonwoo's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

“I’m not a piece of candy, doll.” Seungcheol huffs, looking down at you kneeling between his legs. His much fancier rover has enough leg room for him to drive comfortably while you sit on the floor between his legs, sucking his cock like it’s giving you life. You glance up at him with a bored look, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, then descend again. You have to use both hands to cover the rest of his length even when he hits the back of your throat, and you wish you were at a better angle that you could get him down your throat. Alas, you have to just suck what you can and you’re making more noise than him. You’d learned last night that he had the stamina of a work ox, and you’ve been slobbering over his cock for nearly 30 minutes, and he still hadn’t even come close to cumming. You grunt, pulling off with a pop, drool dripping down your chin and his cock.

“Are you using your weird sensory tattoo thing to last so long?”

“No, hon.”

“Am I not good at it?”

“You’re really good, why?”

“You still haven’t cum!” He chuckles lowly at your frustrated whine, one hand leaving the steering wheel to rest on your head, fingers running through your hair.

“You want me to cum that badly?”

“Yes!” He shifts to sit a bit lower in his seat, using the panel to maintain speed rather than the pedals and plants his feet on the ground.

“You gag easily?”

“Nope~” You giggle as he leads you back to his messy cock and you suck him back into your mouth, shifting your own position so you’re at a better angle, already knowing his plan. You grip the edge of the rover seat and his hand in your hair tightens pushing your down further, his cock sliding into your throat. You gag very, very softly, he’s much thicker than anyone else you’ve taken, longer too. You breath harshly through your nose, the rush of air stopped as he sinks deeper and you whimper around his cock, making him groan.

“Oh you really are so good for me, pumpkin~” He huffs, chuckling lowly as your nose presses to his groin, and you swallow over and over to fight gagging, your cunt clenching around nothing. You follow the guiding of his hand in your hair, and he thrusts, starting to fuck your face, making sure not to cut off your air too much, but every time he buries his fat cock down your throat, your cunt spasms, desperate to be filled as well. You whine pathetically, a mixture of saliva and his pre slathered over your face and his thighs and you’re glad you had pulled his pants down earlier instead of just opening them, because they’d be a mess.

“You like how daddy tastes, don’t you?” You hum in the affirmative, your head swimming and you barely register the swirling tattoos on the skin of his legs starting to glow. The swimming in your head goes away, but your other senses dull, the taste of his leaking cock in your mouth sharpening and your cunt feels like it lights on fire. He shoves one of his feet between your legs and you instinctively grind against his boot, the seam of your thin leather leggings perfectly hitting your clit. Your desperate need for air softens and the slight soreness of your throat heats to a numb point as he continues to batter his cock down your gullet.

“Fuck, hold on, just-“ His groan is so deep it rumbles through you and he presses your head down, deep in your throat and he cums. Your hips rolling to help your needy cunt grind against his boot stutter as your orgasm hits you as well, swallowing all of his hot cum eagerly, moaning as you do. Finally, like you’re just pulled out of nearly drowning, he pulls his cock out of your mouth, and you desperately heave for air, your senses returning to normal.

“You’re such a good girl.” He smirks, thumb brushing over your lip and gathering the sticky fluid and you suck it off his digit when he presses it into your mouth.

You and Seungcheol stop to eat lunch in a small outpost about an hour outside of the capital. When you get back to the rover afterwards, you both sit for maybe about thirty seconds before he turns the window tint all the way up, blocking view of the interior and hauling you into the back seat. You straddle his lap, moaning as he kisses you, his large hands running down from your waist to your ass, gripping the flesh through your leggings. Your fingers weave into his hair, tilting his head to get a better angle as his tongue slips into your mouth. When you both pull back for air, he scoffs.

“I’m buying you a skirt to wear just so I can get to your cunt easier.” His hands leave your ass, sliding back up and then down again, his hands going into your leggings to reach your bare skin underneath.

“How ‘bout I just don’t wear pants in the rover~?”

“I think that’s just perfect~” His smirk might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. While trying to focus on his next kiss, you lift your leg to get your boot off and then you squeak when he tosses you onto the seat, climbing over you. He helps you get your pants mostly off, the garment still hanging on where it’s tucked into your below-the-knee boot. You hadn’t put on panties before you guys left the hotel since you couldn’t find them, he claimed to know nothing about that- He gets his pants open and shoved down just enough and his strong hands on your inner thighs lead you to spread them further and your back arches, breath hitching as he sinks his cock into your soaking cunt. Your pussy spasms, burning slightly from the sudden stretch and your eyes roll back when he snaps his hips to get the rest of his length inside, his groin meeting yours. He gives you maybe thirty-seconds to get used to him before he’s fucking you so hard the rover lets out a ding, warning of a possible ground disturbance.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-!” Your body jerks as he swiftly brings you to orgasm, his huge cock barreling through it, carving his shape into you over and over, and you know for damn sure your body is going to get addicted to his dick inside of it.

“Oh, you’re sweet little pussy just loves hugging my cock, hm~?” Seungcheol chuckles, grinning like an idiot as he watches your folds struggle around him, a thick sheen of your wet coating his cock, nearly frothing at how hard he’s railing you.

“D-Daddy, you’re gonna break me~!” You practically squeal, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, eyes watering as he smashes through your second orgasm.

“I sure am, pumpkin~ Daddy’s gonna ruin your body from ever wanting anyone else.” His next chuckle is much lower than before, grunts lacing his words. You can feel his cock pulse harder, and his thrusts get a bit unsteady the closer he gets. You have just enough mental capacity to wrap your legs around his waist, holding him in, needing his hot cum to fill you up.

“Cum with me, doll, cum with me~” His thumb goes to your already slightly stinging clit and with one last battering thrust, he roars out a groan, painting your core white. You’re thrown over the edge as well, nearly screaming out, eyes crossing as your cunt squirts out nearly as much as he’s filling you with.

When you leave the treasurer’s office at the Assembly building, he looks up from where he was waiting in the lobby. You’re staring blankly at the holo-chip they had given you with the payment for the huge diamond you had found. They recommended you immediately deposit it at the bank so as not to risk it getting taken.

“(Y/N)?” You stop next to him, still looking at it. You only look up at him when the lifts your head up with his crooked finger under your chin.

“Was it not worth much?”

“T-they just gave me… 200 million credits…” Seungcheol’s eyes widen at that.

“Seriously?”

“T-they said it wasn’t from S.V.T and so…it’s super-super valuable because almost all of the diamonds here are tiny.”

“Are you okay?”

“I…I could by my entire hometown with this and more…”

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yes…”

You decide to celebrate by booking the nicest room in the fanciest hotel of the capital…after you deposited the funds. When you brought the holo-chip into the bank, the system immediately noted it as fraudulent despite the official Assembly signature on the chip and the poor teller had to call her manager over, and then he had to call the president of the bank to call the governor to get the right code for the system to allow the deposit. The second thing you did – the hotel was third – was send 500k of it straight to your family. You honestly might have done more, but you didn’t want to overwhelm the little bank in your hometown as well and it was more than enough for them to not just pay off any debts, but your dad could even retire. You always told your mother that your scavenging would pay off, but you had no idea to this level.

“Woah…” You look around in awe as you and Seungcheol enter the suite you booked, the entire building was made with white marble, or it at least appeared that way, and the entire room had gold accents.

“Is it everything you hoped and dreamed?” He huffs a laugh, and you nod, jumping giddily.

“This is so fancy~!” He laughs harder, shaking his head at your excitement, finding it adorable. You then turn to him with a mischievous grin.

“Let’s order then entire room service menu~”

And so you did. When all the food arrived, you were actually glad that you did. It was so many different dishes, but because it was fancy food, the portions were…tiny. Just doing what you did blew through 50k credits, but in a lot of way it was worth it. You got to try so many things you’d never had the chance to before, some of it you’d never even heard of and Seungcheol had to explain to you what it all was.

When you’ve both finished all you could, leftovers put in the fridge of the full kitchen of the suite, you both look over all of the plates and platters on the table. You then watch him pull the tablecloth to the end of the table, pulling all the dishes along with it and you squeak when he leads you the edge and bends you over it. You’d barely register what happened before your leggings are shoved down once more and his fat cock is back inside you. At that angle, he manages to get as deep as he could, and the dishes and cutlery clatter as the table shakes as he starts to fuck you silly once again. He leans forward, hands on the table by your head holding him up, his thrusts getting very shallow but just as hard. You gasp with each little movement, the head of his dick rubbing over your weak spot over and over and your orgasm is already rising.

“C-Cheol-!” You nearly squeal out a moan when his hand smacks your right ass cheek, then his fingers grip hard into the flesh.

“What’d you call me?” The low tone of his voice makes your cunt clench around him tighter, your thighs twitching.

“S-Sorry, daddy-“ Your fingers scramble for purchase on the table, your pulse whooshing in your ears and it feels like you’re lower half is on fire. He suddenly pulls out and you cry out in protest, but then he’s kneeling behind you, arms wrapping around your thighs and his tongue is wiggling into your cunt.

“Fuck~!” You giggle, nearly delirious as he eats you out as if he hadn’t just had a full seven-course meal. He swipes his tongue through your folds, then sucks on your clit, drinking from you as you cum, squirting out release all over his face which he eagerly drinks. You barely have caught your breath when he stands and grabs your arms, pulling you off the table and forcing you to your knees in front of him, his hard cock right in front of your face, a mess from his pre and your own release. You don’t even wait for his direction, opening your mouth wide, obediently. He smirks and his fingers weave into your hair and he slides his dick into your mouth, and you eagerly suck on the head, inhaling through your nose right before he starts to get deeper. Your throat is still a bite sore from when he fucked your throat not even 24 hours ago, but you can’t help but moan at the feeling and taste of him in your mouth.

“Swallow it all, just like that~” He groans as he fills your throat with his cock and your fingers dig hard into the carpet under you as he cums down your throat, over and over. As he pulls out, you suck to clean him off, breathing hard once his half-softened length leaves your mouth.

“I-Is it safe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Couldn’t it…burn?

“Does it burn your skin?”

“No…”

“Then why would it burn inside?”

You sigh, realizing he was right. For some reason, you were hesitant to get in the hot tub since you knew it would likely lead to more. You’d heard of people having sex in a tub, but this seemed…dangerous. Though, the more you talked to him about it, the less you believed it could cause harm, and the more stupid you felt.

“Just get in (Y/N).” Seungcheol huffs a laugh, and you carefully put your foot into the bubbling heated water and it’s not too hot like you worried, so you get in. You sit on the little bench built into the wall of the hot tub and you watch as he gets in as well.

“I’m glad they were able to get us swimsuits.” You luckily could have the hotel bring you guys swimwear, because you later wanted to use the pool, but you obviously had to do that covered since it was public.

“I understand for the pool, but we’ve definitely seen each other naked… Wait, did you want to wear a swimsuit in here because you worried about burning your pussy?” He grins, trying to fight actual laughter and you blush with a huff.

“Yes, okay!?”

“Why are you over there?” He nods to where you sit diagonal to him.

“Where-“

“My lap, pumpkin.” Oh. You blush in a bit of embarrassment again but get up and he pulls you over to him and down onto his lap, facing him.

“Much better~” You wrap your arms around his neck and his fingers go into your hair and yanks your head back and you whimper as he starts to leave open-mouthed kisses against your throat, and you shudder when he licks a stripe from your collar bone up to under your ear. You can feel his cock already getting hard, only the thin barrier of your swim bottoms separating you two.

“You’re an absolute angel, you know? Taking my cock over and over again, in any way I want.” Seungcheol chuckles when you nod in agreement and his hand leaves your hair, moving to join the other to palm at your ass. He pulls you down so he can grind his growing hard-on against your covered cunt, making you both moan softly. You bring your hands down to the fly of his swim trunks, getting it undone so you can pull his cock out. Lifting your hips, you move the thin strip of fabric of your bikini bottom to the side and start to sink down his length. Despite being in the water, you were no less wet, the thick release clinging to your gummy walls helps you take him inside once again. The angle difference lets the head hit you at a new pleasure point he hadn’t yet found, and he grunts when his cock bottoms out inside of you.

“You’re still so fucking tight.” He hums and you twitch, still trying to get used to him inside, gummy walls fluttering despite taking him so many times.

“Cuz you’re so fucking big.” You huff and he chuckles, letting you get accustomed to his fat cock splitting you in half once again.

“Maybe you’re just small?” His hands on your ass pull you down so he grinds up into you and you gasp, the wind getting knocked out of you at the sudden sharp increase in pleasure. He was so deep, you would swear he was in your stomach-

“AH?!” You nearly scream when he starts to thrust up, the bubbling water sloshing further at the movement and your eyes roll back, nearly going limp. He wraps his arms around you better so you don’t splash back into the water, not slowing his thrusts, rearranging your insides and you can’t get enough.

“F-fuck, daddy~!” You squeal, your entire body twitching as he fucks you through your first orgasm of the session. His hand goes back to your hair, weaving into the stands and twisting the lock around his fist, pulling your head back to expose your throat for him again. He seals his lips around your throat, sucking hard, the slight pressure on your windpipe makes your head swim and cunt clench. He groans, the noise rumbling straight to your head from where he’s attached to you, working the skin to leave a big hickey right where you couldn’t hide it. You gasp when he suddenly lifts you off of him and before you can protest, he bends you over the side of the hot tub. You whimper when he ruts his hot, messy cock between your ass-cheeks.

“You ever been fucked here, pumpkin?” He spreads your cheeks, his cock rubbing directly over your pucker.

“O-Once, b-but I’m not prepared-“

“Don’t worry, daddy’ll take care of you~” Seungcheol pulls back just enough for the head of his dick to press against your rim and you immediately tense. You feel his cyber-tattoos flare to life and your lower half gets hot, especially right where his cock is bumping.

“Breathe in, princess.” He prompts and you do, forcing yourself to control your breathing as the head of his cock starts to press in. The searing burn is not accompanied by the pain you anticipated, the tattoos working perfectly, dulling your nerves and only leaving you with pleasure. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that his dick is fucking into your ass, and your body forces all of your air out in slight shock.

“Breathe…” He coaches and you try and relax, your cunt spasming around nothing, your slick and his pre coating his cock allowing and easier glide. When he bottoms out, he lets you catch your breath, groaning at the intense vice, even tighter than your cunt. After about a minute, he pulls back, the obscene squelching noise is nearly drowned out by the rolling water of the hot tub and your fingers white-knuckle the edge of the tub, trying to level your breathing. Seungcheol snaps his hips and your cunt spasms, your brain still trying to register the intense sensation of him in your back hole.

“Ready?”

“Y-Yes, just-“

“I won’t go too hard, pumpkin.” He assures, then his fingers are weaving back into your hair, holding your front half down as he starts. Soon, he picks up the pace and you swear loudly, cheek pressed to the edge of the hot tub, drool pooling from the corner of your mouth as he fucks your ass, rubbing your weak spot through your inner wall. It’s intense, but feels so good that your brain can’t register what’s really even happening.

“W-Wha-?!” You let out a choking noise when your wind is knocked out of you again, what feels like a second hot dick starting to spread your cunt open. It’s different though, and you can tell its his tattoos somehow. You can’t see it, but a red holographic copy of his dick forms inside your cunt, immediately spurring you into an orgasm, slick spurting out of your cunt and he chuckles lowly. The second dick he’s spawned fucks into you at the same time as his actual cock and all thoughts fizzle out of your head. Seungcheol looks down at you, face red, eyes hazy, you’re completely fucked out, squeaking with each thrust.

“You’re so good for daddy, princess-“ He gasps out, then huffs a laugh as your walls spasming as you cum again, the praise somehow cutting through the fog in your mind and hitting you right in the core.

“I’m gonna cum in your ass, doll, and you’re gonna take it good, yeah~?” You moan out something positive sounding and you nearly black out when he buries in deep and cums. Your insides catch on fire, despite only having the holo-dick in your cunt, it feels like he’s filling you up there too. You’re fading as he pulls out, barely registering him lifting you up into his arms before you fall asleep.

You don’t wake until morning, sleeping nearly thirteen hours after the marathon sex-day you had with Seungcheol. You blink, trying to register where you are and then remember you booked such a fancy hotel room. You’re laying on your stomach, probably a good thing since your ass is so sore, and you turn your head to face the other way. Seungcheol is still asleep, the covers resting against his stomach, showing off his bare chest. Your eyes travel down a bit lower, grinning when you see the tent in the comforter. While your cunt is far too sore to take him again so soon, your mouth sure isn’t. With a soft groan at your sore muscles, you wiggle under the covers and between his legs. You can feel the weight of the comforter on your head as you wrap your hands around his cock, and it quickly gets to full hardness. He groans softly but you don’t bother to worry if you woke him or not, sealing your mouth around the head, tongue swirling, then you descend. Humming at his taste, you can even taste the faint bitterness from the soap he most likely used in the shower. As you bob your head, you don’t even startle when you feel the comforted lifted, the slightly cooler air of the room hitting you as he removes it, looking down at you amused.

