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safe haven ~ dark! joel x f!reader
pedro's masterlist
A/N: Joel won the dark fic poll, so of course I had to deliver! I'm cooking up ideas for cap for the people who voted for Sam.
warnings: outbreak au, dark! joel, age gap (reader is early twenties), naive, daddy kink, use of "daddy", its kind of fucked up, dubcon, stockholm syndrome, manipulation, joel wants to keep reader all for himself, isolation, sexual themes, fingering, piv (unprotected), cockwarming, twisted ending.
✧ minors dni with me or my blog. i am not responsible for your consumption.
✧ do not repost, copy, or translate my work
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The world had already ended by the time he found you.
You were barely more than a shadow under a collapsed porch—mud-streaked, starving, shivering in a torn sweater three sizes too big. Too thin. Too young to be alone.
Joel had blood on his hands and rot in his heart, but when you looked up at him—wide-eyed, scared, and silent—something broke in him.
Not snapped. Bent.
Bent toward you.
“You got anyone?” he asked, voice low, graveled with loss.
You shook your head. Lips trembling. Arms wrapped tight around your knees like they could still protect you.
He should’ve walked away.
Should’ve left you to die like everything else.
But instead, he held out his jacket.
“Come on, now. Ain’t safe out here.”
You didn’t trust him—not really. But your body moved before your brain did. Because the truth was, you wanted to be saved. And something in his eyes said maybe—just maybe—he needed to save you.
That night, he made a fire and gave you half his rations.
When you fell asleep beside him, curled into his coat, he didn’t sleep at all.
He stared at the flames. At you.
He looked at you and it reminded him of Sarah.
He holds you when you cry. Wraps his body around yours when the nights get cold. Keeps the world out and teaches you to shoot, to cook, to survive. You become his purpose. Not survival. You. And it soothes something inside him—because protecting you makes him feel useful. Human. A father again.
At first, he calls you “kiddo.” “Darlin’.” Maybe even “sweetheart.” He brushes your hair gently. Kisses your forehead after nightmares.
But one day—you wear something tighter. A shirt that he found for you that fit just right. Or you bend over, and his eyes linger.
And he hates himself for it.
Fuck Joel, she's jus a kid.
But you’re not. Not anymore. Not in this world. And the way you look at him when you smile? Like he’s everything? It ruins him.
He starts watching you sleep. Waking up hard and angry at himself. But he never touches. Not yet.
You start clinging to him more. Your fear of the outside, of strangers, of losing him, grows stronger than your curiosity.
You ask for help with everything.
“Can you cut this for me?” “Will you stay in bed a little longer?” “You won’t leave me, right?”
And Joel drinks it in.
He begins doing everything for you, taking control of little things, such as choices, meals, and even what you wear.
“Too short.” “You don’t need to talk to them.” “C’mere, baby. Sit on Daddy’s lap.”
At first, it’s a joke. A test.
“You want me to call you what?” you ask, laughing.
“Just once,” he says, soft but intense. “Say it.”
You don’t mean it. Not really. But your voice wobbles when you whisper:
“Daddy…”
His breath shudders.
And that’s the moment it snaps.
“You belong to me, baby. Say it.”
From that night on, it’s over.
“Daddy” stops being a game.
He corrects you when you forget. He praises you when you say it right. He fucks you slow and deep and calls it "taking care of you."
He tells you no one else would understand. That the world wouldn’t get this.
But you do.
Because he kept you alive.
Because he loves you.
Because he calls you “his good girl” and touches you like you’re holy.
“Say it again,” he growls, voice low and husky, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His grip is bruising on your hips, dragging you back against him, slow and filthy.
You’re trembling, hands clawing at the bedsheets, chest flushed, brain fogged with nothing but heat and him. “D-Daddy—”
“Louder,” he snaps, and you whimper as his hand wraps around your throat—not tight, just enough to make your body jolt, to keep you right where he wants you.
“Daddy,” you sob this time, and he purrs low in approval, thrusts turning punishing.
“That’s my girl. My good little thing,” Joel murmurs against your neck, voice honeyed and venomous. “Look at you. Cryin’ on my cock like you were made for it.”
And the worst part?
You were.
Your body’s still shaking—legs tangled in the sheets, throat raw from sobbing his name while he took you apart, slow and deep and relentless. You’re curled into his chest, the air thick with sweat and quiet ruin. His hands are still on you. One tangled in your hair. The other stroking your thigh like he’s grounding you. Claiming you.
And then he says it.
Soft. Like a secret he’s never spoken out loud before.
“I love you, my baby.”
You freeze.
Not from fear.
From confusion.
Because he says it like a threat.
“I fucking love you,” he says again—louder this time. His grip on your thigh tightens. “I shouldn’t. I tried not to. God knows I tried, but look at you…”
He tilts your chin toward him.
“Cryin’ for me. So fuckin’ perfect, so good for me. You think I can live without that now?”
Your breath hitches.
“You ruined me,” he whispers, kissing the tear on your cheek. “And I ruined you too, didn’t I, baby? I know I did. I see it in your eyes.”
He smiles at you, staring deeply into your eyes.
“You belong to me. You love me now. Even if you’re scared to say it.”
You shake your head—barely—but he shushes you, pressing your forehead to his.
“You don’t gotta say it back. Not yet. I’ll wait. But you will. One day you’ll look at me with tears in your eyes and you’ll beg me not to let go.”
And then, quieter. Almost reverent:
“That’s the kind of love I give you, baby. The kind you can’t survive without.”
He pulls you close again, kisses your temple like a prayer.
You’re crying again. You’re not sure why this time.
But you don’t pull away.
Time passes, the world deteriorates further, and you're still in that cabin.
Everything is different now.
He’s softer now. Not gentle—never gentle. But softer. Possessive in a domestic way.
He brings you breakfast. Wipes your mouth with his thumb. Tells you to wear the sweater he likes because “you look so sweet in it, baby.”
He won’t let you do chores that could hurt you. Won’t let you carry your own rifle.
“That ain’t your job anymore,” he says one morning as he laces up your boots for you. “Your job’s to stay here. Be safe. Be mine.”
He touches you all the time. Even when you don’t realize it.
A hand on the small of your back. A palm on your thigh while you eat. Fingers in your hair when you’re reading.
You could run.
You should. You know that.
The keys are on the table. The gate's unlocked. His pack is by the door. He left it there for you to see, like a test. Like he wants to know.
Your fingers brush the doorknob. But they shake.
And you remember the way he touched your face the other night. After everything. The blood, the shouting, the other man’s body. Joel held you so gently then. Called you his baby. Kissed your knuckles like you were fragile porcelain he’d die protecting.
“Ain’t nobody ever gonna love you like I do, sweetheart,” he said, lips against your temple. “You know that, don’t you?”
And fuck—you do.
So you turn.
You don’t open the door.
You walk back. Barefoot. Quiet. Straight into the bedroom where he’s waiting in bed, already shirtless, already watching. Like he knew.
It’s not graceful—more like a quiet surrender. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of his hips, trembling a little, breath hitching. And he just watches you. Doesn’t touch you yet. Doesn’t move.
You think he’s going to say something—call you crazy, ask you why you came back when you could’ve been free.
But instead, Joel exhales slowly and opens his arms.
You melt into them, and his hands slowly move down, you let him grip your thighs like property.
“Thought you might leave,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy, voice almost… disappointed.
“Why would I?” you whisper. “This is where I belong.”
His breath hitches.
Then—pride. Dark, bone-deep satisfaction crawling over his face as he cups your cheek and smiles.
“Attagirl,” he says.
You kiss him before he can say anything else. Before you change your mind.
He pulls you close—tight. Like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip for even a second.
“You scared me,” he mutters into your hair, voice rough with something that sounds like grief. “When I didn’t hear the door slam. When I saw you standin’ there… fuck.”
“I know,” you whisper.
And you do know.
Because he doesn’t just fuck you like he owns you.
He holds you like you’re all he’s got left in a world full of rot and ruin.
His hand slides up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades, holding your chest to his, and he presses his lips on your forehead.
“You’re mine, baby,” Joel says, more to himself than you. “Always been mine. Nothin’s gonna hurt you now. Nothin’s gonna take you from me.”
“I don’t want to leave,” you whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. His pupils are blown wide, but there’s something dangerously soft behind them.
“You stay,” he murmurs, brushing your cheek. “I’ll give you the world. Or burn it down for you.”
You nod.
And Joel kisses you—slow, deep, claiming. Like a promise sealed in smoke and ruin.
You don’t know if it’s love or something darker.
By now, the emotional dependency had rewired your thinking.
You tell yourself he's rough because he cares, that no one else would protect you like he would. When you get scared by his yelling he's quick to switch. — he holds you, kisses you, whispers how sorry he is.
And you let him. Because deep down, you need him just as much as he needs you.
When you please him, you're rewarded. He shows you his soft side, gentle touches, affection, softness, he bathes you and plays with your hair, braiding with his rough, calloused hands.
But when you pull back, when you get scared or begin to doubt or defy him, he takes control immediately, reminding you who you belong to.
“You did so good, baby. I knew you’d come back to me.”
Just because you don’t want to leave him doesn’t mean you’ve stopped dreaming of light. Of normalcy. You don’t tell him about the dreams.
You don’t tell him about the ones where you’re sharing dinners with other people. Where there’s laughter in the room, where the air isn’t heavy. Where you and Joel live somewhere better—a place with windows that aren’t barred and doors that don’t need locking. Where he can finally rest with both eyes closed, because safety isn’t just a word he growls at shadows.
You don’t tell him you dream of a community. Not to escape him— But to give you both a life that doesn’t feel like a slow, quiet war.
You’re eating lunch together, his palm resting heavy on your thigh. The only sound is chewing—slow, deliberate, echoing louder than it should.
“You’re quiet, doll,” he says, pulling you from whatever place your mind had wandered to.
“Hmm?” You blink up at him, dazed.
He’s watching you now. Stern. Focused.
“What’s got you so quiet?” His voice softens just enough to make it worse. “Tell Daddy.”
You shake your head and glance back down at your plate.
“Nothin’. Just… remembered something.” You keep eating like that’s the end of it, hoping he won’t push.
“So you’re not gonna tell me.” It’s not a question.
The silence that follows isn’t comfortable. It’s not shared peace or understanding.
It’s intentional.
Cutting.
A silence that presses on your chest, that needles at your ribs. A silence that guilt-trips you into talking—not because he demands it, but because he knows you will.
Because he’s done this before.
And he’s waiting.
Because Joel always knows when there’s more.
“I thought about living in a QZ,” you say quietly.
He doesn’t look at you. Just keeps chewing, slow and steady.
“We could go together. Somewhere safer. Be part of a community… maybe even make friends.”
You risk a glance at him. Still nothing.
“I miss that,” you admit, voice thinner now. “Having neighbors. Sitting on a porch and saying hi to someone who isn’t just passing through or dying. I miss that feeling of… of belonging.”
Your eyes glisten, betraying more than you mean to. You think of your best friend—gone now. Think of what life looked like before the world fell apart. Before Joel.
“I heard there’s a QZ not far from here,” you add, trying to make it sound light. Hopeful. “They’ve got houses. Real ones. Nice. Comfortable. Safe.”
Still, he chews. Silent.
And you know he heard every word. You just don’t know which one he’s going to punish you for.
"No"
“Joel, listen to me,” you say, hopeful—naive, maybe, but desperate. “This QZ’s different. They’re safe—there’s clean water, patrols, actual houses. We could have something like—like a life again. Real people. Safety. I could meet—”
His palm is still on your thigh—but heavier now. Not tender. Just there. Anchoring you.
He doesn’t look at you when he speaks.
“You think we’re not safe here?”
You freeze, fingers curled around your fork.
“That’s not what I meant.”
He finally looks at you. Not angry. Not even frowning. Just watching.
Waiting.
“You said safer,” he says evenly. “More comfortable.”
You open your mouth. Close it.
“Better than this,” he continues, voice low. “That’s what you meant, right?”
You shake your head quickly. “Joel, no— I was just talking. Just thinking out loud. I didn’t mean it like—”
“You miss people.” He cuts you off softly, like he’s stating a fact. “Neighbors. Friends. Community.”
You nod. Hesitant. The truth is still clinging to your throat.
“Right.” He leans forward now, both elbows on the table, his hand still firm on your thigh. “And what am I?”
Your stomach twists.
“You’re everything,” you whisper.
He hums like he doesn’t believe you.
Then—quiet again.
“So why are you dreamin’ about leavin’ me behind?”
You blink. His voice cuts sharp and final through the air, slicing your sentence in half.
“Joel—”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
He’s already standing. Pacing. Breathing hard.
“It’s not safe,” he growls. “You think these people give a shit about us? About you? You show up alone in a dress like that, and they’ll eat you alive.”
“I wouldn’t be alone. I’d be with you.”
“That’s worse.”
You freeze. His eyes are wild—panicked, almost. Not rage. Not yet. Fear wrapped in fury.
“Joel…” you try again, softer this time. “We could have friends.”
That’s when he snaps.
“No. No goddamn friends. No strangers. No guards with rifles pointed at our backs, sayin’ it’s ‘protocol.’ It’s a fucking trap. All of it.”
You flinch. He notices. His jaw tightens.
“Baby,” he says next—but it’s a command, not an endearment. “I keep you safe. Not them. Me.”
And then softer, the venom curling into honey:
“You wanna laugh again? Sleep through the night? You think any of that comes from a bunch of clean streets and empty promises? Nah. It comes from me. Always has.”
He steps forward. Takes your face in his hands. Eyes you like you might disappear.
“I know it hurts,” Joel murmurs. “But we don’t need them. You’ve got me. That’s all you’ll ever need.”
Lunch ends with the sound of your chair scraping back hard against the floor. You don’t say anything.
You just stand, walk off, and slam the bedroom door behind you.
Joel doesn’t move right away.
He doesn’t follow.
Just sits there for a moment, chewing the last bite of food like nothing’s happened. Like your words didn’t land deep.
Then, calmly, methodically, he starts clearing the table.
Picks up your fork. Wipes down the plate. Stacks everything in the sink.
You can still hear him, faintly. The clink of dishes. The slow turn of the faucet. His footsteps measured as he moves through the house like he owns every inch of it—including you.
Because he does.
He’s not rushing.
He’s giving you time.
Time to settle. To cool off. To come to your senses.
You don’t speak to him for hours. You don’t meet his eyes. You don’t even look at him.
Later, in bed, you lie with your back turned, curled tight around your pillow like it’s armor. He lies awake behind you, unmoving, barely breathing. The silence is louder than any fight you’ve ever had.
You don’t cry out loud.
Just quiet, soft sniffles you try to hide in the fabric. But he hears them. Of course he does.
Finally—his voice, low and hesitant in the dark:
“Baby…”
Nothing.
“Baby, talk to me."
You clench your jaw.
He sits up, leans over your form, fingers twitching at his side like he wants to touch but doesn’t dare.
“I know you want that. I know it must be nice—to imagine makin’ friends, feelin’ normal. You think I don’t want that for you?”
Your breath hitches as you listen to him, still not looking.
“But we can’t risk it. Not when we’ve got safety here. Not when we’ve got… us.”
You still don’t turn around.
So Joel tries again, voice raw now—exposed.
“If somethin’ happened to you out there—if you got hurt, or taken, or worse—I’d burn the whole goddamn world down. You know that, don’t you?”
You close your eyes.
“I’m sorry I yelled,” he says next, quieter. “I get scared sometimes. And when I get scared, I get… mean. You know that, too.”
A pause.
“But I need you with me, baby. Not dreamin’ about leavin’ me behind.”
You shift.
Not fully turning. But enough that he sees your face. Tear-streaked. Pouty. Sad.
“I wasn’t leaving you,” you whisper. “I just wanted… more. For us. For me.”
Joel’s throat works around something like guilt. Or grief. Or panic.
He cups your cheek.
“You have more,” he says softly. “You’ve got me.”
He holds your face in both hands now, calloused thumbs brushing over your tear trails.
“You wanted something better,” he murmurs. “I know. I know, baby. And I made you feel small for dreamin’ of it.”
You don’t respond.
“I just—fuck. I get scared when you start talkin’ about things I can’t give you. About people I can’t protect you from. You think that QZ’s safe, but I’ve seen what people do behind clean walls and pretty speeches.”
Still, no response from you.
“I’m not perfect, baby. I know I’m not easy. But I’ve kept you alive. I’ve given you everything. And you still wanna test that?”
You’re allowed to want things. You’re allowed to dream...Just dream with me. Not without me."
You inhale shakily. His voice—that voice—is like a drug, slow and sweet, curling around your ribs until it numbs the hurt.
“You don’t gotta forgive me right now,” he whispers. “But I’m gonna show you why I’m worth it.”
He leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth. Light. Hesitant. His hand strokes your arm, tentative at first, then firmer as you don’t pull away.
You don’t kiss back.
But you don’t stop him either.
He moves lower and removes your panties, gently separating your thighs. Your breath hitches when his tongue makes contact with your clit. His lips wrap around it, kissing and sucking before he laps his tongue across your folds. He looks up at you, checking if you've given in yet.
You're fighting the urge to whimper, not wanting to let him know how easy he's got it.
He introduces one of his fingers, and you move your body, your legs spreading, touching the mattress like a butterfly position, allowing him easier access to you. It's involuntary, a second nature.
He continues to lick your pussy, fingering slowly and deep and soon enough you break. Your back lifts off the bed in pleasure and a whimper escapes you.
Joel kisses your inner thigh while his fingers continue inside you, working through your orgasm. You're too distracted to hesitate or fight back.
“You’re mine,” he whispers against your skin. “And I’m yours. That’s the only world I care about.”
Soon, you're shivering and letting out soft moans, and he knows he has won you back.
Once he's done with you he pulls you into his lap gently, your legs over his thighs like a bridge he's rebuilding piece by piece and slowly you let yourself soften against him and rest your cheek on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you shielding you from a world you don't know and will never do, all thanks to him.
"I love you."
You say softly, almost like a whisper, finally giving in.
He knew you'd say it sooner or later, you'd reciprocate it.
"Say it again."
"I love you, Daddy"
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✧ reblogs, likes & comments are deeply appreciated ♡
✧ do not repost, copy, or translate my work
#dark joel miller#dark!joel miller#dark!fic#dark!joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller smut#dark smut#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel x female reader#joel x f!reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#tlou fanfiction#tlou fics#pedro pascal fics#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal characters#fallenbratfiction#fallenbrat writes joel#perv joel
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you’re the only friend i need ⟢ OP81
PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader
SUMMARY: you and oscar were always two peas on a pod. people would often wonder how you, a troublesome kid in brighton, had managed to befriend the calm and reserve boy, oscar piastri. it was truly a wonder.
REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.
WARNINGS: no use of y/n, angst, heavy feeling fic, implied main character death (mcd), unsaid feelings, mentions of disease (leukemia), mentions of wound and bleeding, googled medical stuff, medical inaccuracies, inaccurate info, reader is a bit of a troublemaker, fast paced-ish, there are unrealistic medical stuff, and minor typographical errors.
WORD COUNT: 12.3k
AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is pure angst, there is no happy ending for this one. so if this is not your cup of tea, it’s better you stop reading from here on out. there will be no other part of this fic, bc i’m don’t really know how to pen the rest of the fic (sorry ><), i’m satisfied with the ending of this one. this fic is a love child of me loving childhood nostalgia and coming-of-age genre, and it was also the vibe the i get whenever i hear ‘ribs’ by lorde, bc i SWEAR that song never fails to make me feel stuff +++ the childhood drink, i only had googled it, so if i have any australian reader here, pls feel free to correct me. your comments/reblogs is always appreciated, i hope that you’ll like this one! :)
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You and Oscar Piastri had always been inseparable, practically joined at the hip since the moment your parents introduced you as toddlers. Living right next door to each other in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Brighton, meant that your lives intertwined in a way that felt natural, as if you had always been destined to be a part of one another’s stories. Your parents, close friends long before either of you were born, often joked that it was inevitable that you two would end up being close. Whether it was playdates during the day or sleepovers at night, there was rarely a time when you and Oscar weren’t together.
Sleepovers were always your favorite. Your parents would bring you to Oscar's house with a hastily packed bag, and Nicole and Chris would always welcome you as if you were one of their own. Nicole always had snacks ready—popcorn, biscuits, and sometimes her famous chocolate cake, and how Chris would sometimes tease you both about staying up too late. You and Oscar never really did listen to him, though.
Once the lights were out and the world outside went quiet, you and Oscar would sneak flashlights under the covers, building forts out of blankets and couch cushions. Inside your makeshift castles, you would whisper to each other in the dark, sharing stories that veeted from spine-tingling ghost tales to ridiculous made-up adventures that had you both doubled over with laughter. It was not uncommon for you to laugh so hard your ribs hurt, clutching your sides as Oscar tried, and failed, to stifle his giggles so you would not wake his parents up.
Oscar, even as a kid, was calm and easygoing, which is a perfect counterbalance to your boundless energy and knack for trouble. He was steady, level-headed, and rarely got into trouble, whilst you had a knack for finding mischief, dragging Oscar along for the ride more than not—daring him to climb trees or riding bikes faster than you should’ve, to name a few.
Your parents, on more occasions than they could count, ended up at their wits end because of your antics. From sneaking out past curfew to explore the neighborhood to accidentally setting off store alarms because you thought it would be funny to hide in a display, you always found a way to test the limits of patience. More often than not, you did get caught—whether it was by a passing neighbor, security, or the occasional local police officer, you somehow always managed to land yourself in trouble—but never anything too serious.
It was usually enough to warrant a lecture from your own parents and a lot of head-shaking from Oscar’s. Despite it all, Nicole and Chris never seemed to hold it against you. They’re just kids, Nicole would say, a soft smile on her face. As long as you’re not doing anything dangerous, it’s fine. Chris would usually chime in on the conversation with a mock-serious, just don’t do drugs, alright? his tone was always lighthearted, but you knew they meant it. You would just laugh it off, promising to behave, even though everyone knew that promise would be short-lived.
Your bond with Oscar extended to his entire family. His younger sister—Hattie, Edie, and Mae, all adored you, looking up to you like the cool older sibling they didn’t have. You would play dress-up with them, let them braid your hair, and sometimes even join them for impromptu tea parties. They would giggle uncomfortably at your dramatic impressions of princesses and villains, their laughter echoing through the house. Nicole often remarked how good you were with them, and Chris would joke that you were training to be a babysitter.
Your home as well was equally a second home for Oscar. Your parents trusted him implicitly, often leaving him in charge when they needed someone to keep you grounded. He had this knack for calming you down whenever you’re in one of your hyperactive moods, his steady demeanor a much-needed anchor to your whirlwind of personality. Oscar often got praised by your parents, calling him the voice of reason in your friendship dynamic. But even they couldn’t stay mad for long when Oscar ended up being roped into your schemes. They would shake their heads and sigh, but deep down, they were glad you had someone like Oscar in your life—someone who did not just tolerate your chaos, but embraced it in his own quiet way.
Growing up with Oscar was more than just having a best friend, it was having a partner in every memory worth keeping. From lazy afternoons spent sprawled out on the grass, staring at the clouds, to winter nights curled up on the couch watching movies, every moment with Oscar felt like an adventure.
You had suddenly remembered that one time—it was the kind of night that felt alive, the air cool but not biting, sky’s a velvet canvas scattered with stars. You had been sitting on the edge of your bed, staring aimlessly at the analog clog, when the idea hit you—a reckless, wild idea that made your heart race with excitement. Sneaking out was not new to you, but this time, you wanted company. Specifically, you wanted Oscar.
Convincing him was not really easy. You had climbed through his bedroom window—something you had done far more time than you could count, and found him already half-asleep, wrapped in his favorite blanket with his hair sticking up at odd angles.
“What are you doing?” he mumbled groggily, squinting at you.
“Come on, we’re going out,” you whispered, a grin spreading across your face.
“Out where?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice. “It’s already late at night.”
“Just get dressed. Trust me, you’ll love it.” you smiled.
Oscar groaned, muttering something about how this was a terrible idea, but eventually, he swung his legs out of his bed and grabbed a hoodie. You knew that he would come around, he always did. By the time you reached the abandoned public pool, the chain-linked fence loomed in front of you, its weathered surface dotted with a big faded NO TRESPASSING sign.
He stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms. “You dragged me out of bed for this? We’re not getting in.”
“Oh have a little faith, would you,” you said, as you pull out a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters.
He stared at you, blinking slowly. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” you replied, popping the p.
“You stole those, didn’t you?” Oscar questioned.
“Borrowed,” you corrected, grinning mischievously as you hefted the tool.
Oscar sighed, the kind of exasperated sigh he seemed to reserve exclusively for you. “You’re insane.”
“And you love it,” you teased, motioning for him to follow you.
You led him to the back of the pool area, where the bushes grew thick and wild, partially hiding the fence. Kneeling down, you positioned the bolt cutters against the rusted metal links and started to work. The snap of metal breaking was surprisingly loud in the quiet night, but you pressed on, ignoring Oscar’s whispered protest.
“This is such a bad idea,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to appear. “If we get caught—”
“We won’t get caught,” you interrupted, voice calm but firm. “Relax, Osc. I’ve done this before.”
“That’s not exactly comforting,” he said, but voice softened when he saw the concentration on your face. “You’re weirdly good at that,” he admitted after a moment, watching as you expertly cut a hole big enough for the two of you to crawl through.
“Why thank you, my good sir,” you said, brushing the dirt off your hands as you stepped back to admire your work. “Now come on, ladies first.” you teased, to which he just rolled his eyes at you.
Oscar followed you through the gap in the fence, grumbling under his breath but too curious to stop. The pool stretched out in front of you, its surface shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Despite the place being abandoned, the water was crystal clear, a testament to whoever was still maintaining it.
“So this is your idea of fun in the middle of the night?” he asked, tone caught between disbelief and amusement.
“Yep.” you smiled.
Shaking his head, he trailed after you to one of the old sunbeds. You plopped down first, stretching out and tilting your head back to gaze at the stars. After a moment, he sat down beside you, arms resting on his knees. For a while, neither of you spoke. The night was so still that the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of crickets felt almost amplified. It was peaceful in a way that made the world beyond the fence feel far away and unimportant.
“You really come here a lot?” Oscar finally asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, but somehow, they found where I would sneak in and boarded it off.” you said softly. “It’s kind of my spot. No one bothers me here, and I can think peacefully.”
He glanced over at you, expression unreadable. “It’s nice,” he admitted, voice low.
“Told you,” you said with a small smirk, nudging him with your shoulder.
Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “I still think you’re insane. But thanks for bringing me here.”
“See? You love it!” you teased again, but this time, your tone was gentle.
He didn’t argue back, just leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the stars. For all his initial protests, you could tell he was enjoying himself.
The quiet stillness of the night surrounded you as you sat on the sunbeds, gazing up at the sky. The stars seemed to shimmer more brightly than usual, scattered across the inky darkness like tiny diamonds. The gentle hum of crickets filled the silence, a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. You turned your head slightly, glancing at Oscar, who was leaning back, arms folded behind his head, and face relaxed but thoughtful.
“So,” you started this time, breaking the silence. “How’s karting going for you?”
Oscar turned his head towards you, brow lifting slightly. “It’s going good,” he said, tone casual, but there was a spark in his eyes as he spoke. “I’ve got another competition coming up soon. You’d know all about it if you actually came to one for once.”
You rolled your eyes, smiling a little. “You know that karting isn’t my thing.”
“Not your thing,” he repeated, almost scoffing, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve been saying that for years. You’ve never even given it a chance.”
“I cheer for you in spirit,” you said, leaning back against the sunbed with a grin. “That counts, right?”
Oscar let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible. But seriously, you should come sometime. It’s not just about the racing—you’d see what it’s all about. Besides, my family would love to have you there.”
“I know,” you said quietly, gaze drifting back to the stars. “But I don’t need to be there to know you’re amazing. I’m always proud of you, you know that.”
He smiled softened at your words, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, as if something had been weighing on him, he spoke again.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he began, voice a little hesitant, “I’m probably moving to the UK soon. There’s more opportunity there for racing. Better teams, better chances to make it in F1.”
The words hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you didn’t know to respond to Oscar. You felt a slight pinch in your chest, a dull ache you could not quite place. But as always, you pushed it aside, refusing to let it show.