“I thought I told you before, I’m not a piece of candy~”

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

Seventeen Master List

Taglist: @gaslysainz

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cherry-jamm · 2 days ago

Text

I lose my mind when it comes to you

・❥・ Where Mark tries to keep you awake post head trauma

・❥・word count: 1.5k

・❥・warnings: so much fluff, not beta read

・❥・I might make a part 2 for this if it gets some love, who knows?

The world swayed slightly even as you stood still. On top of your steadily growing nausea a headache pounded relentlessly at your head. Putting your pride away, you had gotten pretty banged up in the final battle of your mission. You tried to steady your breathing as you looked up towards the sky to try and spot your teammate.

Invincible slowly lowered himself to the ground beside you with a smile you easily returned. “You did great!” He congratulated, gripping onto your shoulder and shaking it. A new wave of nausea overtook you at the sudden movement. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling good.” You lied. You weren’t sure exactly why you lied, but for some reason you couldn’t admit to your charming and incredibly handsome teammate that you actually weren’t alright and that you were really a few minutes away from collapsing. So you plastered on a smile and gave him a thumbs up. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push you much further. “Alright, now that we got that finished up, let’s head back.”

You felt the ground hit your cheek before you even realized you were falling. You shut your eyes in a mixture of embarrassment and pain. “Jeez! You sure you’re alright?” Mark’s concerned face filled your hazy vision as he crouched down by your side. You wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You silently shook your head, feeling small pieces of debris cut into your cheek. Mark chuckled. “Yeah, you look kinda banged up.”

“Thanks.” You mumble sarcastically. At that Mark only laughs more before fumbling to flip you onto your back.

“No like,” He looks down at you. You couldn’t see his face beneath his mask but you could feel him scanning you. “I think you might be concussed or something.” He bites his lip as he drags his thumb gently over your forehead and as he pulls it back the pad of it is covered in sticky red blood. You groan.

“Am I gonna live, doc?” You tilt your head. Suddenly the sun above him seems much too bright and you squeeze your eyes shut to lessen the splitting headache that pulses behind your eyes.

“Probably not.” He responds playfully. There’s a long pause as you try to steady your breathing, your eyes still shut. You fight the urge to smack him as Mark pokes your cheek. “I’m pretty sure you have to stay awake after you get a concussion.” He muses. You look at him, mustering up as much distaste as you can to glare at him. “I mean, I saw it in a movie?” He stumbles under your hard gaze.

“Mark.” You whine. Suddenly all the attraction you felt towards him was replaced with irritation. You throw your head back as best you can as you lay on the concrete.

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” He huffs frustratedly. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t get like permanent brain damage or something.” You remain thoroughly unimpressed by the fact. Your eyelids ached to shut just for a moment. It was a losing battle against your own body. The brief moments your eyes closed to blink felt like pure bliss and it was only a matter of time before you were falling asleep once again.

“Hey, hey!” Mark picks your head up. Your eyes crack open to him frowning down at you like a disappointed mother. “What’s the square root of nine?”

“What?”

“The square root of nine?” He asks again. His hands tuck under your arms to lift you off the ground. After a short while of trying to get your limp legs to stand his hand wrapped around your waist and he took a step forward.

“Three?” Your head lolled to the side to rest against his shoulder. He tightened his hold on you.

“Good. What’s six times seven?”

“I don’t know, leave me alone.” You purposely shift more of your weight onto him to irritate him.

“I’m trying to keep you awake.” He looks down at you resting your aching head on him. “You won’t be sick if I fly you back right?” You shake your head (slowly to avoid another bout of sickness). “Good.” He tightens his grip on you. But he doesn’t take off and instead an awkward silence grows. “Could you, uh… do you mind if I?” His other hand hovered over your body awkwardly.

“Just grab me.” You roll your eyes. Having to stay awake when you would much rather sleep your way back to base was getting on your nerves. You barely even registered that you had essentially volunteered yourself to be manhandled by Mark. He nodded and quickly picked you up to an awkward piggy back ride.

“If you wrap your legs around me this is a lot easier.” He frowned.

“At least buy me dinner first.” You tease, but oblige. He held onto your thighs and you felt your cheeks heat up slightly but quickly pushed it down. He takes off with a start and as you feel the stability of the ground getting further away your stomach twists. “How do you do this all the time?” You hide your face in the crook of his neck, shielding your face both from the wind and the ability to look down.

“It’s just like walking, I guess.” You feel his shoulders tense as he shrugs.

“Walking.” You repeat incredulously. “When the ground is that far beneath you?” You have to raise your voice to be heard over the growing noise of wind. Mark just laughs. Your legs unconsciously loosen around his waist to which Mark grips them tighter.

“I mean, you have it easy right now. Just hold on tight and don’t look down.”

“And that’s so easy.” Actually it was becoming much easier to not look down. It was becoming easier to not look at anything as you felt drowsiness overtake you. You feel the urge to dig your heels into his stomach but think better of it. Probably not the best decision to irritate the man keeping you from falling out of the sky.

There were a few minutes of silence and you had to dedicate all your willpower to not falling asleep against his shoulder. “We’re almost there.” Mark announced. “You only gotta hang on for a little longer.” Despite the good news you were still impatiently waiting to get out of the sky and fall asleep without Mark’s interruption.

“You know what they say about home stretches.” You sigh. Your eyelids slowly became heavier to the point you could barely keep them open anymore. Your body went almost completely limp as your vision grew heavy.

“What do they say?” Mark asked. However before you could answer, sleep forcefully overtook you as your head slumped against his back. Mark let out a small gasp, pausing in the air. “No, no, no.” He muttered. He held one of your thighs even tighter (if that was even possible) while the other one went up to poke your cheek again. When you didn’t wake up immediately Mark groaned and switched to pinching your cheek, then your thigh until your eyes opened. Once you realized that he was no longer holding both of your legs it was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on you as you suddenly scrambled to hold onto him as tight as possible.

“Mark!” You yell frustratedly. He returned his hold on your legs and began moving in the air once again, albeit slower this time.

“Thank god you woke up gracefully, because I totally would have dropped you.” He smirks. You gripped onto him tight enough that it started to hurt.

“Mark!” You yell again, more panic in your voice. “I’m never flying with you again, this is the worst!”

“Only because you’re concussed.” His voice raised in pitch as he tried to defend his honor. “You know, you shouldn’t anger the guy who’s holding you right now.” He pouts.

“My apologies, your majesty.” You concede. You relax in his hold once again and for a second you feel the muscles in his back tense to sense if you had fallen back asleep. “‘M awake.” You mumble into his suit. You feel him nod.

It wasn’t much longer until you were landing. Somehow the landing was worse than taking off. Mark helps you stand on your own two feet again, his hands wrapping around your forearms to ensure you wouldn’t fall on your face again. All the while you were fighting the urge to puke as your stomach had dropped to your feet and had yet to return to its original position. You had to close your eyes to steady yourself again and get your shit together. You took a deep steadying breath.

“Thank you, Mark.” You said earnestly. Ignoring the way black crept into the edges of your vision, he looked good like this. His hair was windswept and messy and his hands still nervously held onto you. You couldn’t help the way you naturally blushed.

“Yeah, I mean you did most of the work in that fight back there, it's only fair.” He trailed off as you stepped closer to him and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks.” You repeated.

“Anytime.” He smiled a crimson blush rising on his cheeks. That was the last thing you saw before your eyes shut and you slumped against him once again. The last thing you heard before you fell asleep however was him groaning,

“Seriously?!”

#invincible #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #Cherry-jamm

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loveafterdeath-if · 3 days ago

Note

Okay, So I'll take this opportunity to steal a few asks from other ifs.

How would the ROs react if the MC got drunk on a night out and when they tried to help him get home the MCs tells them that they they have a girlfriend/boyfriend and pushes them away, this being once the MC and ROs are in a relationship of course, I have an angtsy version of this ask but I fear it might be too angtsy so I'll wait for your expert opinion and angster (angst author) in chief

I'm late, am I not? You're free to beat my ass for the late reply, lmaooo

L blinks at you, their hand brushing their arm where your hand pushed them away. They don't follow you to their car, only stare at your retreating back, forcing you to turn around with a puzzled frown.

"I told you I already have a lover," you slur. "Stop following me."

They point their finger at themself with a charming grin that slowly spreads across their face. "I am."

"What?"

"I'm your lover," they clarify with a proud nod following their words. "I'm the lucky woman/man who can call you theirs."

You blink, vision a bit blurry from your intoxicated state. That person is... yours? You tilt your head, observing the gorgeous man/woman standing a few feet away from you.

And just like that, a bark of laughter escapes your mouth as you sway on your feet. "No way!"

"Yes way," L preens under your disbelief, resuming their steps to stand in front of you and reach for your hand. They interlace your fingers with a wink. "So let's keep it that way."

You squint at them, processing their words. "Oh," you murmur, realization dawning on you before another laugh leaves your lips. "You're right."

"How many drinks did you have again, honey?" L chuckles, tugging your hand to guide you to the car, their thumb stroking your skin tenderly. "Should I be worried you forgot about me?"

"What?" You frown at them as you pull your hand away. "Wait—stop hitting on me, I have a boyfriend/girlfriend."

L glances down at their now empty hand, already missing your warmth. Their smile falters, and you swear they look like a kicked puppy.

You grimace. Maybe that wasn't the best joke to make just after genuinely forgetting they were, in fact, your lover.

"I'm kidding this time," you quickly reassure them, grabbing their hand back as you resume your step to the vehicle.

Their eyes light up as they're all too happy to lift your linked fingers and press a kiss against your skin. "You got me worried there, honey."

____

Ekissa watches you with a frown as you retreat. Did they hear you right? They don't have time to think, already fastening their steps to grab your wrist before a car can come barreling down on you.

"Look where you're going, dumbass," they grumble, tugging you away from the road.

"Stop following me," you try to yank your arm away, but they're quick to grab your hand instead. "I told you I already have a—"

"I'm the lucky bastard who's dating you, sweetheart." Ekissa cuts in, glancing at you with a raised brow. "And you drank one too many. So now, either you let me help you get back home safe, or we're gonna have a problem."

You squint at them, processing their words. "Wait, really? You? You and me?"

"No, you and my sis," Ekissa quips, sarcasm dripping through each word. "Yeah, you and me. What, got a problem with that?"

"Nope, no problem at all," you shake your head with a smile, the movement making you sway.

"Careful," they sigh in growing frustration, yet there's fondness as they squeeze their hand around yours. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

"Oh, oh," you snort, interlacing your fingers with theirs when you finally remember. "Right."

"Finally remember my existence?" Ekissa grumbles, their eyes meeting yours.

You huff a laugh, offering an apologetic kiss against their shoulder. "Yeah."

Their features soften ever so slowly, but the words don't follow the expression. "Should I kick your ass for forgetting me?"

"No, no, that won't be necessary," you mumble in your intoxicated state. "I'll be nice from now on."

That earns a snort from them, their hand in yours drawing you closer until your shoulders are pressed together despite their allergy to public displays. "Yeah, yeah, I heard this one before."

____

"I am your boyfriend/girlfriend," T wastes no time clearing up the misunderstanding as they walk next to you despite your protest.

"You're not," you slur, your eyes looking where you're walking. "I'd know if it was you."

"Clearly, you don't," T retorts matter-of-factly as they grip your elbow tightly to keep you balanced when you nearly trip over nothing. "I told you to go easy on the drinks."

"What?" You turn your attention to the dark-haired woman/man. Your eyes blink slowly, having difficulty keeping them open.

"You drank too much," T clarifies, deciding it’s better to give up on chiding you as they shake their head. "Never mind, let's get you home before you fall and get hurt."

Your eyes narrow, your finger jabbing gently into their shoulder. "How do you know where I live?"

"Because I'm your boyfriend/girlfriend," they answer flatly, not particularly annoyed to repeat that simple sentence again and again.

That brings a tiny smile to the corners of their lips the more they repeat it. They could repeat those words for an entire day and wouldn’t tire of it.

"No, you're not. Because I already have one."

"Yes, and that's me."

"What...?" You huff a laugh, your steps unstable despite T helping you walk. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You?"

"Yes, me."

"And me?" You add.

T lets go of your elbow to slide their arm around your back and wrap it around you to better steady you as much as they can. "Yes, do you have any objections?"

Realization dawning on you, you snort, shaking your head with a small smile. "Not really."

"Good." They murmur as they squeeze your side gently.

____

Athiel's mouth opens in offense as a loud huff escapes their lips. Their features contort in frustration, hurt, and arrogance. "Fine. Faceplant yourself and see if I care."

They don't follow you, not even when your body sways at each step you take. Not even when you stop in your tracks and turn around to face them with a tiny frown.

You're drunk, not blind. And this woman/man is not only gorgeous but also criminally adorable with the little pout they have right now.

Despite yourself, you find your feet approaching them with a curious, almost wondering expression. "Are you pouting?"

"Go away," Athiel crosses their arms, glaring at nothing in particular on their right.

"You're pouting," your lips tremble, and you're trying your hardest not to smile. "I have to stay loyal. And I told you I already have a boyfriend/girlfriend."

"Yeah? Well, go back to your lover then," Athiel lifts their chin, but they don't meet your gaze, determined to sulk all night if they have to.

"I will," you nod slowly, processing your own words as you try to remember who is actually your lover.

Your face must betray your thoughts because Athiel narrows their eyes at you. "Sorry won't cut it."

"C'mon, I was... joking, mostly..." you try to get away with it with that laugh that people have when they're drunk. You grimace when you're met with a glare from your lover. "I'm sorry..."

"I don't care," Athiel clicks their tongue as they walk past you.

Your hand shoots forward to grab their hand and interlace your fingers as you walk beside them. "I'm sorry... I'm just too drunk, like, really drunk."

"I don't care," they repeat, but their fingers tightening around yours like a lifeline proves otherwise. "You better remember who's your woman/man next time. I'm not dealing with your stupid brain every time you drink too much."

"Yes, ma'am/sir," you hum, bringing your linked hands up to leave a kiss against their skin, something that earns a blush on their face that never gets old to admire.

#LAD-if #love after death #asks #Ekissa Jones #Athiel Winter #L Melth #T Melth

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c4tluver02 · 3 days ago

Text

Pool Day!

wc: 1.6k

a/n: dont love this but hey its something!

warnings: slightly hot and heavy not much, little mention of being self conscious of your body (no descriptions of how your body looks tho!) he picks you up!

summary: during a heat wave Steve invites you over to his house (for the first time) for a pool day!

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。

It was a smoldering hot day and it felt like no fan or gust of air was enough to even remotely cool you down. You sat on your bed reading a book to distract yourself from the feeling of the beads of sweat on your hairline. But of course you couldn't help but think about the sticky gross feeling of sweat behind your knees. As you finish a chapter in your book the phone rings. The idea of getting up and moving sounds awful right now. However you make it work and who else would be behind the line but Steve. Your sweet boyfriend who you just started dating a month ago.

“Hi pretty girl” Steve says, you can tell he's smiling as he says it.

“Um sorry who's this?” You say in a teasing manner, unable to stop yourself from smiling before you've even finished the sentence.

“Ha ha funny. I was about to help you out in this heat but I dunno… Since you don't know who I am, hmm.” He says continuing the bit with sarcasm.

“No no!! I'm sorry, could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?” There's a pout on your face no one can see but Steve knows it's there. He giggles a little but you hear it perfectly.

“I guess since I am the kindest person in all of Hawkins I could forgive you.” Steve wishes he could talk to you all day everyday. You two can talk the day away, it's what makes you guys such a perfect match.

“Great! Now what were you saying about helping me out?” You say forgetting the bit in an instant wanting to know what he called for. You'll take anything to get out of this heat.

“Right yes, I was wanting to know if you wanted to come over to my place and hang out in the pool?” He says completely forgetting why he even called in the first place, so caught up in just talking with you.

This is kind of a big question from Steve. You haven't been to Steve's house yet, not only that, you haven't worn a bathing suit in front of him. Not that he would be mean, there's no mean bone in his body. But it is quite nerve wracking.

“Uh yea that sounds fun! I'll get ready and come over?” You say trying to get rid of the nerves that don't need to be there in the first palace.

“Ok baby, i'll see you in a bit.” He replies back.

“Okay see you soon!” You hang up and start getting ready.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

You arrive at Steves already taken aback at how big his house truly is and knock on the door. He opens it right away, as if he was standing by it this whole time.

“Hi baby you look so pretty.” He says letting you walk in and giving you a quick kiss.

“Hi Stevie, thank you.” You say, cheeks burning pink but you hope he thinks it's from the heat.

“I got everything we need out by the pool already” Steve says, holding out his hand for you to grab onto.

You intertwin your hands as you look around at his house

“Wow your house is so nice Stevie” You're not even looking at where he's taking you, only looking around trying to take everything in. Noticing little things despite walking away from it.