“Oh, wow,” you said, turning to him with a smile that you hoped didn’t look forced. “So, you’re leaving me, huh?”
Oscar gave you a look—half amused, half exasperated. “I’m not leaving you,” he said firmly. “It’s just something I need to do.”
“Sure, sure,” you teased, poking his arm lightly. “Just don’t forget me when you’re already a big shot in F1, okay? Don’t pretend you don’t know me when I show up at one of your races, like, hey, remember me? The one dragged you into all her bad ideas?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Like I could ever forget you. You’d probably try and break into the paddock if I didn’t let you in.”
“Exactly,” you said with a grin, though your chest still felt tight.
Oscar tilted his head, looking at you more seriously now. “What about you?” he asked. “What do you want to do? Where do you see yourself in a few years?”
You hesitated, staring back up at the sky as if the stars might have an answer for you. The truth was, you did not know at all. You never had. The thought of planning your life out like that felt daunting, like trying to catch smoke in your hands.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” you admitted finally, voice soft. “As cliché as it sounds, I guess I’ll just…go with the flow. See where life takes me.”
Oscar studied your face for a moment, gaze thoughtful. “That’s not a bad thing, you know,” he said. “Some people tend to spend their whole lives planning and never stop to actually live.”
You turned your head to him, surprised by his words. You know that Oscar was philosophical in some type of way, and it always surprises you, but there was something reassuring in the way he said it.
“Yeah,” you murmured, offering him a smile. “Maybe.”
You reached inside of your jacket and pulled out two juice boxes of sunshine punch. You tossed one to Oscar, who caught it with a raised eyebrow.
“Sunshine punch? Really?” he asked, tone teasing as he turned the box over in his hands.
“I know, I’m the best, aren’t I?” you replied, already poking the straw into yours and taking a sip.
Oscar gave you a small shake of his head but didn’t argue. He was not a fan of the drink, you both knew that early on, but he appreciated the gesture. He poked the straw in, took a small sip, and scrunched his nose lightly. You just laughed quietly to yourself, looking out at the pool.
The water glistened under the moonlight, a perfect reflection of the pale orb in the sky. Silence between you was comfortable, just the two of you simply drinking your juice boxes, watching the faint ripple of water and the shadows cast by the surrounding bushes. But then, a sharp flash of light broke through the calm, your heart jumped as the beam of a flashlight swept across the area. You then froze, juice box in hand, while Oscar turned to look at you, confused.
“Finish your juice box,” you whispered urgently, quickly sipping the last of your drink and tossing the empty juice box into a trash bin.
“What “ Oscar whispered back, voice incredulous. “Why?”
“Just do it!” you urged, voice tight as your eyes scanned the area for a hiding spot.
Lscar grumbled, not really happy that you were hurrying him with his juice box, but he drank it quickly. You were already moving, searching desperately for somewhere you and Oscar could hide, but there was nothing. No bushes dense enough, no shadows deep enough. The pool shimmered ominously in your peripheral vision as the flashlight beam drew closer.
“Hold your breath,” you whispered sharply, grabbing Oscar’s wrist.
“Wait, what—” he started, but you didn’t give Oscar the chance to finish.
You yanked him forward, making him drop the juice box to the ground, and without a second thought, you pushed him into the pool. The water was shockingly cold against your skin as you followed him in, the splash louder than you had hoped. You gestured quickly at Oscar, motioning for him to stay under and not make any movement. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and panic, but he nodded, holding his breath as the two of you sank just beneath the surface.
The water muffled everything—whistle of the night, rustle of leaves, even your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Above you, the flashlight beam danced across the pool’s surface, light refracting and breaking into shimmering fragments underwater. You held your breath as tightly as you held onto the pool ladder near you, praying you wouldn’t need to come up too soon.
Bright light lingered near the spot where you and Oscar were submerged. You could feel the tension radiating off of Oscar, his body still beside yours. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every muscle in your body tensed. Finally, the light shifted, moving away from your side of the pool. You waited until the beam disappeared entirely before you tapped Oscar’s arm and motioned upward.
Breaking the surface as quietly as you could, you took in a deep gulp of air. The guard’s faint muttering was distant now, but there was no time to relax. Grabbing Oscar’s wrist again, you pulled him towards the swimming pool ladder, the two of you moving quickly but silently. Once out of the pool, you didn’t even wait to catch your breath.
“Run!” you hissed, tugging him along.
The security had heard the faint splashing as you climbed out and turned, his whistle piercing through the night. “Hey! Stop right there!”
You didn’t look back. Your feet pounded against the concrete as you made a dash for the gap in the fence, snatching up the bolt cutters on the way out. You could not risk leaving it behind, your father would definitely notice that they were missing. Oscar groaned behind you, clearly annoyed but following without hesitation. He was the last one through the gap, and just as you turned to grab his arm and pull him forward, the security’s shouts grew louder.
“Go, go, go!” you urged, practically dragging him by his hand as you sprinted down the street.
The sound of your shoes hitting the pavement echoed in the quiet street of your neighborhood, both your breathing still heavy from running, then noticed the way his right sleeve moved awkwardly against his arm. In the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you caught sight of a tear in his hoodie, a dark streak seeping through the fabric. Without thinking, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.
“Wait, Osc, hold on,” you said, pulling his arm closer to inspect it.
Oscar blinked down at you in surprise. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“You’re bleeding,” you murmured, tugging the torn fabric back slightly to reveal a shallow but angry scratch on his skin. The blood was fresh, glinting under the light.
He tilted his head at the sight of it, his expression calm. “Huh? I didn’t even notice.”
“I’m so sorry, Osc!” you blurted out, guilt immediately rising in your chest. “It must’ve happened when we were going through the fence. I didn’t—”
“Hey, stop it,” he interrupted, tone firm but soft. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously.”
You hesitated, still holding his arm as if that would somehow make it better. Oscar shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”
Even though his words were reassuring, the sight of the wound made you feel uneasy. You let go of his arm reluctantly, murmuring a quiet apology one last time. Oscar just rolled his eyes, though there was no annoyance behind it.
“Come on, let’s get home before we freeze.” he smiled.
The two of you made your way to his house, the familiar sight of the front porch of his house coming into view. You slowed your steps as you approached, realizing that sneaking back inside was not going to work. Oscar’s soaked clothes clung to him, dripping water onto the pavement, and your own shoes squelched with each step. There was no hiding this from anyone.
Oscar gave you a pointed look. “You’re ringing the doorbell.”
You sighed but didn’t argue, stepping up to the door and pressing the doorbell. It wasn’t long before you heard soft footsteps from inside. The door creaked open, and Nicole stood there, face shifting from sleepy confusion to startled concern the moment she saw both you and Oscar.
“What on earth…?” she muttered, eyes scanning your drenched forms. She glanced behind you at the perfectly dry pavement and then back at you both, brow furrowing. “It didn’t rain tonight, what happened?”
You opened your mouth to explain, but she quickly ushered you both inside. “Come in, come in. You’re going to catch a cold standing out there like that.”
Once you were in the warmth of the house, she left for a moment and returned with two towels, handing one to you and the other to Oscar. You wrapped the towel around yourself, the fabric soaking up the cold water clinging to your skin.
“I’m so sorry,” you began, clutching the towel tightly. “It wasn’t my intention to get Oscar dragged into this.”
Nicole raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, so you took it as a sign to continue. “We were just hanging out at the public pool, and when the security showed up, we didn’t have anywhere to hide, so we, uh, hid in the pool.”
At that, Nicole’s lips twitched, and then she laughed, a soft, warm sound that immediately eased the tension in your chest. “You two are really something else,” she said, shaking her head.
You blinked at her, surprised by her reaction. “You’re not mad?”
She smiled at you, expression fond. “No, of course I’m not mad. It’s just water. But next time, maybe pick a place where you won’t need to dive into a pool to avoid getting caught, hm?”
You nodded quickly, relieved. “I promise! And please don’t tell my parents.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Nicole smiled again, waving a hand dismissively. “Dry yourselves off, and Oscar, make sure you clean that scratch on your arm before you head to bed.”
Oscar glanced at the tear in his hoodie and nodded. “Yeah, I got it mum.”
Nicole turned to head back upstairs, but she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, and you can stay the night if you want,” she said to you. “It’s so late, and you’re already here.”
You shook your head politely. “Thank you, but I’ll head home.”
She nodded in understanding, giving you both one last look. “Alright then. Oscar, don’t forget to lock the front door and turn off the lights before you head to bed.”
With that, Nicole headed back upstairs, her footsteps soft on the carpeted stairs. You and Oscar were left standing in the entryway, still damp but no longer worried about the consequences.
Oscar glanced at you, lips twitching as if he were about to laugh. “Well, that went better than expected,” he said, running a hand through his wet hair.
“Yeah,” you said, tugging the towel tighter around your shoulders. “Your mum’s the best.”
As a compensation for the troubles you had caused Oscar and waking up his mother, you decided to patch up his wound. You know exactly where their first aid kit was kept, so you wasted no time in retrieving it from the cabinet under the sink. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the floorboards beneath your wet shoes as you moved. With the kit in hand, you motioned for Oscar to sit at the kitchen counter.
“Come and sit, take off your hoodie. I’ll patch up your wound, it’s the least I can do for causing troubles,” you said softly, gesturing to the torn and bloodstained fabric.
Oscar hesitated for a moment but eventually tugged the hoodie over the head, wincing slightly when his arm brushed against the sleeve. He tossed the hoodie onto the back of a chair and sat down, resting his injured arm on the counter.
You opened the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of antiseptic, some cotton pads, and a bandage. Setting everything down neatly, you grabbed a damp cloth first to clean the dried blood off of his skin. The scratch was not deep, but it stretched across his arm in a jagged line, red and raw.
“Alright, this might sting a little,” you warned, soaking a cotton pad with antiseptic and dabbing it gently onto the wound.
Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, face scrunching up. “A little?” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Feels like you’re pouring fire on it.”
You couldn’t help but grin slightly at his reaction, though you kept your focus on his arm. Stop being dramatic, it’s not that bad.”
“Says the person not being burned alive right now,” he shot back, though his tone was light.
You rolled your eyes, pressing the cotton pad a little more carefully against the scratch. “If you keep moving, it’s going to take longer. Hold still.”
Oscar sighed and complied, sitting as still as he could while you worked. Once the wound was clean, you grabbed the fresh bandage and carefully wrapped it around his arm, making sure it was snug but not too tight.
“There,” you said, trying off the bandage and stepping back to inspect your handiwork. “All patched up!”
He glanced down at his arm and flexed it slightly, wincing a little. “Thanks, Doc,” he said with a small smile.
You began gathering the used cotton pads and other supplies, discarding them into the trash and returning the first aid kit to its usual spot. As you wiped your hands on the towel draped over your shoulders, Oscar leaned back in his chair, eyeing the fresh bandage.
“Think it’s gonna leave a scar?” he asked casually.
You paused for a moment, glancing at the scratch before shrugging. “Probably. But at least it’ll be a cool story.”
Oscar snorted. “Yeah, breaking into an abandoned pool and almost getting caught by security. Real cool.”
You smirked, folding the towel neatly and setting it aside. “You’ll thank me when you’re older and tell this to your kids. Your crazy aunt gave me this scar.’”
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around just for the stories, huh?”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile on your face. “Anyway, it’s late, or early, I guess. I should head home.”
Oscar stood up as you grabbed your jacket, which was still damp but less soaked than before. “I’ll walk you to the front door,” he offered.
The two of you made your way to the front door, house completely silent except for your footsteps. Oscar unlocked the door and held it open for you, the cool night air rushing in.
“Goodnight,” you said softly, stepping out onto the porch.
“Night,” Oscar replied, lingering in the doorway as you walked down the steps.
The streets were quiet as you made your way home, slipping into your yard and heading straight for the tool shed. You carefully returned the bolt cutter to its original place, making sure everything looked untouched. With that done, you grabbed the ladder that was leaning against the side of the house and quietly climbed up to your bedroom window. Halfway up, you paused and turned your head, glancing across to Oscar’s house, his bedroom window was lit dimly from the inside, and there he was, standing jusy behind the glass. Oscar noticed you looking and mouthed a goodnight, with a smile.
You smiled back and gave him a slight wave in return before turning back to your task. Pulling yourself through the open window, you landed softly on your bedroom floor, finally letting out a breath you had not realized that you were holding.
Years had passed since that night at the pool. Life, as it always did, moved forward, and the close bond you and Oscar had once shared slowly faded into memory. When Oscar left for the UK to pursue his racing career, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, even as you supported him wholeheartedly. It was a bittersweet goodbye without an actual farewell—you didn’t get to see him before he left. Instead, you relied on Nicole to pass along your best wishes, trusting that she would tell him everything you could not.
Not long after Oscar’s departure, your own life took a drastic turn. Your parents had finally decided to move to Sydney for better work opportunities, a decision that uprooted you from the neighborhood you had ever called home. The weeks leading up to the move were a whirlwind of packing boxes, sorting through childhood memorabilia, and saying goodbyes to the people who had been part of your life for so long—the Piastris were among the hardest to leave behind. Nicole hugged you tightly, and Chris offered his usual kind words, and Oscar’s sisters promised to write, though you all knew how unlikely that was to happen.
When the moving day came, you left quietly. There wasn’t much time for sentimentality—just final glance at the house you grew up in before climbing into the car. Sydney will be a fresh start for your family—as how your parents had put it, but you could not shake the feeling that you were leaving a piece of you behind.
The transition to Sydney was not easy, but somehow, you managed. The city was bigger, busier, and an unfamiliar territory, yet you adapted, throwing yourself into a routine that kept your mind occupied. You rarely thought about the past, though every now and then, something would remind you of Oscar—a fleeting mention of his name in news and online articles, or a memory that surfaced at the most unexpected times.
Nine months after moving to Sydney, something changed yet again. What started as fatigue and unexplained bruises turned into something far more serious. One day, your parents rushed you to the hospital after you fainted at home. Series of tests were run, questions were asked, and finally, a doctor say you down with an expression that left no room for doubt.
Stage two leukemia.
The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. You felt entirely detached, as though they were speaking to someone else. Your parents’ reactions were immediate—your mother bursting into tears and your father was gripping your hand tightly. But you were just sitting there, silent and still. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You didn’t ask why this was happening to you. Instead, you felt a strange sense of calmness wash over you, a quiet acceptance that settled over you like a blanket. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was the realization that no amount of questioning or anger would change what was already done.
Later that night, after the initial flurry of doctors and paperwork, you sat with your parents in the sterile quiet of your hospital room. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a pale glow on their worried faces. You looked at your parents, both were still trying to process what they had been told, and made a request.
“I don’t want anyone else to know,” you said firmly.
Your father frowned, forehead creasing deeply. “What do you mean? People will want to support you—”
“I mean it, dad,” you interrupted gently but resolutely. “Let’s keep this to ourselves. I don’t want anyone worrying about me.”
Your mother hesitated, voice breaking. “What about Nicole and Chris? They’re family to us—they’d want to know.”
You shook your head, your gaze steady. “No. Please. If they find out, they’ll tell Oscar, and I just don’t want him to worry. He’s got enough on his plate, he doesn’t need to hear about this.”
There was a long pause. Your parents exchanged a glance, the kind of silent conversation that only comes with years of partnership. Finally, your father sighed and nodded.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want, we’ll respect it.”
“Thank you,” you murmured, leaning back against the pillows.
Just like that, the secret was sealed. Life shifted into a strange new rhythm—hospital visits, treatments, moments of hope, and days of despair. Through it all, you kept your diagnosis close to your chest, unwilling to burden anyone else with the weight of it.
It had been nearly a year of chemotherapy—long days of sitting in cold hospital rooms in silence, hooked up to IVs that dripped chemicals into your veins. Each session left you feeling more drained than the last, your body growing weaker as the fight dragged on. Still, you clung to the silver of hope that the treatments were doing something, anything, to slow down the disease. But hope has a way of unraveling.
Your latest round of tests came back, and the news was worse than you could have imagined. The chemotherapy was not working. Instead of improving, your condition had worsened, and now the doctors were delivering the words you had dreaded since the beginning.
Stage four.
You sat still inside the small consultation room, the sterile white walls closing in around you as the doctor explained your options. Words such as aggressive treatment and clinical trials floated in the air, but you were not really listening to what the doctor was saying. Your parents were, though—you could see the desperation in their faces as they clung to every word, searching for something to hold onto.
Later that night, at home, you lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling with the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on your chest. You thought about the past years, about how much you had endured and how little had come from it. The endless cycle of nausea, fatigue, and pain had left you feeling like a shadow of yourself. What was the point of continuing if it wasn't even making you better?
The next morning, you asked your parents to sit down with you in the living room. They looked at you with concern, sensing that this conversation was different. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking.
“I want to stop the chemotherapy,” you said quietly but firmly.
Your mother’s eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth. “What? No—you can’t mean that, honey. We’re fighting this, remember? You’ve been so strong—”
“I’ve been strong,” you whispered gently, meeting her gaze. “But I’m tired, mum. I’m so fucking tired. This treatment is no longer working on me. We all know damn well that it’s not working.”
Your father’s face was tense, his hands gripping the armrest of his chair. “The doctors said there are other options. Experimental treatments, new drugs—sweetheart, they haven’t given up on you, and neither should you.”
You sighed, trying to find the right words to make them understand. “I know you want me to keep fighting, and I love you for that. But this isn’t living anymore, every single day feels like a battle that I’m losing. I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left feeling like this.”
Tears welled up in your mother’s eyes as she reached for your hand. “There has to be something else that we can do. We can’t just stop.”
“I’m not giving up,” you said softly, squeezing her hand. “I’m just choosing a different path. The doctors mentioned alternatives, things that might help me feel better without the chemo. I want to try those instead, I want to focus on quality of life, not quantity.”
There was a long silence as your parents absorbed your words. Your father looked down at the floor, his jaw clenched, while your mother wiped at her tears. Finally, he spoke, voice low and strained.
“If this is what you want, okay, we’ll support you. But it’s not easy for us to accept.”
“I know,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I know it’s not easy. But this is what feels right for me.”
Your mother nodded through her tears, her grip on your hand tightening. “We’ll talk to the doctors tomorrow. We’ll figure out the alternatives.”
You leaned into your mother’s embrace, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow. It was not an easy decision, but it was yours, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.
You never thought that you would be back to where it all started. The sun was warm on your back as you stood in front of the old house, taking in the neighborhood that had once been so familiar. Everything seemed different now—houses, gardens, and even the way the air smelled, but the tree with the tyre swing still stood proudly in the front yard. The sight of it tugged at your chest, stirring a mix of nostalgia and longing. You remembered how you and Oscar used to spend hours climbing its sturdy branches, swinging so high on the tyre that your parents would often scold you to be careful.
You took a tentative step toward the tree, wondering if the names you and Oscar had carved into the bark were still there. You hadn’t really thought about that in years, but the memory was vivid of how the two of you had sat side by side, each clutching a small pocket knife that you were not supposed to have, giggling as you carefully etched your initials into the wood. Before you could reach the tree, a voice called out your name.
You turned around quickly, heart skipping a beat as you saw her—Nicole. Nicole just stood there, just as warm and welcoming as you remembered. Her face lit up in recognition, and before you could say anything, she crossed the distance between you and pulled you into a tight hug.
“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, arms wrapping around you with a familiar kind of affection that nearly brought tears to your eyes. “It’s been so long! Look at you—you’ve grown up so much.”
You smiled nervously as she pulled back, her hands still resting on your shoulders. “Hi, Mrs. P. It’s been a while.”
“Too long, my dear,” she said, voice tinged with both happiness and surprise. “I heard your family was back in town, but I didn’t think I’d run into you so soon! How are you? How are your parents?”
“They’re good,” you replied, voice steady despite the sudden nervousness creeping into your chest. “They’re inside, actually, talking to the realtor.”
Nicole nodded, eyes scanning your face with that same maternal kindness you remembered from your childhood. “And how are you, sweetheart? It’s been ages since I last saw you.”
Your throat tightened for a moment. She did not know. No one ever did, except your parents. You forced a small smile and nodded. “I’m doing okay. Just taking it one day at a time, you know?”
She smiled warmly, completely unaware of the weight behind your words. “That’s good to hear. It’s so nice to see you back, Brighton hasn’t been the same without you.”
You shifted slightly, glancing around the neighborhood before returning your gaze to her. “How’s everyone by the way? The whole family, especially the girls.”
“Oh they’re all doing great,” Nicole said brightly. “The girls are growing up so fast—you wouldn’t even recognize them! Then Oscar…”
At the mention of his name, your heart seemed to skip. You hadn’t thought about him in a very long time, and now, hearing his name felt both comforting and surreal.
“How’s Oscar?” you asked, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in your chest.
Nicole’s face lit up with pride. “Oh, he’s doing wonderfully! You wouldn’t believe it—he’s made it to F1! He was signed with McLaren.”
The words hit you like a burst of sunlight, flooding you with an overwhelming sense of happiness that you could not even describe. Your lips parted in surprise, and you felt your chest swell with pride.
“He did it?” you asked softly, almost in disbelief.
Nicole nodded, smile widening. “He did! It’s been such a journey for him, but he’s finally there. All those years of hard work have paid off.”
You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I always knew he would make it. I never doubted it for a second.”
Nicole chuckled, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “He worked so hard for this, and I know he would love to see you. Oscar’s been so busy, especially with the races, but I’m sure that he’d be thrilled to know you’re back.”
You hesitated for a moment, the thought of seeing him again stirring a mix of emotions you were not quite ready to unpack. “That’s amazing,” you said finally, voice filled with genuine admiration. “I’m so proud of him.”
Nicole smiled knowingly, as if she could see just how much you meant it. “You should tell him that yourself sometime. I know that he’d love to hear it.”
You nodded, though you were not sure if you would.
You and your family are back yet again in Brighton. The day was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that made you feel every sound—rustle of leaves in the breeze, distant hum of cars passing by, faint creak of the porch beneath your weight. You were sitting there, knees pulled to your chest, gazing out at the familiar neighborhood that had shaped so many of your memories. It was strange to think that after today, this house, street, and view would no longer be yours.
Your parents were just inside the house, tying up loose ends with the realtor, discussing the final details of the sale. You had excused yourself, not wanting to be a part of it. The mere thought of walking through the now-empty rooms, stripped off the warmth and life they once held, felt too heavy. So you stayed outside, perched on the porch steps, letting the sights and sounds of Brighton seep into you one last time.
The air carried an unusual faint chill, and you hugged your arms around yourself as you scanned the street. It was still the same in many ways—neatly trimmed lawns, rows of houses with their uniform yet distinct façade. But it also felt different, as if time had moved on without you, leaving you as an observer rather than a participant. As your eyes wandered, something, or rather, someone had caught your attention. You straightened slightly, squinting to make sure that you were not imagining things. Walking down the sidewalk, with an easy familiar stride, was Oscar.
For a moment, you were struck by how much he had changed. He carried himself differently now, more confident, assured, as if the years away had molded him into someone who fully belonged in the world he had always dreamed of. But that was not what held your attention. Beside Oscar, her arm lightly brushing against his, was a girl. She was gorgeous in an effortless way that made it impossible to look away. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight, her laughter rang out softly as she spoke to Oscar, and her smile was the kind that lit up her whole face.
You felt it then—a sharp, unbidden pang in your chest. It was not jealousy, not exactly. It was something deeper, aching. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, from the way they walked together, so perfectly in sync, so natural. They looked so good together, like a pair that had been meant to find each other. And you? You just sat there, still and silent, feeling like an intruder on a moment that was not meant for you to see.
You hated the way how your mind began to spiral, unearthing old, buried feelings that you had tried so hard to forget and ignore. You thought you had moved past it, but now, sitting there, it was undeniable. You had loved Oscar, or at least something close to it. You never admitted it to anyone, not even to yourself. But it had always been there, in the way your heart quickened when he smiled at you, in a way you always wanted to make him laugh, in the way you looked for him in every crowded room.
But you never told him. How could you? He was Oscar—steady, kind, driven, and you were you. A troublemaker. Reckless. Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that someone like him could never feel the same way about you, that you were not the kind of person he would ever want.
But now, watching him with her, it only proved what you had always known deep down. They looked perfect together, in a way you could never imagine yourself fitting into his life. She had the kind of refinement and grace that seemed effortless, while you were rough around the edges and acting on impulsive decisions.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away, but it was already too late. The image of them, of Oscar, was already etched into your mind, and as you sat there, you chest heavy with an ache you couldn’t shake, you knew that saying goodbye to this house and street was not the hardest part of leaving Brighton.
The hardest part was letting go of something you never truly had.
You were standing by your family car, hands crossed to your chest, waiting for your parents to finish up inside when you heard someone call your name. Turning, you saw Nicole walking briskly towards you, face lighting up as she reached you. Before you could even say anything, she had already extended an invitation for you and your family to come over to their house for the afternoon.
You hesitated, glancing towards your parents who were just stepping out of the house. A quiet panic bubbled inside you, this was not what you were expecting, and you certainly were not in the mood to socialize. But you did not want to be rude, especially to Nicole who had always been warm and kind. So, with a quiet nod, you agreed.
The Piastri house hadn’t changed that much. The familiar scent of home cooking and the subtle hum of conversation greeted you the moment you stepped through the door. Your parents were warmly embraced by Nicole, their chatter filling up the air as if no time had passed since your last visit. You lingered near the entryway, unsure of where to place yourself, when you heard excited voices. Hattie, Edie, and Mae appeared out of nowhere, voices high-pitched with excitement as they spotted you.
Before you could even say a word, they wrapped you in a tight group hig, their arms squeezing you with an intensity that left you breathless. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a wheeze, your words muffled by the weight of their embrace.
“Alright, let her breathe!” Oscar’s voice cut through the chaos.
The three of them reluctantly stepped back, each of their faces flushed with excitement. You caught your breath, offering a weak smile as they began firing a series of questions at you in rapid succession.
“How have you been?”
“What are you up to these days?”
“How are you finding Sydney?”
The questions came at you like a tidal wave, and you barely managed to mumble a response before another question followed. It was overwhelming, too much all at once, and just when you felt yourself starting to falter, Oscar intervened again.
“Okay, that’s enough interrogation,” he said, tone light but firm as he stepped between you and his sisters. “Give her a minute to breathe, yeah?”
Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Now, it was just you and Oscar, and the silence between you felt louder than anything his sisters had said. You looked at him, unsure of what to really say or where to start, and in the end, you settled for the safest and simplest thing you could ever think of.
“Congratulations by the way,” you said, voice quieter than you intended. “On making it to F1.”
His lips curved into a smile, soft and genuine. “Thanks. It’s been a crazy few years.”
You nodded, really unsure of how to respond, and the silence threatened to stretch on uncomfortably. But then he added, “I’m back in Australia for the Grand Prix.”
“Oh, that’s amazing,” you said, meaning it. “I’m proud of you, Osc. Really.”
Oscar tilted his head slightly, a smile turning into a more playful one. “You still don’t watch the races, though, do you?”
You laughed softly, the sound surprising even you. “No. It’s still not my thing.”
“Figures,” he said, laughing along with you.
The moment felt almost normal, a small glimpse of the easy connection you used to share. But it was fleeting. Oscar shifted slightly, his expression changing as he turned towards the doorway.
“Oh, by the way,” he said, tone casual. “I want you to meet Lily, my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend.
Lily. There she was. She stepped into view, her presence effortless and magnetic. Up close, she was even more stunning than you had realized, her features flawless and her demeanor warm. She smiled at you, and it was not forced or polite, it was kind, genuine, disarmingly sweet, and most of all, welcoming.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, extending a hand. Her voice was soft, yet it carried an ease that made you feel immediately out of place. “Oscar had told me so much about you.”
“All good things, I hope,” you shook her hand, offering a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
As she spoke, her kindness and charm were really undeniable, and you found yourself unable to summon any ill will towards her—it even made you feel bad for even thinking about something badly about Lily. She was lovely, perfect even, and though you wanted to find a reason to dislike her, you couldn’t. Lily was everything you were not—poised, polished, radiant.
The three of you stood there, exchanging conversations. You couldn’t help but take in the way Oscar looked at Lily—the softness in his eyes, the way his smile lingered when he spoke to her. It was clear how much she meant to him, and as much as it stung. You felt a lump rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to smile and nod along to the conversation.
It was going to be a very long day, and you just have to get through it. You reminded yourself that this was not about you—it never had been.