“Thanks, it's all my parents stuff, even though they are barely here to see it.” Steve replies

You frown at his statement, you only know a little bit about Steve's parents and how absent they are. It absolutely kills you that they barely see him. You would see Steve everyday if you could.

You almost say something as Steve opens the back door leading you both back into the heat.

“Ta da! I got stuff for us over here” Steve points to lounge chairs that have towels and sunscreen already set up. There is drinks and snacks on the small table next to it.

“Wow okay you really are giving me the best service, maybe I should ask for a pool day more often!” You say hitting his arm in a playful way.

Steve rolls his eyes with the biggest smile on his face giving his serious facade away.

“Do you wanna go swimming before we lay down over here?” He questions

Now is the moment that you've stressed over. The anxiety becomes real now that you're here in the moment and it's happening.

“Okay sure.” You see Steve take his shirt off, his golden tan skin glowing already. The highlights in his hair really come out in the sun and his arms-

“Are you gonna look at me all day or are u gonna swim?” Steve says, catching you in your gaze.

“What? I can't look at my hot boyfriend?” You bite back as you take your shorts and tank top off.

You go to grab the sunscreen and behind you, you hear a loud whistle. It makes you turn around quickly and Steve is quick to put you into his arms and give you a kiss.

You can't help but smile as he does it, the fear and anxiety quickly washing away. Unsure why it was ever there in the first place especially when it comes to Steve.

“How’d I get the most beautiful girlfriend in the world?” He says, eyeing you up and down, biting his lip from smiling too hard.

“Hmmm I don't know I ask myself that all the time!” You smile back as you spray the sunscreen on your arms.

“You want help?” Steve asks you trying to be the most helpful he can

But all your brain does is short circuits, all the romance movies of this exact scenario coming to you in an instant.

“Yes please” you say meekly.

Steve rubs the lotion on you, lifting your bikini strap to completely cover your shoulders. He then movies to your back. He is so slow as he rubs into you and it feels extremely good. But then you yelp in surprise when he slaps your butt.

“Steve!” You yell in surprise

“What! I couldn't help myself!” He says laughing hand still on your butt.

“I think you covered me, do you want help?” You blink your lashes innocently at him.

“Sure” He says with a small smile

You start with his shoulders making sure to give him a nice message. It almost throws you off your game when he lets out a small moan in satisfaction. But you stay strong not giving up, he deserves payback.

“Feel good?” You question, trying to come off completely neutral.

“So good baby, so good.” He completely can't see it coming

You move down towards his back still making sure it's relaxing, he did do all this work for your pool day after all. As you move further down his back you slap his butt just as hard if not harder earning a loud yell coming out of him.

“You are evil!” Steve yells in shock

You can't help but fall over on the chair laughing. His face shows every emotion he's feeling. Shocked eyes, wide mouth, jaw hanging. You wish you could take a picture.

“Sorry baby but you deserved it!” You say giving him puppy eyes but failing as you laugh.

“Alright I guess fair is fair.” Steve sighs

It's not until you get up from the chair that Steve grabs you and runs toward the edge of the pool.

“Steve Harrington. Put me down right now!” You scream as he holds you over his shoulder. You slap his butt even more trying to force him to put you down.

He doesn't move. Instead he says “Hmm to throw you in or to not throw you in.”

You roll your eyes as his comment “Steve I will never ever forgive you if you throw me in!” You scream but there's no real heat behind your words.

Steve decides to take his chances as he jumps in the pool with you in his arms. You both yell as you jump. You then come back up to the surface.

“That was just so mean Harrington.” You say splashing him with water.

He laughs hard at your reaction. Steve doesn't know if he's ever laughed this much in his life. You haven't been over for too long and it already feels so comfortable. There's no awkwardness or stress. It's just so simple, so easy.

Once you stop splashing him you finally take a real look at him. His hair is pushed back and his smile is wide showing off his nice teeth. He really is perfect isn't he? He swims over to you near the shallow end and you grab onto him. Your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. It's a silent moment but comfortable silence. You lay your head on his shoulder.

“I've had a lot of fun today, thank you for inviting me over.” You mumble into his shoulder. There's so many freckles on his arm and all you do is trace a line of them together.

“There's no need to thank me baby, I'm glad you came over. I’ve had a lot of fun too.” He gives your head a kiss despite your hair being wet. You look up at him and give him a kiss. It's one that lingers longer than a normal kiss. Making a moment out of it, the fact that it's just you two and you truly wouldn't want to be anywhere else than with him. How lucky you were to have someone like him!

#steve harrington #blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things au #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #writing

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muddyorbsblr · 1 day ago

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much ado about nothing drabble set 1

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: married era

Summary: some slice of life snapshots of Tom & Y/N's life during the rehearsals phase of the play

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k (across 2 drabbles)

Warning/s: language (slightly) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: chaotic wifey Reader hours

permission to smack

"Is it alright if I smack his bum?"

You closed your laptop and stared up at Hayley with a confused look on your face. "Wait, what?"

"We're discussing some sequences for the play and there's some talk of bum smacking and I just wanted to make sure you were alright with it."

"Wait…babes are you asking me if it's okay for you to do your job?" The actress let out a nervous chuckle, the absurdity of your words hitting her the same way it did you with her initial question.

"Erm…yes, yes I suppose I am. It's just--I know that you don't move as deeply in the acting world that we do, and it doesn't sit right with me if I don't run some things by you before--"

You gently placed your hands on her shoulders. "Hayley look at me. It's fine, it's all fine. I appreciate you asking for my blessing but I gotta be honest…this is uncharted territory for me. You're the first co-star to ever ask me something like this." Your mind wandered back to a few years back…how your mind went and almost completely shut off having to watch him film a love scene on grassy marshes. "No one's ever really bothered to ask if I'm okay with anything other than my husband."

It surprised you how quickly she caught on, mouthing a name and simply nodding in understanding when you gave her a single raise of your eyebrows to confirm.

"But it's a role, and that's all it is. You've been in our life for as long as there has been an 'our life', so everything's fine. Just as long as you leave it strictly at the role, then I have no reason to threaten you the way I did Grande."

She clasped her hand over yours. "You have to tell me that story one day. I've only ever heard snippets."

"One day," you promised her, squeezing her hand back. "Just know that it's okay with me. Smack away. Just…make sure that you keep your hand placement mindful because the man refuses to wear pants."

Hayley near doubled over in laughter as she held you with both hands now trying to keep standing upright.

Loud music began to fill the room and you felt a tug on your free hand, a smile stretching across your face when you locked eyes with your husband. "Dance with me before you go?"

"Always," you told him, letting him pull you into his arms and lead you in a twirly dance around the studio. It vaguely reminded you of dancing at your reception, Tom effortlessly lifting you from the ground with a single arm wrapped around you, pressing your body against his as he spun in a circle.

"What was that about?" His eyes darted over to where you stood with Hayley a moment ago.

"I told her if she's gonna be smacking your ass to keep in mind your aversion to underwear," you answered casually, your smile growing wider when he threw his head back and laughed, placing you back down on the ground before dipping you.

"A menace as always, goddess," he said softly before placing a quick kiss on your neck.

"What can I say? I get it from my darling husband."

He led you to stand upright, keeping his arm around your waist and resting his forehead on yours. "I'll see you when rehearsal's finished?"

"Count on it."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before loosening his hold on you. "Take care of my heart."

You laid your hand on his chest, and he placed his much larger hand on yours, giving you a chance to press a soft kiss to his wedding ring. "Take care of mine."

The entire room erupted into a chorus of whoops and cheers when he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, immediately taking you both out of your little bubble and reminding you that there was somewhere you needed to be for work in under an hour. You hastily went over to sling your bag over your shoulder and gave Hayley a quick hug.

On a whim, you decided to embrace the chaos and give her a final piece of advice. "Right cheek, lower right quadrant. If you wanna maximize bounce when you're on stage. Oh, and swing upward at an angle."

saved you a seat

"Y/N, I've reserved a seat in the third row for you for every show," Jamie told you when you'd dropped your husband off for rehearsals. "Towards the center so you can really see everything."

You shook your head at him, giving the director an apologetic smile. "Thank you but really that seat will be better off being available to purchase. I have a thing with seeing my husband doing any sort of love scene in real time…? Like I can watch it on a screen no problem, but when it's happening right in front of me my brain gets a bit fucked," you explained.

"I see." He nodded, starting to understand where you were coming from. "So you haven't watched him film any romantic scenes in those projects you worked on together?"

You shook your head again. "Not since 2021. And it wasn't even a full on sex scene it was just supposed to be like simulated finger blasting and some kissing and my mind still shut down. Took him nearly three hours to get through to me. That's when I knew it probably wasn't best for me to watch it happening."

"Shame," he remarked, giving you a light pat on your arm. "He's doing incredibly and I just know you would have been proud seeing him up on that stage."

"I'm always proud of him," you told him. "And I'm sure that he's gonna be amazing. Like he always is."

"How about I give you a backstage pass instead? So you won't have to deal with security questioning you trying to get to his dressing room?"

"Now that I will gladly take." Before you left to attend to your own projects for the day, you decided to impart some advice for costuming. "Oh, and since I know there's gonna be a good amount of movement and dancing for this, I beg you don't listen to my husband when he says he wants to wear tighter clothes. He's gonna rip a seam lunging if he gets his way."

"That'll get everyone talking," he joked.

"It sure would," you said back with a laugh. "But I've gone through extensive lengths to make sure that his dick hasn't been plastered throughout the internet, and somehow that dark grainy clip from High-Rise still exists. I'll be damned if another somehow makes its way online just because his costume trousers are as tight as his jeans."

A/N: I've been having some thoughts & thots on how the OLTK blorbos would be acting in this era of Much Ado and trying to figure out how it's going to fit in a full chapter, but then I decided "fuck it" and just make lil snapshot moments instead and turn them into drabble sets.

Might have one coming soon involving some after show shenanigans in Tom's dressing room. And also a drabble set (that could still potentially turn into full chapters with smuttery) during the filming of Night Manager.

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814 @jaidenhawke

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #one look & they'll know #muddyorbs writes

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six-white-venus · 1 day ago

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the problem with living in survival mode for all your developmental years is that when it finally does get better, you don't know what the fuck to do with yourself.

"you're still so childish," my mom had chided fondly one day when i was laughing at a crude joke that wasn't all that funny and i had to hold myself back from asking, "really?"

because in all honesty, i don't really know what it means to be a child. i didn't even know happiness before now, and i've never lived a day without the sheer intensity of my emotions crushing me. have i ever been a child? i don't know, because this is how i remember my life so far:

me, aged 6, sitting in front of the TV with my cold plate of food, watching dora the explorer

Sad.

and now

i'm still getting used to the novelty of having a full night's sleep everyday and not waking up wanting to kill myself, what do you mean i have to figure out what to do with my life? i have been handed something that i never wanted, that i never dared to hope for, and i hold this life in my palms with all the care i can muster with my jagged edges and freezing skin.

i'm living life in non-chronological order. i was 37 before i was 15, i am now 13 when i'm supposed to be 20. sometimes i feel older than life and so, so tired. the other day i found myself being hit with a wave of jealousy so large that i couldn't breathe for a second while looking at a 14 year old because i would never be able to have what she does. and it really is a new low, hating a middle schooler just a little because when i was 14 my biggest concern wasn't failing math but keeping myself from breaking my clean streak of two days by reaching for the kitchen knife. it's disorienting to walk around trying to 'act my age' because i feel like i'm in a whole new world than everyone else. everyday i'm made to write a surprise quiz that everyone but me was informed about. not everyone knows how to walk someone down the ledge. barely anyone fists their hands on their lap while listening to lectures on mental health thinking wrong, wrong, wrong that's not how depression works, that's not how children who want to die think, that's not the only reason for a young person to lose themself, that's not how misery feels on your skin, on your tongue. wrong, wrong, WRONG.

no, i don't know my plans for the future but i do know how to carry the weight of the world in my chest and how to hide finger nails bitten till raw and red and how to write with blood and how to cover it all up with a smile and- all of that is useless? oh. oh.

it feels like an elaborate joke, almost; like the universe is having a good laugh at my expense because the world is asking for a sculpture and all i have are my barely healed hands and a broken clay pot that has no hope of being salvaged. it's not about falling behind in the race, it's about being shoved into a goddamn marathon when you haven't even learned to walk yet. and no, dragging myself to the finish line on all fours with scraped knees and palms shredded by gravel is no longer an option.

how the hell do you live when all you know is to survive?

but really, it's not as bad as i'm making it sound, at least not all of it. this liminal space that hangs between childhood and adulthood and everything that comes before and after that, it's not awful. yeah, i'm still not sure if i will get into med school, but i'm falling a little bit in love with the sound of my laugh. i might have a huge void in my head where the last 6 years should be, but i'll never forget the laugh that bubbled out of my chest when my doctor halved my med dosage. i still carry my grief like a cloak over my shoulders but i've been leaving it behind in my house more and more because it's getting too warm for anything more than a t-shirt these days.

and after all that, the question still remains: what the hell do i do now?

laugh with my friends, maybe. make a mean cup of tea. learn everything all over again, from the start. smile till it sits on my face like it always belonged there. go to sleep early, because that's something i like doing these days.

what do i do now? i ask my mom and she tells me to help her with lunch. what do i do now? i ask my sister and she tells me to shut up and listen to the latest gossip from her class. what do i do now? i ask my best friend and he throws me his phone without looking and tells me to order whatever i'm craving.

what do i do now? i ask and they all say, isn't it obvious? you start living.

#hi guys my birthday is growing closer so of course i need to write something emo that boils down to “how tf am i alive”#and “fuck it we BALL.”#this is not exactly poetry but it is Something so please take my humble offering #hope this doesn't suck ass #my writing #prose poetry #words #writeblr #prose #grief #friendship #tw suicidal thoughts #tw depression #healing #growing up #new beginnings

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aspenmissing · 11 hours ago

Note

hi hi!! would you be open to doing characters x a somewhat flighty/skittish male reader?? Or at least Vander :3

(like a loud noise and he’s gone, very much like a stray cat lol)

ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ? || 5326 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ɴᴏɪꜱᴇꜱ, ᴛᴇᴀꜱɪɴɢ(ᴊɪɴx'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ (ᴊɪɴx'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜɪʏᴀᴀᴀᴀ!! ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ'ꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴠᴀꜱᴛᴀʏᴀ, ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ 'ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ɴᴏ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇꜱ' ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ! ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ <3

JAYCE

Piltover was a city of progress, innovation, and, apparently, sudden loud noises.

Jayce had learned to keep a sharp eye on you, his very flighty Vastaya boyfriend, because if something so much as clanked too loudly, you were gone. One second, you’d be standing beside him, soft-furred ears flicking as you listened to him talk, and the next? There’d be nothing but a faint gust of wind and the distant echo of your rapidly retreating footsteps.

At first, he thought it was kind of cute. You were a little jittery, a little high-strung, but he chalked it up to Vastaya instincts.

Then it started happening constantly.

Jayce would turn his back for a second—just to sign some paperwork, greet a council member, or breathe—and by the time he looked back, you’d have completely disappeared. Poof. Gone. No trace of you except maybe a nervous shopkeeper pointing in a vague direction.

He should’ve expected today to be the same.

The two of you were strolling through the bustling markets, hand-in-hand despite how tense you were. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, vendors shouted out their wares, and Jayce could feel the way your tail was twitching anxiously with every unexpected noise.

"You’re acting like someone's about to rob us," Jayce teased, watching as you warily eyed a group of rowdy enforcers walking by.

"They could," you muttered, tail fluffing slightly. "Piltover looks safe, but that’s what they want you to think."

Jayce raised an eyebrow, biting back a laugh. "Oh? So you think the big, bad bread vendor over there is actually a master thief?"

Your ears twitched. "You joke, but I guarantee that guy’s scammed someone before."

Jayce smirked, watching as you poked at a loaf of bread as if it might suddenly explode. Your Vastayan heritage was a dead giveaway—pointed ears, a tail that never stayed still, soft fur dusting parts of your face and arms. You were all instincts, all hyper-awareness, constantly scanning your surroundings for some kind of threat.

And then, just as Jayce turned to pay for the bundle of supplies—

BOOM!

An explosion ripped through the air, likely some careless Zaunite experiment down by the docks.

But that didn’t matter.

Because the moment the noise hit your ears—

You. Were. Gone.

Jayce blinked, processing the fact that he was now holding nothing where your hand had just been.

"Seriously?!" he groaned, already turning in circles to look for any sign of you.

The vendor, who had seen this exact thing happen before, gave Jayce a slow shake of his head. "You want me to hold onto your bread while you go find him?"

Jayce sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Yeah. Probably best."

After way too much searching, Jayce finally found you clinging to a balcony like a terrified cat.

"Y/N," he called up, arms crossed. "Really?"

You peeked over the railing, eyes wide and still full of adrenaline. Your tail was so fluffed that you looked twice your size. "Did you not hear that?"