The Piastri household was buzzing with life as the afternoon was painted with golden hues. Inside, everyone seemed immersed in their own words. Your parents were deep in conversation with Nicole, their laughter and voices carrying through the air as they caught up on years of life. Hattie, Edie, and Mae were busy entertaining themselves, their giggles occasionally echoing from another room. Oscar and Lily sar close together, their connection evident in the way they talked and laughed, though they were kind enough to include you in the occasional exchange.
Observing what was happening around you, you can’t help but feel out of place, as though you were floating on the edges of a scene that didn’t belong to you anymore. You forced a polite smile, and excused yourself with a mumbled explanation about needing to grab something from the car. No one seemed to question it, and you slipped out of the house unnoticed.
As you closed the door behind you, you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. The tension that had coiled tight in your chest while you were inside slowly began to unwind. You stuffed your hand into your black leather jacket pockets and started down the quiet street, letting your feet guide you without much thought.
The familiar streets brought a wave of nostalgia, and as you walked, your mind wandered back to simpler days. Eventually, you found yourself wondering if that small family-owned store—one where you and Oscar used to visit after his karting victories, was still there. It felt like eons ago, but the memory was sharp and vivid—you and Oscar bursting through the shop’s door, with Oscar still giddy from the races, and celebrating his win with an ice cream as though it were the most important ritual in the world.
When you turned the corner, there it was. The modest storefront stood just as it had all those years ago, the paint already slightly faded but otherwise unchanged. The familiar bell above the door chimes as you step inside, and the scent of sweet, aged wood mixed with the faint aroma of candy hits you instantly. The store looked exactly the same. Shelves lined with old fashioned sweets, rows of snacks, and that unmistakable freezer filled with ice cream in the corner. Your eyes scanned the small shop, and behind the counter stood great old Uncle Roger, his face lighting up with recognition as he spotted you.
“Well, well,” he said, settling down a box he had been unpacking. “If it isn’t trouble itself!”
A wide grin spread across your face. “Hey Uncle Roger,” you greeted warmly. “You still remember me?”
He chuckled, stepping around the counter to stand in front of you. “Of course, I do! How could I forget the little rascal who used to hide in my back room to hide from the chaos she caused and would sometimes scare my customers away?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, really?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Need I remind you of the time you pulled that prank with the balloons and the flour? Or the time you locked that bou Tommy out of the store and wouldn’t let him back in?”
You laughed again. “Okay, maybe a little chaos.”
“And poor Oscar,” he continued, tone light. “You used to drag him into all your mischief. That boy was too patient for his own good.”
You softly chucked as you nodded. “Guilty as charged,” you admitted. “Though, to be fair, Oscar was a willing accomplice most of the time.”
Uncle Roger let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the small shop. “That he was. Good kid, though, and look at him now—a big shot race. His folks must be over the moon.”
“They are,” you said, smiling faintly.
“And what about you?” Uncle Roger asked, rone softening as he studied you. “What have you been up to all these years? You look different. Grown up.”
You hesitated, not wanting to delve too deeply into everything. “Life has been…pretty interesting,” you replied vaguely. “Moved to Sydney, tried to figure things out. It’s been a ride, that’s for sure.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing there was more to the story, but he did not push. “Well, you’ve always been a fighter,” Uncle Roger said kindly. “I’m sure whatever it is, you’re handling it like a champ.”
You smiled at his words, though a part of you felt the weight of them in a way he could not even understand. “Thanks, Uncle Roger,” you said softly.
He grinned again, stepping back towards the counter. “Now, I assume you didn’t just come in here to reminisce. Let me guess—you’re here for the ice cream, aren’t you? Same flavor as always?”
You laughed, a genuine sound this time, and nodded. “It wouldn’t feel right to leave without it.”
“Coming right up,” he said, already moving to the freezer. “Some things never really change, do they?”
The hours slipped by without you even realizing it. Time seemed to pause within the walls of Uncle Roger’s store, the air filled with the nostalgic hum of its old ceiling fan and the occasional chime of the doorbell. You had taken it upon yourself to help behind the counter, ringing up purchases and chatting with customers as though you had been working at the store for years. It wasn’t part of the plan, but when Uncle Roger had laughed and handed you an apron, you could not resist.
“I’ve always wanted to work at a place like this,” you had told him earlier with a grin, and he’d chuckled.
“Well, here’s your chance to experience it. Just don’t scare off the customers,” he’d teased before heading to the back to work on inventory.
Now, perched on a stool behind the counter, you twirled a lollipop between your fingers, its sugary sweetness lingering on your tongue. The small television mounted by the corner played a rerun of an old sitcom, the laughter track punctuating the quietness of the store. You glanced at the clock, realizing just how much time had passed since you had walked through the door, but you didn’t mind.
The familiar chime of the doorbell pulled your attention back to the counter, and you straightened instinctively. “Hello, welcome to Uncle Roger’s!” you greeted brightly, a practiced smile already in place.
When your eyes landed on the customer, your heart skipped. It was Oscar.
Oscar’s smile was warm and slightly amused as he approached the counter. “I had a feeling that you would be here,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of the counter, eyes flicking to the apron you wore, and his smile widened. “But I didn’t expect to find you working.”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Well, it’s not everyday you get to live out a childhood dream. I figured, why not?”
He chuckled, shaking his head lightly. “Of course you would.”
He made his way to the drinks section, scanning the shelves before grabbing a couple of items. When he returned, he placed the drinks on the counter in front of you. You glanced at them as you reached for the scanner, hands immediately pausing when you recognized the brightly colored packaging.
It was a sunshine punch. Two juice boxes.
Your eyes flickered to Oscar briefly. “Sunshine punch, really?” you asked casually, though you couldn’t hide the slight surprise in your tone. “I thought you hated this stuff.”
He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Maybe my taste has changed,” he said simply.
You just hummed un acknowledgement, though you couldn’t help but wonder. From what you had remembered, he could barely stand the smell of it, let alone drink it. Then you wondered, maybe it was for Lily and him, you thought silently, and the thought of it tugged at something in your chest.
As you rang up the items, you kept your tone professional, if not, a bit playful. “Would you like to bag these?” you asked.
Oscar shook his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “No bag, thanks. Gotta save the turtles, right?”
You laughed softly at that, handing him the total. “Fair point,” you said, watching as he counted out the cash. You handed him his change, slipping into a mockingly formal tone. “Thank you for shopping at Uncle Roger’s, please come again!”
The two of you burst into laughter at how silly you sounded, with your laughter filling the quiet store. It felt easy, natural—like stepping back into a moment frozen in time. But as the laughter faded, a sigh escaped your lips, unbidden.
Oscar laughed outright at that, shaking his head as he pocketed his change. “You sound way too serious. Are you sure you haven’t secretly been doing this for years?”
You chuckled, leaning your arms on the counter. “Hey, I’m just trying to be professional. Gotta make a good impression on the boss.”
“How about we go to that public pool that we used to go to as kids?” Oscar said as he lingered near the counter while you glanced back at him, processing his unexpected suggestion.
“The abandoned pool?” you repeated softly, a mix of surprise and curiosity in your voice.
It had been years since you had even thought about that place, let alone considered even going back there. The idea felt surreal.
“Yeah, it’s still around,” he said with a small shrug, tone casual, though there was a glint of something, maybe akin to nostalgia, in his eyes.
You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure. Alright, let’s go,” you agreed.
You head towards the back of the store, pushing open the swinging door to find Uncle Roger hunched over his clipboard, meticulously counting boxes.
“Hey Uncle Roger,” you called gently, not wanting to startle him.
He looked up from his work, expression softening when he saw you. “Finished already?”
You gave him an apologetic smile. “I think I’m going to clock out for the day. Oscar and I are heading out for a bit.”
Uncle Roger’s gaze flickered to the counter, where Oscar was waiting patiently. A wide grin spread across his face as he stepped out from behind the storage shelves.
“Well, now. Look who decided to stick around,” he said, tone warm and teasing. “And in my shop, no less. Oscar Piastri, the Formula 1 driver!”
Oscar laughed lightly, hands tucked into his pockets. “You make it sound way more impressive than it is, Uncle Roger,” he replied modestly.
“Nonsense,” Uncle Roger said with a wave of his hand. “I always knew you were destined for greatness the moment you sat in that kart. It’s good to see you, son.”
Oscar smiled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s good to see you too.”
Uncle Roger’s attention turned back to you, eyes twinkling. “Having you two here today, it’s just like the old times,” he said with a wistful sigh. “You, running around causing trouble, and Oscar, trying to keep up.”
You chuckled, feeling a wave of warmth at his words. “Well, as you said, some things never really change,” you said lightly.
Uncle Roger patted your shoulder. “You’ve been a big help today, my dear. I’ve been meaning to start on that inventory for weeks, but I couldn’t leave the counter. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Anytime,” you said earnestly. “I’ll visit whenever I’m back in Brighton, I promise.”
He nodded, expression softening even further. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Before leaving, you stepped forward to give him a hug, the kind of hug that lingered just long enough to let him know how much his kindness meant to you. You removed the apron and switched it for your black leather jacket. Oscar chimed in with a quick ‘take care, Uncle Roger,’ and you both made your way out of the store, the bell chiming softly behind you.
Relief mingled with a touch of surprise as you nodded your head. “Alright then.”
When you arrived at the abandoned public pool, it was like stepping back in time—a time capsule. The cool air carried a faint scent of earth and old concrete, and the quiet hum of the town surrounded you. You immediately made your way to the part of the chain-link fence that you had cut through all those years ago. A crude, jagged hole that had somehow withstood the test of time. You crouched down to inspect it, your fingers brushing the edges of the worn out metal.
“I can’t believe that it’s still here,” you said softly, more to yourself than Oscar.
The faintest smile tugged at your lips when you noticed the hole had clearly become a regular entrance for others. “Looks like I set the blueprint for sneaking in, huh?”
Oscar chuckled behind you, voice warm. “Yeah, you’re a trendsetter,” he teased.
You ducked through the opening in the fence, Oscar following close behind. The pool area was almost unrecognizable, yet unmistakably the same. The once-pristine tiles were faded and cracked, the pool itself empty and hollow, walls were now layered with colorful graffiti—messages, drawings, and names scrawled over one another in a chaotic tapestry. Though the old sunbeds still lined the deck, many were now broken and rusted. The whole place felt frozen in time, yet irrevocably changed.
Your gaze landed on one particular sunbed, its white paint chipped and the straps slightly frayed. “Oh, that’s the one,” you murmured, walking over to it.
Dusting it off with your hands, you lowered yourself onto the sunbed, letting the weight of the moment settle over you. Above, the stars were scattered across the vast expanse of the night sky, their light faint but steady. The air was still, and for a while, it felt like the world beyond the place didn’t exist. Oscar settled down on the sunbed beside you, legs stretched out, and arms resting on his knees. Like you, his gaze was fixed on the sky. For a long time, neither of you spoke, the silence between you comfortable—familiar.
You were so lost in your thoughts, mind drifting through memories of this place, that you didn’t notice Oscar moving until you felt something brush against your hand. Turning your head, you saw him holding out a juice box of sunshine punch. The drink you thought that Oscar bought a shop were for someone else, turns out that it was for the two of you.
Your breath hitched slightly as your eyes darted from the juice box to his face. “You bought this for me?”
Oscar smiled, a little sheepishly. “For us,” he corrected. “Figured it’d be fitting.”
A soft laugh escaped you as you took the juice box from his hand, the cool surface pressing against your palm. “Thanks, Osc,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
You popped the straw into the box, taking a slow sip. The familiar tangy-sweet flavor hit your tongue, and for a moment, you could almost imagine that you were back to being kids again—hanging out in the abandoned public pool, celebrating one of Oscar’s karting wins with ice cream from Uncle Roger’s, inciting chaos, and never ending laughter.
Breaking the stillness, Oscar’s voice came, quiet but steady. “How are you?”
It was a simple question that has an easy answer to it, but the question hung in the air, heavy despite its simplicity. You paused, gaze fixed on the sky above. After a moment, you decided to answer, keeping your tone light.
“I’m fine.”
Oscar turned his head towards you, his expression curious but patient, waiting for you to elaborate. You took another sip of your drink, stalling for time. Finally, you added, “you know, the usual. Just…life.”
It was not much of an answer to Oscar’s question, really, and you knew it. But it was the only answer that you were willing to give him. You’re glad that he didn’t push, though his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked back up the sky.
“Any plans?” he asked after a pause.
You exhaled softly, lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Plans,” you repeated, as if testing the word. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve stopped making them.”
Oscar’s brows furrowed slightly at your answer, and you felt his gaze on you again. You tilted your head back, eyes tracing the constellations.
“Plans are funny, you know?” you continued, voice thoughtful. “You make them, and then shit happens. Sometimes, you end up where you thought you’d be, and other times…” you trailed off, shrugging lightly.
Oscar tilted his head slightly, watching you.
You smiled faintly, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s like what I told you back then? Last time that we were here, on the exact same sunbeds we’re sitting on—wherever life takes me, right?”
He smiled at that, the memory lighting up his expression. “Wherever life takes you,” he repeated softly, as if testing the words in his own voice.
“You know…Lily’s amazing,” you said, tone light but sincere. “She’s a very lovely girl, Oscar. I mean, she’s gorgeous, obviously, but more than that. She’s kind, and has this certain warmth to her that makes it impossible not to like her.”
Oscar glanced at you, a small smile forming on his lips. “She really is,” he agreed softly, voice carrying a sense of pride.
You nodded, your own smile growing. “You two are like a perfect match. Yin and yang, you know? She really balances you out. You know that you’ve always been on the quieter side, but Lily brings out the best and talkative part of you.”
Oscar chuckled at your statement, eyes briefly meeting yours. “She definitely doesn’t let me stay quiet for long.”
You laughed softly, though your thoughts remained bittersweet. “I saw the way she looks at you,” you continued. “It’s so full of love. It’s the kind of look people dream of, you know? You’re really lucky to have her.”
His expression shifted slightly, as though he was not sure how to respond to the unexpected depth of your words. He gave a small nod, his smile turning a little shy.
“I’m proud of you, Oscar. Really.” you added, voice a little quieter now. “For finding someone like Lily. She’s good for you, and I’m happy knowing that she’ll be there for you.”
There was a pause before you continued on, tone suddenly turning more painful, though there was a weight beneath the lightness of it. “At least now I know that someone will be by your side when I’m gone.”
Oscar frowned slightly, he felt a little chill and was caught off guard by your words. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, confused.
You hesitated for a moment, quickly realizing how your words could have sounded. You forced a small laugh, hoping to brush it off. “I just mean, you know, since I had moved to Sydney,” you said, tone casual. “I’m not here anymore. I can’t be by your side like I used to back when we were kids.”
His expression softened, though he still seemed a little bit puzzled by your words. You just smiled softly, looking up again as you added, “but it’s okay. You’ve got Lily now, and she’s amazing. You’re in good hands.”
The walk back from the abandoned public pool was quiet. The kind of quiet that was not uncomfortable, but heavy with so many unspoken words. The sound of your boots scuffing against the pavement and the faint rustling of leaves in the cool night air were the only things breaking the silence. Your hand stayed inside the pockets of your black leather jacket, the smooth lining a small comfort against the cold night.
Oscar walked beside you, his own steps steady and unhurried. You could feel his presence, solid and familiar, yet neither of you made any effort to fill the stillness. There was nothing pressing to say, and perhaps, that was enough.
When you finally turned the corner leading back to your neighborhood, the headlights of your parent’s car came into view, cutting through the dim light of the street. Your parents were standing beside it, their postures relaxed but expectant, while Nicole leaned casually against the hood, arms crossed. As soon as they spotted you, your mother straightened up, relief softening her features.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, voice a mix of mild concern and amusement. “We were starting to wonder where you’d gone off to.”
Oscar was quick to answer, tone light and easy. “We were at Uncle Roger’s shop, just catching up.”
Your father nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, while Nicole’s expression softened, her gaze flitting between you and Oscar. “It’s so good to see the two of you spending time together again,” she said warmly.
Your mother stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “We should get going, sweetheart,” she said softly, eyes kind but tired.
The goodbyes came swiftly after that, each one carrying its own weight. Nicole pulled you into a tight embrace, warmth and familiar scent grounding you for a moment. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she said, voice quiet but firm.
When Nicole let go, it was Oscar’s turn. He stepped closer, arms wrapping around you with a firmness that caught you off guard. It was not one of those quick, polite hugs—it was the kind of embrace that lingered, as if he were trying to hold onto something fleeting.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” he murmured, voice low and sincere. Then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a small, boyish grin appearing on his face. “And you have to come to my race one of these days. No more excuses.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Alright, we’ll see,” you said lightly, though you both knew it was not a promise.
With that, you turned and walked towards the car. As you reach for the door handle, something makes you glance back over your shoulder. Oscar was still standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, watching you with an unreadable expression. You gave him a soft smile, lifting your hand in a casual salute. He returned the gesture, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Sliding into the backseat of the car, you buckle your seatbelt as your father starts the car. The low rumble of the engine filled the silence, and as the car began to pull away, you could not resist a one last look at Oscar through the rearview mirror. Oscar was still standing there, framed by the faint glow of the streetlights, his figure growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared from the view entirely.
You did not look back again, you never looked back. But something in you stirred—a quiet, unshakable feeling that this night, this moment, would never come again. Neither of you could have known that this would be the very last time you would see each other. The very last time Oscar would ever see you.
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chase the cut - jeon wonwoo imagine
hello~ i've been wanting to write a med au for so long, i tried my best here so i hope you like it!🤍
alsooo i opened an acc on x. you can follow me there, my un there niniramyeonie 😊🌻
for my other svt fics, check them here
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)
You bolt out of the room like your life depends on it.
Behind you, heavy footsteps follow, growing louder with each second. "Come back here!" Wonwoo’s usually calm voice has a sharp edge, but you don’t dare slow down
"It’s just a scratch!" you yell over your shoulder
"A scratch?!" Wonwoo sounds offended. "You’re a surgeon, and you’re bleeding! Do you hear yourself?"
Mingyu and Seokmin barely react as you sprint past them. Mingyu, sipping his coffee, raises a brow. "What did she do now?"
"She got a cut," Wonwoo answers, still in pursuit
Seokmin blinks. "A cut? We’re literally surrounded by scalpels and needles every day—why is he freaking out?"
You duck behind a chair, panting. "Because he’s a pediatric surgeon," you whisper dramatically. "He deals with tiny humans, not full-grown surgeons with minor injuries!"
Wonwoo rounds the corner, eyes locked on you. "You. Sit. Down."
Mingyu, ever the agent of chaos, casually blocks your escape route. "Just let him patch you up. Or keep running—I’m entertained either way."
Seokmin grins. "I say we take bets. Five bucks says he tackles her."
You glare at them. "Some friends you are."
Wonwoo takes a step forward, and you take a step back. It’s a ridiculous standoff in the middle of the hospital lounge.
"Do not make me chase you around the hospital," he warns.
You make a break for it. Seokmin and Mingyu laugh as Wonwoo groans and sprints after you. He catches you in less than five seconds. He’s faster than he looks, and before you can dodge, an arm wraps around your waist, effectively trapping you.
"Gotcha," he mutters, his breath warm against your ear
You squirm uselessly. "This is unfair! You have long legs!"
"You have terrible decision-making skills," he counters, steering you toward the nearest chair with ease. Seokmin and Mingyu watch like it’s their favorite reality show, Mingyu even grabbing a snack.
Wonwoo lets go just long enough to grab the antiseptic wipes, and that’s when the real panic sets in.
"Wait, wait, wait—just let me mentally prepare—"
"You had plenty of time to do that while you were running," he deadpans
The moment the antiseptic-soaked wipe touches your skin, you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted. "Ow, ow, OW—"
Wonwoo sighs. "You literally cut people open for a living, and you’re whining over this?"
Seokmin snickers. "Zero pain tolerance. It’s honestly embarrassing."
Mingyu nods sagely. "Every time she gets a paper cut, she acts like she’s been stabbed."
You glare at them through watery eyes. "This hurts—"
"It stings," Wonwoo corrects, holding your wrist firmly as you try to pull away. "Stay still before you actually make it worse."
You groan dramatically, but Wonwoo, ever patient, finishes patching you up despite your flinching and whining. When he’s done, he presses the bandage down with a little more force than necessary, just to be petty.
"There. All better," he says, finally letting go.
You cradle your injured hand and pout. "You’re mean."
Wonwoo exhales, exasperated. Then, softer, "You should be more careful."
For a second, something unreadable passes between you. Then Seokmin ruins it. "So, who owes me five bucks? I said he’d tackle her, but technically, it was more of a grab—"
"Pay up, Seokmin," Mingyu smirks. "A catch is a catch."
You groan, while Wonwoo just shakes his head, rubbing his temples like he regrets ever being friends with you three.
As soon as Wonwoo walks out, probably to regain some of his sanity before starting his rounds, you finally relax. Big mistake because the moment the door clicks shut behind him, you feel it—the shift in atmosphere. You don’t even have to look up to know that Mingyu and Seokmin are staring at you with that look. The one that spells trouble.
Seokmin grins. "Sooo…"
Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. "Are you two dating, or is Wonwoo just your personal on-call nurse?"
You groan. "Oh my god, not this again."
"Look, I’m just saying," Seokmin continues, leaning back like he has all the time in the world, "Wonwoo doesn’t act like that with anyone else."
"Yeah, I mean, I literally saw him step over a crying intern last week," Mingyu adds. "But the second you get a tiny little cut—"
"A painful cut," you interject
"—he’s running after you like you just lost a limb," Mingyu finishes, ignoring you
You roll your eyes. "He’s just like that."
Seokmin scoffs. "No, he’s not."
Mingyu hums. "Do you ever see him chase me down when I get hurt?"
"You get hurt on purpose for attention," you deadpan.
"Fair," Mingyu concedes. "But still. Wonwoo’s different with you."
You shake your head, standing up. "Whatever. I have patients to see."
As you reach for the door, Seokmin calls out, "Hey, don’t run too fast—wouldn’t want to scrape your knee. Wonwoo might carry you to the ER next time." Mingyu cackles as you slam the door on your way out.
It’s way past midnight—closer to 3 AM, when Wonwoo finally walks into the on-call room. His hair is slightly disheveled, white coat draped over his arm, and dark circles under his eyes deeper than before. It’s been a brutal shift.
Seokmin, who’s sitting at one of the desks, barely acknowledges his entrance, too focused on some patient charts. But Wonwoo doesn’t need to say anything. He just walks over to the bunk beds, takes one look at Mingyu—who’s sprawled out, snoring on the bottom bunk—and wordlessly yanks him off. With a loud thud, Mingyu hits the floor.
"Huh—?!" Mingyu startles awake, flailing like a fish out of water. "What the—?!"
"Get up," Wonwoo says flatly.
Mingyu groans dramatically, rubbing his eyes. "Dude, what is your problem—"
Wonwoo ignores him, already turning toward you. You’re curled up awkwardly on the couch, using a rolled-up hoodie as a pillow, arms folded in a way that guarantees you’ll wake up with at least three different cramps.
Wonwoo sighs. Then, in a tone much softer than the one he used on Mingyu, he murmurs, "Get in the bed."
You don’t stir at first, still half-asleep, but then you mumble, "‘M fine here…"
Wonwoo doesn’t buy it. "You’ll complain about back pain tomorrow, and we both know it."
Seokmin finally looks up, watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement. Mingyu, still half on the floor, blinks at Wonwoo, then at you. Slowly, a knowing smirk creeps onto his face.
"Ohhh," Mingyu hums. "This is why you pulled me off the bed."
Wonwoo doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he reaches down and lightly taps your arm. "Come on, just sleep on the bed."
You grumble but finally crack your eyes open, too exhausted to argue. Wonwoo steps back as you groggily push yourself up, stretching. You shuffle toward the now-empty bottom bunk, collapsing onto it with a sigh.
"See? Much better," Wonwoo murmurs, pulling the blanket over you without a second thought.
Mingyu and Seokmin share a look.
"Dude," Mingyu says once Wonwoo turns around. "You could’ve told me to move instead of dragging me off like a sack of potatoes."
"You wouldn’t have moved fast enough," Wonwoo replies.
Seokmin smirks. "So, she gets the ‘gentle tuck-in’ treatment while Mingyu gets yeeted off the bed? Interesting."
Mingyu nods, still rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, Wonwoo. Interesting."
Wonwoo gives them both an unimpressed look before muttering, "I’m going to sleep," and heading toward the other bunk.
Even with his back turned, he can feel their teasing grins.
You’re pretty sure you’ve ascended to another plane of existence. Or maybe you’ve died and are currently haunting the hospital as a sleep-deprived ghost. Either way, you’ve been awake for way too long over 32 hours, to be exact and your body is done.
Mingyu isn’t faring much better. He’s slumped over the shared office desk, forehead pressed against an open patient chart, lightly snoring. You’re half-sitting, half-melting into the couch, cradling a lukewarm coffee that does nothing to fight the exhaustion clawing at your soul.
And then because life isn’t unfair enough already, Seokmin walks in. Bright-eyed. Energized. Well-rested. The worst kind of person.
"Good morning, besties!" Seokmin chirps, stretching like he didn’t just take a whole day off.
You don’t even look at him. "I will kill you."
"I second that," Mingyu mumbles into his chart.
Seokmin gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Why the hostility? I thought you’d be happy to see me!"
"We hate you," Mingyu groans.
"You’re dead to us," you add.
Seokmin grins. "Wow, so much love in this room." He walks over and purposefully ruffles Mingyu’s hair, making him whine in protest. Then he turns to you, poking your cheek. "You look terrible."
"Thanks," you mumble. "Exactly what I needed to hear."
Seokmin flops onto one of the chairs, grinning. "You know what I did yesterday? Slept a full eight hours. Went out for brunch. Touched grass."
Mingyu lifts his head just to glare. "Leave. Now."
Before Seokmin can keep being insufferable, the door opens again. Wonwoo walks in.
And unlike Seokmin who is obnoxiously loud about being well-rested Wonwoo looks just as exhausted as you and Mingyu. His coat is slightly wrinkled, his tie is loosened, and there’s an untouched coffee in his hand that he’s clearly forgotten about. He glances at Seokmin who looks too refreshed to be tolerable then at Mingyu, who is back to pretending to be dead.
Then his gaze lands on you.
You blink at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Hey."
"Hey," Wonwoo murmurs. He steps closer, eyes scanning over you in that way he always does when he’s subtly checking if you’re okay.
"Did you sleep?" he asks.
You let out a weak, humorless laugh. "Did you?"
Wonwoo doesn’t answer. Instead, he sets his coffee down and sighs, running a hand through his hair.
Seokmin—who has been watching the whole thing like a spectator at a soap opera—leans back with a smirk. "Wow, this is so interesting."
Mingyu groans, flopping back onto the desk. "Not now, Seokmin. I’m too tired for this."
Wonwoo ignores them both. He looks at you again, eyes softer now. "Eat something and get some rest."
"You too," you mumble, already sinking further into the couch.
Wonwoo exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."
Seokmin wiggles his eyebrows. "Ohhh, this is fun."
"You know what else is fun?" You finally turn your head to glare at Seokmin. "Murder."
Wonwoo just sighs again and walks over to the bunk beds, mumbling something about how all of you are hopeless. Mingyu groans like he’s been personally attacked when his pager starts beeping. He doesn’t even look at it just slams his forehead against the desk.
"No. No, no, no. I reject this," he mumbles against the wood.
You barely have the energy to process the noise until of course yours goes off too. You and Mingyu make eye contact, equally dead inside.
Seokmin, the only one without a pager going off, grins. "Wow. Couldn’t be me."
"I will end you," you mutter, already reaching for your coat.
Wonwoo watches silently as Mingyu sluggishly gets up, flipping his pager over to check the message. He sighs. "ER’s a mess. Multiple traumas incoming."
You check yours, blinking slowly as the words process in your sleep-deprived brain. "OR needs backup. Guess I’m heading there."
Mingyu looks at you, eyes drooping. "Want to switch? I don’t want to talk to families."
"Absolutely not."
Mingyu pouts but doesn’t argue. He drags himself to his feet, rubbing his face aggressively like that’ll give him the will to live.
Seokmin claps his hands together, looking way too cheerful. "Well, have fun, kids! I’ll be here. Rested. Thriving."
Mingyu flips him off on the way out.
You barely register Wonwoo standing beside you until he tugs at your sleeve. When you look up, he’s frowning slightly.
"You sure you’re okay?" he asks, voice quieter now.
You exhale. "No, but I don’t have a choice."
Wonwoo’s frown deepens like he wants to say something else, but before he can, a voice crackles over the intercom calling for additional surgeons.
You sigh, giving him a tired half-smile. "See you later."
Wonwoo watches as you head out, his jaw tightening.
Seokmin hums as the door closes behind you. "You know," he says, stretching out on the chair, "for someone who refuses to admit his feelings, you really don’t do a good job of hiding them."
Wonwoo shoots him a glare, but Seokmin just grins.
A few more hours later, Wonwoo rubs at his eyes as he shrugs on his coat, his shift finally over. He grabs his bag from the office, shoulders aching from exhaustion. Just as he’s about to leave, the door swings open, and Mingyu stumbles in, looking like he’s barely holding himself together.
"ER was hell," Mingyu groans, dropping onto the couch with a loud thud. "I think I aged five years."
"You already look thirty," Wonwoo says, deadpan.
Mingyu glares at him, too tired to argue. Instead, he waves a lazy hand.
Then Wonwoo asks "Where’s she? OR still has her hostage?"
The other doctor nods "She hasn’t come back yet. She’s probably running on caffeine and spite at this point."
Wonwoo hesitates for a second before speaking. "Make sure she eats and gets some rest when she’s done."
Mingyu cracks one eye open, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "You like her."
Wonwoo stares at him blankly. "Make sure she eats, Mingyu."
"You like her," Mingyu repeats, grinning now. Wonwoo doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.
"Hey, where are you going?" Mingyu calls after him.
"Home," Wonwoo mutters.
"Liar!" Mingyu shouts, but Wonwoo is already gone.
What feels like hours to Mingyu before you entered the room. You trudge into the on-call room, every bone in your body protesting. Your scrub top is slightly wrinkled, your hair is a mess, and you’re running on nothing but sheer willpower at this point.
Mingyu is already knocked out on the bottom bunk, snoring lightly. You barely spare him a glance before collapsing onto the couch.
That’s when you notice it.
On the small coffee table, there’s a neatly packed meal. Your favorite.
You blink, staring at it like it’s a mirage. There’s even a bottle of water next to it, condensation still fresh, like someone just left it there.
Curious, you reach out and poke at the food, half-expecting it to disappear. When it doesn’t, you frown.
"Who…?" you murmur to yourself.
Mingyu shifts on the bed, groaning. "Shut up and eat."
You glance at him. "Did you get this?"
He grunts, eyes still closed. "Nope."
You pause. "Then who—?"
Mingyu cracks one eye open, smirking lazily. "Who do you think?"
That stops you. Your brain, sluggish from exhaustion, takes a moment to process.
Then it clicks.
Wonwoo.
You stare at the food, heart doing something weird in your chest.
Mingyu snickers before rolling over. "Just eat, dumbass."
You don’t argue. But as you take the first bite, you can’t help but think about a certain pediatric surgeon who definitely isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is.
You exhale, shaking your head to yourself. Subtle, Jeon.
Mingyu shifts on the bed again, cracking one eye open. "You’re thinking too hard about this," he mutters, voice thick with sleep.
You stab at your food with your chopsticks. "No, I’m not."
"Yeah, you are."
You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. "Go back to sleep."
Mingyu hums lazily, but then he adds, "He does this all the time, you know."
You pause mid-bite. "What?"
Mingyu smirks, barely awake but still committed to being a menace. "Making sure you eat. Checking if you’re okay. Wonwoo’s always been like that… but only with you."
Your stomach does something stupid at that. "That’s not true."
Mingyu chuckles, shifting onto his side. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
You open your mouth to argue, but Mingyu’s already passed out again, snoring softly. You sigh, leaning back on the couch. The food is warm, comforting, and frustratingly thoughtful.
You try not to think about it too much. You fail.
It’s another long shift for you.
After parting ways with Seokmin, you make your way to the nurses’ station, hoping to check on some charts before heading back to the on-call room. You’re running on fumes at this point, but the habit of making sure everything is in order before you crash is too strong to ignore.
As you approach, you hear a group of nurses talking in hushed but excited tones. You don’t think much of it until you catch a familiar name.
“Dr. Jeon is so amazing,” one of them gushes, practically sighing. “Did you see him with that little boy’s parents? He was so gentle and reassuring.”
“I know! And he’s always so calm, no matter how bad things get.”
“Not to mention how good he looks in scrubs,” another nurse adds, and they all giggle.
You freeze mid-step, blinking.
Are they seriously—?
“I swear, if he wasn’t so intimidating, I’d totally ask him out.”
“Right? But he’s always so serious. Like, have you ever seen him smile?”
“Only sometimes. But guess what?” The first nurse leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I did see him smile today.”
“No way. When?”
“When he was talking to Dr. Y/N.”
Your stomach drops.
Oh no.
“Oh my god, wait, you’re right! He actually looked... softer?”
“And she’s the only one he ever seems to talk to outside of work stuff.”
Another nurse sighs dramatically. “That’s so unfair. Do you think they’re, like, a thing?”
Your brain short-circuits. You have got to get out of here. Clearing your throat loudly, you step into their line of sight, making them jump. “Hey, uh… I just need to check some charts.”
The group scrambles, trying to look busy, but you can feel their eyes on you, filled with curiosity and knowing looks. Great. Just great.
As you grab the nearest patient file, you swear you hear one of them whisper, “Oh my god, she totally heard us.”
You pretend you didn’t.
You nearly drop the patient file when a rolling chair suddenly appears beside you.
“So,” Seokmin drawls, arms crossed as he lazily spins in the chair, “how do I break it to them that Wonwoo is a total softie for you?”
You glare at him, pressing a hand to your racing heart. “Can you not sneak up on me like that?”
Seokmin grins, completely ignoring your complaint. “Seriously, though. They think he’s this untouchable, brooding genius, but we both know he turns into a golden retriever when it comes to you.”
Your eye twitches. “He does not—”
Seokmin cuts you off with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my god, you’re in denial.”
You slap his arm with the patient file. “I am not.”
He just laughs, rubbing his arm. “Y/N, I literally watched him rip Mingyu off the bottom bunk just so you could sleep comfortably.”
You open your mouth, then close it. Okay, fine. That was suspiciously caring behavior.
Seokmin smirks, clearly enjoying your inner struggle. “And let’s not forget how he tells Mingyu to make sure you eat and sleep. Or how he leaves food for you. Or how he only ever gets flustered when it involves you.”
You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you.”
He pats your back like a supportive older brother. “No, you hate that I’m right.”
Before you can argue, one of the nurses clears her throat loudly, and you glance up to see them all very obviously pretending not to listen.
Seokmin leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “They’re totally listening.”
“I know, Seokmin.”
“Wanna give them a show? Maybe dramatically sigh Wonwoo’s name?”
You grab the patient file again and smack him with it. That’s when another doctor—Dr. Lee from orthopedics—walks up beside you.
"Dr. Y/N," he greets smoothly, offering a smile. "Haven’t seen you around much. Busy saving lives?"
You glance up, slightly caught off guard by the sudden conversation. "Uh, yeah. Something like that."
Dr. Lee leans casually against the counter, watching you with interest. "You should take a break sometime. Maybe grab a coffee?"
Oh. Oh.
Is he… flirting?
You don’t get the chance to react before you hear a loud, exaggerated cough from nearby. Seokmin is sitting just a few feet away, blatantly eavesdropping with zero shame. He’s pretending to look at a chart, but his expression is screaming Oh? What’s this?
You try to ignore him, forcing a polite smile at Dr. Lee. "That’s nice of you, but I’m actually running on negative sleep right now."
Dr. Lee chuckles. "All the more reason to step away for a bit. It’s just coffee, no pressure."
Seokmin lets out another obnoxious cough. "Thirsty, huh?"
You whip your head toward him, glaring. "Do you need medical attention, Seokmin?"
He grins. "Nah, I’m just—" he gestures vaguely between you and Dr. Lee "—observing."
Dr. Lee, bless him, is oblivious to the absolute menace that is Seokmin. "No worries. If you change your mind, let me know," he says with an easy smile before walking off.
The moment he’s gone, Seokmin wheels his chair over at full speed, stopping right beside you.
"So," he drawls. "Are you gonna tell Wonwoo, or should I?"
You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. "Seokmin, I swear to god—"
Of course it didn’t take long. Mingyu and Wonwoo are lounging in the on-call room when the door slams open. Seokmin bursts in, cackling like a maniac, running full speed across the room.
And right behind him. You.
"LEE SEOKMIN, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
Before he can reach the safety of the bunk beds, you launch yourself at him, nearly tackling him to the ground. Seokmin barely stays on his feet, wheezing through his laughter.
Mingyu, sitting up from the bottom bunk, blinks in confusion. "…Do we want to know?"
Wonwoo, sitting at the small desk, doesn’t even look up. "No."
Seokmin, still trying to escape your grip, gasps between laughs. "I—I was just helping!"
"You were eavesdropping and causing problems on purpose!" you yell, tightening your hold around his waist as he tries to wriggle free.
Mingyu perks up at that. "Ooh, what happened? Spill."
Seokmin dramatically falls onto the couch, bringing you down with him. "Our dear Y/N here was getting flirted with."
Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up. "What?"
Seokmin grins, panting slightly. "Dr. Lee. Ortho. Real smooth. Asked her to coffee."
Mingyu gasps like this is the most dramatic thing he’s ever heard. "And you tackled him over this?!"
"No, I tackled him because he ran in here to tell you two like a gossiping old lady!" you snap, still half on top of Seokmin, who is not helping by laughing even harder.
Mingyu turns to Wonwoo, who has yet to react. "Wonwoo. Thoughts?"
Wonwoo, still not looking up, simply flips a page in his book. Seokmin wheezes. You groan, letting your head drop onto the couch.
Mingyu clutches his chest, looking between you and Wonwoo with pure delight. "Oh, this is better than a telenovela."
You push yourself up from where you were half-crushing Seokmin, brushing off your scrubs as you glare at him. Before you can properly scold him for being the absolute worst, Wonwoo finally speaks—completely nonchalant, like this whole thing isn’t ridiculous.
"He asked if you wanted coffee?"
You pause. Seokmin and Mingyu do not. Seokmin looks thrilled. Mingyu straight-up leans forward, eyes sparkling with interest.
You narrow your eyes at Wonwoo. "Why do you sound like that?"
Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his book. "Like what?"
Mingyu grins. "Yeah, like what, Wonwoo?"
Wonwoo flips a page. "Just asking."
You scoff. "You buy me coffee all the time"
Wonwoo hums. "Exactly."
Your brain short-circuits. "…Wait. What does that mean?*"
Wonwoo, still infuriatingly casual, finally glances up. "Nothing. Just seems unnecessary to get coffee with someone else when you already get it from me."
Seokmin and Mingyu explode.
"OH, THAT'S RICH—"
"DID HE JUST—"
You groan into your hands as they lose their minds. Wonwoo, unbothered, closes his book and stands. "I’m going to get coffee. You want one or not?"
Mingyu is on the floor laughing. Seokmin is gasping for air. And you—you are never going to hear the end of this.
Wonwoo, as unbothered as ever, grabs his ID badge and heads for the door.
Mingyu and Seokmin are still wheezing from his last comment, but you’re too busy processing to move.
He’s almost out when he pauses, tilting his head slightly. "Not coming?"
You cross your arms, still suspicious. "I think I’ll stay here and recover from whatever that was."
Wonwoo shrugs. "Suit yourself."
He steps out. You don’t follow but right before the door swings shut, you shout after him
"Caramel macchiato, extra shot, not too sweet!"
Seokmin and Mingyu stare at you. You stare back.
Then Mingyu loses it, laughing so hard he nearly falls off the bunk. "OH, SO YOU’RE NOT GONNA FOLLOW HIM, BUT YOU’RE STILL MAKING HIM GET YOU COFFEE?"
Seokmin clutches his chest, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Unbelievable. Absolutely shameless."
You sigh, rubbing your temples. "I hate you both."
Mingyu wipes fake tears. "No, you hate that you’re in too deep and we’re just here to witness it."
It’s your well-deserved day off, which means the hospital is not your problem for once. But unfortunately for Wonwoo, it means he is the problem of the two very nosy individuals stuck with him today.
Mingyu and Seokmin have been relentless since morning, waiting for the perfect opportunity to grill him—and the second they’re all in the on-call room, Seokmin strikes.
"So... you and Y/N."
Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his tablet. "What about her?"
Mingyu flops onto the couch dramatically. "You know exactly what about her."
Seokmin leans forward, grinning. "You act different around her."
"I don’t."
"Oh, you absolutely do," Mingyu says, propping his chin on his hand. "You let her get away with things you’d never tolerate from us."
Seokmin nods enthusiastically. "Like running away when she has a cut?"
"Or demanding coffee like she’s a queen and you’re her personal barista?" Mingyu adds.
Wonwoo finally glances up. "She doesn’t demand. I offer."
Silence.
Mingyu and Seokmin gasp.
"HE ADMITS IT!" Seokmin nearly topples over. "HE VOLUNTARILY GETS HER COFFEE!"
Wonwoo sighs. "You two have too much free time."
"And you have too much denial," Mingyu shoots back. "Be honest, if she asked for your left kidney, you’d at least consider it."
Seokmin laughs. "He’d have it prepped and ready before she even finished asking."
Wonwoo rubs his temples. "You’re both insufferable."
"And you’re in love," Mingyu sing-songs.
"I am not," Wonwoo deadpans.
Seokmin smirks. "Would you say no if she asked you out?"
Wonwoo doesn’t answer immediately, making the two guys exchange another look.
"Oh my God," Mingyu whispers. "You wouldn’t say no."
"Pack it up, folks, we got him," Seokmin grins. "That’s a wrap."
Meanwhile it’s your day off, technically you were supposed to be having a relaxing day off. No pagers, no surgeries, no Mingyu whining for coffee or Seokmin launching into dramatic gossip. Just a simple grocery run—bread, eggs, maybe even some overpriced snacks if you were feeling indulgent.
But fate, as usual, had other plans.
The sound of screeching tires and the crash of metal on metal jolts you from your thoughts as you step out of the store. A small crowd is already forming near an intersection, the sight of two badly dented cars making your stomach drop.
Then you hear it—panicked voices.
"She’s pregnant!"
Your body moves before your brain fully catches up. Pushing past stunned bystanders, you rush toward the most damaged car, where a man is frantically trying to pry open the passenger door. Inside, a woman—clearly pregnant—clutches her stomach, her face contorted in pain.
"Ma’am, can you hear me?" you ask, voice sharp with urgency.
She gasps, nodding weakly. "M-My baby—"
You glance around. The fire department isn’t here yet, neither are the paramedics. The door is crushed in, and she’s stuck.
Your pulse pounds, but you push the panic aside. Focus.
You turn to the man still struggling with the door. "We need to get her out, but carefully. Do you have something I can use to break the glass?"
He nods shakily, rushing to his car. Meanwhile, you crouch by the woman, speaking in a soothing tone even as your mind races through possible complications.
"You're doing great. Just keep breathing, okay? Help is coming."
She nods again, but her grip on her belly tightens.
You don’t have your scrubs, your hospital badge, or even your gloves. But right now, none of that matters because doctor or not—you have to help her.
You refuse to leave her side. Even as sirens wail in the distance and bystanders are urged to step back, you stay crouched next to the woman, monitoring her breathing, checking for signs of distress.
"You're okay. Just hold on," you murmur, your hand steady on her wrist, feeling the rapid pulse beneath your fingers. The first responders finally arrive, moving quickly to assess the scene.
A firefighter rushes toward you. "Ma’am, we need to extract her now. You should move back."
"Not until she’s safe," you insist.
They're working on prying the door open when it happens—
An explosion.
A sudden BOOM rocks the area as flames burst from the wreckage. The force knocks you backward, and before you can react, shards of glass and debris fly straight toward you and the pregnant woman.
Your first instinct is to shield her. You duck, arms raised, making sure not a single piece touches her. She screams, but the paramedics quickly cover her with a thick emergency blanket.
You barely notice the sharp stings as glass embeds itself into your arm, your shoulder, a few grazing your cheek. The pain is secondary.
"She’s stable!" one of the EMTs shouts, carefully moving the woman onto a stretcher. "Let’s transport her now!" You exhale in relief, watching as they wheel her toward the ambulance. You step back, feeling a slight dizziness, but shake it off.
"Doctor?" One of the firefighters eyes you carefully.
"I’m fine," you say automatically.
The ambulance ride is a blur of flashing lights and hushed urgency. The paramedics work efficiently, monitoring the pregnant woman’s vitals as you sit beside her, keeping her calm. You press a gauze pad against one of the deeper cuts on your arm, but otherwise, you don’t acknowledge your injuries.
When the ambulance finally arrives at the hospital, the woman is rushed into the ER. You climb out right after them, rolling your stiff shoulders, determined to go check on her—
Only to run straight into Mingyu.
"Hey, we got a—" His usual laid-back tone vanishes the moment his eyes land on you. His brows shoot up. "What the hell happened to you?"
"I’m fine," you say immediately, waving him off. Big mistake.
The moment you move, dizziness washes over you. You stumble slightly, catching yourself against the wall.
Mingyu lunges forward. "Yeah, okay, fine people totally do that."
His eyes sweep over you. Your torn sleeve, the cuts littering your arm, the faint streak of blood on your cheek. "Are you serious right now?"
You sigh. "It’s not that bad—"
"Not that bad?" He gestures wildly at you. "You were supposed to be on your day off, not playing action hero in the middle of the street!"
Mingyu groans, already reaching for his pager. "Seokmin and Wonwoo are going to kill me."
Mingyu barely has time to react before your knees buckle.
"Oh, for—okay, nope, you’re done," he mutters, catching you before you hit the ground. His hands grip your shoulders, guiding you onto a nearby gurney despite your weak protests.
"I—I'm fine," you mumble, though the dizziness makes your head swim. The pain you’ve been stubbornly ignoring is very much making itself known now, sharp and stinging from every cut.
"Uh-huh, tell that to your blood loss," Mingyu huffs as he quickly assesses the wounds. "How are you this dumb?"
You try to glare at him, but it’s half-hearted at best. He just sighs, guiding you to the nearest vacant bed then grabbing antiseptics and bandages from a nearby tray.
"This is gonna sting," he warns, dabbing at the gash on your arm.
The burn makes you flinch. "Mingyu—"
But before you can complain, the door to the ER slams open.
"Where is she?"
Your stomach drops.
Wonwoo stands at the entrance, still in his scrubs, his chest rising and falling like he ran all the way here. His usual composed demeanor is nowhere to be seen.
The moment his eyes land on you—bruised, bloodied, and definitely not fine—his expression shifts into something dark.
"You have got to be kidding me," he mutters, storming over
Mingyu looks up but barely gets a word in before Wonwoo cuts in, voice tight. "What the hell happened?"
You open your mouth, but Mingyu beats you to it. "She was out running errands and decided to become a damn superhero. Got caught in a car explosion or something—"
"It wasn’t an explosion—" you try, but Wonwoo turns his glare on you so fast you shut up.
"You refused to tell anyone you were hurt?" Wonwoo’s voice is low, laced with barely contained frustration. "Do you even know how reckless that is?"
You blink at him, a little caught off guard. Wonwoo gets annoyed, sure—but this? This anger? This fear simmering under his words?
Mingyu shifts awkwardly. "Uh, so, I’ll just—keep cleaning these wounds?"
Wonwoo ignores him.
"You should’ve been treated immediately," he snaps. "You could’ve gone into shock, Y/N. You could’ve—" He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.
You swallow, voice quieter now. "I had to make sure she was okay."
Wonwoo stares at you for a long moment. His jaw clenches. Then, without another word, he grabs the antiseptic from Mingyu’s hand and kneels down beside you.
"Hey, I was—" Mingyu starts
"You’re taking too long," Wonwoo says flatly, inspecting your arm.
Mingyu throws his hands up. "Oh, I’m the problem? Sure, yeah, okay."
But you don’t pay attention to Mingyu anymore—because Wonwoo is suddenly so close, his fingers gentle as he carefully tends to your wounds. The frustration is still in his eyes, but his touch is steady, precise.
You wince when he presses the gauze against a deeper cut, and his grip instinctively tightens around your wrist. His voice softens, just a fraction.
"I don’t care how capable you are," he mutters. "Don’t ever do that again."
You bite down hard on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. But the antiseptic burns, and the way Wonwoo presses down on your wounds with such precision makes it impossible to ignore the sharp sting.
Your eyes start to prickle. You will not cry. You refuse.
Mingyu, ever the observant one, notices immediately. He leans in slightly and mumbles, “Hey, man, she’s already injured. You’re making her cry.”
Wonwoo freezes.
Your head snaps up. “I am not crying.”
Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “You sure? You kinda look like you’re about to.”
You glare at him. “Shut up.”
Wonwoo sighs, rubbing his temple. “Mingyu, stop talking.”
Mingyu just shrugs, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just saying, maybe be a little gentler? You know, since you care so much.”
Wonwoo pointedly ignores him, but his grip on your arm loosens just slightly, his movements becoming even more careful. He still looks pissed, but his touch is softer now, like he’s trying to make up for it.
You try to focus on anything other than the fact that your face feels ridiculously warm.
Mingyu stands, stretching with an exaggerated groan. “Alright, I’m gonna check on the woman since someone needs to be useful around here.”
You shoot him a half-hearted glare. “I’m useful.”
“Yeah, yeah, tell that to your blood loss.” He waves you off, throwing Wonwoo a quick glance before walking out, leaving the two of you alone.
The silence that follows is heavy. Wonwoo is still focused on cleaning your wounds, but his jaw is tight, and his movements though gentler now are still a little too precise.
You watch him for a second before speaking. “You’re really mad, huh?”
He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “No.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
His grip tightens just slightly before he lets out a quiet, frustrated sigh. “…Yes.”
You shift a little, suddenly feeling weird under his gaze. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Wonwoo finally looks up at you, and the way his eyes darken makes you shut up real quick.
“Not that bad?” he repeats, voice low. “You were in an accident, Y/N. You got caught in a literal explosion.”
You try to brush it off. “It wasn’t that big—”
"You were bleeding and didn't even think to get yourself treated first."
You falter. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, like he’s trying really hard to rein himself in.
“Do you know how many times I’ve seen people come in, thinking they were fine, only to collapse later?” His voice is quieter now, but it’s laced with something heavier. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
You don’t know what to say to that.
Wonwoo’s gaze softens—just barely—before he looks back down, carefully placing the last bandage over your arm. His hands linger for a second, his fingers warm against your skin.
“…Just don’t do that again.” His voice is quieter now, almost pleading. “Please.”
You sniffle, trying to hold it in, but a few tears betray you, slipping down your cheek before you can stop them. Wonwoo notices immediately. His hands, still hovering near your arm, tense.
“Hey—”
You quickly wipe at your face, sniffling again. “I’m fine.” Your voice wobbles, completely betraying you.
Wonwoo exhales through his nose, and before you can react, he’s reaching for the tissue box nearby, wordlessly handing you one.
You take it, mumbling, “Thanks.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then, in a small voice, you ask, “Is the woman okay?”
Wonwoo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he watches you carefully before finally saying, “She’s stable. Mingyu’s checking on her now.”
You nod, squeezing the tissue in your hand. “That’s good.”
Wonwoo still doesn’t look away. His lips press together like he wants to say something else, but in the end, all he does is let out a quiet sigh.
“You should rest,” he says softly. “You lost some of blood, you might feel light headed”
You huff, forcing a weak smile. “You sound like me when I tell my patients that.”
He doesn’t smile back. Instead, he reaches out, hesitates, then gently presses his hand against your head, smoothing down a stray strand of hair. The touch is so light, so careful, that it nearly makes you tear up all over again.
“Then take your own advice for once.”
Before you can even process the warmth of Wonwoo’s touch, the door bursts open.
“OH MY GOD—YOU’RE ALIVE!”
Seokmin practically lunges toward you, arms wide like he’s about to hug-tackle you, but Wonwoo smoothly steps in his way, stopping him with a single hand to his chest.
“Seokmin.” Wonwoo’s voice is flat. “She’s injured.”
Seokmin blinks, then gasps like he’s just realized something. “YOU’RE INJURED?!”
You stare at him, deadpan. “Did you think I was just here for fun?”
Seokmin dramatically grips his chest. “I—I just thought maybe you were being dramatic again! But you actually got hurt?!”
Wonwoo sighs, stepping aside because, at this point, there’s no stopping Seokmin. Sure enough, he leans down, carefully inspecting your bandages like a concerned mother.
“How bad is it? Are you dizzy? Do you need water? Do you need me to spoon-feed you soup?”
You groan, pushing his face away. “I’m fine.”
Seokmin ignores you and turns to Wonwoo. “Doctor, will she survive?”
Wonwoo looks unimpressed. “She lost blood but nothing major. She just needs to rest.”
Seokmin gasps again, gripping your hand. “BE STRONG, MY FRIEND.”
You shove him. “You’re the worst.”
Seokmin sniffs dramatically, wiping an imaginary tear. “If you do die, can I have your favorite pen?”
Wonwoo pinches the bridge of his nose while you grab a pillow and throw it at Seokmin’s face.
After everything that happened, of course Wonwoo refused to let you out of his sight or atleast have someone watching over you while the three guys finish their shift.
After work, the four of you go to a barbeque place you're a regular at.
You’re all starving by the time you reach the restaurant, exhaustion from the day momentarily forgotten at the sight of sizzling meat and bubbling stews.
Mingyu and Seokmin are loud, bickering over who gets to grill first, while you just lean back in your seat, still pretending to sulk.
Wonwoo, sitting beside you, wordlessly places some meat on your plate before you can even lift your chopsticks. Then, as if it’s second nature, he reaches over and rolls up the loose sleeve of your hoodie, neatly tucking it to make sure it doesn’t dip into the sauces.
Mingyu pauses mid-bite, eyes flicking between the two of you.
Seokmin, in the middle of arguing over dipping sauces, suddenly stops and squints.
The most shocking part?
You don’t even react. You just pick up your chopsticks, casually eating the food Wonwoo put on your plate like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Mingyu slowly puts his chopsticks down. “Okay, hold on.”
Seokmin leans in. “Have you always been like this?”
You blink. “Like what?”
Mingyu gestures vaguely at you and Wonwoo. “That.”
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, sipping his water. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Seokmin waves his chopsticks between you two. “You’re basically a married couple and she doesn’t even blink when you baby her.”
You scoff, but before you can argue, Wonwoo speaks first. “She’d spill sauce on herself if I didn’t.”
Mingyu stares. “So you admit you’re babying her.”
Wonwoo shrugs. “She doesn’t complain.”
You shove a piece of meat in your mouth to avoid answering, but your reddening ears don’t go unnoticed. Seokmin and Mingyu exchange knowing looks before grinning at each other.
Oh, they’re never letting this go.
The two of you are crammed into the back of a small van, bumping along a dirt road on the way to the rural clinic. It’s too early, you’re running on barely any sleep, and Mingyu has already decided now is the perfect time to interrogate you.
“So.” He leans back against his seat, arms crossed, looking far too entertained. “You and Wonwoo.”
You groan immediately. “Absolutely not. We’re not doing this.”
Mingyu grins. “Oh, we’re definitely doing this. We have, like, four more hours to go.”
You glare at him, but he just continues. “I mean, come on. He feeds you. He rolls up your sleeves. He practically tracks your movements in the hospital without even trying. And you don’t even react anymore.”
“Maybe I’m just used to it.” You shrug.
Mingyu narrows his eyes. “That’s what I’m saying! You’re used to it. As in, it’s been happening for so long that you don’t even notice.”
You roll your eyes. “It’s just how we are.”
Mingyu scoffs. “Please. If Seokmin tried to do that for you, you’d stab him with your chopsticks.”
You snort. “Yeah, well, Seokmin deserves it.”
Mingyu ignores that. “Just admit it. You like him.”
You pause. Then, after a beat, you say, “Of course I like him. He’s my friend.”
Mingyu groans dramatically, flopping onto your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”
You shove him off. “And you’re annoying.”
He smirks. “I know. But I’m also right.”
You refuse to answer, choosing instead to look out the window. But you can’t shake the way your stomach flips at Mingyu’s words.