"It was an explosion," Jayce said flatly. "They happen."*

"Yes! And I am allergic to explosions, Jayce!*" You huffed, still gripping the balcony for dear life. "I have very good instincts. You should trust them more."

Jayce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can’t just disappear every time something makes a loud noise, Y/N."

"I absolutely can."

"No, you—Y/N, get down from there."

You narrowed your eyes. "How do I know it's safe?"

"Because I'm here," Jayce said, exasperated. "And if another explosion happens, I promise I'll—"

POP!

Another distant bang echoed from the direction of the docks.

And you?

GONE.

Jayce didn’t even blink before you vanished again, launching yourself off the balcony and disappearing into the nearest alleyway.

Jayce let out the loudest, most dramatic groan imaginable. "For the love of—"

The vendor from earlier just so happened to be passing by and shot Jayce a knowing look. "Tough luck, champ."

Jayce glared. "I'm buying a leash."

VIKTOR

The clatter of metal against the stone floor sent you bolting.

One moment, you were beside Viktor, leaning over the table as he fiddled with a delicate contraption, and the next, you were gone—nothing but the flutter of fabric and a faint gust of air marking your departure.

Viktor sighed, rubbing his temple as he glanced upward. Sure enough, there you were, perched precariously on a wooden beam, tail wrapped tightly around it for balance. Your fur bristled slightly, ears flicking at every tiny sound in the lab, your wide eyes darting from one shadow to the next as if another danger was about to spring forth.

"You know," Viktor began, tapping his cane lightly against the floor, "for someone so agile, you are surprisingly easy to startle."

You blinked down at him, still clinging to the beam. "That was loud," you huffed, voice edged with nervous energy. "What if it was an explosion? Or a rogue chemtech monstrosity? Or—"

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. "It was a wrench, drahý," he reassured. "Merely a wrench slipping from my grasp, not the end of the world." (Dear)

You narrowed your eyes, still unconvinced. "You say that, but you work with some very unstable things."

Viktor leaned against his desk, shifting his weight onto his cane with a slow, measured movement. His golden gaze flickered with something between amusement and fond exasperation. "Then I suppose it is fortunate I have you here to flee at the first sign of danger. You can be my early warning system, yes?"

Your tail flicked, and you pouted. "I am not an alarm."

"No, of course not," Viktor said smoothly. "Alarms stay in place when triggered. You, however, are halfway across the city before I can blink."

You huffed but finally dropped down, landing lightly on your feet. Viktor reached out instinctively, his hand brushing your arm as you wobbled slightly. His fingers were warm despite the usual chill of the lab, a grounding presence against your heightened nerves. You resisted the urge to bolt again at the unexpected touch—he was one of the few people you allowed to get this close.

"Better?" you mumbled, ears still twitching, scanning for another sudden noise.

"Much," he murmured, giving you a small, knowing smile. Then, with a teasing tilt of his head, he added, "Though, if I were to create an alarm based on you, I would need to account for how quickly it vanishes when triggered. Quite the unique design challenge."

You swatted at his shoulder with your tail, pouting. "I swear, one of these days, I’m going to—"

The door slammed open.

Gone.

By the time Jayce stepped inside, all he saw was Viktor standing alone, sighing deeply, his golden eyes flicking upward to where you had once again scrambled into the rafters.

Jayce frowned. "Did… did I miss something?"

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ah, yes," he drawled. "Another successful stress test of my partner’s flight response. Quite effective. I should start taking notes."

Jayce raised a brow. "What, did you scare him off again?"

"I did nothing," Viktor said, voice tinged with mild offense. "He abandoned me. Again. One loud noise, and poof—gone, like a stray breeze." He tapped his cane against the floor pointedly, looking up at you. "Leaving me to my tragic fate, no less. If I had collapsed just now, who would have caught me, hmm? Certainly not you."

From the rafters, you groaned. "Not funny, Viktor."

His smirk said otherwise.

Jayce crossed his arms. "Okay, but like… how do you keep getting up there so fast?"

Viktor, still looking up at you with a mix of fondness and exasperation, deadpanned, "Years of evolutionary perfection, Jayce. He is a marvel of agility and fear-induced propulsion."

You peeked down at them, tail swishing. "Or maybe I'm just smart enough to know that if something explodes in this room, standing next to Viktor is not the safest place to be."

Jayce snorted. "Okay, fair point."

Viktor sighed dramatically. "I am deeply wounded by this lack of faith in my scientific prowess." He rested a hand on his chest as if physically pained. "And my physical safety, apparently. Do you even know how long it takes me to move across this room if you are not here to help me?"

You hesitated, eyes flicking down to his cane. A pang of guilt settled in your chest. He was teasing, sure, but there was some truth in his words. Viktor was fast—when he had to be—but his condition meant his movements were always measured, his balance reliant on careful distribution of weight and the steady rhythm of his cane. If something had happened while you bolted…

Your ears drooped slightly.

Viktor, ever perceptive, softened his expression. "I jest, lásko," he said gently. "Mostly." (Love)

You sighed before, with an almost reluctant grace, dropping down from the rafters again. Your landing was effortless, though your tail twitched with lingering nervousness.

"I don't mean to leave you in the dust," you murmured, rubbing at the back of your neck. "It’s just… instinct."

Viktor smiled, reaching out to tap your nose lightly with his finger. "I know," he said simply. "It is what makes you, you."

Jayce, watching the exchange, smirked. "Wow, this is the softest I’ve seen you be, Vik."

Viktor rolled his eyes, but his hand still lingered lightly on your arm. "Yes, yes, very amusing. Now, if you are done causing another mass exodus, perhaps we can return to work before another tool decides to betray me and sends my dear partner scurrying for the hills?"

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I don’t scurry."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged glances.

"You definitely scurry," Jayce confirmed.

Viktor nodded sagely. "Much like a particularly dramatic squirrel."

You threw your hands up. "Unbelievable!"

Viktor chuckled, guiding you gently back to the worktable. This time, when another tool clattered, you only flinched.

Progress.

JAYVIK

The lab was quiet—too quiet.

Jayce sighed, rubbing his temples as he scanned the room. The usual hum of Hextech machinery filled the air, faint blue light flickering off the metallic walls. The soft clinking of cooling metal and the occasional static pop of unstable energy in the conduits should have been a comfort, a familiar background noise to their work. But something felt off.

Something—or rather, someone—was missing.

Viktor stood beside him, leaning heavily against his cane, golden eyes narrowed with mild irritation. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished metal handle, his expression unreadable, though Jayce could tell he was just as unimpressed as he was.

“He’s hiding again,” Viktor muttered, shifting his weight slightly to alleviate pressure on his weaker leg.

Jayce sighed, exhaling sharply through his nose as he crossed his arms. “I didn’t even drop anything this time.”

Viktor gave him a pointed look. “No, but you did slam the door.”

Jayce groaned, tossing his head back. “That was hours ago!”

Viktor arched a brow. “He holds grudges.”

Jayce opened his mouth to argue but stopped as a soft rustling noise echoed from above them. Both men snapped their gazes upward.

Viktor shook his head, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. Jayce, however, let out a heavy sigh.

“Y/N,” Jayce called, voice gentler this time. “We’re not mad. You can come down.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, a pair of feline-like eyes peeked over the edge of the highest shelf in the lab. Wide, wary, gleaming in the dim Hextech glow. Y/N’s ears, normally flicking in restless curiosity, were flattened against his head. His claws were sunk deep into the wooden beam, gripping it like his life depended on it, his tail curled protectively around his body.

Jayce softened his stance. “Come on, big guy. We promise we’re not gonna grab you.”

Y/N’s pupils were thin slits, his tail flicking anxiously.

“I—I don’t trust you,” he stammered, voice tinged with unease. “You’re gonna grab me.”

Jayce blinked. “I was gonna grab you, yeah. But not if you’re gonna bolt.”

Y/N’s ears twitched, his claws flexing against the wood. “That’s what you say,” he muttered, shifting his weight slightly. “But then—bam!—suddenly, I’m trapped.”

Viktor tapped his cane against the floor, drawing Y/N’s attention away from Jayce. “The fact that you do not trust us despite being in a committed relationship is quite concerning, dear,” he mused, voice rich with amusement. “You practically teleport when startled. One day, you are going to hit the ceiling and get stuck.”

Y/N let out a nervous grumble, adjusting his position. “Not my fault you humans are loud,” he muttered. “Big, clunky, and loud. You make all this metal stuff, and it falls, and bam!—I’m dead.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but chuckled. “C’mon, Y/N, you’ve survived this long. You’re just—”

CRASH.

A wrench, precariously perched on the edge of the worktable, slipped and hit the floor with a loud metallic clang.

Gone.

Y/N was gone.

A blur of sleek fur and frantic energy shot past them at an impossible speed, his claws scraping against the floor as he vanished. The window rattled from the force of his retreat. Loose papers spiraled into the air, fluttering aimlessly in his wake.

Jayce groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

Viktor, unphased, merely chuckled, adjusting his weight. “You left a wrench on the table, Jayce. You brought this upon yourself.”

Jayce scowled at him. “You’re not helping.”

A long silence passed before Viktor tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking upward.

“Check the rafters.”

Jayce followed his gaze. Sure enough, nestled in the highest beams of the ceiling, a pair of glowing golden eyes peered down at them.

Jayce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really?”

A low, indignant hiss filtered down from the shadows. “I live here now.”

Jayce exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms while Viktor smirked. “Oh? Well, if you live up there,” Viktor drawled, “I suppose you do not need cuddles tonight.”

Y/N twitched. His tail flicked once, then again, betraying his internal struggle.

“…That’s blackmail,” he muttered.

“Motivation,” Viktor corrected smoothly.

For a long moment, Y/N remained frozen, his claws clicking against the wooden beams. His ears twitched, his tail curling, as if he were actively fighting an inner battle.

Then—slowly—he dropped.

He landed right into Jayce’s waiting arms with a soft thud, a tangle of warm fur and lean muscle settling against the larger man’s chest.

Jayce barely staggered from the impact, rolling his eyes fondly. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Y/N, thoroughly disgruntled, crossed his arms and scowled. “I hate how strong you are.”

Jayce grinned. “You love how strong I am.”

Viktor leaned in slightly, gloved fingers trailing lightly beneath Y/N’s chin, coaxing him to look up. “Do not think I did not see how you lingered in Jayce’s arms,” he teased, voice silky smooth.

Y/N’s tail bristled as he sputtered, pushing against Jayce’s chest. “I—I didn’t! I—shut up!”

Jayce simply chuckled, tightening his arms around him.

Viktor tilted his head. “Perhaps you need a distraction, hm?”

Y/N barely had time to react before Viktor’s lips brushed against his cheek, slow and deliberate, warm against his skin. Jayce, never one to be left out, pressed a kiss against the sensitive spot beneath Y/N’s jaw, his breath hot against his fur.

Y/N twitched violently, his tail puffing up to twice its usual size, his ears pinning flat.

“I—I hate you both,” he stammered, his face burning as he tried—and failed—to squirm free.

Jayce smirked. “No, you don’t.”

Viktor hummed in agreement, golden eyes glittering with amusement. “You tolerate us.”

Y/N groaned, covering his face with his hands, his tail lashing behind him.

For all his flightiness, for all his instinct to run at the first sign of loud noises and sudden movements—he did like this part.

He supposed he could tolerate the racket.

…For now.

VANDER

The Last Drop was unusually quiet tonight—well, as quiet as a bar in the Lanes could be. Vander leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes idly scanning the room. It was a rare moment of peace, one he wasn’t going to take for granted.

Y/N, however, wasn’t so sure about the supposed ‘peace.’ His ears twitched at every little sound, sharp eyes flicking from the dim lanterns to the swinging door to the creaky floorboards. His tail flicked behind him, a nervous habit he hadn’t shaken since he was a kid. The air in the bar was thick with the scent of ale, smoke, and the ever-present metallic tang of Zaun, but even that familiar comfort didn’t ease his nerves.

Powder was at his side, humming softly as she toyed with a small contraption in her hands. He liked the kid. She wasn’t as loud as Mylo, nor as aggressive as Vi. She had an energy about her, sure, but it was never overbearing. Plus, he’d found she startled just as easily as he did.

Claggor sat nearby, ever the quiet observer, tinkering with a small piece of metal, likely something salvaged from a junk heap. He was steady, reliable—someone who balanced out Mylo’s mouthy attitude and Vi’s stubborn streak. Y/N appreciated that about him. Unlike the others, Claggor didn’t demand much, nor did he ever get irritated when Y/N’s instincts got the better of him. He simply rolled with it, unfazed. Maybe that’s why Powder stuck close to him too. He was the calm in the chaos, and right now, Y/N could use some of that calm

They’d bonded over that.

The two of them had long since developed an unspoken agreement—when things got too loud, too overwhelming, they had each other’s backs. Powder had learned to stick close to Y/N, knowing he’d have the quickest reaction if something spooked them. And Y/N? Well, he liked having someone who didn’t judge him for his instincts.

So when Vander, ever the gentle giant, suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and let out a loud, earth-shaking sneeze—

Y/N reacted on instinct.

One moment he was perched on the bar stool, Powder by his side. The next? Gone. Both of them.

The chair rocked slightly in his absence before settling back down, and Vander blinked in bewilderment.

The rest of the room had barely registered the sneeze, but it might as well have been a gunshot for Y/N. In a split second, he had scooped Powder up and vanished, moving so quickly it left the patrons blinking in confusion. Mylo sputtered into his drink, Vi let out a long-suffering groan, and Claggor turned toward the door as if expecting to see Y/N already outside.

Vander rubbed his nose, sighing. “Dammit.”

Vi, across the room, groaned. “Not again.”

The door creaked open, and Claggor poked his head in from outside. “Did Y/N just bolt with Powder?”

Vi didn’t even look up. “Yeah.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

From above, muffled whispers floated down from the rafters.

“Y/N… we’re in the ceiling again.”

“Yes, I’m aware, Powder.”

A pause.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight anymore.”

Y/N hesitated before slowly loosening his grip. Powder shuffled, peeking down through the beams. “Vander’s just staring at us.”

Y/N peered down as well. Sure enough, Vander was standing beneath them, arms crossed, an exasperated yet amused look on his face.

“You done up there?” Vander asked, voice gruff but laced with fondness.

Y/N’s tail twitched. “… Maybe.”

Vander sighed and reached up. “C’mon, let’s get you both down before you fall and give me an actual heart attack.”

Y/N huffed but obeyed, gently lowering Powder before hopping down himself. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Vander’s large hands landed on his shoulders, steadying him.

“Y’know,” the older man said, voice softer now, “if you keep running off like that, I might just have to keep ya close all the time.”

Y/N flushed, ears flicking back. “Not my fault you sneeze like a damn bomb went off.”

Powder giggled beside him, and Vander chuckled, giving his shoulders a firm squeeze before finally letting go. “C’mon, let’s get you a drink to settle those nerves.”

Y/N huffed but didn’t argue, letting Vander gently nudge him toward the bar.

This time, he stayed put—though he kept one eye on the door, just in case.

SILCO

The Last Drop was never silent, but tonight it was particularly loud.

A fight had broken out near the bar, sending bottles crashing to the ground, glass shattering under boots, voices raising in drunken slurs and anger. Someone pulled a gun—then a shot rang out.

And you?

You were gone.

One moment, you had been sitting comfortably at Silco’s side, listening intently to the low murmurs of conversation, your tail curling idly around your chair as you observed his dealings with Finn, Sevika, and other high-ranking members of Zaun’s underbelly. The next, your instincts had seized control—muscles reacting before your brain had even fully processed the sound.

A blur of movement. The sharp scrape of claws against wood. Your body tensed as you vaulted upward, disappearing into the rafters, where dim lighting barely reached. Your heart pounded so violently that it echoed in your ears, your pupils blown wide as they flicked across the bar below, scanning for danger. Your tail was puffed up, bristling like a live wire, and your ears lay flat against your skull.

Down below, the fight had ended almost as quickly as it had started. Sevika had handled it with brutal efficiency—she always did. The unconscious man lay sprawled across a shattered table, blood trickling from his mouth. The rest of the bar had already returned to normal, though a few wary patrons were still murmuring amongst themselves.

But no one was looking at the poor bastard who had picked the wrong night to start a fight.

They were looking at you.

Finn let out a low whistle, exhaling a puff of cigar smoke. "Every damn time." He smirked, nudging his drink with lazy amusement. "You’d think he’d get used to it by now."

Sevika scoffed, arms crossed over her broad chest. "He's like a damn alley cat," she muttered, tilting her head up to glance at your silhouette in the shadows. "Skittish as hell, always bolting at the first sign of trouble."

Silco, however, said nothing.

Instead, he merely swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his mismatched gaze trained upward, following the exact spot where you perched. His fingers tapped against the rim of his glass, slow and methodical.

"Indeed," he murmured, his tone unreadable.

You swallowed hard, your breathing still uneven. Your claws remained locked against the wooden beams, muscles tight and coiled, every instinct screaming at you to stay put, to wait until the threat had fully passed.