Mingyu stretches out his legs, looking way too comfortable for someone who’s supposed to be working. “Alright then, since you’re so sure it’s nothing—explain this to me.”
You sigh. “What now?”
He smirks. “Why hasn’t Wonwoo dated anyone since med school?”
You blink. “What?”
Mingyu tilts his head, looking far too smug. “I mean, Seokmin and I have dated around. You’ve had, like, two almost-relationships. But Wonwoo? Not a single girlfriend. No dates. No flings. No nothing.” He raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that weird?”
You scoff. “Maybe he’s just not interested.”
Mingyu shakes his head. “Nah. I asked him once, and you know what he said?”
You hesitate. “…What?”
Mingyu grins. “‘I don’t have time for that.’” He leans in, lowering his voice dramatically. “But I think the real reason is that he’s been too busy looking after you.”
You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.
Because now that you think about it… Mingyu’s kind of right.
Wonwoo has never once shown interest in dating. Even during med school, when everyone else was either in relationships or at least going on dates, he never did. He was always around, always steady, always—
You shake your head. No. No way.
Mingyu watches you, eyes glinting. “Oh my god, you’re actually thinking about it.”
You shove him. “Shut up.”
He cackles. “I love being right.”
You groan, turning to the window to ignore him. But your heart is beating just a little too fast, and your mind keeps replaying Mingyu’s words.
Why hasn’t Wonwoo dated anyone?
And more importantly, why does the answer make your chest feel tight?
Once you’re done with the medical mission, you go back to the hospital. You push open the door to the on-call room, utterly drained from the long day. Mingyu had peeled off somewhere to check on the ER, but you went straight here, hoping to collapse onto the couch for at least a few minutes.
The room is dimly lit, quiet except for the faint ticking of the wall clock. At first, you think it's empty—until your eyes land on Wonwoo. He’s at his desk, head slightly tilted down, eyes closed.
You pause, debating whether you should leave him be. But before you can take a step back, his voice—low and a little rough from exhaustion—breaks the silence.
"You're back."
You blink. "I thought you were asleep."
He opens his eyes, looking at you with that unreadable expression of his. "Just resting my eyes."
You scoff lightly, stepping further inside. "You say that like it’s any better."
Wonwoo watches you as you drop your bag onto the desk, stretching your arms over your head with a tired groan. You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers, just for a second, before he leans back in his chair.
"Long day?" he asks.
You sigh, rolling out your shoulders. "Very. Mingyu was extra annoying, as usual."
Wonwoo hums, amused. "What did he do now?"
You hesitate, suddenly remembering the entire conversation about him. About how Mingyu basically implied that Wonwoo hasn’t dated anyone because of you.
You glance at Wonwoo, who’s waiting for your answer with a neutral expression. And for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to bring it up.
“Just the usual nonsense,” you say instead.
Wonwoo doesn’t press, just nods before looking back at his desk. There’s a brief silence—comfortable, familiar. The kind you only get with someone you’ve known for years.
Then, softly, he says, “You should eat before you sleep.”
You glance at him, arching a brow. "Did you just give me my own advice?"
A small smirk tugs at his lips. "You never follow it yourself."
You shake your head, but there’s something warm in your chest that wasn’t there before.
Damn Mingyu. Now you can’t stop noticing things.
You drop onto the couch, exhausted but still watching Wonwoo out of the corner of your eye. He hasn't moved from his desk, but now you notice the way he's rubbing his temples, his brows slightly furrowed.
His glasses aren’t on, which is rare. Wonwoo without glasses usually means one of two things—either he’s about to sleep, or he has a headache.
Judging by the way he keeps pinching the bridge of his nose, it’s definitely the latter.
"You okay?" you ask.
"Mhm." He doesn’t look up, still rubbing slow circles into his temples.
You frown. "Did you even rest today?"
"I did," he says, but you don’t believe him for a second.
With a sigh, you push yourself up and walk over to him. He barely reacts when you place a hand on his shoulder, but he finally opens his eyes when you gently pull his hand away from his forehead.
"You have a migraine, don’t you?" you ask, squinting at him.
Wonwoo blinks at you, then exhales through his nose—something between amusement and surrender. "Just a small one."
You roll your eyes. "Right. Small enough that you’re sitting here rubbing your head like an old man."
He gives you a flat look. "Thanks."
Ignoring his sarcasm, you reach for his desk, rummaging through one of the drawers. You know he keeps medicine in here somewhere—he’s always prepared for everyone else’s headaches, just never his own.
After a few seconds, you find what you’re looking for and shake two pills into your palm before grabbing his forgotten water bottle. You hold both out to him expectantly.
"Take these."
He doesn’t move at first, just stares at you with that unreadable look again.
"Wonwoo," you say, more firmly. Finally, he sighs and takes the pills from your hand, swallowing them with a sip of water.
You nod, satisfied. "Good. Now go lie down before you pass out at your desk."
He exhales slowly, then mutters, "You’re bossy."
You smirk. "And yet you listen to me."
He doesn’t argue. Just shakes his head with the smallest hint of a smile before standing up. And for some reason, as he moves toward the bunk beds, you feel that warmth in your chest again.
You leave the room after turning the lights off to let him rest. You find Mingyu, maybe grab some late night snacks. As you and Mingyu walk through the hospital corridors, making casual conversation, a familiar figure approaches.
It’s him—Doctor Lee, the one who had flirted with you before.
Mingyu notices the way your shoulders tense and immediately perks up, eyes darting between you and Doctor Lee with barely concealed interest. "Oh, this should be fun," he mutters under his breath.
You shoot him a look. "Shut up."
Before Mingyu can tease you further, Doctor Lee reaches you, flashing that same confident smile.
"Hey, fancy seeing you again." His tone is smooth, casual, but there’s something pointed in the way he looks at you.
"It’s a hospital," you reply dryly. "You’ll probably see me a lot."
Mingyu barely hides his laugh behind a cough.
Doctor Lee, unfazed, chuckles. "Right. Still, I was hoping I’d run into you. Thought maybe this time I could convince you to grab a coffee with me?"
Mingyu freezes beside you, his head snapping toward you so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. He is way too interested in this.
You open your mouth to respond—politely decline, of course—but before you can, a voice cuts in.
"She already has a coffee supplier."
You turn your head just in time to see Wonwoo standing a few steps away, arms crossed, looking completely unimpressed. His tone is calm, but there’s an edge to it, something just sharp enough that it makes both you and Doctor Lee pause.
Mingyu, of course, is thriving.
"Oh, do you now?" Doctor Lee glances between you and Wonwoo, one eyebrow raised.
You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Wonwoo, don’t—"
"She never has to ask. Her coffee order just appears," Wonwoo continues smoothly, ignoring you. "Sometimes with snacks too."
Mingyu wheezes.
Doctor Lee blinks, clearly trying to figure out if there’s something more to Wonwoo’s words. You’re pretty sure you know exactly what he’s doing, but before the other man can press further, you exhale and take a step back.
"Anyway, I have rounds to finish," you say quickly. "See you around."
Before Doctor Lee can respond, you grab Mingyu’s sleeve and yank him along with you, leaving the poor guy standing there confused.
Mingyu is absolutely dying.
"Wonwoo totally just alpha-blocked that guy," he laughs, struggling to keep up with your fast pace. "Like, not even subtle. That was lowkey territorial."
You groan. "Don’t start."
"Oh, I’ve already started." Mingyu grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "So… your coffee supplier, huh?"
You don’t answer. Instead, you walk even faster, pretending you don’t hear Mingyu’s continued teasing all the way down the hall.
As you speed-walk down the hall, Mingyu still snickering beside you, you hear the sound of familiar footsteps following behind. You don't even need to turn around to know who it is.
You sigh dramatically, slowing your steps just enough to glance over your shoulder. "Weren't you suffering from a migraine?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at Wonwoo.
Wonwoo, walking at a completely casual pace as if he didn’t just interrupt an entire conversation to assert his place in your life, simply shrugs. "It went away."
Mingyu claps a hand over his mouth, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. He fails.
"Ohhh, interesting," Mingyu chokes out between laughs. "So you had a migraine, but the moment Doctor Lee showed up, you were suddenly fine? Wow. Almost like it wasn’t that serious to begin with."
Wonwoo shoots him a blank look. "Or maybe I just recovered."
"Right, right," Mingyu nods, "or maybe you just didn’t like what you were seeing."
You groan, rubbing your forehead. "Mingyu, please—"
"No, because listen," Mingyu continues, fully ignoring you now, "if I had a migraine, I would not be up and walking this fast just to make sure my ‘friend’—" he even throws up air quotes, "—wasn’t having coffee with someone else."
"I wasn’t walking fast," Wonwoo deadpans.
"Okay, but you were there," Mingyu counters. "Like, right there. That’s suspicious, man."
You throw up your hands. "Oh my God, both of you, stop."
Wonwoo just blinks, completely unbothered. "Do you still want coffee?" he asks, as if the last five minutes of chaos didn’t just happen. Mingyu wheezes again.
You groan even louder. "You are so annoying."
Later Wonwo drove you and Mingyu home. The car ride is quiet after Mingyu gets dropped off, leaving just you and Wonwoo. The city lights blur past the window, and you drum your fingers lightly on your thigh before finally speaking
"Hey."
"Hm?" Wonwoo doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but you know he’s listening.
"That thing Mingyu said … about you not dating anyone since med school—"
Wonwoo glances at you briefly before looking back at the road. "What about it?"
"Is it true?" you ask, shifting slightly to face him. "You really haven’t dated anyone all these years?"
He doesn’t answer right away, but you notice the way his fingers tighten slightly around the wheel. "I was busy," he finally says, voice even.
"We were all busy," you counter. "Mingyu dated. Seokmin dated."
Wonwoo exhales softly through his nose. "And you?"
You blink, caught off guard. "What about me?"
"Did you date?" He doesn’t look at you, but there’s something in his voice, something careful, deliberate.
You hesitate, then shrug. "Not really."
That makes Wonwoo glance at you, just for a second. "Why?"
You huff a quiet laugh. "Why are you answering my question with another question?"
"Because you’re deflecting," he replies easily.
You frown, arms crossing. "Maybe I just didn’t feel like it."
Wonwoo hums, the sound low and thoughtful. "Then I guess we’re the same."
That makes you pause. He’s right, in a way. You never thought much about dating, always too caught up in the chaos of work, of life. But hearing that he was the same—that he never even tried—makes something uneasy stir in your chest.
"So…" you start carefully, "was there really no one? Not even someone you liked?"
The streetlights cast long shadows over his face, and for a moment, you think he won’t answer. But then, softly—so softly you almost don’t hear it—he says,
"I wouldn’t say that."
Your breath catches, but before you can press further, the car slows. You realize, belatedly, that you’ve already arrived at your place.
Wonwoo shifts into park and finally, finally looks at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes, something deep and quiet and there.
You swallow. "Wonwoo—"
"Go inside," he says gently, cutting you off.
You hesitate. The air feels heavy, thick with something unspoken.
But in the end, you don’t push.
"Okay," you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Drive safe."
He nods, watching as you step out and close the door behind you.
As you walk up to your building, you don’t turn back snd inside his car, Wonwoo stays parked for a long time, staring at where you were.
You’re never like this.
You’ve known Wonwoo for years, been friends with him for so long that his presence has always felt natural, something you never had to think about. But now? Now, after what Mingyu said, after what Wonwoo didn’t say, you’re noticing everything.
The way he automatically sets a coffee cup in front of you in the morning, the way he subtly reaches out like he’s ready to catch you when you take a sharp turn in the hallway, the way his eyes linger when you’re talking—like he’s listening to every word, even the useless ones.
It’s worse in the on-call room.
Wonwoo’s at his desk, writing notes, glasses perched on his nose. It’s a normal sight, something you’ve seen a thousand times before. But for some reason, today, you can’t stop looking. The way his brows furrow slightly in focus. The way he absentmindedly taps his pen against the desk. The way he reaches up to push his hair back, exposing his forehead just a little more.
Seokmin, lying on the bottom bunk, suddenly snickers. "You good over there?"
You snap your head toward him. "What?"
He grins, flipping through his phone lazily. "You’re staring."
"No, I’m not."
"Uh-huh."
Wonwoo, completely unaware, flips to the next page in his notes. You glare at Seokmin before quickly grabbing your own chart, pretending to focus. But even then, you’re way too aware of the fact that Wonwoo is right there.
And maybe you have been staring.
The moment you walk out, Seokmin doesn’t even wait.
He turns to Wonwoo with a slow grin, tossing his phone onto his chest. "So…"
Wonwoo doesn’t look up. "So?"
"She was staring at you."
That gets Wonwoo’s attention. He finally lifts his eyes from his notes, blinking at Seokmin. "What?"
"She. Was. Staring." Seokmin emphasizes each word like Wonwoo is dense. Which, honestly, he kind of is. "Like, full-on eyes stuck on you. If I wasn’t here, she probably would've burned a hole through your head."
Wonwoo frowns, shifting slightly in his seat. "You’re exaggerating."
"Am I?" Seokmin smirks. "I don’t think I am."
Wonwoo doesn’t say anything to that. He just exhales through his nose and turns back to his notes. But Seokmin knows him too well—sees the way his ears go just the slightest bit red.
Seokmin grins. "Dude, I’m telling you, she’s noticing things. That’s a good sign."
Wonwoo rolls his eyes, flipping a page in his notes. "Go to sleep, Seokmin."
"Oh, I will. But just so you know…" Seokmin stifles a laugh. "I think you’re in trouble, man."
The rest of the day is… annoying. Not because of any difficult surgeries or unbearable patients, but because you are now painfully hyper-aware of Wonwoo. It’s stupid. Like when he rolls up his sleeves before scrubbing in for surgery, and you catch yourself staring at his forearms for half a second too long.
Or the absolute worst—when you’re eating lunch with the others, and Wonwoo absentmindedly pushes the side dishes you like closer to you. It’s such a small, automatic thing, and normally you wouldn’t even blink at it.
But today? Today, you almost drop your chopsticks.
"You good?" Seokmin asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
"Fine!" you say way too quickly, shoving food in your mouth to avoid talking.
Mingyu, the menace that he is, narrows his eyes at you. "Are you sure? You’ve been kinda weird today—"
"She’s fine," Wonwoo interjects smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee.
And just like that, you’re spiraling again. Because now you’re overthinking that. He just said you were fine. That’s normal, right? That’s just Wonwoo being Wonwoo. But now it sounds like he knows something, like he can see how much you’re overthinking him—
You hate this.
By the time your shift ends, you’re exhausted—not just physically, but mentally from all the overthinking. So when Wonwoo casually says, "Let’s go," and gestures toward the exit, you don’t even question it.
It’s routine, anyway. You don’t drive, and if Mingyu isn’t around to make you suffer through his questionable playlist, it’s usually Wonwoo who gives you a ride home.
The car ride is quiet at first, just the low hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio playing some late-night ballad. You try to focus on anything else, but of course, you’re hyper-aware of every small thing he does.
"You were weird today," he says suddenly.
You stiffen. "No, I wasn’t."
He hums, like he doesn’t quite believe you. "If you say so."
You scowl, slumping in your seat. "You’re annoying."
"And you’re terrible at hiding things."
You whip your head toward him. "Excuse me?"
Wonwoo glances at you with the tiniest smirk before turning his attention back to the road. "You keep staring at me."
You nearly choke. "I— that’s not—you—"* You shut your mouth before you embarrass yourself even more.
"Don’t overthink it," he says, like he can hear your brain short-circuiting.
You glare at him, crossing your arms. "I’m not."
"Sure."
He pulls up to your place, and before you can even reach for the door handle, he beats you to it, leaning over to unlock it from the inside. You freeze for half a second because he’s too close, and you swear he hesitates too before leaning back.
"Get some rest," he says simply.
You step out, and just as you close the door, he rolls down the window. "And stop staring so much. It’s obvious."
"I WAS NOT—!"
But he’s already driving away, leaving you standing there, burning with embarrassment.
Wonwoo didn’t mean to say it.
But the way you froze, the way your eyes widened in sheer panic before you tried to deny it—yeah, that reaction was worth it.
He’s not stupid. He noticed the shift in you over the past few days. The way you’ve been watching him more, like you suddenly started paying attention. Like you were seeing things for the first time that have always been there. It would’ve been amusing if it wasn’t also kind of frustrating.
Because he’s been looking at you like that for years.
He doesn’t usually let things slip. He’s careful, measured. But with you? It’s always been a little different.
As he drives away, he catches a glimpse of you in the rearview mirror—still standing there, fuming, probably cursing him under your breath. He exhales through his nose, the closest thing to a chuckle he allows himself.
"Took you long enough."
He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he catches his own reflection in the mirror. And he definitely doesn’t realize that his fingers tap against the steering wheel the entire way home, like he’s buzzing with something he refuses to name.
After that you try to avoid him. Not in an obvious way, just enough to make sure you don’t end up alone with him again. It’s stupid, but you can’t help it. Unfortunately, Mingyu and Seokmin have noticed.
“You’re acting weird,” Mingyu says while stuffing his face with food.
Seokmin leans in. “Super weird. Suspiciously weird.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m not acting weird.”
“You literally just turned around when you saw Wonwoo walking this way,” Seokmin points out.
Mingyu snickers. “Yeah, and you ran in the opposite direction.”
“Okay, first of all, I had places to be.”
“You went to a supply closet.”
“…Shut up.”
Mingyu and Seokmin exchange a look before turning back to you, both wearing the same smug expression.
“You’re doomed,” Mingyu says with a grin. Seokmin agrees.
Before you can threaten them, someone clears their throat behind you. You turn around—and there’s Wonwoo.
His eyes flick between the three of you. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” you blurt out, grabbing your tray and bolting.
From behind you, you hear Mingyu snicker, “Yup. Doomed.”
Later after another very long shift, you all but crawl out. There you see him. Wonwoo is standing outside the hospital entrance, hands in his coat pockets, glasses perched on his nose, looking completely unbothered by the cold night air. His eyes flick up the moment you step outside, and your heart does a stupid little flip.
“I thought you went home,” you say, stopping in front of him.
He raises a brow. “You were gonna chase the bus, weren’t you?”
You cross your arms. “Maybe.”
He huffs out a small laugh, then tilts his head toward his car. “Let’s go.”
You hesitate for half a second before following him. Because, well—this is Wonwoo. And he’s always been there, hasn’t he? Even when you didn’t notice.
You freeze halfway to the car. Wonwoo stops too, turning to face you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a slight furrow in his brows, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets.
"Why are you avoiding me?" His voice is steady, calm—but you know him well enough to hear the shift in his tone.
"I’m not," you lie, immediately looking away.
"You are," he counters easily. "You barely look at me during rounds, you leave the on-call room the second I walk in, and you suddenly act like you're allergic to coffee when I offer."
Okay, maybe you were being a little obvious. You shuffle your feet, gripping the strap of your bag. "I—it's nothing."
Wonwoo doesn’t budge. He just stares, waiting, and you swear the silence between you feels louder than anything right now.
Then, quieter, he says, "Did I do something?"
That makes you look at him. His expression hasn’t changed much, but there’s something in his eyes—something careful, hesitant. You shake your head quickly. "No! You didn’t—You never—" You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. "It’s just… I don’t know."
That’s a lie. You do know. It’s because of everything—Mingyu’s words, Seokmin’s teasing, the way you suddenly can’t stop noticing every little thing Wonwoo does. And the way it’s making your heart act in ways it shouldn’t.
But how the hell are you supposed to say that?
Wonwoo studies you for a moment, then sighs, shaking his head. "Get in the car," he says, walking ahead. "We’re not doing this while you're sleep-deprived."
You stare after him, a little dumbfounded, before scrambling to follow. Because, well. This is Wonwoo. And he's always been there, hasn’t he?
The car ride is quiet. Not the usual comfortable silence, but something heavier. You glance at Wonwoo from the passenger seat—his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel, eyes focused ahead, his expression unreadable. He looks deep in thought.
And so are you.
Something stirs in the back of your mind. A memory, hazy but persistent.
It was years ago, after a long semester. You remember celebrating—too many drinks, too many laughs. And then… nothing. Just the aftermath. A raging headache, and the strange shift in Wonwoo’s behavior.
The day after that night, he started avoiding you. At first, you thought you were imagining it, but it became obvious—he wouldn’t meet your eyes, he stopped sitting next to you in class, and any conversation felt painfully awkward.
It lasted for weeks.
You never knew why.
Now, sitting next to him again, the memory presses into your chest. You glance at him once more, debating whether to ask.
But before you can, the car slows to a stop in front of your place.
"We’re here," Wonwoo says, voice even. He finally looks at you, and for a split second, there’s something in his gaze—something almost hesitant.
You swallow the words sitting on your tongue.
"Thanks for the ride," you mumble instead, pushing the door open.
But even as you step out, the question lingers.
It’s been bugging you for days. You try to brush it off, but the memory keeps surfacing at the most random moments—during surgeries, in the on-call room, even when you’re just grabbing coffee.
So, on a completely random day, when it’s just you and Wonwoo in the break room, you finally blurt it out.
"Why did you avoid me back in med school?"
Wonwoo, who was in the middle of sipping his coffee, freezes for a second. He lowers his cup slowly, eyes flickering to yours. "What?"
"You know," you insist, leaning against the counter. "After that one night out. The next day, you just—" You wave a hand, frustrated at how much this has been bothering you. "You barely talked to me for weeks. I thought I did something wrong, but I never knew what."
Wonwoo stares at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to brush it off or change the subject. But instead, he exhales and places his cup down.
"You don’t remember anything from that night?" he asks carefully.
Your brows furrow. "Not really. Just that I drank too much, and I felt like death the next morning."
Wonwoo is quiet. Too quiet. Now you’re nervous.
"What did I do?" you ask cautiously.
He hesitates, then sighs. "You… said something."
Your stomach drops. "What did I say?"
"You were drunk. I didn’t think you meant it, but—" He rubs the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically unsure. "You told me you liked me."
Your brain short-circuits You what?
Wonwoo keeps going, voice softer now. "I didn’t know how to react. I thought maybe you’d forget, or that you didn’t mean it. So I just… avoided you." He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "It was stupid. I know that now."
You stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. You think your brain might actually shut down.
Wonwoo looks down at his coffee cup, almost like he's debating whether to continue. Then, with a small sigh, he says it—
"And you kissed me."
Your mouth opens, then closes. You blink at him, trying to process what he just said. You kissed him?
Wonwoo glances up at you, his expression unreadable, but you can tell he’s waiting for your reaction.
"I—" You swallow, scrambling for any memory of that night. But all you can remember is drinking too much, maybe laughing too loud, and then waking up with the worst hangover of your life. "I what?"
"You kissed me," he repeats, slower this time. "Just once. It wasn’t… it wasn’t a big thing. But you looked at me like—" He stops himself, shakes his head. "I don’t know. I didn’t think you meant it, so I thought it was better if I just avoided you until things went back to normal."
Your heart is hammering now. You kissed him. You kissed Wonwoo. And he never said a word about it.
"Why didn’t you ever bring it up?" you ask, your voice quieter now.
Wonwoo lets out a short, humorless laugh. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, do you remember kissing me that night?' You never brought it up either."
You stare at him, still trying to wrap your head around this. It’s not just the fact that you kissed him—it’s the fact that he’s looking at you now like this matters. Like maybe it wasn’t just a stupid drunken mistake to him.
And the worst part? You’re starting to think that it wasn’t just a stupid drunken mistake to you either. You hesitate for a moment before asking, "Is that why you weren’t dating?"
Wonwoo blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. His fingers tighten slightly around his coffee cup before he exhales and leans back against the chair.
"I don’t know," he says slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. "Maybe. Part of it, yeah."
You feel something twist in your chest.
"What does that mean?" you press, your voice quieter now.
Wonwoo looks at you then, really looks at you. Like he’s debating whether or not to say what he actually wants to say.
"It means," he finally murmurs, "that maybe I was waiting."
Your breath catches. He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to. You can read between the lines. And suddenly, everything—the way he always looked out for you, the way he always made sure you ate, how he was always there—feels different. Feels heavier.
Like maybe you were supposed to notice a long time ago.
"I told you I liked you," you say, your voice sharper than you expected. "And you never told me."
Wonwoo doesn’t respond right away. He just watches you, unreadable, his grip tightening around his coffee cup.
"You were drunk," he finally says.
You let out a frustrated scoff. "And? That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true."
He exhales slowly, looking away. "I thought you wouldn’t remember. Or that maybe you’d regret it."
Your jaw clenches. "So you just decided that for me?"
Wonwoo rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "I didn’t want to risk losing you."
You let out a breath, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. You’re mad—at him, at yourself, at the way this conversation is only happening now.
"That’s so stupid," you say, shaking your head. "That’s so—you’re so—"
You stop, because you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. You just know it makes you angry.
Wonwoo gives you a small, almost apologetic smile. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Maybe."
You push past Wonwoo, your head spinning with frustration, and storm out of the room. You make your way to the surgery ward, still replaying the conversation in your head. Your steps are heavy, your thoughts even heavier.
Seokmin is at the nurses’ station, casually flipping through a patient chart when he sees you approaching. He immediately notices your expression and sighs. “Alright, what did Mingyu do this time?”
You shake your head, dragging a chair and plopping down beside him. “Not Mingyu.”
Seokmin raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you look like you just found out your whole life was a lie?”
You groan, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the desk. “I did find out something. From med school.”
Seokmin hums in interest. “Go on.”
You lift your head slightly, hesitating before mumbling, “Apparently, I told Wonwoo I liked him back then.”
Seokmin freezes. Blinks. Then leans forward dramatically. “You did what?”
“I don’t remember, okay?” you hiss, slapping his arm. “I was drunk. But he remembered. And guess what? He never said anything.”
Seokmin lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That’s tough.”
You slump back in your chair. “I don’t even know why I’m mad. Am I mad at him? At myself? At the universe?”
Seokmin clicks his tongue. “I’d say all of the above.”
You glare at him.
He chuckles before getting serious. “Look, you’re mad because it meant something. Even if you don’t remember confessing, the fact that he never responded—never even acknowledged it—hurts.”
You bite your lip, looking away. “Yeah.”
Seokmin nudges you. “So, what are you gonna do?”
You exhale sharply. “I have no idea.”
Seokmin grins. “Well, this is gonna be fun to watch.”
And so, you do what any reasonable person would do. You avoid Wonwoo.
You’re not dramatic about it—at least, you tell yourself that. You’re just busy. Too busy to sit in the on-call room when he’s there. Too busy to grab coffee at the same time. Too busy to share a ride home.
Mingyu and Seokmin notice immediately.
Seokmin corners you first, casually blocking your way to the scrub room with a patient chart. “So, avoiding your not-boyfriend now?”
You groan. “I’m not avoiding him.”
“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head. “Then why did you suddenly start doing your post-op notes in this hallway instead of the lounge?”
You cross your arms. “I like the lighting here.”
Seokmin snorts. “Right. Because overhead fluorescent lights are so flattering.”
Mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t even bother being subtle. He slaps a tray of food down at your table during a late dinner break. “So, what’s the plan?”
You blink at him. “For what?”
“For whatever mess you and Wonwoo have gotten yourselves into.” He waves his chopsticks. “It’s been days. Wonwoo looks like he’s about to lose his mind, and you look like you’re trying to ascend into another plane of existence just to avoid eye contact.”
You scowl. “I just need time to think.”
Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you thinking about?”
You hesitate. “I don’t know. Everything? The fact that I apparently confessed years ago and he never told me? The fact that he’s acting like it doesn’t matter? The fact that maybe it does matter, but I don’t know what to do with that?”
Mingyu chews thoughtfully, then points his chopsticks at you. “Sounds like you’re not over him.”
You groan, dropping your head onto the table.
He pats your shoulder. “Just talk to him. Before one of you explodes.”
The moment the hospital alert blared through the speakers, it’s like everything was put on hold. A mass casualty incident. Multiple vehicles. A bus, a few cars.
The ER instantly became chaos—stretchers being wheeled in, nurses and doctors shouting orders, the smell of antiseptic and blood thick in the air. Wonwoo moved on instinct, running toward the commotion just as Mingyu turned to him, face pale.
“She took the bus today,” Mingyu said.