You knew you looked ridiculous—cowering in the rafters like some cornered stray—but fear didn’t care about appearances. It didn’t care that you were supposed to be past this. That you were meant to be safe here.

And yet, your body wouldn’t let go of the tension.

Silco sighed softly, barely audible beneath the low hum of the bar. He set his glass down, then flicked his wrist in a subtle yet dismissive motion.

"Leave us."

Finn blinked. "What?"

Silco didn’t repeat himself.

He simply looked at Finn and Sevika—the kind of look that wasn’t a suggestion but an order. The kind that left no room for argument.

Sevika exhaled through her nose, shaking her head before pushing away from the table. "Your funeral," she muttered, striding off toward the bar.

Finn, however, was slower to move, clearly amused by the situation. He smirked, standing and adjusting the lapels of his jacket. "You spoil him, you know that?" he said, flicking his cigarette ash onto the floor. "The little guy runs every time, and you still—"

Silco’s gaze flicked to him.

Finn shut his mouth.

With a low chuckle, he gave a mock two-fingered salute and walked away, leaving you alone with Silco.

The silence stretched for a long moment.

Only then did your breathing start to even out. Your claws loosened their hold on the rafters. The moment Sevika and Finn’s eyes were off you, your body finally allowed itself to come down from the high-strung panic.

Silco leaned back in his chair, his attention never wavering from your spot above. He didn’t speak. He didn’t demand you come down.

He just waited.

It took time, but eventually, you moved.

Your descent was slow, deliberate—each movement cautious, muscles still primed to bolt if something too loud, too sudden happened again. Your claws clicked against the wooden floor as you landed, tail still flicking with residual unease.

Silco’s gaze met yours, unreadable yet calm. Then, with the same quiet patience, he gestured toward the empty seat beside him.

You hesitated, your ears twitching, scanning the bar once more. The tension was still there, just beneath the surface.

But Silco’s lack of urgency was grounding.

Reluctantly, you moved forward, slipping into the seat beside him with the same near-silent movements you always had. Your tail curled instinctively around your leg, your body still vibrating with a leftover edge of adrenaline.

"You’re particularly flighty tonight," Silco mused, voice smooth, calculated.

Your gaze flickered to the shards of glass still littering the floor. A barely noticeable shudder ran through you. "Loud noises mean danger," you muttered, your voice quieter than before, but no less firm.

Silco hummed, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass again. "A sensible instinct. One that likely kept you alive in the past."

You nodded slightly. It had. Survival in Zaun wasn’t just about strength—it was about knowing when to run, when to hide, when to disappear. You had survived because you knew how to avoid being seen at all.

Silco leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp yet unreadable. "But you are not alone anymore, little cat."

You bristled, ears twitching at the nickname. "I’m not little."

That same faint smirk tugged at his lips. "No?"

His movements were slow, deliberate—careful. He knew better than to startle you. His gloved fingers reached out, brushing along the sharp line of your jaw, then up, trailing over the fur-lined curve of your ear.

Your breath hitched, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Your ears flicked, but you didn’t pull away. Not fully.

Silco’s voice softened just a fraction. "You are safe here, Y/N."

The words lingered, heavy but not forceful.

There was a pause. A long, drawn-out moment where you considered them—where you considered him.

Then, finally, you sighed. Your shoulders unlocked from their rigid state, and cautiously, you leaned against his side, pressing into the warmth of his presence.

Silco didn’t move, didn’t push.

He simply let you be.

His presence was solid, steady—a tether in the storm that was Zaun.

Your tail flicked once, then settled, curling loosely over Silco’s leg as you allowed yourself to breathe.

Silco merely took a slow sip of his whiskey, allowing the quiet to settle between you.

You might always be skittish. You might always be quick to flee at the first sign of danger.

But as long as you had Silco, you’d always have a place to land.

JINX

The first time Jinx saw him run, she nearly choked on her own laughter.

Y/N had always been a flighty thing—jumpy, twitchy, ready to bolt at the drop of a pin. And, well, Jinx found it hilarious. She took it as a personal challenge, seeing just how fast she could get him to take off. Firecrackers, sudden yells, even dropping wrenches near him while they were fixing up one of her bombs—every time, Y/N practically evaporated into thin air.

It never got old. One second he was standing there, ears flicking at the noise—then poof! Gone. Vanished into the alleys or onto a rooftop, tail bristled, eyes wide. It was like magic.

"You're like a lil’ scaredy-cat! Or a rabbit! Nah, nah, a fox! Yeah, a big ol' fluffy fox!" Jinx had cackled once, hands on her knees as she doubled over in laughter while Y/N clung to a rooftop ledge, panting and wild-eyed.

The best part? He never got mad. Sure, he huffed and grumbled, but he never truly snapped at her. Maybe he just knew it wouldn’t change anything. Maybe deep down, he even liked the attention. But still—he ran every time.

Until the day it all went wrong.

Jinx had been lurking in the alley, waiting for the perfect moment. She’d found a little party popper in her stash—harmless fun, right? Just a tiny pop! Nothing serious.

She waited for him to pass. And then—BANG!

Just as expected, Y/N vanished.

But this time, there was a yelp. A bad one. The kind that made her stomach drop.

Her grin faltered. “Uh… Y/N?”

Silence.

Something twisted in her gut, an unfamiliar squeeze of something that felt a whole lot like guilt. Jinx didn’t do guilt. Not really. But something about this—about the way that yelp had sounded, high and wrong—sent her instincts into overdrive.

She scanned the alley, pulse picking up, a nervous energy she didn’t recognize bubbling beneath her skin.

Then she saw him.

Crumbled between two metal crates, one leg twisted at a nasty angle, his ears pinned back against his head in pain. His tail twitched weakly, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

He must’ve leapt too fast, miscalculated, and crashed straight into the junk pile.

“Oh, crap.” The words left her in a breathless murmur as she jogged over.

Y/N bared his teeth—not in the playful, irritated way he usually did, but in a sharp, pained grimace. “D-Don’t do that again.”

Jinx flinched. Not because of the words, but because of the way he said them—small, strained, genuinely hurt. Not just physically, but hurt hurt. The fun was over. The game wasn’t funny anymore.

For once, she was the one reaching out first. “Alright, alright, lemme help ya,” she muttered, scooting down beside him and nudging her shoulder under his arm.

He hesitated, but after a moment, let her take some of his weight. His ears twitched as she carefully helped him up.

Jinx wasn’t used to being careful. Being wild, being chaotic—that was easy. But the way Y/N winced with every step made her slow down, actually think about what she was doing.

She kept her voice light, trying to break the tension. “Damn, you’re heavier than you look.”

Y/N just exhaled sharply, more of a tired sigh than an actual response. His tail flicked weakly behind him, usually so full of movement but now dragging limply.

“…Guess I kinda overdid it, huh?” Jinx admitted, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Didn’t think you’d actually get yourself busted up.”

Y/N exhaled through his nose. “I don’t run for fun, Jinx. It’s just… what I do.”

That made her quiet for a second.

She wasn’t dumb—she knew why people ran. Fear, instinct, survival. She thrived on chaos, but Y/N wasn’t built like her. He was quick, sure, but not because he wanted to be. Because he had to be.

A memory flickered in her mind—of Zaun’s streets, of learning when to run and when to fight. Of knowing that sometimes, running was the only choice.

She let out a breath. “…Guess I won’t be scaring ya anymore, then,” she said after a beat, offering a lopsided grin. “No more poppers, no more sneak attacks. Maybe still some explosions, but, y’know, the usual kind.”

Y/N gave her a tired look, but his lips quirked slightly. “Yeah. The usual kind.”

Jinx helped him the rest of the way back, and for once, she wasn’t cackling at how fast he could run.

She was making sure he could walk.

38 notes · View notes

annafayeink · 2 days ago

Text

All I Ever Wanted

Summary: After weeks of late nights and playful banter, Lu and his project partner find themselves drinking a little too much on Valentine’s Day and spilling some unfiltered truths.

Warnings & tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, College AU, Mutual Pining, Drunken Confessions, Truth or Dare Gone Wrong (or Right?), STEM Nerds in Love, One-Sided Pining (but not really)

Wordcount: 11217 (it's a long one for me...)

Read on AO3

The hum of the computer lab had become their second heartbeat through weeks of late-night debugging sessions, endless energy drinks and heated debates over syntax errors.

Lu leaned back in his chair. The flickering glow of monitors cast a tired haze over his face as he stretched his arms over his head with a groan. “I swear, if I have to debug one more line of code, I’m gonna start throwing things,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Across the table, his project partner smirked, barely glancing up from her screen. “That’s funny. I was just thinking about how much fun it would be to fix your broken code for the third time today.”

Lu scoffed, spinning in his chair to face her. “Excuse me, but my code is art."

She snorted. "Your code could be catching flames in a paper bag on someone’s porch, and you know it."

He laughed out loud, but exhaustion weighed on both of them. The project was nearly done, but the stress of perfecting it had left them both frayed at the edges.

“Alright, I think… I think that should do it,” she muttered, sitting back and running a hand down her face. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and the oversized hoodie she wore had slipped off one shoulder, revealing the strap of her tank top. “Run the test again.”

“You say that every time. You’re like an optimist with Stockholm Syndrome.”

She threw a crumpled candy wrapper at him. “Just do it.”

He smirked and hit the compile button. The two of them leaned in, watching the lines of code execute. A pause—then the program ran cleanly. No errors. No warnings. Just success.

For a moment, they just stared at the screen, the weight of weeks of sleep deprivation, stress, and too much caffeine finally culminating in this single, victorious moment.

Lu grinned. “Holy shit, we did it.”

“We did it!” she echoed, and then to his surprise, she flung herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck in an exuberant hug.

He caught her easily, laughing as he steadied them both. She smelled like vanilla and old books, and for a second, Lu had the ridiculous urge to close his eyes and just breathe her in. Instead, he let his hands settle briefly at her waist before she pulled back.

Then he shook his head, still grinning as he looked at her—really looked at her. The spark in her eyes, the way her nose scrunched slightly when she smiled too hard, the pure, unfiltered joy radiating from her. He felt something settle in his chest, warm and steady, and almost too easy to ignore—if he were the kind of guy who ignored things like this.

“This wouldn’t be possible without you, Pip.”

Her smile softened at the nickname, one he’d given her ages ago when she’d admitted, in passing, that she’d always loved Great Expectations as a kid. Something about underdogs, she’d said. Something about wanting to prove people wrong.

Now, she rolled her eyes but didn’t try to hide the way her lips twitched at the edges. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

“It’s not,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his. “You’re kind of a genius, you know that?”

She scoffed. “Oh, so now you think that? Not when I was sleep-deprived and rambling about recursive functions at 3 AM last week?”

“I mean, that was terrifying, but still impressive.”

“We deserve a break,” she declared, gathering her things. “And since it’s technically still Valentine’s Day…” She checked her phone. “Yeah, not midnight yet. We should celebrate.”

Lu arched a brow. “You wanna celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

“No, dummy.” She shoved her laptop into her bag. “I want to celebrate not wanting to throw myself off a bridge because of this project. Come on, let’s go get drinks. First round’s on me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, but there was no way he was saying no to spending more time with her. Not when she was already pulling him to his feet, eyes bright with excitement.

“Alright, alright,” he said, letting himself be dragged toward the door. “But if you end up drunk and sobbing about your ex, I’m leaving you at the bar.”

She laughed. “Joke’s on you—I don’t have an ex to sob about.”

Lu paused, watching her for half a second longer than he should have.

Interesting.

They walked side by side through the nearly empty campus streets, the occasional couple passing them, hand in hand, lost in their own little Valentine’s Day world. Pip made a show of gagging at a particularly sappy-looking pair sharing a scarf, and Lu nudged her.

“What, jealous?”

Of that?” Pip made a face. “Please. That’s a level of codependency I aspire to avoid.”

Lu smirked. “Says the girl who texted me at 2 AM last week because she couldn’t decide if an array or a hash table was the better choice for our sorting algorithm.”

“That was important,” she said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And you were awake, don’t even pretend you weren’t.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, because I knew you’d overthink it until sunrise otherwise.

She sighed dramatically. “See? This is why I keep you around. You know how to manage my spirals.”

Lu smiled fondly at her back as they turned the corner onto the main street where their favorite little bar was tucked between a bookstore and a laundromat. The neon Open sign glowed warmly against the dark, and the window was fogged up from the heat inside.

The bar was just off-campus, a warm little hole-in-the-wall that smelled like whiskey and old wood. It was quieter than usual, probably because everyone with actual Valentine’s Day plans had gone somewhere fancier.

They slid into a booth near the back, ordering beers to start. Then Pip tucked her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, shrugging with a sort of distant look in her eyes. “I just think some people get way too into Valentine’s Day. Like, it’s all manufactured romance, you know? What, you need an official day to be romantic? Either you love someone or you don’t.”

Lu arched a brow. “So what, if you ever fall in love, you’re gonna refuse to celebrate Valentine’s Day out of sheer principle?”

“Obviously.” She shot him a pointed look. “If my hypothetical future partner ever tries to do some over-the-top grand gesture on February fourteenth, I’ll just break up with them out of spite.”

Lu let out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“Necessary,” she corrected. Then, after a pause, she added, “Though, I guess, if someone really knew me, they’d probably just take me for drinks and let me rant about AI ethics or something.”

Lu laughed. “Ah, yes, the way to your heart—alcohol and an existential crisis.”

“See? You get it.” She grinned at him. “Maybe you should be my Valentine.”

Lu gave a laugh, deciding against analysing why that idea just felt right.

“Okay, but for real,” she said, after their drinks arrived. “If you had a partner, what would you do?”

Lu glanced at her over his beer. “You mean for Valentine’s Day?”

Pip nodded. “Yeah. Say you actually had someone. What’s your move?”

He thought for a second, fidgeting with a peeling corner of the label on his bottle. “I don’t know. I feel like grand gestures are overrated. I’d want to do something that actually means something to them.”

“Like what?”

Lu shrugged. “Depends on the person. Maybe cook for them, or take them somewhere they’ve always wanted to go but never had the time. Or just… spend the day doing nothing together, but in a way that still feels like everything.”

Pip was quiet for a beat, then let out a laugh. “God, that’s disgustingly sweet.”

“You asked,” he pointed out with a shrug.

She took a sip of her beer, and suddenly her eyes lit up with an idea. “Okay, Lu, truth or dare?”

He huffed a laugh. “What are we, twelve?”

“Come on, it’s a classic. And since we don’t have exes to sob about, we might as well make the night interesting.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Fine. Truth."

Pip leaned back, swirling her drink as she considered her options. Then, with a small, mischievous smile, she asked, “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

Lu arched a brow, taking a slow sip of his beer. “Damn. You’re going straight for the deep cuts, huh?”

She shrugged. “We’ve been in the trenches together for months now. I think we’re past the what’s your favorite color phase.”

He tapped his fingers against his bottle, thinking. There were plenty of things he didn’t talk about—most of them too boring or too complicated for a casual drinking game. But then, without really meaning to, he found himself saying, “I almost dropped out last year.”

Pip’s brows lifted, her expression shifting from playful to surprised. “Wait. What?”

Lu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t tell anyone, obviously. But I was seriously thinking about it. Everything felt like too much, you know? The pressure, the expectations, all the shit I thought I was supposed to be able to do but couldn’t. I started wondering if maybe I was just—” He made a vague gesture. “—burning time on something I’d never actually be good enough at.”

Pip didn’t say anything right away. She just watched him, her head tilted slightly, like she was seeing something new in him. Then she said, “What changed your mind?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, taking another sip of his beer. “You, actually.”

Pip’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yeah. You remember that night we pulled an all-nighter working on that neural net assignment? I was this close to just walking away from it all. But then you—” He shook his head, grinning at the memory. “You showed up with, like, three energy drinks, a bag of gummy bears, and a completely unhinged rant about how we were not going to let a buggy dataset ruin our futures.”

Pip laughed. “God, I barely remember that. I was so sleep-deprived I think I started speaking in binary at one point.”

“You did. And you know what? It was weirdly inspiring.” Lu smirked. “Somewhere between you threatening to ‘personally fight every faulty training model’ and the moment you fell asleep face-first on your laptop, I figured—yeah. Maybe I should stick around.”

She was quiet for a second, then softened. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “Not exactly my usual small talk.”

Her expression softened, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. She took another sip of her drink, then pointed at him. “Well, now I feel like my question was too deep. I should’ve just asked what your go-to shower song is or something.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Careless Whisper by George Michael.”

She nearly choked on her beer. “What?”

He shrugged. “I like a little drama in my life.”

Pip burst out laughing, shaking her head. Then, after a beat, she nudged his foot under the table. “Hey, Lu?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you stuck around.”

Something about the way she said it made his chest feel too small for his ribs. He swallowed, forcing himself to keep his tone light. “Yeah, yeah. You just didn’t want to do all the work yourself.”