Wonwoo’s stomach dropped. He didn’t even need to ask who she was. His feet were moving before his brain caught up. He barely heard Mingyu yelling for him as he shoved past people, making his way to the hospital entrance. Paramedics were still unloading patients. Some were conscious. Some weren’t moving at all.
He turned, gripping the arm of a paramedic. “The bus—where is it? Was everyone taken out?”
“There are still people at the site,” the paramedic said. “Some are trapped. First responders are working on it.”
Wonwoo didn’t wait to hear the rest. He ran.
The crash site was a scene of wreckage—twisted metal, shattered glass, the air heavy with smoke and the sharp scent of gasoline. Emergency lights flashed red and blue against the darkening sky, casting eerie shadows over the scene.
Wonwoo barely registered the shouts of firefighters and paramedics as they worked to extract victims from the wreckage. His mind had narrowed to one thing—you.
He scanned the scene frantically, his pulse hammering in his ears. People were being pulled from the bus, some dazed, some unconscious. His breath hitched when he saw a familiar figure slumped against the pavement, a paramedic crouched beside you.
"Y/N!"
His voice was hoarse, nearly breaking as he sprinted toward you. Your head turned sluggishly at the sound of his voice. Blood streaked down your forehead, a cut splitting just above your eyebrow. Your white coat was smudged with dirt, torn at the sleeve, and you had one hand pressed to your side, wincing.
“Wonwoo?” you murmured, blinking up at him, disoriented.
He dropped to his knees beside you, hands hovering over your face, your arms, as if afraid you’d shatter at his touch. “What the hell—why—why are you still here? You should’ve been in the hospital already—”
“Dr. Jeon?” The paramedic beside you spoke up, recognizing him. “She’s stable for now, but we need to move her. There might be internal injuries.”
Wonwoo clenched his jaw. He knew that but it was different when it was you, when he was staring at your bloodied form and realizing how close he’d come to—
No. He refused to think about it.
“Let’s go,” he said, voice tight, as he helped lift you onto the stretcher.
Your fingers curled around his wrist, gripping weakly. “Wonwoo,” you murmured.
His heart stuttered. “What?”
“Don’t look so sad.” Your smile was faint, barely there. “I’m okay.”
He exhaled sharply, gripping your hand. “You better be.”
Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy, the pain dulling into exhaustion. The sounds around you—sirens, shouts, the rustle of movement—were starting to blur together.
“Hey, hey—no.” Wonwoo’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with panic. His grip on your hand tightened. “Stay with me.”
You hummed, barely nodding. “Just… tired.”
“I don’t care. You’re not sleeping right now.” His other hand cupped your cheek, the warmth grounding you. “Look at me.” You tried. Really, you did. But the weight behind your eyes was unbearable. Your head lolled slightly, and that’s when his voice broke—
“Y/N, please.”
Something in his tone made you fight harder to stay conscious. Your blurry vision focused just enough to see his face—his usual calm was gone, replaced with pure, raw worry.
“You’re always… so bossy,” you mumbled, forcing a weak smirk.
“And you never listen,” he shot back, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “So listen now—stay awake.”
The paramedics lifted your stretcher, and Wonwoo moved with them, never letting go of your hand. “We’re almost at the hospital,” he told you, voice softer now. “You’ll be fine.”
You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the pain, or the way he was looking at you, but for a moment, you believed him. Wonwoo’s heart nearly stopped when your body went limp. He swallowed hard, his mind racing even as his training kicked in. You’d lost blood. Too much. Your skin was too pale, your breathing too shallow.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.
As soon as they reached the ambulance, he climbed in with you, pressing two fingers to your wrist again just to reassure himself that your pulse was still there.
"Stay with me," he murmured, more to himself than to you snd when the ambulance doors shut, sirens wailing as they sped toward the hospital, he didn’t take his eyes off you for even a second.
The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the emergency entrance, and the doors flew open. Wonwoo barely waited for the paramedics before he moved, helping guide the stretcher out.
“Female, late twenties, sustained injuries from the crash site,” one of the paramedics called out. “Multiple lacerations, possible concussion, and significant blood loss—she lost consciousness on the way.” Mingyu was already there, his eyes widening the moment he saw you.
“Shit—Get her inside. Now! Bay 7!”
Mingyu paled but immediately snapped into action, helping the nurses prep you for assessment. Seokmin rushed in a second later, his expression shifting from relief to worry in an instant.
“Her BP’s low,” a nurse reported. “We need fluids started now.”
Wonwoo knew he should step back, let the trauma team handle it. But his feet refused to move. His pulse was racing, hands clenched at his sides.
“You need to get checked, too,” Mingyu said, glancing at the blood on Wonwoo’s scrubs—not his own, but yours.
“I’m fine.” Wonwoo’s voice was tight. “She—” His words caught in his throat. “Just take care of her.”
Mingyu exchanged a glance with Seokmin, who rushed down the ER the moment he heard about the accident, before nodding.
“Wonwoo,” Seokmin said carefully, “let them work. She’s in good hands.” he pulls Wonwoo out the hallway to let Mingyu and his team do their work.
Wonwoo’s jaw locked. He knew that. He did. But watching you, lying there so still, covered in bruises and blood—he’d never felt this helpless before. His mind was a mess. He should have driven you home. He should have made sure you weren’t avoiding him. He should have—
The doors burst open. A nurse rushed past him. Then, through the small window of the ER, he saw Mingyu and the rest of the team working frantically around you. Something was wrong.
He stepped forward, but Seokmin was suddenly there, blocking his way. “They’re doing everything they can,” Seokmin said, his voice firm but laced with worry. Wonwoo barely heard him. His eyes were locked on the room, on Mingyu pressing down on your chest.
You had coded.
A sharp breath left him as he staggered back, hitting the wall. Seokmin’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke. Wonwoo’s hands were shaking. He curled them into fists. He’d never been this scared before. Not once in his life.
Wonwoo tried to push past Seokmin, but Seokmin held him back, gripping his arm tightly.
"Wonwoo, stop," Seokmin said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension in his face.
"I need to be in there," Wonwoo snapped, his breathing uneven. "I need to—"
Seokmin shook his head. "Mingyu’s got this. Do you think he’d let anything happen to her?"
Wonwoo clenched his jaw, his entire body tense, but he didn’t push forward again. He knew Seokmin was right but knowing didn’t make it easier. All he could do was stand there, watching through the window as Mingyu fought to bring you back.
Mingyu gritted his teeth, his hands steady even as the tension in the room thickened. The sound of the flatline rang in his ears, drowning out everything else.
"Charge to 200," he ordered, his voice sharp and controlled.
The nurse complied, handing him the paddles. Mingyu placed them on your chest, his heart hammering. "Clear!"
Your body jerked slightly as the shock coursed through you.
He checked the monitor. Still flat.
"Again! 300!"
Another shock.
Nothing.
Mingyu refused to let panic settle in. His friend was on this table. No, not just a friend. You were family.
"Come on," he muttered under his breath, sweat forming at his brow. "You're not done yet."
He pressed his hands to your chest, beginning compressions. "Give me one milligram of epi!"
Time blurred. His arms burned from the force of CPR, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t.
Then A blip. Another. A weak, slow rhythm appeared on the monitor.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "We've got a pulse," he announced, his voice hoarse but firm. The tension in the room eased slightly, but Mingyu knew it wasn’t over yet. He looked at you, unconscious but breathing, and exhaled sharply.
"You scared the hell out of us," he muttered under his breath. Then, he turned to the nurse. "Get her to the ICU. I'll update the others."
As the team moved into action, Mingyu pulled off his gloves, exhausted but relieved. Now, he just had to face Wonwoo.
Mingyu stepped out of the ER, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair. The hallway felt suffocating with tension, and the moment he looked up, his gaze met Wonwoo’s.
Wonwoo was still pacing, his fists clenched at his sides, eyes dark with worry. Seokmin stood nearby, watching carefully in case he had to physically restrain him again.
The second Wonwoo saw Mingyu, he froze. "How is she?"
Mingyu sighed, pulling off his surgical cap. "She coded."
Wonwoo’s face drained of color.
"But we got her back."
The relief was visible—Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped for just a second before he straightened, jaw tight. "Where is she now?"
"ICU. We stabilized her, but she’s not awake yet."
Wonwoo didn’t wait for another word. He turned on his heel, heading straight for the ICU.
Seokmin let out a breath. "I’m going after him before he scares the nurses."
Mingyu didn’t stop him. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, exhaustion hitting him full force.
"You better wake up soon," he mumbled to himself. "Or he’s gonna lose it."
Wonwoo barely made it past the ICU doors before the nurses blocked his way.
"You can’t see her yet, Dr. Jeon," one of them said firmly. "She’s still unconscious, and we need to monitor her closely."
His jaw tightened. "I just need to see her—"
"Wonwoo."
Seokmin grabbed his arm before he could push past them. "Stop."
Wonwoo turned sharply, eyes flashing. "She almost died, Seokmin. I—" He clenched his fists, unable to finish.
Seokmin’s grip didn’t loosen. "I know. But you barging in there isn’t going to change anything. Let them do their job."
Wonwoo’s breathing was heavy, his body tense as if he was holding himself together by a thread. His gaze flickered toward the door, frustration clear on his face.
Seokmin sighed. "Come on, man. Let’s sit for a second. You’re no good to her if you pass out from exhaustion."
Wonwoo didn’t move for a long moment, but finally, he exhaled sharply and let Seokmin pull him back toward the waiting area.
Still, he kept his eyes locked on the door, like sheer willpower alone could wake you up.
Hours passed, dragging on painfully. Wonwoo sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together so tightly they were turning white. Mingyu and Seokmin were on either side of him, equally exhausted but keeping watch.
No one spoke much. The weight of everything that had happened hung heavily in the air.
Then, finally, a nurse stepped out of the ICU.
"You can see her now."
Wonwoo was on his feet instantly, not even waiting for the others as he rushed through the doors. His heart pounded as he stepped into your room, his breath catching at the sight of you.
You were stil unconcious, but you were breathing. There were bandages wrapped around your head and arms, an IV hooked up beside you. But your chest rose and fell steadily.
"You’re an idiot," he muttered, voice hoarse. But even as he said it, his hand hovered over yours, hesitant, before finally resting gently over your fingers.
Hours passed before you finally regained consciousness. The first thing you notice is the hand holding yours. The weight of everything sinking in.
You gently squeeze his hand making Wonwoo sit up and look at you, “Hey you” you mumble at him. He didn’t say anything at first, just looking at you. Making sure he isn’t dreaming, he takes your warm hand pressing it against his cheek
“You scared me” he whispered
“Sorry”
He shakes his head. He stands up, leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead. His lips lingering there for a while like he’s savoring every second. When he pulled back, his gaze met yours, filled with something unspoken.
“You should rest,” he murmured, voice still rough with emotion.
You gave him a small, tired smile. “Only if you do too.”
“I’m not leaving.” You already knew that. Even if he didn’t say it, you could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t going anywhere.
The door swung open, and Seokmin practically burst in, arms spread wide. “She LIVES!” he announced dramatically, as if you had risen from the dead.
You gave him a tired glare. “Was that necessary?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, plopping down in the chair beside you. “Do you know how much stress you caused us?”
Mingyu walked in behind him, arms crossed. “You had me working overtime,” he said, half-joking, half-serious. “And I don’t even get paid extra for that.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was warmth in your smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll schedule my near-death experience at a more convenient time.”
Mingyu clicked his tongue. “That’s all I ask.”
Seokmin gasped. “Excuse me? That is not all we ask! How about you don’t get into life-threatening accidents at all?”
You sighed, leaning back into the pillows. “Noted.”
Wonwoo, who had been quiet this whole time, just exhaled, shaking his head. “They’re never gonna let this go, you know.”
“Obviously,” you muttered, but your chest felt lighter. Because as much as they nagged, you knew it just meant they cared.
Your recovery days were… frustrating, to say the least. As a surgeon, you were used to being the one treating patients, not being the patient. And the worst part? Your own friends were your caretakers, which meant zero chances of slipping out of bed unnoticed.
Seokmin was the worst about it. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked one afternoon when you tried to stand up.
“For a walk,” you said.
He pushed you back down with one finger to your forehead. “You’re on bed rest, doctor.”
“I’m fine,” you grumbled.
Seokmin gasped dramatically. “You coded! You died for a minute, and now you want to go for a walk?”
Mingyu walked in just in time to hear that. “Wait, she tried to get up? I knew we should’ve strapped her down.”
You scowled at both of them. “I’m not a psych patient—”
“Then stop acting like one,” Mingyu shot back.
But it wasn’t just them. The nurses were in on it, too. They absolutely loved watching the usually stubborn and independent surgeon get bossed around. Every time Wonwoo came to check on you, you swore you saw them watching from the nurses’ station, whispering to each other.
And speaking of Wonwoo…
He was quiet but relentless. While the others nagged, he just watched you, making sure you ate, making sure you took your meds, making sure you rested. He didn’t have to say anything—his mere presence was enough to keep you in place.
But one evening, when the others had left, you finally had enough. “Wonwoo, I swear if you tell me to ‘take it easy’ one more time—”
“I won’t,” he said simply, sitting beside your bed.
You blinked. “Oh.”
He looked at you for a moment, then exhaled. “I just… I was really scared.”
Your throat tightened. “Wonwoo—”
“I almost lost you,” he murmured.
You stared at him, heart pounding. “…Okay.”
He gave your hand a light squeeze. “Good.”
“But that’s unfair, you can’t use that on me everytime”
Wonwoo’s lips twitched, barely holding back a smirk. “Use what?”
“You being all—” you waved your free hand vaguely, “—soft and serious. Making me feel bad for worrying you. That’s not fair.”
He let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “It’s not fair that you keep scaring me either.”
You groaned, sinking further into your pillows. “Fine. Truce?”
Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, pretending to consider it. “…Only if you promise to stop being reckless.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Define reckless.”
He sighed. “I hate you.”
You smirked. “No, you don’t.”
“…No, I don’t,” he admitted, his voice softer this time.
You stretched your arms as you walked into the hospital, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief. Being back at work after weeks of recovery felt oddly normal, except for the way your friends hovered around you like you were made of glass.
You sat across from Wonwoo at a quiet restaurant near the hospital, picking at your food while he watched you like a hawk. He had already subtly pushed a side dish closer to you twice, and when you slowed down again, he raised an eyebrow.
"Eat," he said simply, taking a bite of his own food.
You sighed, shoving a spoonful into your mouth to appease him. “Happy?”
He hummed in approval before sipping his drink. The meal went on in comfortable silence, but your mind kept drifting back to the last real conversation you had before the accident.
“Wonwoo.”
“Hmm?”
You hesitated for a second, then pushed forward. “Before the accident, when we were talking… You said I kissed you.”
His grip on his drink tightened slightly. “Yeah.”
“And you never told me,” you continued, voice steady but firm. “I told you I liked you, and you never said anything. Is that… is that why you never dated anyone?”
Wonwoo let out a slow breath, placing his drink down carefully. “I thought you were drunk.”
“I was drunk,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying.”
He leaned back slightly, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I didn’t know that.”
You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “So what, you avoided me for weeks, pretended like nothing happened, and then just… never dated anyone because of it?”
Wonwoo didn’t respond right away. He stared at you for a long moment, like he was deciding something. Then, finally, he spoke.
“I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” His voice was quiet but firm. “I thought if I told you, it’d change everything. And I didn’t—I couldn’t—” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”
Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. “And what about now?”
He met your gaze, something softer in his expression now. “Now, I think I almost did anyway.”
The weight of his words settled between you, and for the first time in weeks, maybe years, you felt like you were finally getting somewhere.
You stared at him, processing everything he’d just said. The years of friendship, the silent moments, the things left unsaid—all of it led to this.
“So,” you started carefully, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, “you spent all these years… what? Waiting?”
Wonwoo let out a short, breathy laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “It’s not like I planned to. I just—no one else ever felt right.”
Something in your chest tightened. “Wonwoo.”
He looked at you then, really looked at you. “Do you regret it?”
You blinked. “Regret what?”
“Telling me you liked me back then.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
“I don’t regret it. What I regret is not remembering anything”
He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You really don’t?”
“Not even a little,” you admitted. “If I had, we probably wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”
“And now?”
You held his gaze. “I don’t want to waste any more.”
For the first time in weeks, Wonwoo smiled—not the small, fleeting ones he’d been giving you, but a real one, the kind that reached his eyes.
“Then let’s not.”
The moment stretched between you two, something unspoken settling into place. Wonwoo didn’t say anything else instead he reached for your hand across the table, his fingers brushing yours before curling around them. It was such a simple gesture, but your heart still stuttered at the warmth of his palm against yours.
“You’re really doing this, huh?” you murmured, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
Wonwoo’s thumb traced lazy circles over your skin. “I should’ve done it a long time ago.”
You squeezed his hand, rolling your eyes playfully. “You should’ve.”
After your shift of course he waited for you to drive you home, the drive was quiet. Like how it usually is. But this this there's a sense of peace, something more comforting. Wonwoo made a thoughtful hum before, to your surprise, he reached over at a red light, fingers brushing against your hand. Then, in the most unexpected act of affection, he intertwined his fingers with yours.
“What—”
“I like holding your hand,” he admitted casually, as if this wasn’t the first time he was doing something like this outside of a life-or-death situation. “It’s warm.”
You blinked at him. This man. “Wonwoo,” you deadpanned, but your grip on his hand tightened, betraying you.
“Do you have any idea how confusing you are?” you muttered, squeezing his hand.
Wonwoo chuckled again, the sound low and warm. “I think I’m making it pretty obvious now.”
Your face heated up. You turned to look out the window, trying to hide the giddy feeling bubbling up in your chest. And just like that, the rest of the ride home was spent with your fingers still laced together, neither of you letting go.
You swallowed, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. Wonwoo's hand was still in yours, warm and steady
“If I’m reading this wrong,” he said, voice softer than before, “we can stop. I don’t want to force anything on you.”
You turned to him, watching how he kept his eyes on the road, his usual unreadable expression now laced with something else—something hesitant, something careful.
Your chest tightened.
“You think you’re reading it wrong?” you asked, your voice quieter now.
Wonwoo sighed through his nose, thumb unconsciously brushing against your knuckles. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t want to assume anything. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to go along with me just because…” He trailed off, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter with his other hand.
Just because he’s Wonwoo? Just because he’s been there always, in ways you never fully understood until now?
Your lips pressed into a thin line. You weren’t used to this—him being the one doubting things when it was usually you who overthought.
The car slowed as he pulled up in front of your place, but he didn’t make a move to let go of your hand. His fingers curled around yours loosely, like he was giving you the chance to let go first.
You didn’t.
Instead, you took a breath and turned to face him fully. “You’re not reading it wrong,” you said, firm but not unkind.
Wonwoo finally looked at you, the flickering streetlight outside casting shadows on his face.
“You’re not forcing anything,” you added, squeezing his hand. “I like this, okay? I like… us.”
Wonwoo just smirked, giving your hand a squeeze. “This is years in the making,” he murmured, like it was the simplest fact in the world. “Let me hold my girl’s hand for a minute more.”
You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head, but your heart was doing something completely different—stumbling over itself at the way he said my girl.
You swallowed, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. Years in the making. You’d never thought about it like that, but now that he said it, you realized—he was right.
All those late-night study sessions, the quiet moments in the on-call room, the way he always made sure you ate, the way he was just… there. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t new. It was just something that had always been there, waiting for the two of you to finally stop dancing around it.
“…Fine,” you muttered, fighting the smile but failing miserably. “One minute.”
Wonwoo chuckled, and instead of arguing, he just laced his fingers through yours, holding on like he never planned on letting go.
#au#fic#seventeen#svt#seventeen imagine#seventeen scenario#seventeen oneshot#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen wonwoo#jeon wonwoo#wonwoo#jww#svt imagine#svt scenario#svt fic#svt x y/n#svt x reader#wonwoo imagine#wonwoo scenario#wonwoo angst#wonwoo slowburn#wonwoo au#wonwoo x reader
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DRUNK WALK HOME: K. AKAASHI
she is one failing grade away from being kicked out of her university. and as much as he doesn’t want to be, akaashi is there to help.
main masterlist
divider credits to plutism
pairing: akaashi x f!reader
status: ongoing
tags/warnings: enemies to lovers, heavy on the angst, tutor x student, university au, a lot of partying/drinking/use of drugs, mentions of suicide, reader is a hot mess, everyone sucks here, very suggestive, blended smau, everyone sucks here (again bc im worried you didnt see it the first time), flawed characters (like very flawed), grammatical mistakes probably, everyone probably will be out of character, please note warnings may change as story progresses, and to check each chapter for individual warnings
taglist: open, complete this form to be added
minors dni & other rules
yn style guide | yn aesthetic | akaashi aesthetic
playlist by @kiyokostan
INTRODUCTIONS: roommates from hell | joker cosplayers | girls who should be given guns
PROLOGUE: rejection
CHAPTER ONE: morning after
CHAPTER TWO: outline
INTERMISSION: faces
INTERMISSION (cont.): names
CHAPTER THREE: conclusion
CHAPTER FOUR: structure
CHAPTER FIVE: revisions
CHAPTER SIX: diversions
CHAPTER SEVEN: introductions
CHAPTER EIGHT: mistakes
CHAPTER NINE: corrections
CHAPTER TEN: coming soon
© eggyrocks: do not copy or repost
#don’t look at me#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu#hq x you#smau recs#hq#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smau#akaashi fluff#akaashi fanfiction#akaashi keiji x reader#hq akaashi#akaashi x reader#haikyuu akaashi#akaashi keiji#akaashi x you#akaashi smau#akaashi x y/n#akaashi keiji smau#akaashi keiji x reader smau#akaashi x reader smau
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Ties That Bind

Peach VII | Show Off
Summary: Steve and Peach have thier first fight as newlyweds.
Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Dancer!Reader (Peach)
A/N: Not sure If I am correct about any element of shibari, but I tried. Really nervous. This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and comes after the events in Peach VII. Interaction is life! Let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Subari (I tried ) Peach Peaching, Steve is angry and scared, first fight. Allusions to violence, talk of pregnancy, mistaken identity, veiled threats. Trust is a major theme. Rope play, dominance, submission, oral, (f and m receiving), nipple play, spit play, ass play, reference to anal, rough, raw p in v, sensory overload, breeding kink, 'lil bit of knife play, aftercare.
I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
--------
You woke up before dawn, Steve’s arm draped over your waist and pulling you to him, his warmth wrapping around you and forming a secure cocoon.
You smiled as you gazed at his sleeping face, lightly brushing back the dark blond hair that had fallen over his face.
You were still tripping over the fact that you were Mrs. Steve Rogers.
He made you very happy.
These past few weeks were a wonderful whirlwind of love and affection. Steve was consistently attentive to you and gave you anything you wanted.
And he was square with you about the realities of his life.
He, Bucky, Nat and Sam had made a lot of money, not only for themselves, but for the people they’d done business with. And some people were angry that it was over.
You heard that, but you didn’t listen.
And you’d left lots of loose ends in Atlanta.
There was Peach Preserves, your dance studio, and your students to think about. This was the preparation week for classes to begin again after the holidays, and you weren’t there to do your work.
Dance was your first love, and you didn’t want to give that up. Steve didn’t want you to either, he just wanted you to hire help and work out a schedule where you could have time together as a couple.
And then there was the question of where you would live, Atlanta or New York.
You were antsy to get back to Atlanta, but Steve wanted you to wait a couple of days longer to go down.
He’d distracted you the night before with some stunning cunnilingus, and a thorough rough fucking that you could still feel as you shifted in the bed.
You bit your lip and smiled wider.
Being Mrs. Rogers had its benefits: Steve’s thick, stiff cock was top three. And it was always ready for you. That helped because you always wanted it. But he couldn’t distract you with that for long.
You were bound and determined that you were grown and that you could handle going to Atlanta by yourself. After all, it had been your city for almost 10 years before he came along.
It would be fine. And today was the day.
Before you escaped the bed, you let yourself revel in the warmth of Steve’s arms, daydreaming about letting him wake up, pull you close, press a kiss to your shoulder, and convince you, yet again, that waiting a little longer wouldn’t hurt.
It would be easy to just go with his flow. But you were you. You loved doing things the hard way.
You slipped from under his arm, moving slowly and carefully, barely breathing. Steve stirred but didn't wake.
Breathing a small sigh of relief, you dressed quickly. Your bag was already packed, tucked behind the closet door. You grabbed it, hesitating for only a second before leaving a note on the nightstand.
I’ll call you when I land. Love you.-- Your Peach
The rideshare to the airport was quiet, but your thoughts weren’t. You knew Steve would be upset when he woke up.
----
Steve reached out, fingers brushing the cool sheets where you should have been. His chest tightened before he even opened his eyes. He knew something was off.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat, scanning the room. Maybe you were making breakfast, or in the dance studio, but before he could go see if you were there, his eyes settled on the nightstand, and there it was.
A small piece of folded paper.
His heart thudded as he picked it up, unfolding it with fingers that suddenly felt too stiff as he read it.
Steve exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. Atlanta. You went. Even after everything you talked about, after he told you to wait, after he swore he’d go with you.
A slow burn of frustration and worry curled in his stomach. That feeling was rare before he met you. But then again, all feelings were rare before he met you.
Steve shook his head.
You thought you’d be fine. Of course, you did. That was just who you were, stubborn, independent. And that was why he loved you. But you didn’t know the danger, not like he did.
His jaw clenched as he reached for his phone. His fingers flew over his phone’s keyboard, and he took deep breaths to calm down. Then he went to his closet.
He needed to get to Atlanta.
-----
The second your plane landed in Atlanta, and you turned off airplane mode, your phone buzzed.
You really think you can just run off like that?
The message was from hours ago, when you were in the air. You exhaled slowly, gripping your phone as you replied.
I had to.
Almost immediately, three dots appeared. Stopped. And then appeared again.
You should’ve waited for me, Peach.
You closed your eyes. You could hear his voice in the words, low and growly. You loved him, but you weren’t quite willing to give up all of your spirit and independence.
The studio needs me.
A full minute passed. You didn’t move, despite others around you getting ready to deboard the plane.
I know that. But I need you to trust me. I need to be able to trust you. I need you to be with me, present in this marriage. Need you to be safe.
Shit, Peach, I just need you.
Your stomach was in knots. You didn’t have an answer to that. So you just said the only thing you could.
I love you.
The dots again
Love you, too. But this discussion isn’t over.
Your heart started beating fast because you knew that he was coming for you. You knew he would never, ever hurt you, but you were filled with anxiety for what was going to happen when you saw him again.
You locked your phone and got ready to walk off the plane, your heart pounding.
—--
The sun was setting by the time you pulled up to your townhouse, exhaustion weighing heavy in your bones. The day was long, checking in on your students, arranging for instructors and making sure the studio could run with you there day to day for a while.
You should have felt relieved.
Instead, all you felt was restless. You missed your husband. Steve hadn’t texted again since you landed this morning.
You stepped onto the porch of your place, fishing your keys from your bag, when the hairs on the back of your neck rose.
That familiar tingle was there, the extra sense that alerted you to danger back when late nights at Regine meant dealing with more than just drunk men and bad tips.
Someone was watching you.
“Well, well, well.”
You froze, fingers tightening around your keys. You knew that voice.
You turned around slowly to find Sully leaning against his car at the curb, arms crossed and a smirk twisting his mouth.
He looked the same as he did the last time you saw him, right before Steve forced him out of Regine. But there was something different in his eyes now.
Your stomach flipped, but you kept your face neutral.
“Sully.”
He pushed off the car, walking toward you with slow, deliberate steps.
“Heard you and Grant, or should I say Steve, took a little honeymoon.”
His eyes dropped to your stomach, then back up to your face.
“Didn’t take long for him to knock you up, huh?”
You didn't flinch or react at all, although you were confused.
“Now that you know who he is, you can probably guess that Steve wouldn’t take kindly to people showing up at his wife’s place uninvited.”
You hoped that Steve was really coming.
Sully laughed, a hollow sound.
“Is that so?”
He tilted his head, watching you like he was trying to figure out how much of a fight you’d put up. He should’ve known from seeing you scrap a couple of times at the club.
“See, I think Steve’s real good at running his mouth. All talk and no action. He let you come back here. Alone.”
You wanted to laugh out loud. Let this asshole fuck around and find out with Steve Rogers.
“What do you want, Sully?”
You kept your voice calm and controlled.
His smile faded.
“I want what I’m owed.”
You rolled your eyes.
“What are you even talking about, Sully?”
He stepped closer to you, and you didn't back away.
“You and that attitude, Peach. ‘S gonna get you hurt one day. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Your husband put me out on my ass, and now, I’m gonna return the favor.”
His lips curled as his eyes swept down your body again.
“And since you’re carrying the next little Rogers/Barnes/Romanoff/Wilson prince or whatever, that makes you real valuable.”
Your blood ran cold. That’s what this was. Sully thought you were pregnant. He had you confused with your cousin. He thought you were pregnant and that was why you and Steve eloped.
Idiot.
You weren’t about to set him straight and put your family in danger. Your fingers tightened around your phone, and you forced yourself to breathe evenly.
“Sully, you’re making a mistake. Whatever you think you’re doing? It’s not worth what Steve will do to you.”
He stared at you menacingly for a long moment, like he was waiting for you to break. But he was going to have to wait a long time for that. You held his gaze.
Steadily.
Then, slowly, he smirked.
“We’ll see about that.”
He turned and walked back to his car. You didn’t move until the taillights disappeared down the street. Then, with shaking hands, you pulled out your phone and typed.
Sully was here.
The read receipt popped up immediately. Steve always had them on for you.
Stay inside. Lock the doors. I���m almost there.
—-
The traffic around him inched forward at a crawl, horns blaring. Steve swore under his breath, his pulse hammering. He needed to move. Needed to get to you. But he was trapped, locked in place.
You were okay, you’d just texted him, but he was beyond frustrated. He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, frustration boiling over. Every second wasted in this damn traffic was another second Sully could come back.
His mind raced through every possibility. He should’ve been there. Should’ve made you wait.
He should have tied you to the bed.
A gap opened up in traffic. Steve hit the gas, weaving between cars, eyes locked on the road ahead. He was coming. And if Sully was still anywhere near you…
-----
Ten minutes later, the knock at the door was heavy and deliberate. You don’t even have to check, you knew it was your husband.
Still, you hesitated, but not really out of fear. It was more like anticipation. You exhaled, steadying yourself, and unlocked the door.
Steve was standing there, his broad shoulders tight, and his jaw set like he’d been grinding his teeth the entire time you’d been apart. There was a backpack slung over one arm and his eyes flicked over you, scanning, searching to make sure you were okay.
The second he saw that you were fine, something else surfaced in his gaze.
----
The door opened and relief hit him first, because you were there, standing right in front of him, whole and unharmed. But the relief crashed straight into the anger, the frustration, and the fear that had been eating at him the whole morning.
He was still struggling under the weight of every worst-case scenario still running through his brain.
Still, despite everything, when Steve’s eyes locked onto yours, he couldn’t deny that he was a simp because all he wanted to do was to take you in his arms. But something had to change.
Because at the end of the day, you’re his.
You were standing in front of him, looking at him like you knew exactly what he was feeling. And that was the only thing keeping him from going nuclear.
----
You knew Steve was angry.
And it made you weak, wanting to supplicate for him and beg for forgiveness around his cock. But of course you resisted that urge and chucked your chin higher.
Steve never felt so angry and so grateful at the same time. But then he saw the glint in your eye and shook his head, almost wanting to laugh.
This is what it was going to be like married to someone as stubborn as he was.
He stepped inside without a word, closing the door behind him. The space between you crackled like a live wire.
“Tell me what the fuck happened.”
You crossed your arms and cocked your hip meeting his stare head-on. Steve was angry and hard, ready to fuck you into submission.
But first he needed answers. You told him what happened, including the most important part.
“Sully thinks I’m pregnant.”
Steve’s entire body went rigid. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a second, he didn't say anything.
Sully was threatening his family?
For half a second, the blood rushed in his ears as the adrenaline flooded his senses, and he had the urge to tear something apart. He had to consciously slow his breathing to keep from running out of the door after Sully.
“He what?”
“He thinks that’s why we eloped,” you said, keeping your voice steady.
Steve turned away for a second, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to keep himself from exploding. It didn’t work.
“He came here,” he turned back to you, eyes flashing, voice barely controlled.
“Because he thought you were carrying my kid?”
You nodded.
He stared at you before stepping closer. You were looking up at him, breathing his air, looking into those l blue eyes, with everything on you that could get erect standing at attention. This was going to be your first fight.
And what a fight it was.
“And you didn’t think to tell me the second it happened?”
“I did–”
“Not after, Peach," he interrupted.
“Not when he was already gone. When he was here. When you were standing face-to-face with the sonofabitch who threatened what was mine?”
“Steve, I handled it.”
“Oh. You handled it.”
His hands raised to the sky and then raked through his hair, wild with frustration.
“You think telling a man like Sully to fuck off is handling it?”
“I think if I’d called you while he was still here, you’d be dealing with a murder charge right now,” you snapped back.
Steve stared you down and you didn’t break eye contact. Neither did he. The air between you was thick, buzzing, and charged with frustration. You longed to put your arms around his neck and turn back time to the chalet.
But the honeymoon was over.
Finally Steve took a slow breath.
“Sully needs to understand that he doesn’t threaten my family. Or his threat needs to be eliminated.”
Steve pulled out his phone without another word, already dialing. He paced the living room as it rang, muscles still wound tight. You watched him, fighting the urge to touch him.
His eyes were on you the entire time.
“You should’ve waited for me,” he said suddenly, voice quieter, but still railing, his anger simmering all over him.
You exhaled, leaning against the table.
“I know.”
He shook his head, not looking at you. His free hand gripped the back of his neck like he was trying to keep himself grounded. The call connected.
“Buck,” he said, his voice deadly calm.
“We’ve got a problem.”
—--
Steve hung up the call with Bucky, his grip on the phone so tight you half expected it to snap in his hand. His jaw was clenched, his breathing measured, like he was barely keeping himself in check.
“What did he say?” you asked carefully.
“He’s on his way to get her now. Said he’d call me once they’re somewhere safe.”
Steve finally looked at you, and the intensity in his eyes made your stomach flip.
“I should’ve been here.”
You crossed your arms, lifting your chin.
“And what? Sully shows up, you do whatever mafia thing you do, or worse, he does something to you and now we’ve got a problem and if you get killed or go to jail now, Steve Rogers, I will murder you.”
Steve moved closer to you, the space between you shrinking.
“The problem is that you were alone. I wasn’t here to protect you. That is my one job in this life.”
You cocked your head and smiled at him, your heart wrenching.
“Baby. That is not your one job in life. You do lots of good work in the art world, with Rebirth…I can take care of myself, Steve.”
His jaw ticked.
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point, then?” You held your ground. “Because as far as I can tell, I handled it.”
Suddenly, Steve moved, and although you expected him to come for you, he stepped past you, toward the door, his voice low and sharp.
“I’m going to find him.”
Your reaction was immediate.
“Steve, don’t!”
He stopped at the door, his hand on the knob, thinking about tracking Sully down, and putting an end to this permanently.
“He came to this house. He threatened you. That is never going to happen again, Peach.
Steve's anger was controlled. Focused.
You stepped closer, and he could sense your strength, the kind of strength that always had the power to stop him in his tracks.
“Steve, I get it. I do. But you just got out of the life. You wanted out.”
He turned his head slightly, jaw tight.
“I did. Because of you.”
The weight of that settled between you.
Steve could feel the pull, the fine line between who he was now and who he used to be. The life he swore he left behind was still there, still waiting for him to step back into it.
“Steve, Sully wants you to go back to that. You gonna let him win?”
Your fingers curled lightly around his wrist, grounding him, but he didn’t move for a moment. Then, his fingers relaxed on the doorknob. The storm inside him didn’t disappear; it shifted.
His priorities realigned. He chose you over his rage. Always.
You two needed to work this out. Immediately.
You let out a breath, but you both knew this wasn’t over. He took your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin, watching the way your eyes flickered with wariness.
“Come with me. I’ve got something to show you.”
—-
Steve led you to the bedroom with slow, deliberate steps, picking up his backpack along the way. His grip on your hand was firm, to keep you close.
When the door shut behind you, he turned, those clear blue eyes searching yours, a mixture of anger and something deeper. You were so damn nervous.
Who was this man before you with this dangerous look on his face that was pointed at you?
“You don’t listen, Peach." Steve was willing you to understand. “You think you have to handle everything alone.”
You lifted your chin, defiant as ever.
“I can handle myself.”
Steve let out a slow breath, a smile tugging at the corner of hisn mouth. He stepped closer, his thumb brushing your lips.
“I know very well that you can,” he admitted. “But, baby, you don’t have to. Not with me.”
Your breath caught, as his hand slid to your neck, fingers threading through to your nape as he tilted your head back, forcing you to hold his gaze.
“I love you,” he said, and it made your stomach flutter. “And I won’t ever stand by while you put yourself at risk.”
The look in his eyes was molten blue.
“If Sully hadn’t left,” Steve continued, his voice rough with emotion, “if he’d put his hands on you… what would you have done?”
You swallowed hard.
“I would’ve taken care of it,” you whispered.
Steve hummed, like he wasn’t quite convinced.
“You’re not invincible, Peach,” his voice was softer now. “And you don’t get to decide when I protect what’s mine.”
The way he said 'mine' sent heat curling low in your stomach and moisture pooling between your thighs. His lips brushed your forehead, lingering there, and your chest tightened at the sheer devotion in the act.
Then he turned, reaching for the bag. When he faced you again, a length of smooth, ivory rope was coiled in his hands. Your stomach flipped and your heart started racing.
“Do you think you can just do whatever you want?”
You held your breath as he uncoiled the rope, and you watched his fingers working it with practiced ease.
“Steve,” you whispered. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
His jaw flexed. His fingers paused on the rope. And then, slowly, he lifted his eyes to yours.
“Yes, I want you to trust me.”
You blinked up at him.
“I do trust you.”
Steve almost believed you as he looked down into your beautiful eyes. But then he shook his head.
“You didn’t this morning,” he said quietly. “You left without telling me. I need you to prove that you trust me to take care of you.”
“What do you mean?”
Steve stepped closer, jaw set.
“You’re scaring me,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
You searched his face for meaning and he gave you nothing. Butterflies rioted in your stomach as he moved behind you and his lips touched the edge of your ear.
“Good. You’ll cum harder that way.”
You gasped as your cunt clenched. You couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“I’ll what?”
“I need to remind you what it feels like to let someone else be in control.”
He slid his hand up your arm and turned your head so you could look at him.
“You gonna let me?”
It wasn’t really a question. But he waited for your answer anyway, his gaze steady.
Slowly, you nodded. Steve smiled.
“Good girl.”
You had visions of him inside you right at that very moment, but he interrupted your thoughts.
"Take off your clothes."
The command was quiet, but it left no room for defiance. You complied, the air cool against your skin as you got naked for him, excitement building inside you from the way he watched you.
“You put yourself in danger,” Steve continued, his voice thick with emotion. “And you expect me to just let that slide?”
His stepped behind you and his hands moved over your arms, holding you close against his rock hard body.
“You are my world, Peach.”
He whispered it into your ear and you shuddered.
“Steve…”
“You were reckless with your safety,” he interrupted as his fingers worked the first knot, wrapping the rope around your wrists, securing them just enough for you to feel it, but not to hurt.
Steve worked quickly but precisely, bathing you in tenderness, preparing each area with soft kisses before his ropes made the next pass.
He bound your wrists behind your back, the smooth fibers digging in just enough to make you feel helpless under his control. He moved swiftly, looping the rope around your torso, cinching it tight across your chest, down your waist, framing your curves in a way that made you lose your breath.
You were surprised at how much this turned you on.
“What is this, Steve?” you breathed.
He leaned in, brushing his lips over your temple.
“I'm teaching you how to let go, my love.”
His hands continued their work as he held your gaze, and strangely as he tied your body together, it didn’t feel like a punishment.
It felt like a lesson in trust. And surrender.
Steve stepped back, taking in the sight of you. His eyes darkened with awe.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, almost to himself.
Your cheeks burned. Your heart pounded. You never felt more vulnerable. Or more seen.
Loved.
He reached out, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers.
“You know I’d never hurt you, right?”
You swallowed hard and nodded and his thumb brushed over your lips.
“Good. Now relax, Baby. I’ve got you.”
You exhaled shakily, easing into the bindings. You felt better now. Safer, somehow.
Steve watched you, his gaze lingering on the way your body softened. His hands slid over the rope, testing its hold and making sure it wasn’t too tight on your satiny skin.
“Kneel for me, Peach.”
The deep baritone of his voice made your pussy clench, but you obeyed, sinking gracefully to the floor. Your breath caught as your knees hit the soft carpet, the vulnerability of the position sinking in.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
You did, and the sheer adoration in his expression made your chest tighten. His fingers skimmed over your bound body, teasing you, sending shivers racing across your body.
“Remember Peach, I’m doing this because I need you to know that you don’t always have to be the strong one.”
His hands moved over your back, tracing the rope, grounding you.
“You’re gonna feel everything I do, and you’re not gonna fight it.”
His eyes locked onto yours and you held his stare.
"...Okay"
Steve chuckled at your spirit. He loved the fuck out of you, but you needed this lesson.
“Good girl.”
Your eyes closed at the praise and he stepped back, his fingers once again skimming over your restrained skin.
“You’re trembling,” he observed, voice tinged with amusement. “Are you nervous?”
You swallowed. “A little.”
“Don’t be.”
He down beside you and leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder, then to the curve of your jaw.
“Steve…,” you whimpered.
“You trust me, right?”
His lips were against yours now.
You exhaled a shaky, “Yes" into his mouth.
“Then let me take care of you.”
He pulled away and his eyes held yours for a long beat, making sure you understood. His hands moved around your rope-bound ass grazing the ropes framing your thighs, the ones holding your pussy lips apart.
You gasped as his fingers brushed against your aching heat.
“You're dripping for me already, Peach. Do you like being tied up?”
You were delirious with anticipation. But you didn’t know how to feel.
“No!.. Yes… I don’t know.”
He got down on his knees behind you as you tested the binds instinctively, your wrists straining just enough to remind you of your helplessness. The pressure was intoxicatingly restrictive and unrelenting.
You didn’t know that you craved this.
A warm hand slid over your stomach, fingers grazing the rope cinched tight around your waist. He pressed in, letting you feel the heat of his palm against your skin and the graze of his fingertips against your clit. Not to mention his hard cock pressed into your spine.
You bit back a moan as he continued, his touch slow and purposeful. Steve’s hand slid to your throat, his grip firm, but not choking.
"You are my wife," he said, enunciating each word with quiet intensity. I am responsible for your safety… and when you forget that?"
His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before releasing and trailing down your neck.
"I will remind you."
He murmured against your ear, his breath making you wetter. His other hand gripped your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to him.
"Do you love me?" he asked.
"Yes," you whispered, the answer spilling from your lips without hesitation.
"Why?"
You’d been broken down to the raw truth.
“I don’t know. So many reasons.”
You were trying to collect your thoughts which were scattered like leaves in the wind.
"I see you in everything," you whispered.
"In every work of art, in every song that I dance to. I feel you in places I didn’t even know existed."
Steve’s smile was angelic.
"Do you remember when I first saw you?"
His teeth scraped the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw, a nip that made you suck in a breath and shudder. His lips curved into a wicked smirk against your skin.
You exhaled as your pulse quickened. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t escape the press of his body behind you and the overwhelming heat of him surrounding you just like the ropes.
"On stage at Regine’s?" you guessed, breath hitching.
"No," he said, voice rich with memory.
"You were walking into the club, lost in your own world, bopping along to your music, completely unaware of me. You were gorgeous. Sexy. Free."
His hands traced the rope securing your thighs apart, squeezing just enough to make you whimper.
"I had to know who you were. I had to get you to notice me. And when you did?"
He exhaled, like the memory itself was intoxicating.
"I felt like the luckiest man on earth, Peach."
Your body sagged into his, relaxing even more, drawn in by the absolute possession in his voice.
"I can’t tell you how many times I’ve envisioned you like this," he murmured.
"What?" Your voice was barely a breath. "Bound and helpless?"
Steve chuckled, the sound rich and sinful.
"Sweetheart, you are far from helpless."
You closed your eyes as his fingers traced slow circles over your inner thighs, where the rope dug into your skin.
"And you shouldn't be in any pain."
His lips brushed your ear, his voice dipping lower, a promise wrapped in silk and steel.
"I think you're going to enjoy the hell out of this."
He guided you down, so that your cheek was on the carpet, eyes searching for his as he ran his hands over you again. The ropes made every sensation more intense, and you couldn't help the sounds coming from your mouth.
You felt his breath on your ass before you felt his tongue strike out to lick a stripe up the center of you as your body arched. You needed more.
A finger worked inside you, then two, scissoring and curling with a sinful knowledge of your body. Steve worked you over with his hand as his mouth played with your emotions. You were so close to release because every thought was centered in that direction.
But then his fingers withdrew and his warm mouth left your pussy.
You moaned in protest as he pulled you up by the ropes and moved in front of you, unzipping his pants.
Every sense was magnified and the sound of his zipper sent waves of your slick sliding down your thighs and blood racing to your nipples. You were oh so hard and wet.
His hard cock was ready and silky smooth, rolling over your lips as his musky scent surrounded you. It only made you want him more as you opened your mouth wider to taste him on your tongue.
Steve hissed, groaning as you took him deep in your throat.
"So good, Peach..."
He rocked into your throat, careful to let you breath as you concentrated to focus on this one thing. You were moaning around him, the pleasure that you were giving him close to getting you off as well.
He stopped pulled off the rest of his clothes, depriving himself at that moment. Again, he lifted you by the ropes onto the bed and handled your ass again, spread open by his handiwork.
"Remember when you trusted me to fuck you here?"
Steve spit on your asshole and rubbed his finger there as you writhed in your binds.
"Ughhhhh! Steveeeee."
You could barely form coherent thoughts as you shook beneath him.
Steve rubbed himself up and down the split of you repeatedly while you kept moaning his name. You were both very nearly insane as he let his cock rest at your entrance, pounding on your door to get in.
His fingers grabbed the ropes on your thighs, pulling you sharply onto his cock. And you screamed, cumming almost immediately with his first stroke.
"Holy fuck, Peach!"
Steve felt you coming apart around him while held together by the rope and he threw his head back as he set a beautiful pace in and out of you. The sound of skin smacking soundly onto skin lent depth to the pornographic sound of your screams and his groans.
And the ropes on your skin lent an extra dimension of sensation. You were intoxicated with feeling, bound up but feeling so free.
“So tell me, Peach…”
Steve bent over you and his fingers found your nipples and pinched, rolling them hard. It was so much that you nearly came again right then then and there. The next words sent you further into the brink.
“What happens if you get pregnant?”
Steve rolled his hips over and over again into your pulsing, clenching cunt.
"Oh, Steve.. fuck..."
“Who is going to protect you and my child from the likes of scum like–”
“Don’t, fuck, Steve, don’t say his name…”
It would ruin your high, thinking of Sully at the moment.
“Say it, Peach. Who is supposed to do that, Peach? Who’s gonna protect my family?”
Steve said it through clenched teeth, but you knew he wasn't just angry. He was scared.
“Answer me, Peach!”
“You would, I know you would, Steve?”
“Are you sure? You gonna let me? Gonna let me knock you up? You gonna trust me to take care of you?”
His pace was frantic, the vision of you pregnant and safe in his arms propelling him forward into the abyss.
Tears stung your eyes at the thought that he doubted you.
And they fell when you realized that you’d given him reason to.
“I do, I trust you Steve. I promise. I’ll let you take care of us. I swear.”
Steve slammed into you harder, holding you tight with each thrust.
“Is that what you want? Do you really want me to do that?”
You just wanted to soothe the hurt.
“I’m sorry, Steve,” you sobbed.
“I want you. I trust you. I need you. I’m sorry!”
Steve’s thumb found your clit and rubbed your sparking bundle of nerves relentlessly, causing you to strain against the ropes again.
“Oh, Steveeee!”
You shattered into a thousand pieces, only to be held together by the rope Steve wove around you. He pulled out and stoked his cock over you, painting the exposed pieces of you with his cum.
You shook as each hot drop hit your skin, aftershocks rocking you as you found his lust blown eyes.
“F-fffuuuckkkkk!”
Steve was profane as he came all over you, lost to the feeling of your release and his. He reached in his bag again and brought out a knife and started cutting you out of your bindings, kissing and massaging each place on your legs that he cut free.
He licked his cum off of you, paying special attention to your cunt, swiping you with his wide, flat tongue as he soothed your skin with his hands.
When you came again, he moved on, cleaning you up and cutting you loose carefully and tenderly. The disparate sensations of his tongue on your skin, his hands massaging you, and the cold steel of the knife set you alight one more time, and as he sucked his spend off your nipples, you came again, untouched.
It was a perfect, tiny aftershock of pleasure.
—-
You opened your eyes to the harsher light of your bathroom, as Steve was lifting you with him into your garden tub filled with hot water. He cradled you in his embrace.
His hands, the same ones that had restrained you so firmly, now moved with infinite gentleness over your skin in the water, watching you closely for discomfort.
"You okay?"
His voice was low, quiet, and filled with genuine concern. You nodded, your limbs heavy, your body still floating somewhere between exhaustion and satisfaction.
But Steve wasn’t satisfied with a nod. He tilted your face toward him, meeting your sleepy gaze, searching for any sign of discomfort.
"Talk to me, sweetheart," he intoned, thumb stroking over your cheek. "I need to know you're alright."
A small, tired smile tugged at your lips.
"I’m perfect," you whispered, and it was the truth.
The intensity of it all, the way he had pushed you, claimed you, and him caring for you made you realize how safe he made you feel.
And that was the point.
Steve exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath, then pulled you closer, wrapping you in his embrace. The contrast was stark, from restraint to absolute freedom, from domination to protection.
You melted into him, feeling the steady, soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. Suddenly, a bottle of water was produced from the side of the tub and you wondered how long you were out after you came.
“Drink. Let me take care of you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.
His hands never left you, fingers brushing over you in quiet reassurance as you drank.
"You did so well," he bragged, his voice laced with admiration and pride. "I’m so proud of you.”
You got emotional. You drank half the bottle and put it down, turning in the bath to put your arms around his neck and resting your head on his chest, seeking the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Stay," you asked, as if it were even a question.
Steve lifted your chin and looked into your eyes.
"Always," he promised.
#steve rogers#peach fic#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x you#mob boss! steve rogers#chris evans
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GDA SUPERHERO NO WORKER COMP
Author note. (Holy yap I’m sorry)
If you've seen my Tumblr, you know l've only written for Spider-Man before. But recently, l've been getting into Mark Grayson (Invincible), and there aren't many fics for him yet, so... (atleast at the time of writing this)
Disclaimer: I'm still getting a feel for Mark's character, so excuse any OOC moments. Also, slight canon divergence-Mark's a bit older here (early 20s, college arc), and Omniman is still gone. Oh, and his bathroom is connected to his room because I said so. Uhhh plz comment, repost etc if you like this, (I read ALL OF THEM) and first time out of my comfort zone highkey scared ngl...
Shoutout to the lovely, supportive, stunning : @sobbingscripter
Another shout out to @clownprincesshq , the detailed notes on how write/the character of Mark is something I read to trying to study his character.
I hope I don’t let yall down LMAO.
About 4,000 words give or take.
18+ no minors go away!
Warning : uhh not much? Mark is kinda pissed at the reader at first due to story beats. So yk some name calling but only once.
Oh and typos, guys I'm dyslexic and this is my first story in a while go easy on me.
Oral sex on reader, the smut is short I got waaay too into the writing of the reader and mark.
Reader is AFAB, she/her pronouns aren't used :D (if l missed any please let me know l'll correct it)
Y/N is not used.
Reader has superpowers, they are * undefined* Very vague like super strength and flying.
SUMMMARYYY:
You’re hurt, no where to turn. Maybe Eve? Rex? No, too far. You’ll never make it.
You see his house.
Mark. Invincible.
Would he even open his door? Or would he just slam it in your face?
PART TWO IS UP NOOWWW
The world was spinning.
Or maybe that was just the blood loss.
Your arms trembled as you slapped a weak hand against Mark’s bedroom window, the glass cool against your burning skin. Inside, the faint outline of his sleeping figure was barely visible through the haze of your vision.
“Mark!” you hissed, voice cracking.
Nothing.
A frustrated groan tore from your throat. Of course! He was a heavy sleeper.
“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you muttered, though the insult lacked any real bite. If a doctor asked you right now, “On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?” you’d probably throw them through a wall for wasting your time.
You balled your hand into a fist and slammed it against the glass again—harder this time.
*Crack.*
The window shattered under the force, shards raining onto Mark’s floor.
“Oh.”
Turns out, when you’re bleeding out and half-delirious, controlling your superhuman strength isn’t exactly a priority.
Mark jolted upright, eyes wide with alarm. “What the fuck are- ?!” His voice cut off abruptly as he slapped a hand over his own mouth, glancing toward his door. Right. His mom.
“Why the hell are you here?” he whisper-yelled, scrambling out of bed. His feet barely touched the floor before he was at the window, shoving it open. “And why did you break my window?!”
“Thank god,” you breathed, swaying slightly. “I thought I was gonna have to hover here all night—”
Your vision blurred. The edges of your consciousness frayed like a frayed rope, darkness creeping in. Just as your eyelids fluttered shut, Mark’s hands shot out, gripping your forearms.
“Shit—I got you, hold on—”
With a grunt, he hauled you inside. Your body hit the floor with a dull *thud*, sending a fresh wave of agony through your ribs.
“Dude, my mom is sleeping!” Mark hissed, crouching beside you.
You let out a weak, pained laugh. “Geez, how about ‘Are you okay?’ Or ‘Why are you covered in blood?’ Or—I dunno—‘Are you dying?’”
Attempting to sit up, you winced as your spine protested, a sharp spike of pain shooting through you. You collapsed back onto the floor with a groan.
…Actually, the floor wasn’t so bad. Cold. Solid. Maybe it would soothe the fire licking at your skin.
“I would’ve even taken ‘Why aren’t you at the GDA?’” you muttered, tilting your head to look at him.
Mark’s expression softened, worry etching deep lines into his forehead. “Okay, yeah. That was a dick move. I’m sorry—you just fuckin’ spooked me.” He shifted uncomfortably, eyes scanning the gashes and bruises littering your body. “Are you… okay?”
His hands hovered over you, trembling slightly, like he wasn’t sure where to touch without hurting you further.
You smirked. “Nah, I just love lying on the floor.”
A laugh tried to force its way out, but it turned into a wheeze halfway through. Ow.
“Hey, hey—careful,” Mark murmured, his touch feather-light as his palm pressed gently against your sternum.
You swallowed thickly. “I… Do you have a med kit?”
“Uh—yeah. Yeah, my mom kept one from when she used to patch up my dad, but I—” He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “I don’t really know how to—”
“’S’okay,” you slurred, fighting the heaviness in your eyelids. “I can walk you through it. Just… get it before I pass out again.”
Your fingers twitched toward his wrist, brushing against his pulse point. Warm.
“Please?”
Mark’s breath hitched. Your eyes were half-lidded, glazed with pain—in any other situation, they might’ve been mistaken for bedroom eyes. He shook his head sharply, as if dispelling the thought, before scrambling to his feet.
“Be right back. ”Don’t die.”
“I’ll try”
You hummed in acknowledgment, but the darkness was too inviting. Your eyes slipped shut.
The next thing you knew, a hand was shaking your shoulder.
“Hey- hey! Are you dead? Please don’t be dead. I really don’t feel like explaining why there’s a dead person in my room.”
You cracked an eye open. “Oh, wow. Not even sad I’m dead, huh? Just ready to bury the body?”
Mark exhaled sharply, relief washing over his face. “More like I don’t wanna explain to my mom why her son—who just got back from college—is suddenly a serial killer.”
You snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure she wouldn’t be thrilled if you took after your dad.”
Silence.
“…Too soon?”
You winced. “My bad. Pain makes me a jaded fucker.” Your voice dropped. “I wish I had a family as tight as yours.”
Mark’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, well… it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
You blinked. Then grinned. “Mark Grayson making a pun? Has the world gone mad?”
He frowned. “What?”
“Cracked?” You coughed out a laugh, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Considering I definitely have cracked ribs right now?”
Mark rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You must be feeling better if you’re able to lift yourself and make shit jokes.”