“Obviously.” Pip rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“Alright, your turn. Truth or dare?”

Pip tapped her nails softly against the neck of her bottle, considering. Then she lifted her chin, a lazy smirk curling at the edges of her lips. “Truth.”

Lu took a sip of his drink, thinking. There were plenty of things he could ask—light, teasing things. But the way she’d looked at him when he admitted almost dropping out was still sitting heavy in his chest. He wanted to ask something real.

So he set his glass down and asked, “What’s something you regret not doing?”

Pip hesitated. For the first time that night, she didn’t immediately have a comeback. Instead, she bit her lip, looking down at the condensation sliding down the side of her bottle.

Lu tilted his head. “Too deep?”

She let out a short laugh. “No, it’s just…” She exhaled, swirling her drink. “I think I regret not being braver about the things I want.”

Lu’s brows lifted slightly. “Like what?”

Pip’s fingers curled around her beer, but when she looked up at him, her gaze held something just out of his reach. “Like saying things when I should.”

Something in his chest tightened. He could feel it—the edge of something unspoken between them, something that had been there longer than either of them had probably wanted to admit.

But then, just as quickly, Pip rolled her shoulders back, shaking it off. She raised her drink in his direction. “But hey, that’s what alcohol is for, right? Liquid courage.”

Lu chuckled, but the moment wasn’t entirely gone. He could still feel it, humming beneath the surface.

“Your turn,” she said like she was in a hurry to change the subject.

He studied her for a second longer than he should have, trying to read the things she wasn’t saying. Then, deciding not to push—not yet, at least—he leaned back with a smirk. “Dare.”

Pip exhaled, looking relieved at the shift in topic. But then a slow grin took over her face, and she leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Alright, Lu. I dare you to go up to the bartender and ask for a Valentine’s Special—without knowing what’s in it.”

Lu chuckled. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Oh, you’ll regret saying that,” she teased. “Now go. Let’s see if you can handle whatever monstrosity they serve you.”

He shook his head, pushing himself up from the booth. “If I end up drinking something pink and covered in whipped cream, I might throw up on you.”

She just grinned, watching him go. But as he crossed the room, she caught herself staring at his back a little too long, her fingers still absently tracing an abstract pattern on the condensation on the bottle.

God. She was in trouble.

They kept drinking, falling back into their usual rhythm—trading stories, daring each other to say ridiculous things to the bartender, laughing too loudly. The bar started to blur at the edges, warm and hazy. Pip’s laugh got looser, her touches lingered longer—fingers brushing against his wrist, knees touching under the table.

Pip wasn’t completely gone, but tipsy enough that she was a little too loose, a little too open. And she had a habit of getting sentimental when she drank—something Lu found stupidly endearing.

“Go on,” Lu said. “Which one?”

She hummed, tilting her head like she was having trouble making a decision. Then she flashed him a lazy grin. “Dare. But make it like… Something that would make future-you cringe when you think about it.”

He let out a low chuckle, swirling the last of his drink. “Alright. I dare you to tell me a secret.”

Pip narrowed her eyes. “That’s too easy.”

“Oh, I’m not done.” Lu leaned forward, his smirk turning sharper. “I dare you to tell me a secret… about me.”

Pip faltered.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, rolling her lips together like she was physically stopping words from spilling out.

Lu watched her, pulse ticking up just slightly. He hadn’t planned this to be a trap, but suddenly, it felt like one.

Pip let out a slow breath, tapping her nails against the rim of her glass. Then, carefully, she said, “You’re a lot more important to me than I let on.”

Lu didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Pip gave him a small, almost hesitant smile. “That count as a secret?”

He should laugh. Tease her. Turn this into something easy and light, the way they always did.

But he couldn’t.

Not when her words were still hanging in the air between them, too big, too real.

He swallowed. “Pip…”

“Wait.” She lifted a hand. “There’s a second part.”

Pip swirled her glass around as if she was trying to find the answer on the bottom. “Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me something you’d only say if you weren’t worried about what happens next.”

Pip blinked with heavy eyelids. This was a dangerous dare. But wasn’t it exactly what she was hoping for?

Her fingers tightened slightly around her empty, and for a moment, she didn’t speak. The bar noise seemed to quiet around them, everything narrowing down to just her and him, the warm glow of the lights reflecting in her eyes.

Pip let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. Then she reacher for his drink and took a long sip, trying to gather her thoughts and get some of that much needed liquid courage.

“Alright,” she said, set the glass down in front of him again. Her voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “I think about you. More than I should.”

Lu stilled, as if the tiniest movement could shatter the moment.

Pip traced the rim of her coaster with her fingertip, not looking at him. “Like, when something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. And when something bad happens, I wonder if you’d make me laugh about it. And when I see something stupid—like a weird-looking pigeon or a meme so dumb it makes me lose brain cells—I think, Lu would get this.” She let out a quiet chuckle, finally meeting his gaze. “And I don’t know what that means, but it’s been happening for a while.”

Lu’s throat was dry. His fingers curled into fists beneath the table.

It took everything in him to keep his voice steady when he said, “That’s a pretty good answer.”

Pip smiled, just barely. “Yeah?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Yeah.”

Her breath hitched. Just a little.

And then, before he could think too hard about it, before he could do something reckless, Pip abruptly stood up.

“I need another drink.”

Lu blinked. “Pip—”

But she was already heading to the bar.

Lu let out a long breath, dragging a hand down his face. His heart was pounding, and not from the alcohol.

When she came back, Pip took a very long sip of her drink even before she sat down. Then she asked him something else in a lighthearted tone.

But her eyes weren’t quite meeting his anymore.

Lu could see it—how she was trying to brush past what she’d just said, how she was treating it like some offhand joke. But her fingers were tapping against her glass, and her lips were pressed together like she was thinking too hard.

Pip had gone quiet. Not her usual, thinking-through-a-bug kind of quiet, but something else. Something heavier. She was staring at her drink like it held the answers to the universe, absentmindedly tracing patterns with her fingertip. Lu watched her, feeling the weight of whatever was about to happen settle in his chest.

He let it sit for a moment, waiting to see if she’d say something else.

She didn't.

She just exhaled and kept playing, making sure the truths and dares turned playful for a while, like an entirely different conversation.

Somewhere between another round of drinks, another round of questions—some deep, some ridiculous, some only half-answered through laughter—Pip started leaning into him more. At first, it was casual. Her shoulder brushing against his when she laughed too hard. Her fingers catching his arm when she emphasized a point. But then her head dipped onto his shoulder, and instead of pulling away, she stayed there.

Lu went still.

He should move. He should say something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned slightly, just enough to glance down at her. Pip, eyes half-lidded, hair falling over her cheek, looking content and maybe just a little drunk.

“You good, Pip?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She hummed. “Mhm.”

“You wanna call it a night?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

Her fingers played absently with the hem of her sleeve, and for a moment, she was silent.

“You wanna stop playing?”

“No, no, we haven't embarrassed ourselves enough,” she slurred slightly, with a smirk. “Truth or dare?”

Lu, also feeling warm from the alcohol, smirked. “Truth.”

She squinted at him like she was trying to focus. “Would you ever—” She cut herself off, frowning. Then shook her head. “No. Wait. I don’t wanna ask that.”

Lu arched a brow. “You can’t start a question and not finish it.”

Pip groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Ugh, I don’t know. My brain-to-mouth filter is completely broken right now.”

Lu chuckled, watching Pip war with herself, her forehead still pressed against the table. She let out a dramatic sigh, then lifted her head, squinting at him through slightly unfocused eyes.

“Okay, fine,” she mumbled, waving a hand in his general direction. “Would you ever… I mean, have you ever thought about…”

Lu leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Thought about what?”

She let out a frustrated groan, scrunching up her face like she was trying to will the words out of her mouth. Then, suddenly, she blurted, “Would you ever date me?”

Suddenly it felt like there was not enough oxygen in the room. Lu took a deep breath, but it was shaky and didn't quite fill his lungs.

Pip immediately sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “Nope. Nope, that wasn’t—I mean, not that it’s a bad question, it’s just—”

Lu tilted his head, watching her completely spiral.

“Would I ever date you?” he repeated, pretending to consider it.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. Then she peeked at him through her fingers, scowling.

Lu exhaled, leaning back against the booth. He swallowed, throat feeling like sandpaper. “You want an answer or not?”

Pip hesitated, then nodded once, slowly.

His smirk faded just slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter. More certain. “Yeah. I’d date you.”

Pip blinked. She seemed to short-circuit for a second. Then she narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

Lu shrugged. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Pip just stared at him. Her mouth opened slightly, then shut again. Then—she grabbed her drink and downed about half of it.

Lu raised a brow. “Something you wanna say?”

She set the glass down a little harder than necessary. “No. I just—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“That’s not an answer.”

Pip scowled at him—kinda. Her eyes were hazy, but searching. “Okay, but like—why?”

Lu frowned slightly. “Why what?”

“Why would you… you know.” She gestured vaguely between them. “Date me.”

Lu considered her for a moment. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and said, “Because you’re you.”

Pip inhaled sharply.

Lu shrugged, playing it off like his heart wasn’t suddenly racing. “You’re smart. You’re funny. And you make me feel like I actually know what the hell I’m doing—even when I don’t.” He met her gaze, steady and unflinching. “So, yeah. I’d date you.”

Pip was completely silent.

For a long, stretching moment, she just stared at him, her lips slightly parted, as if she’d forgotten how to speak. Lu couldn’t tell if she was about to laugh, call him a liar, or throw her drink in his face.

“…That’s not fair,” she finally muttered.

Lu smirked. “What’s not fair?”

She exhaled, shaking her head, staring at the table like it held the answers. “You. Saying stuff like that. Being like that.”

“Like what?”

Pip let out a short, breathy laugh, rubbing a hand over her face. Then, before she could stop herself, she said, “Like someone I can’t imagine my life without.”

Lu blinked.

Pip groaned, shaking her head. “God, I should not be drinking right now.”

Lu leaned in, curiosity sparking, his heart thrumming like it wanted to escape his chest. “What does that mean?”

Pip hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “It means—” She sighed, then looked up at him with a kind of tired fondness. “It means I like you, okay? I like… how you always act like nothing gets to you, but you care so much it’s ridiculous. I like that you always notice when I’m stressed before I even say anything. I like that you walk me home when we stay late at the lab and pretend it’s just because ‘you needed air.’”

Lu exhaled slowly, dizzy, heart hammering in his throat and ears and just everywhere.

But Pip wasn’t done.

“I like that you’re secretly the biggest softie,” she went on, her words getting a little looser, a little warmer, like the dam had finally broken. “Like when you always give the stray cat outside the library part of your sandwich, even though you pretend you don’t like cats.”

Lu huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not my fault, he just looks at me like that.”

Pip chuckled, looking down at her drink. “I like how you talk with your hands when you’re explaining something. And when you’re focusing really hard, you do a little pouty thing with your lips, it’s adorable.”

Lu just stared. He didn’t know if he was breathing.

Pip leaned forward slightly, propping her elbows on the table. “You remember last semester, when my laptop crashed the night before that huge deadline?”

He snorted. “Yeah. You were ready to fight God.”

She pointed at him. “Exactly. I was losing my mind. But you just—” She shook her head. “You showed up with your old laptop, somehow got my files recovered, and then you stayed up with me the whole night just to make sure I finished everything.”

Lu shrugged like it was nothing. “Well, yeah. What was I gonna do, not help?”

“That’s the thing,” Pip said softly. “You don’t even think about it. You just do things like that.”

Lu exhaled, breath ragged like he just ran a marathon, and shifted slightly in his seat. “I mean, you do the same for me.”

Pip sighed. “Yeah, I would do it for you. But you do it for anyone who needs it. You don't mind staying up all night helping people study or finish their projects. You bring them snacks and drinks. You never let anyone sit alone in the lab when they look stressed. ”

Lu was speechless, just staring at her with his mouth slightly opened in surprise.

“Or—” she gestured vaguely, her voice softer now, “—how you knew I was about to crash last semester and left a stupid energy drink in my locker with a note that just said ‘Don’t die, Pip.’”

His mind scrambled for a response but words failed him. He didn’t even remember doing that. Lu opened his mouth, then closed it, caught completely off guard.

Pip kept going, oblivious to the fact that she was absolutely wrecking him.

“Do you even know how stupidly likable you are? You’re just— You walk into a room and people like you. And..” She hesitated for a heartbeat. “And I like that you’re way too competitive about stupid things. Like Mario Kart. Or rock-paper-scissors.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, both at what she said and as a nervous reaction to her entire speech. “That’s called having integrity, Pip.”

She rolled her eyes but kept going. “I like the way you say my full name when you’re being serious.” She swallowed. “I like the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

His eyes widened at the revelation. Pip let the words sink in for a moment. Then she picked up her metaphorical shovel and kept digging the hole.

“Yeah, I really like your eyes. Which is annoying because when you look at me a certain way, my brain just turns into the blue screen of death, and—” She broke off, shaking her head. Then she let out a small, slightly tipsy laugh. “Also I really like your hands.”

Lu’s brain felt like a completely fried motherboard. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, buying himself a second to think.

Pip smiled, just slightly. Like she wasn’t just putting all of this out there, months—maybe years—of pent up feelings she had hidden from him.

“You have, like, objectively nice hands,” she continued, frowning slightly like this was important information. “They’re big but not, like, weirdly big, and you do this thing where you crack your knuckles when you’re thinking and—”

“Pip,” Lu interrupted, his voice slightly strained.

She blinked up at him, like she hadn’t noticed she was rambling. “What?”

Lu exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You can’t just say all that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” He hesitated, shaking his head. “Because it means something.”

Pip stared at him. Then, very softly, she whispered, “It does.”

Lu’s chest tightened.

Pip suddenly looked like she wanted to shrink into the floor. “I should shut up now.”

Lu huffed a breath, shaking his head. She was drunk. Really drunk. She probably didn’t even know what she was saying. “You should.”

But she didn’t. Instead, she let out a breath, barely above a whisper.

“You’re kind of the best person I know,” she murmured.

Lu blinked. “What?”

Pip glanced up at him, eyes a little too bright, a little too earnest. Vulnerable. “You’re a really good person, Lu.” And then, after a pause. “…You’re all I ever wanted." She looked down and shook her head. "I’m sorry I can’t say it sober.”

Silence.

The bar noise felt distant, like it wasn’t even real anymore. Just the sound of her breathing, unsteady, and little too fast.

Lu gripped his drink like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

She wasn’t laughing anymore.

She wasn’t playing anymore.

The words hung in the air between them, delicate and irreversible.

Then, as if realizing what she’d just said, Pip sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going wide, glassy and slightly unfocused. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

Lu just stared at her.

Pip covered her mouth with both hands, looking absolutely horrified. “I should not have said that.”

Lu blinked, dazed, still processing the fact that she had said that.

Pip groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Lu, forget what I said”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Pip let out a pained noise.

Lu exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his face. His chest felt too tight, his mind spinning too fast. He should say something, acknowledge it, tell her—

No.

He couldn’t let himself answer. Not here. Not now. Not while she was like this.

He needed to think. He needed to get those drinks away from her and get her home.

Lu stood abruptly, tossing some cash onto the table. “Come on, drunkie. Let’s get you back before you start reciting poetry or something.”

Pip groaned, still face-down on the table.”I regret all my choices.”

Lu smirked, despite the storm raging in his chest. He bent down and grabbed her hand, tugging her up. “Come on, you need to get some rest.”

She groaned again but didn’t resist when he pulled her to her feet, steadying her with an arm around her shoulders.

And as they stepped out into the cold Valentine’s night, biting and sobering, Lu kept hearing it over and over again.

You’re all I ever wanted.

And fuck if that didn’t ruin him.

Pip shivered, wobbling only slightly before leaning into Lu’s side without thinking. He tightened his grip around her shoulders, steadying her as they made their way down the quiet street.

The city had started to wind down—most people already home, tucked away with their dates, their lovers, their Valentine’s plans.

Lu exhaled, his breath curling white in the air. His mind kept looping back to her words.

She probably wouldn’t even remember saying it. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he should pretend he didn’t hear it. But fuck, it was hard when she was right here, pressed against him, trusting him enough to lean her weight into him like he was something solid, something safe.

She let out a soft sigh, tilting her head against his shoulder.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, burrowing against him. “Like a space heater.”

Lu huffed a quiet laugh. “From project partner to household appliance. Quite a step up!”

“Totally.” Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

Lu swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his focus on the sidewalk ahead, on getting her home. Not on the way she felt pressed against him, or the way her voice had wrapped around those words in the bar—You’re all I ever wanted.

It wasn’t far to her dorm, but every step felt like both too much time to think and not nearly enough. Pip was quiet, her usual sharp wit dulled by the alcohol, but she was awake enough to hum under her breath as they walked, something soft and aimless, the way she sometimes did when she thought no one was paying attention.

But Lu always noticed.

When they reached her building, she fumbled in her bag for her keys, her movements slow and uncoordinated. Lu reached over, steadying her hand before she could drop them into the snow.

“Here,” he murmured, plucking them from her fingers. “I got it.”

She hummed in agreement, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he unlocked the door. “Such a gentleman.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He nudged her inside, following her up the stairs to her dorm.

Once inside, Pip immediately beelined for her bed, flopping onto it face-first with a dramatic groan.

Lu chuckled, closing the door behind him. “I see subtlety is dead.”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled into the pillow.

Lu crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So this is how you treat your personal chauffeur, huh? No thank you, no you’re my hero, Lu?”

She lifted a hand lazily and gave him a thumbs-up without lifting her head. “You’re my hero, Lu.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

He glanced around the small dorm. It was cluttered but in a way that felt lived-in—books stacked on her desk, a blanket draped haphazardly over her chair, half-finished notes scribbled on sticky pads. It smelled like her.

He sighed, crouching beside the bed to untie her boots.

Pip let out a breathy chuckle. “Wow, I’m getting the royal treatment.”

Lu shook his head, pulling off one boot, then the other. “Don’t get used to it.”

“You always take care of me, Lu.”

His chest ached.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Always.”

She didn’t reply.

“C’mon, Pip, at least get under the covers.”

She let out a grumbling noise but didn’t protest when he pulled the blanket over her.

When he started to move away, she reached out blindly, catching his wrist. “Stay.”

Lu froze.

Pip’s fingers were warm, loose from the alcohol but still firm enough that he knew she meant it.

He swallowed. “Pip—”

“Just… stay,” she murmured. “For a little bit.”

Her gaze flickered over his face, lingering on his lips for a split second too long.

For one agonizing moment, he thought—maybe. But he couldn’t. He was kinda drunk. She was very drunk. Kissing, confessing hidden feelings, cuddling until morning pretending they were just cold—none of it was an option.

Lu exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t even stay. He should go. He should definitely go.

Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, picked up a spare pillow from her bed and settled onto the floor beside her bed, leaning against the frame.

Her fingers slid from his wrist to his hand, her grip easy and unthinking. Lu glanced down, watching their hands, her palm against his, their fingers brushing.

He should let go.

But he didn’t.

He let his thumb trace over her knuckles absently, grounding himself in the quiet darkness.

And as the room settled into soft breathing and silence, as Pip's fingers curled around his just slightly in sleep, Lu let his head tip back against the bed frame.

Just for tonight.

He could pretend.

Pip stirred with a soft groan, burying her face deeper into her pillow. The room was too bright, the warmth of sleep fading into the slow, creeping realization that her head felt too heavy.

Right. Drinking.

She exhaled, blinking blearily at her dorm ceiling, willing herself to piece together the night before. There had been drinks, laughter, Lu teasing her—

Her fingers twitched, brushing against something solid.

She frowned. Turned her head.

Lu was on the floor beside her bed, slumped against the frame, his breathing slow and even, his hand still loosely tangled with hers.

Pip’s heart stopped.

The pieces of the night were blurry, but this—this was new. Unexpected.

She stared at their joined hands, at the easy way their fingers fit together, like they’d done this a hundred times. A small thrill curled through her chest before panic squashed it.

What the hell happened last night?

Her brain scrambled, reaching for memories that felt just out of focus. The bar. The walk home. Him helping her inside.

She swallowed hard.

Suddenly everything sharpened. The warmth of his hand. The quiet in the room. The way Lu’s breathing shifted just slightly, like he was surfacing from sleep.

And then—his eyes fluttered open.

Pip stiffened.

Lu blinked, slow and groggy, squinting against the morning haze, before turning his head slightly. For a second he just looked at her, his gaze still heavy with sleep.

Then his lips curled, soft and lazy. “Morning, Pip.”

Her stomach flipped.

She cleared her throat, shifting to sit up, head still a bit heavy. “Uh. Morning.”

Slowly, like he didn’t really want to do it, Lu released her hand. Then he stretched, wincing slightly as he rolled his shoulders. “Damn. I think my spine is permanently shaped like your bed frame now.”

Pip let out a breathy laugh, but it was weak. “What… uh. What are you doing here?”

He gave her a look. “You really don’t remember?”

Pip hesitated. “I remember drinking.”

Lu huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

She rubbed her temples. “Did I… did I say anything stupid?”

For half a second, Lu didn’t answer. Then he smirked, tilting his head. “Define stupid.”

Pip groaned again, finally dropping her hands to look at Lu. There was something almost hesitant in the way she studied him. Like something was off.

“…Did I?” she asked, quieter this time.

Lu hesitated.

Because he could tell her. He could say yeah, Pip, you told me you loved me and wrecked my entire existence in three seconds flat.

Or—

“Nah,” he said instead, stretching his arms over his head, stomping all over the memories like he wanted to grind them into dust. “Just your usual brand of nonsense.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“You do this thing with your face when you’re lying.”

His heart was starting to speed up. “Pip, I’m literally just existing.”

She groaned, rubbing at her temple again. “Whatever. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“That truck was three vodka sodas and a bunch of other bad decisions.”

She let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Lu noticed, but didn’t mention it.

Pip yawned, pulling the blanket over one shoulder. “You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

“Yeah, well. Didn’t trust you not to roll off the bed and die.” He shrugged, trying to keep his voice light. “Plus, you asked me to.”

She blinked at him, something flickering across her face. “I did?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “Clung to me like a baby koala, too.”

She groaned. “Great. Love that for me.”

Lu chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to his ears.

Pip didn’t remember. And she had no idea she was breaking his heart.

He exhaled slowly, still blinking sleep away from his eyes. His head was clearer now, last night’s haze dulled to a manageable ache, but his chest still felt tight, weighted by the words that kept replaying in his mind.

You’re all I ever wanted.

She had said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. No hesitation, no doubt. And now she didn’t even know she’d said it.

Lu swallowed it all down. “You should eat something.” His voice was steady, but he was already pushing himself to his feet, removing himself from the situation before she could ask anything else. “I’ll grab you some water.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

But while Lu moved toward the tiny dorm kitchen, Pip frowned slightly, like she was trying to piece something together. Like some part of her knew something had happened, even if she didn’t remember it yet.

Pip sat on the bed, fingers idly rubbing against her palm, as if chasing the phantom feeling of Lu’s hand in hers.

He returned a moment later, setting a glass of water on her nightstand with a pointed look. “Drink slowly. If you throw up all over the place I am not cleaning it up.”

She rolled her eyes but obeyed, taking small, careful sips. The cold water helped clear the fuzziness in her head, but the feeling in her chest—the vague, off sensation, like she was forgetting something important—remained.

For a moment, she just watched Lu move around her room like he’d done this a hundred times before. Something about it felt too easy—like they had always existed in this quiet rhythm, like it wasn’t strange for him to be here, like the warmth still lingering in her hand wasn’t something she should be questioning.

But she was questioning it. Because something was definitely off.

She tried to focus, tried to sort through the messy blur of last night. Bits and pieces surfaced—laughing over drinks, teasing, a conversation about some girl Lu liked.

Her stomach twisted.

Right. That.

She barely noticed Lu setting an energy bar on the nightstand. “Love that you don’t seem to have any real food around here,” he said, casually, before going back to the kitchen.

Pip swallowed hard, watching him move around like nothing changed. Like he wasn’t acting different. Like he wasn’t avoiding looking at her for too long.

He was bracing himself for something. And that—more than anything—confirmed it. She had said something huge. And he heard it, remembered it, and was probably thinking about it.

Pip opened her mouth, then closed it again, her throat too tight. Then she set the water down. “Hey, Lu?”

He looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Yeah?”

She bit her lip. “I did say something stupid last night, didn’t I?”

Lu stilled. It was subtle—so subtle. But Pip knew him well enough to see it. The slight pause. The careful, almost imperceptible shift in his expression.

Pip’s stomach dipped.

Then he exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he was brushing something off, before walking back to her.

“…Define stupid,” he said, echoing his words from earlier.

Pip narrowed her eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”

He had that infuriating smirk on his face again, like he was perfectly fine. Like nothing was wrong when she knew that wasn’t true. “You think I’m just gonna hand over blackmail material that easily?" He scoffed. "Please.”

Pip stared at him, searching his expression for something. A crack, a tell—anything. Because she knew there was something to find.

Lu didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. But he was still keeping his distance. And very deliberately avoiding a straight answer to her question.

“I feel like… I forgot something important.” She forced a small, shaky breath, tilting her head, testing the waters.

Lu let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Pip—”

“Lu,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt as she got up from the bed. “Tell me what I said last night. I’m serious.”.

Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, uncertainty. But then he forced a smile, leaning back against the wall next to her bed. “Well, let’s see. You said I’m warm, which is accurate—”

Pip narrowed her eyes. “And?”

“And you threatened to fight a snowman.”

Pip snorted. “Okay, that tracks.”

But she knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“Oh, and you confessed your undying love for me.” He crossed his arms and smiled at her, like none of this was a big deal.

But Pip just froze.

Lu said it so casually, so playfully, like it was just another one of their jokes. She couldn’t quite tell if he was telling the truth or not.

Her heart stuttered. He’s joking, right? Instinct took over because deflecting was easier, and she let out a half-laugh, shaking her head. “I did not.”

His smile widened. “Oh no, you definitely did. Got down on one knee, proposed right there in the snow. Very dramatic.”

She let out a breathy laugh, shoving his arm. “Shut up.”

Lu grinned, but there was something careful behind his eyes. Something guarded. He let the moment stretch, like he was waiting for something.

Then he shrugged. “Nah, I’m messing with you.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, testing her reaction. “But you did ramble about how I have nice hands, which, honestly? The most unnecessarily intimate thing anyone has ever told me.”

Pip blinked. “I what?”

“Oh yeah. Full monologue. Went on for a while.” He glanced at them like he was genuinely contemplating their appeal. “Not gonna lie, I was flattered.”

Pip groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. “I hate myself.”

Lu chuckled. “I thought it was sweet.”

She peeked at him through her fingers. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.”

Pip groaned again, but her mind was racing. Because she knew Lu. She could tell he was doing this on purpose, avoiding the real thing she had said.

She saw it now. Lu wasn’t acknowledging it because he was protecting her—like he always did. He was giving her an out. Letting her brush it off so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

For a long moment, there was just silence—thick and heavy, wrapping around them like neither of them knew how to break it.

Then there was more—hazy, warm, something heavier curling in her chest. Flashes of cold air, of Lu’s arm around her, steadying her as they walked. Of his voice, softer than usual, saying You can’t just say all that.

Of her saying—

Pip sucked in a breath.

You’re all I ever wanted.

The words crashed over her like a wave, and suddenly, she was too aware of everything—the way her heart was hammering, the way Lu had hesitated when she asked if she’d said anything dumb, the way her fingers could still feel his wrapped around them.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Pip didn’t move. Because suddenly, she knew.

Suddenly, she wasn’t just remembering saying it. She was remembering how it felt. And the way he had held her.

The way he had not said it back.

And that was enough to realize that she had said something really very real that changed everything. Something she had never let herself say out loud, even when it was clawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Whatever this was—whatever was sitting heavy between them, waiting to be named—wasn’t something she could brush off.

It had always been there. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she could pretend otherwise. It wasn’t something she could take back.

She swallowed hard, fingers twisting in the blanket on her lap. No. Maybe... she could let this slide. She could laugh it off. She could let him keep pretending, keep protecting her from words she’d already said.

Or—

Pip inhaled sharply. “Lu.”

His smirk faltered, just slightly. “Yeah?”

She looked at him, really holding his gaze. Her heart was a hammer in her chest, but she forced the words out. “I meant it.”

Lu’s breath hitched. For the first time since she woke up, he looked thrown. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

She inhaled deeply, gathering the courage that felt like a live wire beneath her skin, and just kept going because if she stopped now she’d never say it.

“I remember,” she admitted, voice quiet but firm. “I remember saying that, and I—” She exhaled, gripping the fabric in her lap. “I meant it, Lu.”

For a second, he just stared at her, like he couldn’t believe she had actually said that out loud.

Lu flexed his fingers slightly like he was trying not to react, but she could see it. She knew that movement. It meant he was thinking too hard, feeling too hard.

She bit her lip, her chest tightening. “You didn’t say anything back.”

His gaze flickered to the floor.

Pip swallowed. “Was it because I was drunk?” She hesitated. “Or… because I’m not the girl you were talking about last night?”

Lu let out a breath—sharp, unsteady. His fingers twitched, his jaw tensed. He was still trying to hold something back.

Then, finally, finally, he ran a hand through his hair, looking away for half a second before muttering, “God, Pip.”

She waited.

Something broke in his expression—something raw, something wrecked.

“It was you.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “It’s always been you.”

It felt like the floor was escaping from under her feet.

“I didn’t say anything back because you were drunk and I didn’t think you meant it,” he admitted, voice lower now, rougher, like the words were dragging out of him. “And because… I didn’t think I could handle it if I let myself believe it.”

Pip’s breath caught.

Lu shook his head, exhaling sharply, and looked at her like she was the only thing in the world. “I’m in love with you, Pip. I have been for—God, I don’t even know how long. But I never said anything because I genuinely didn’t think you’d feel the same way.” He hesitated. “I thought if I told you, I’d just lose you.”

Pip felt something break open in her chest. Her pulse thundered like mad in her ears. “Why?”

He let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Because of the way you talk about love and relationships. Like it’s something that happens to other people. Like it’s something you don’t care about.”

He paused, and Pip could see the way his chest rose and fell too quickly for someone who was just standing still.

“Because I’ve watched you go on a date with someone, get bored, and never text them back. I just… I figured if you wanted something like this, you would’ve already—”

Pip’s breath hitched. “Lu.”

He exhaled. “Yeah?”

She swallowed. “I didn’t want something like this with anyone else.” Pip let out a nervous laugh, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I mean, look at me. I am horrifically bad at feelings. And I avoided dating because no one ever felt right. And I told myself I wasn’t that kind of person, that I didn’t care about romance, but—” She exhaled. “Maybe I was just lying to myself. Because it wasn’t until you that I started wanting something real.”

Lu inhaled sharply, like he’d forgotten how to breathe properly. His expression had shifted entirely, something new burning behind his eyes.

Pip felt breathless. “And now I’m saying all of this, and I don’t know how to shut up, so if you’re—”

Lu surged forward and kissed her.

Pip gasped against his mouth, barely processing before she was kissing him back, her fingers gripping his shirt, dragging him closer, tilting her head to let him deepen it.

And Lu just melted into it.

His hands found her waist instantly, his lips parting against hers like he had been waiting for this—like he had spent a lifetime holding it back, not letting himself have this, not letting himself want this.

But now she was right there. And she meant it.

And Lu—Lu was so in love with her, he didn’t really know how to breathe anymore.

It was slow and warm and perfect. Like every touch they had ever shared had led to this.

When they finally pulled back, neither of them moved for a second. Their breathing was uneven, their foreheads pressed together, hands still fisted in each other’s clothes. The moment stretched between them, enveloping them, shielding them from the world.

“I love you, Philippa,” he said, barely a whisper.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Lu exhaled, brushing his nose against hers. “And I am so fucking mad at myself for not telling you sooner.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, “you’re a real idiot.” Pip let out a breathless laugh, pressing a soft, almost disbelieving kiss to the corner of his mouth. And then, whispering right against his lips, “I love you too, Luigi.”

Lu chuckled, tilting her chin up to kiss her again, slow and deep, fingers threading into her hair.

And this time—

There was no reason for them to hold anything back.

---

Click here for the tag list! ✨

@straw8erry @belncaldern @starlightslvtt @number1yearner @fancyyanci

#luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #my fic #one shot

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fearcvlt · 13 hours ago

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note. i am genuinely incapable of not thinking about rafe being a weird freak at any given time. i will get back to writing full fics i’m just… so sick. ugh. cw. 18+ content. shitty boyfriend rafe. threats of infidelity. mild breathplay. spit swallowing. p in v. creampie. no use of y/n.

Rafe likes his punishments to hurt — he wants you to be thinking about them for weeks after he’s done with you. You always act like such a fucking brat. Having a girlfriend isn’t meant to make his life harder. He’s only so stuck on keeping you around because it’s a sure fire way of getting his dick wet when he feels like it.

He tries the normal shit. Spanking, yelling, crashing out (he does that regardless, honestly). You only get wetter when he hits you or yells at you. It’s sick.

But you’re jealous — fuck, you get so jealous. He knows you’re a little insecure. Does that make him a prick for what he’s doing to you right now? Absolutely. Does he particularly care? Absolutely fucking not.

You’re lying on his bed, blanket over your face. He said he didn’t want to see you if you kept acting like that, said he’d rather look at a pretty girl that wouldn’t talk back to him. So that’s exactly what he’s doing, eyes locked onto his laptop sitting on the pillow by your head, fucking into you as he watches some porn star or another playing with herself.

Rafe’s hard as fuck, and he’s not sure how much of it is hearing your ragged breaths between moans and sobs. The oxygen is probably getting stale under that blanket right now — he can tell it’s harder for you to breathe with how you’re clenching around him — and all it does is make him pound you into the mattress at an increased pace.

“Don’t know why you’re fuckin’ cryin’,” he scoffs, brows furrowing as he grinds his hips against yours, his head dipping forward to watch the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way it makes your tits bounce. “Don’t deserve to be upset about this, wouldn’t have to do it if you behaved for once.”

His hand reaches out to grab roughly at one of your breasts, squeezing and tugging at the flesh until he’s drawing a soft whine from your lips. He groans, cock twitching as he chases his relief.

“Could have any girl I want, you know that?” He grunts, his hips smacking against the back of your thighs as he presses his weight into you, practically folding you in half. “You’re just a fuckin’ hole to me. Maybe you’d actually get the proper princess treatment if you didn’t talk back all the damn time.”

He tugs at the blanket, just enough to expose your pretty lips. He watches as they part to suck in a greedy breath, leaning over you to spit in your mouth. “Swallow.”

He laughs breathlessly when you do, shaking his head. “Slut.”

He grunts, picking up speed. His cock is bullying that sweet spot inside of you until you’re pleading for him to let you cum, your thighs trembling as you hold back. Makes him feel all proud, like you really can take direction well.

“So much better like this, makes me think you actually might be worth keeping around.” He hums, reaching up to tug the blanket back over your lower face. Can’t have your head getting too big before the lesson is even over, after all. “Get all sweet and shit after you cum. Why can’t you be like that all the time, huh?”

He grinds the tip of his dick against that spot inside of you until you’re shuddering and making a mess of him. His eyes hone in on your release coating his cock, the way a creamy ring is forming around the base every time he thrusts into you.

There isn’t a warning when he cums, just a low groan spilling from his lips as he presses his hips flush to yours, twitching as he fills you with his seed. He breathes heavily for a moment, head falling to rest between your breasts.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling out and reaching over to shut the lid of his laptop. He tugs the blanket of your face, grinning lazily at you. “You gonna stop all this dumb shit now?”

You nod, and he takes a moment to take in how dishevelled you are. The way your eyes are still watering, the slickness of your lips and the wet trails on your cheeks. God, he wants to ruin you forever.

“Good. ‘Cause next time I won’t be so nice.” He taps the top of his laptop, taunting you. “Might even make you watch me fuck a girl like that. Sort your shit out, princess.”

#nyx drabbles .ᐟ #rafe obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe smut #obx smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader

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bybobbysbeard · 23 hours ago

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One Unbroken Line

Day 13 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: love declarations read on ao3 read other days here

Buck tugs at his sleeve, fussing with the cuff. He’s wearing one of Tommy’s flannels over a long t-shirt, and the edge of the tape is still showing. He could grab a hoodie, but two shirts are already overkill for today’s weather. And he can’t stop fidgeting.

Tommy’s going to suspect something immediately.

He had a whole speech and reveal planned, but now he’s doubting his ability to get through it without tripping all over himself. This is stupid. Why is he nervous? They live together, for God’s sake. They’ve been exchanging ‘I love you's for months. Why does this feel like a big step?

The key turns in the front door lock before he can psych himself out any further.

“Honey, I’m home!” rings out in a high falsetto.

Buck snorts. Such a dork. He pulls on his sleeve one last time, before standing up from the couch and turning towards the foyer. Tommy comes through, duffle bag dangling from one hand, a tray with two to-go cups in the other. Buck can smell his hazelnut latte from here.

“Ooh caffeine! Thanks babe.”

Tommy steps close, brushing a kiss over his cheek. “Anytime. Needed a pick-me-up after my shift, so I stopped at that new place on the corner.” He holds out the tray. “I got your usual.”

Buck reaches out, fingers stroking over Tommy’s as he grasps the cardboard tray with his left hand.

“Evan…”

The duffle bag hits the floor with a thud. A big hand intercepts Buck’s before he can pull back, fingers wrapping gently around his forearm. The tray is lifted away from him and his wrist is turned over. A strip of medical tape and gauze is just visible, hiding the narrowest part of his wrist from view.

“What happened? This wasn’t here yesterday. Are you okay?” Tommy’s voice is concerned, low and controlled, already trying to triage the situation.

Damn, he noticed already. “I’m fine! I did it on purpose.”

“Excuse me?” Tommy’s eyebrows rise up his forehead and his blue eyes snap to Buck’s.

“Wait, that came out wrong. Hold on.” Buck takes the tray back and steps to the side, leaving Tommy’s hand hovering awkwardly between them. Turning away, he sets the drinks down on the coffee table. He rolls up both shirt sleeves as he moves back within his boyfriend's reach. Tommy presses close again, both hands cradling his wrapped wrist.

“Here, I covered it up because I was cleaning the kitchen, but it’s fine.” Buck guides calloused fingers to the edge of the gauze and looks up at Tommy’s expression. He’s focused, completely intent. His lips are pursed and his eyes are downcast, staring at their hands. Blunt nails pick delicately at the tape stuck to the thin skin of his wrist, peeling a corner up.

The adhesive pulls lightly, before lifting. The cool air of the living room is a relief on his sensitive skin. Buck keeps his eyes on Tommy’s face. His eyes go wide and those perfect lips part. He stares. Buck looks down too. The tattoo looks good, considering it's barely two days old. The artwork is minimalist, but stylized; less geometric than some of his other pieces. It’s one unbroken line, a continuous drawing covering about two inches on the narrow side of his wrist, just behind the bones that join his forearm to his hand.

An index finger traces along the edge of the ink. “You got a helicopter tattoo?”

“Y-yeah, I did. My appointment was yesterday morning, after you left for your 48. I wanted to surprise you.”

Tommy looks up. His eyes are still wide, but a beatific smile breaks over his face. Buck lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Well, I am definitely surprised.” His face crinkles in that amazing way. Buck can’t get enough of it. Fingers flex on his wrist, capturing it more firmly now that the older man knows it isn’t injured.

Buck huffs out a relieved laugh. “I know things have been really good, and living together has been great, so this doesn’t have to be a big deal, but I wanted something permanent. To show you how I feel. To show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” Tommy interjects quickly.

Buck looks down at their clasped hands, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. This man. “I know.”

One hand worms out from their shared grasp, reaching up and wrapping a warm palm around the back of Buck’s neck. “I get you saying this isn’t ‘a big deal’ but, honestly, it kind of feels like one to me. You marked yourself. For me.” He sways closer, looking down besottedly at Buck’s freshly-tattooed wrist held securely between them. “I’ve never had someone love me enough to permanently etch it on their body.”

Buck brings his other hand higher, tipping Tommy’s chin up until they’re looking eye-to-eye again. “Tommy, babe.” He shakes his head ruefully, laughing again. “If I thought I could survive the teasing from my family, I would have gotten a giant heart with your initials in it.” Buck taps his chin once, stroking over that cleft he loves so much. “Or maybe a big ‘Property of Tommy Kinard’ stamp on my ass.” Tommy snorts helplessly, and starts laughing too. “I thought something a little classier would be safer.”

“Much safer.” Through his giggles, he brings Buck’s wrist up, pressing a kiss to the center of his palm, a few inches away from the fresh ink. His blue eyes glint, and that happy smile turns into a smirk. Buck feels his stomach swoop.

“Save the tramp stamp for our anniversary.”

#bucktommyfluffebruary #bucktommy #tevan #my fic #911 abc

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imjustdreamingig · 3 days ago

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If you want forever, and I'll bet you do

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

summary: Feelings are out, you're still rambling, and Steve thinks you're wonderful.

A/N: when the world thought i abandoned them, i came back... HORRAY!!!! so this is probably my last instalment to this little series, what a joy it has been to write. i'm really proud of this one and am so excited to see how I'll continue to progress in my writing journey. thank you for all the love the last 3 fics got, you have no idea how much my hear soared when I got a notif from this site. i adore you all. pls lmk if you have any suggestions for future fics!

warnings: sfw, swearing, fluff, making out

You don't think your posture has ever been better than right now, sitting in Steve Harrington's living room, hands firmly clasped and placed in your lap. Your eyes quickly scan the beige colored walls, noting the lack of family pictures. In fact, the decor of the entire living room seemed to be more staged than personal, almost as if wanting to give the illusion that this was indeed a home, but not quite hitting the mark.

Steve walks back in from the kitchen carrying two glasses of water and places them on the table in front of you. As he's about to take a seat beside you, he lets out a shocked gasp before hurrying to the cabinet next to the window, pulling out two coasters.

He chuckles nervously as you eye him contemplatively. "My mom is a real stickler for these," he says after he sits back down, running an anxious hand through his hair. "She'll notice the rings the water make the second she walks through the door."

You let out a hum in acknowledgment, not quite sure how to continue the conversation without making him more tense. You notice his shoulders are sort of hunched in, and he's running a hand through his hair again.

Without thinking, you reach out to grab his wrist, pulling it away from his brown locks. Steve looks at you in surprise, mouth slightly parted.

"You're going to ruin your hair even more and I know for a fact you spent at least half and hour on it this morning," you say, reaching out to fix a piece that has fallen into his eyes. Steve laughs, "Hey, I'll neither confirm or deny."

You feel yourself becoming a bit more relaxed with the friendly environment that Steve's presence brings, slowly sinking into the couch rather than sitting as if the Queen of England was going to walk in at any second. That's the vibe you were getting from his house; meticulously clean to the point you almost questioned Steve if someone actually lived here.

When Steve picked you up earlier, you surprised yourself by not feeling those intense fight-or-flight instincts as you watched him run up to your front door.

Aside from accidentally making fun of his music taste on the car ride over, "Of all people Steve, I did not expect you to like Blondie." "What!? They're great!" and you hitting him with the car door as you opened it because he wanted to open it for you, "Your face! I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you there!" "You barely touched me I swear, I just wanted to be nice!" you waited for the usual rush of anxiety to fill you whenever you were near Steve.

You waited for it to appear during the car ride, you waited for it to appear as you walked into his house, and you're waiting for it to appear now.

It didn't.

That doesn't mean that you're not nervous, but it's more of an excited-nervous. The kind of nervous you felt before doing a big presentation in front of your class or performing in the school play. Steve knows how you feel about him and you know how he feels about you, there's no reason to be nervous around him anymore.

Now it's all about what's next. And because you think you can predict the outcome of this study/talk-it-out session, you feel a a flutter of emotions overtake your body, but instead of causing you anxiety, it's causing you excitement.

However.

You absolutely were not going to be the one out of the two of you to address the elephant in the room (aka the reciprocated crush thing). If Steve wanted to talk about it, he would have to start that conversation. Steve was eager to talk about it yesterday, so he should be eager to talk about it right now... Right?

"Listen, I would say we should get to work on the project, but I don't think that's gonna happen today," the boy in question says.

You direct your gaze to your bag thats on the floor and eye your copy of Pride and Prejudice before glancing up to look at Steve, who was already staring at you. He looked so at ease, one elbow leaned against the couch cushion with his fist pressed against his cheek.

He is so pretty.

You turn on the couch to face him and match his pose before saying, "I don't think so either." You didn't realize until this moment how close the two of you were sitting.

Steve says nothing for a moment as he just stares. You note this is the first time in a while that you're not blabbering nonsense at the boy, you usually talk a lot. Steve notices it, too.

"You know, I never took you to be a quiet person," he comments. "I'm usually not," you respond, "I just feel— I don't know, for once I don't feel like talking, I don't feel the need to fill the silence."

"Woah, who knew you could be so poetic." You lightly smack his leg as he teases you. "Oh, shut up, Harrington!" Steve's laughter subsides quickly and he peers down at your hand that's still on his leg. He swallows down the lump in his throat before picking it up, slowly caressing your knuckles with his thumb.

"You make me so nervous, did you know that?" he whispers before looking up at you again. You feel your cheeks heat up even though you know no color is showing on your face. The look that he's giving you is one that you've never seen before, and you've spent too much time of your time staring at him according to Robin.

"I've made the Steve 'the Hair' Harrington nervous? Wait 'till the girls hear about this." You try to lighten the mood a little, but Steve barely cracks a smile, getting a mere tiny lift of the corner of his mouth in response. His thumb never stop caressing your hand.

"I hope that isn't how you see me, at least not now." You shake your head, "Of course not, I'm sorry, not really sure why I pulled that joke right now." Steve shakes his head fondly and wags a finger at you. "You're something else, you're so different. I can never tell what you're thinking." You blink twice. "Uh, is that a bad thing?" you question.

"Absolutely not!" he exclaims. He suddenly lets go of your hand and flops back on the couch, now laying horizontally, with both hands covering his face as he lets out an sigh. "Steve!" you laugh.

"I've never met someone like you before, usually I have girls just throwing themselves at me—before you say it, I know how that sounds just gimme a sec— but you, god, the more I saw you and the more I learned about you and through Robin and your insane excuses, the more hooked I got."

Your heart is beating way too fast that you're positive it can be heard from three houses down. Holy shit, am I getting my own love confession? Steve sits back up straight and his face is one of amused exasperation. "You've made me go crazy, what have you done to me?"

You suck in a gasp. "Well, my mom says the same thing whenever we fight actually," your mouth is spitting out an answer before your brain can fully catch up. You have no idea how to respond to this love confession—oh my god a love confession—that your mouth is just running on autopilot. "Lately, she's been on me about organizing my bookshelf, but like it's my bookshelf in my room, she doesn't have to look at it, and I'm categorizing and cataloguing my books, so of course it's messy, but she wants to pick a fight when I'm actually cleaning for once, so I do-"

Steve lets out a bark of laughter, "Oh Jesus Christ, just shut up."

And all of a sudden, you're being kissed. Passionately. With two hands holding the sides of your face. Your eyes are wide open while Steve's are closed, both your arms are raised slightly not quite knowing what to do with them.

The kiss ends before you can even process that it was happening. The only way you knew it occurred was because of the warmth on your cheeks left behind by Steve's hands and the slight sheen his lips have from your lip gloss.

"Steve," you start and in real time, you see his face flush with a lovely shade of pink, covering his face and creeping down his neck. "I'm sorry! You were just rambling and I didn't know how to help you calm down and I've wanted to do that for a long time but I should've asked you first before-"

It's your turn to cut him off as you lean in and capture his lips into yours. For a second Steve freezes before his mind and body catch up. He lets out a groan before manoeuvring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist and his hand cupping your cheek. One of your hands is gripping his bicep which holy fuck he is so strong and the other is resting with the hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips are soft and warm and you can taste the mint of the gum he had been chewing as you deepened the kiss. You can actually appreciate this kiss, having had some time to properly process it and melt into it. Fuck, he's such a good kisser.

Unfortunately, because the need to breathe starts to affect you more with each passing second, you separate his mouth from yours with a soft sigh. He leans his forehead onto yours, both arms gently holding your waist now. You stay like that for a few seconds, basking in the afterglow of the most intense kiss you've ever had in your life, especially considering it was with Steve.

Once you put just enough space between the two of you so you're able to see his entire face properly, you let out a small giggle, which turns into two, which turns into three, and eventually your whole body is shaking with laughter. Steve is looking at you incredulously as you place your head on his shoulder before he's joining you, you're laugh just being too contagious.

"What!?" Steve exclaims. "Am I that bad at kissing or something?" In between fits of giggles you shake your head. "No, on the contrary, it's because you're an incredible kisser." The full blown laughs have finally ceased to a few chuckles and you pry your head away from Steve's shoulder, only to look at him, feel the bubbles of laughter resurface, and place it right back in the same position.

Steve kisses the top of your head and starts running his fingers down your back, causing goosebumps to appear wherever they trailed. "You'll have to fill me in then, babe." The nickname earns another tiny giggle on your part. "Not everyone has that crazy mind that you do." He can practically feel you rolling your eyes at him.

"It's just crazy to me that the one thing I wished would happen to me this year actually happened. I wasn't worried about grades or whatever, I just wanted this. And look! It happened!" You remove yourself from your hiding place to look at Steve. "Me from three months ago would probably go into cardiac arrest if I told her this happened."

Steve smirks. "So basically, your solid plan of running away from the guy you liked to make sure this," he gestured between the two of you, "happened was a success."

You let out a squawk of indignation. "Hey, I was gonna say something to you eventually!" Steve is making a face that can only be translated as are you serious? before relenting and admitting, "Ok fine, maybe I wasn't. But the thought was there! That counts. Right?"

Steve snorts, "Sure babe, of course it does." You let out a pleased hum before a glaring at him seriously. "Just to make sure, this means we're dating right? Because I don't want to get the wrong idea and then mark this day as our anniversary and then our one month comes up and I want to do something small, but cute, and you're all like confused because we never explicitly said that we were a couple, and then I'm all mortified so yo-"

Needless to say, it wouldn't be the only time Steve would stop your ramblings that night with a kiss. And he planned on doing it a whole lot more.

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