You choke back a laugh as you wriggle out of what is left of your costume off your body. You scoff as Mark’s breath hitched, turning away from your indecency.
“Still a virgin?” you teased, reaching for the med kit.
“Still a bitch?” he shot back.
You smirked. “Touché.”
Mark sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can you just tell me how to patch you up? I’d like you out of my house before sunrise.”
“Right.” You fumbled with the kit, hands shaking. “Okay, take this gauze and press it here to stop the bleeding. Then I’ll thread the needle so you can sew me up.”
Mark paled. “Sew you up? I can handle basic first aid, but I’m not playing surgeon tonight.”
Your fingers missed the wound entirely, and a frustrated tsk slipped out. “I said I’d walk you through it. It’s fine.”
“You can barely hold your hands steady,” Mark argued, snatching the kit back. “Let me just—uh—” He rummaged through the supplies. “Liquid bandages. Here.”
His fingers brushed your side as he leaned closer, applying the adhesive with surprising gentleness. “Most of the big cuts are already healing,” he murmured.
You grinned weakly. “Might not have Viltrumite recovery, but close enough, eh?”
Mark grimaced at your smile, your bloodstained teeth made his stomach turn “Jesus.”
A comfortable quiet settled between you, broken only by your occasional hisses and Mark’s muttered apologies. His hands were careful, methodical—like he was afraid you’d shatter under his touch.
“Instructions say to wait five minutes before it’s waterproof,” he said finally, sitting back. “After it dries, hop in the shower. I’ll lend you some clothes so you can leave after.”
He stood, moving toward his dresser.
You watched him for a moment before sighing. “Trying to get rid of me that fast?”
Mark stiffened. “Yup.”
“Then, why are you giving me a reason to come back? ” You teased, gripped the wall, hobbling toward him as you motion towards his clothes.
He didn’t turn around. “I’m not.”
“You don’t want the clothes back after y’know I wash them of course”
“Nope.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, rubbing your temples before you speak.
Your chest tightened. “Mark, I said I was sorry.”
“Sorry, doesn’t cut it.” His voice was sharp, but you could hear the hurt underneath.
“Mark—”
“No. Don’t ‘Mark’ me.” He finally faced you, eyes burning. “I confided in you. You were my teammate—” His hands clenched. “You were my friend.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
You reached for him instinctively, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mar—”
“Get your fucking hands off me.”
The venom in his tone sent a chill down your spine. That was the voice he used on villains. On traitors.
And now, it was the voice he used on you.
“You have to see it from my perspective!” you snapped, gripping his collar. “Your father was one of the strongest heroes we had, Mark! He killed the Guardians! He was a double agent for 20 years fucking years before he attacked—how was I supposed to know you weren’t the same?!”
Mark’s eyes flashed with guilt, then angry pushed “Don’t you—”
“Especially because he coincidentally decided to fuck the world up right when you got your powers!” Your voice cracked. “It was fucked for Cecil to put that shit in your head. I know that. And I hated myself for taking their side. I still hate myself for it.”
Your arms wrapped around yourself, nails digging into your skin.
“I thought I didn’t have a choice,” you whispered. “I had no one but him and the government.” A bitter laugh escaped. “Had being the key word.”
Mark’s breath caught. “Is that why—?”
You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear the pity in his eyes.
“Yeah. He didn’t… take it well when I said I wanted to leave.”
Mark’s hands twitched at his sides before he stepped closer. “Did he do this to you?”
Your brain racked itself for a response, Mark wasn’t waiting, hands zip to your shoulders.
Mark’s grip on your shoulders tightened. “Did. He. Hurt. You?”
You whimpered. “Mark—you’re hurting me.”
He recoiled like he’d been burned. “Shit—I’m sorry, I just—” His hands hovered. “Did he?”
You swallowed. “No. I was pissed. Went on patrol. Found trouble. Got fucked up.” You exhaled shakily. “Usually, I’d go to the GDA, but…”
Your voice trailed off. You’d left your entire life behind for your morals. For him. And now you were standing here, pouring your heart out like some guilt-tripping mess.
“I should go,” you muttered, swiping roughly at your face. The words tasted like ash. “This mess is mine —not your problem. Thanks for… y’know. The patch job.”
You lunged for the window, ignoring the scream of protest from your ribs. Just get airborne. Just push through. But your legs betrayed you, buckling like paper under the weight of your own hubris. The sonic boom you’d aimed for sputtered into a whimper, gravity clawing you back toward earth.
Mark’s house grew terrifyingly large in your plummeting vision. At least you're aiming for the yard.
Strong arms intercepted you inches from impact, the sudden halt stealing your breath.
“Yeah,” Mark murmured, his voice vibrating through your back where it pressed against his chest. “You’re definitely staying over.”
You craned your neck. The dim streetlight silhouetted his hero gear—the sharp lines of his reforged Invincible suit, goggles still faintly glowing from the chase.
“Aren’t I glad to see you?” you rasped, forcing levity into your voice.
He huffed, the sound warmer than it had any right to be. “Dunno. You ran out pret-ty fast.”
“Costume change just to come get lil old me?”
“Well, you can get a little squirrely, I didn’t know how far I would have to chase you.”
His feet plant on his roof as he bridal carries you inside,
“Alright- uh, so the bathroom is over there and I left you some clothes here to use.” Mark motions with his head.
“I think you can put me down now, in-vin-ci-ble” Your smirk widens as Mark's face turns beet red as he drops your legs softly.
“Yes, right right right. Sorry sorry- uhm. I-i’ll stay here“
Mark awkwardly shuffles to his bed, hands in his lap as he watches you slink into the bathroom.
-
The shower scalded away the night’s failures. You lingered until the steam thinned and the water ran cold,
Mark’s silhouette was a shadow against the moonlit window, his shoulders slumped in a poor imitation of relaxation when you emerge,
You can tell he's pretending he doesn't notice your there, he was a lousy liar, his body too honest you watch as it shifts feeling his eyes on you. You cough to get his attention
“Clothes are over there,” he blurted, jabbing a finger at the dresser without turning. His ears burned crimson.
You smile, nodding as a thank you, The towel hit the floor with a damp thud.
He choked. “Jesus—warn a guy!” His body makes a 180 to the wall barring his view of bare legs.
“Pfft, Mark, it’s fine,” you snorted, flapping a dismissive hand even though he’s still stubbornly facing the wall.
“ I - mean are you sure I-just, y’know your privacy and, and stuff!” You giggle as Mark's hands karate chop the air as he intensely monologue.
Even his posture screamed guilt—one foot pivoted toward you like a compass needle, betraying him entirely.
“Privacy’s a luxury where I grew up, Flyboy. “
“Still—you don’t just do that without warning someone!” Mark’s protest cracked mid-sentence, his head twisting to steal a glance over his shoulder before committing to facing you fully. ”Plus,
You’re not with them now. Remember?” The edge in his voice bled into something softer—an oath masquerading as a reminder.
The words hung in the quiet of the moonlight. “You get to choose what you want to be now.” Your name—always a weapon in others’ mouths—feels soft, malleable on his tongue as he stepped closer.
You curled inward, arms wrapping around yourself. “I-I don’t… I’ve never had choices before.“ The admission clawed up your throat, raw and bloody.
Well now, you have plenty of time to figure that out.” His eyes breathe hop, taking a hold on you as his gaze softens, mellowing the heat of the unknown for you.
”Its late, we should lay down.” Mark smiles at you as you nod. .
The floorboards creaked as you knelt, laying flat.
“What’re you—?”
“Laying down to go to sleep?.” You shift on the floor, wincing as your ribs protest. “Goes great with existential crises.”
“Absolutely not.”
“It’s fine! Feels just like home!”
Mark dragged a palm down his stubbled jaw, the *click* of his molars grinding louder than his words. “If you sleep on the floor, I have to sleep on the floor.”
You square your shoulders, chin jutting. “Your roof, your rules, right? I rule that you get yourself into that damn bed, and I stay here. Not like you can make me”
A beat. Then—
The grin that split his face wasn’t boyish. It was predatory, all white teeth and dilated pupils.
“Oh, no. I can make you.”
He moved faster than your battered reflexes could track. One second you were glaring up at him—the next, his arms banded around your waist, hauling you onto the mattress.
“Mark Put me down, you asshat!”
“ Issa compromise,” he declared, legs tangling with yours to pin you in place. His knee brushed dangerously close to your thigh.
You squirmed out of his grasp. “You’re insufferable.”
Your glare could’ve scorched planets as toss it over your shoulder you lunged for the bed’s edge.
His forearm banded across your ribs, hauling you backward into the crater of his body.
His palms splayed hot against your hipbones, thumbs digging into the hollows like he was mapping fault lines. You arched, but his grip was tectonic—unyielding.
“Nope, no escapin’”
You grunt wriggling once more, his knees caging your thighs as he wrestled you flat.
“Goddamnit, Mark! You are so-“
The contact was accidental. Had to be. But when his knee brushed that electric junction between your thighs, your breath shattered into a gasp—sharp, fractured. Mark stilled, arms iron bands around your ribs as he hauled you backward into the heat of his body.
"I win," he purred, lips skimming the helix of your ear. The vibration unspooled something primal in your gut.
"Y-you’re a dick“ you hissed, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.
“Ah yes.” Mark chuckled, as he nosed the frantic pulse at your throat. ”I’m a dick for making sure my friend doesn’t sleep on the floor.” His knuckles grazing the waistband of your borrowed sweats.
His head tilted to meet your eyes “How terrible of me?” he grins.
Asshole.
You feel your face is a nuclear plant right now.
He has to know right? That he’s turning you on? That you're basically soaking the brand-new pants he gave you?
“Y-y- I- “ Your words dissolved into a choked stutter, palms slamming over your burning face as you twisted away.
“Hey? Oh— shit. Did I crush your ribs or something?”
“No– you didn’t I just—“ You bite your lip, not exactly first-date conversation material to tell him you want him to fuck you senseless? You swallow the confession, reaching for the closest lie instead.
“I- uh.. can feel..” you squeak,
You turn to look at his face again, eyes moving between his mouth and then his eyes as Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.
“I can feel you- against my ..-butt..”
You mentally scream into the void, what are you 5? as if your brain short-circuited mid-crisis. Ass was right there. Ass was obvious. Why didn’t you say ass.
“I-“
Mark is short-circuiting too, lips stuck on a half-formed syllable.
“I am so sorry- I just and we uh, it’s -“ his body launching upright so fast the headboard rattled. Palms slapped the air in surrender, then cycled through all the gestures of sorry he could muster.
A quiet huff of laughter escapes you as you watch him unravel - his hands conducting an invisible orchestra of panic, gaze ricocheting between your face, the ceiling, and some fascinating spot on the bed sheet that might hold the secrets of the universe.
You slip your hand up to his cheeks, “Mark, it’s okay.”
His entire body stills—that terrifying, pre-battle freeze—before his gaze locks onto you.
“I-..I liked it.” Your lips curled into a smile, suckerpucked his heart.
Your mouth brushes his cheekbone - just a whisper of contact,
Your lashes dip—not from shyness, but from the weight of this moment, the gravity of him.
The kiss you press to his cheek is featherlight, barely there, yet it sends a current through both of you.
No script for you. no rehearsed lines—just instinct and the way your pulse roars in your ears.
Movies never showed how soft skin could be, how his breath would catch, how right it would feel when he leans into your touch like you’re the only solid thing in the world.
The first real contact of lips ignites something primal in your veins.
Not fireworks - that's too tame - this is a supernova erupting behind your ribs as Mark's tongue slides against yours, your teeth clashing against eachother.
He braces above you, the solid heat of his body pressing you deeper into the mattress as one broad hand slides down the arch of your spine. When he finally breaks for air, his breath comes in ragged gusts against your swollen lips. Your hands skate lower—hesitant, then hungry—nails catching on the hem of his shirt.
“Do you want to-? I mean we can stop here I don’t .. I don’t want you to feel rushed, okay?”
“You said I get to choose now, right? Right now, I choose you.”
The words leave your lips repeating the vow he spoke before, rough at the edges but unshakable. Before he can react, you surge forward—capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s all heat and no hesitation.
You didn’t even have to ask, he rips it off without a second thought, and you reach to do the same before he stops you.
“No.. keep it on, I- .. like how my shirt looks on you.”
A grin appears on your face as he leans in to kiss you again, his hands once again finding your waistband, this time slipping your pants, his pants off your legs, and you kick them off.
You palm his member through his shorts as you groan into his mouth.
“Fuckk-“ Mark's words slip through your mouth before allowing his hands to slip down your stomach to your folds.
Your thighs clench as hands fumble, to find your clit, hips buck in response, your whines fueling his attack.
“Feels like your thighs are gonna break my wrist-“ A small chuckle at your dismay.
You offer a whimper as a rebuttal between your lips as you widen yourself, pushing harder against his clothed crotch.
“Not fair-“ you pat your way back up, slipping your hands into his shorts, your hands making contact with his burning hot skin. His cock, feels strong, solid.
“Holy shit- your-- your hand, oh fuck.” You watch as Mark's eyes squeeze close, brows knitting together as the pleasure flows through him.
His hands grip your wrist as he grinds down into your hand.
“Sorry- fuck. ss’feels so fuckin’ good-“ his whimpers fuel your core with desire, you pull away as Mark keeps bucking at your hand, and he whines at the loss of your hand.
“Nonono- why’d you?” He pouts as he starts to rub your clit once more, and you buck again.
“Take- ah! Take off your pants, I refuse to be the only one naked here.”
“You can still talk in a full sentence, I guess I haven’t done my job clearly yet”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
Mark offers a smirk as he slithers down your body, His hands slip up your shirt softly cupping your breast,
His lips graze your waist as he sinks into your heat.
A tentative lick sends your body in a state of shock, your head throws back a moment before you steady yourself to look at him again.
“ That felt-“
“Heavenly?” His mouth hungrily at your clit, Licks tantalize, each one deeper than the last your hips try to buck up his hands grip your waist, pinning your place, heavy pants feel the room as you grip his hair earning a moan that vibrates your clit, and as an ever delicious way.
“God, You taste so fucking good, I could keep eating out for days” his fingers prod your hole, circling its edge before slowly stretching your cunt, you swear you can hear god calling your name as he fucks his fingers deeper.
An intense pressure is building inside you, clawing at you as you grip the sheets of the bed, “Ma-shit what- something, what-“
Mark groans in response, his fingers moving as he sucks on your clit, your eyes shut.
“I— I feel like I’m going to - hn-feel“ your hand reaches for his hair again, earning slurps from Mark's punishing mouth “I f- I—-i’m gonn- burst!”
An overwhelming surge of energy pluses over you, as your stomach twists, your eyes roll back. Your mouth chants Mark’s name like a mantra.
You struggle to breathe as you come down from your high, hazy vision as you see Mark hovering over you with slight concern on his face.
“Wha- what was that?” Your eyes blink slowly as your vision begins to clear.
“Uh- well, that was- you came, I think? Honestly, I’ve never- seen someone do that when they cum?” Mark rubs the back of his neck as he speaks.
“Do- do what?” Your head cocks to the side as mark bewilderment grows,
“You don-?” His mouth splits into a grin, “I made you cum so hard that you have memory loss?”
“I-“ creeping embarrassment reels in your mind, “Shut up! It’s - I don’t have experience like you!”
“Cleaaarly? And you called me the virgin?”
You lunge forward and shove him with all the force you can muster.
At least you tried to, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t even flinch. It’s like trying to push a brick wall. That infuriating smirk still clings to his face, calm and smug,
“Just tell me what happened!”
“Fine, fine-, when you came, you caused a power surge, knocked out the power in the neighborhood for a good minute.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He deadpans.
“Huh, didn’t know I could- do.. that? I didn’t think my powers were electric as well?”
You open your mouth to speak, words getting caught in your throat as soon you look at Mark.
Your head turns instinctive, as shame burns your ears.
“Uh. So I know it caused a power surge and all when I came but-“ you face him once more,
“can- can we continue, please?” Your feet shuffle under Mark as he chuckles at your out-of-character shyness, though not unwelcome.
His fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face up until you're drowning in those puppy eyes, “As much as I would love that, I ..like you, I don’t want to overwhelm you, especially with what’s going on so much going on, I-“ The words fracture as his smile does, “I feel like I’m taking advantage.”
Your palm seals over his racing heart, your other lays on his cheek, “But you aren’t- I wanna be here, with you, Mark.”
“I know, and believe I want nothing more than to take things fast with you but, ” his thumb swipes across your lips, “But, you have no one to tell you this. When I was in your position -uhm, similar situation? Yeah.. in a similar situation, everyone told me to slow down, to wait.”
A shuddering breath escapes him as his eyelids lift, They flutter heavy as his gaze finds you “You’re gonna experience a lot of new things now that you're not under Cecil’s control. I need…no- .. I want to be that person for you, help you slow down, take in the little things in your new life.“
Your breath catches, as realization settles over you.
He’s right, things are different. You are different.
No handlers. No missions. Just you.
You are not alone, Invincible will catch you if you fall now. The ground is softer when it’s him.
“Okay. I trust you.”
“Okay.”
The slow collision of lips mend the promise between words.
“Okay, I’m getting sleepy again, let’s lay down.”
“Agreed”
A soft hum of agreement as he pulls you back against his chest, his nose finding its familiar spot in the crook of your neck. His arms lock around you like living seatbelts,
The realization comes slowly, sweetly it repeats:
No mission clock ticking down by the bed.
No weapons within easy reach.
Just Mark's steady heartbeat against your spine and the quiet creak of the house settling around you.
You fall asleep to the rhythm of his fingers tracing idle patterns between your shoulder blades.
“I got you.”
-
The door's whine of protest came a half-second before Debby's singsong voice.
“Mark, I hope you’re hungry. I cooked pancakes and eggs! I tried out a new recipe, so tell me if-“
The sentence died mid-air as your spine met the headboard with a thunk, blankets yanked to your chin in reflex.
“Uh- hi, Mrs. Gray-uh- Miss Debby..?” Your voice pitches up an octave as you yank the sheets higher again , toes digging into Mark’s calf in a what the hell kick that would’ve sent a normal person flying.
Mark jerks awake with a noise halfway between a snort and a choke, hair sticking up in sleep-mussed spikes. He blinks at the doorway like he’s trying to decrypt an alien language.
“Hm- wha, why are you?” His eyes are rubbed from sleep as he turns the door.
“MOM?” He bolts upright so fast the mattress protests, voice cracking.
“ Shit- I mean shoot, I am so sorry I can explain I promise- they were hurt, and we -“ His hands flap between you and the first-aid kit still open on the nightstand like it might magically explain everything.
Debby’s smile doesn’t even twitch.
“Just come down to breakfast when you're ready, don’t let the Pancakes get cold!” she sing-songs, already retreating. The door clicks shut with devastating calm.
“I guess that went.. pretty well?”
Mark collapses backward with an arm over his eyes.
“Oh my god, I’ll never live this down.”
part 2
#mark grayson smut#mark grayson x reader#mark grayson x reader smut#mark grayson#invincible smut#invincible x reader#invincible x you#mark x you#invincible x reader smut#invincible
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Ad Astra (To the Stars)
Relationship: Jayce Talis x Viktor
Warnings: 18+ Smut. Minors DNI! (dom) Viktor, (sub)Jayce, implied lab smut, marking, biting, teasing, claiming, possessiveness, soft confessions, soft domestic bliss, and the hexstrap gets a notable mention
Summary: Jayce always knew he was a goner. Correction, Jayce always knew he was a goner when it came to Viktor, his partner of many years. Of all the fantasies, all the doubts, he finally finds himself confronting his feelings when they come to the surface one fateful night when they rise uncontained. It is a night Viktor will not, and does not let him forget, especially when they wake up in each other's embrace. It's all too real and not imagined, yet Viktor has more plans.
All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)
Word Count: 2.3k+
A/N: Hello lovelies. Well after the craziness that was season 2 of Arcane, I decided to give Jayce and Viktor a reprieve and have them kiss amongst other things. I have held on to this story for a few weeks because I treasure it and I hope you all enjoy. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
To the stars we go, there I may find you
Beyond the catalyst of a dream forged
Forged between two twin flames
Open their arms, a dying star
Bursting into the eternal sky forevermore
******
Jayce, Jayce, Jayce. A soft voice mutters in his ear, stirring him from a dark void of sleep. Blinking in confusion, Jayce shifts, the sheets clinging, falling lower on his chest. He rubs his eyes, attempting to clear the blurriness from them. His eyes open, greeted by the sight of his familiar dark room.
On second glance, he sees the rise and fall of a bundled figure next to him, and last night's events play out for him. Him and Viktor in the lab, Him and Vicktor sneaking out of the lab, stumbling silly into one of their bedrooms. Viktor lifting Jayce carefully on the bed, despite the protest of both his leg and Jayce.
“Viktor, careful please, it’s not safe-”
Viktor arched his brow and in that instant, Jayce knew he was a goner. He always knew in a way but refused to acknowledge it. Until, apparently, he found himself pinned to his bed by Viktor. Being buried under his lab partner was not on Jayce’s list, but he had to admit the thought occurred only during the few couple of times Victor’s hand brushed his reaching for a pencil, bumping into his shoulders, handing over a gadget, fingertips gently brushing his a second too long in hopes of making the moment last. Yeah, Jayce had to admit he definitely did not and could not take the hint.
How stupid he was, he thought, when Viktor’s finger brushed along his lower lip, eyes darkening in desire, warmth, affection and a touch of something else. It couldn’t be. But Jayce was tired of dancing around it and fell to infinity the moment Viktor’s lips collided with his.
Jayce groaned as Viktor became more insistent, tangling a hand into Jayce’s hair, tugging hard as his lips persisted in their conquest. Jacye was in no way shape or form in a position to complain, mind, body and soul lost to the kiss. A kiss he never in a million years thought would have occurred. Apparently Viktor did. Jayce broke from the kiss, gulping in air, Viktor smirking above him in amusement and admiration.
He stroked Jayce’s jawline with his index finger, his thumb brushing gently, oh so gently along Jayce’s lips admiring their warmth, slightly puffy from Viktor’s ministrations. Viktor’s heart swelled in pride at the sight that he did this to Jayce, making him a panting, gasping, then whimpering mess.
“Viktor…I ... what?” Jayce stumbled, too stunned to speak, reaching his hands out to Viktor, pulling him down, their bodies colliding. Jayce stroked Viktor’s back, until Viktor decided to latch on to his neck, making him squirm against him, the air suddenly became harder to breathe, and all Jayce wanted was to savor the moment, as does Viktor, who was incessant in his conquest, taking advantage of Jayce’s squirming to straddle him, teasingly grinding himself against his hips.
“V-Viktor…I…”Jayce swore softly, biting back another noise rising in the back of his throat as Viktor did it again, a soft gasp resounding from his lips all the while Jayce watched in awe, desperation, and desire. His heart swelled as Viktor reached down to press another kiss to his lips. Viktor did not hesitate, nibbling Jayce’s lip, latching onto his neck once more relishing in the feel of his partner squirming beneath him, a complete mess.
Oh, Viktor would show Jayce so much he desired to do to him for months, but for now he would lavish him with kisses, before getting the man on his knees and putting that smart eloquent mouth of his to work.
******
“Jayce,” Viktor's voice comes into focus as the remaining sleep falls from Jayce’s mind. Well, that and the hours before Viktor claimed him over and over again. Jayce groans as he touches his neck, sore, definitely sore.
“Viktor,” Jayce mutters, reaching for him still bundled on the side of the bed. He gently nudges him, grasping him on the shoulder.
“Oh, good you’re awake after all. Thought I lost you there,” Viktor, pulls off the sheet from his head and it drags down revealing his bare shoulders and chest. Jayce doesn’t look away, enraptured once more with his partner, what they did last night.
He has no regrets, except that he wishes they had longer nights to kiss and do, well, whatever the heck Viktor had done to him and taught him last night. What he demanded Jayce to do and that Jayce had done so with eagerness and desperation.
Jayce can’t help but smile, scooting closer to Viktor, to gently run his hands along Viktor’s body, beautiful in the soft light beginning to filter in through the windows. Viktor continues in his own perusal of Jayce’s body, delighting in the marks he left on Jayce.
His hands reach out to trace patterns on Jayce’s chest, coming up to cup his face, murmuring to himself before kissing him to ensure that it is real. Every bit of it was real and Viktor has irrevocably fallen further into the wonder that is his partner Jayce.
Jayce returns the kiss in kind, taking his time, letting Viktor have the control, muffling a groan when Viktor’s tongue parts his lips, exploring, taking it slow, savoring them together in the early morning, exposed, not lost to the night shadows. Jayce lets himself fall, to the thrill of it all, the intimacy, so different from what he has experienced before.
He wants nothing more than this, than Viktor. A future with him. Together.
When they part a fraction of a moment, eyes meeting, searching for answers already spoken in their depths, Viktor doesn’t hesitate to push Jayce further, the space warming between their tangled bodies. Jayce whimpers a plea, his hips trying to desperately search for relief only Viktor could provide.
“We could go to the lab later, and continue our work, Jayce. It does not mean I am finished with you, yet. I need your help perfecting a new idea I have been tinkering with.”
“Viktor?” Jayce says more of a question than anything, swallowing another pathetic whimper, still riled with the nerves of the night and now. Such a pull Viktor has on him he cannot resist. He nods, curiosity getting the better of him. “Can I at least put a shirt on before we go?”
“Take this.” Viktor rolls his eyes, grabbing his cane leaning on the nightstand before absently tossing over a vest and shirt. Or rather one of his shirts and vests he had stolen from Jayce years ago as a joke.
Jayce laughs, taking the offering, inspecting it before unbuttoning the shirt and carefully putting it on. “How long have you had this and why did you not tell me?”
“What’s there for you to know? You clearly haven’t missed it all these years.”
“Fair point,” Jayce mumbles, adding on the vest. Viktor’s eyes remained transfixed on the man in his bed, half dressed, hair a mess and he smiles softly. If this is what home felt like, then he knew he could be happy like this here with the man he had slowly, irrevocably fell for. In this lifetime and every one that follows.
He smiles to himself as he wraps the blanket around his shoulders, sauntering over to the dresser to fiddle through some clothes, choosing a shirt and vest as well.
He feels Jayce’s gaze fixed upon him, and he lets the blanket slide a fraction from his shoulder, and then the other until he lets it fall completely to the floor, giving Jayce a full view of his back. He smirks to himself, making a show of picking out his own set of button up shirt and vest, jacket, and slacks before walking back to the bed, resting his cane down before sitting down and getting himself dressed.
Jayce’s gaze is still fixed upon him, the shifting of blankets doing nothing to hide the advances of the man Viktor has quite literally made to see stars many hours prior.
There is a pure primal satisfaction in knowing. Knowing that he will remember for the rest of his days. Jayce’s lips on his, how willing he is to let Viktor do what he so desires to him, commands.
Viktor allows a small sigh of satisfaction to pass his lips as he carefully puts on his pants, wincing as he twists to grab his shirt, until Jayce’s hand reaches out to stop him.
“May I?” He asks, and it’s nothing but sincere, making warmth spread to Viktor’s cheeks. Viktor nods in confirmation while Jayce holds out the shirt behind him while he slips his arms in the sleeves, tugging it down like so to smooth out the wrinkles. Viktor stands so Jayce can fully face him, taking in his bare chest pale against the dark striped shirt Jayce slowly begins to button for him.
Jayce's gaze does not falter from the task, and he continues his task, helping with Viktor’s vest, buttoning it all snug and secure. When he is complete, Jayce hesitates a moment, locking his gaze almost shyly with Viktor’s who smirks, grasping Jayce by the chin to guide him to his lips, where they fall impossibly further again.
Warmth, so much warmth floods the spaces between them and Viktor swears there is nowhere else he would rather be in the entire universe than here. When they break away once more, Viktor allows himself a small smile, amused by Jayce’s bright eyes and iridescent smile, which falters a bit when he reaches up to caress Viktor’s face with a hand.
“Jayce. Is something wrong?”
He huffs in reply shaking his head in disbelief. “Not at all. It is so far from wrong. Last night. This. Us…it’s been…fantastic. More than I could have dreamed.”
“So…”
“It’s only,” Jayce pauses tracing a finger along Viktor’s lower lip. “You were never broken. Never to me. I only wish you felt you could trust me enough with everything you and I expressed last night.” Jayce sighs, pulling his hand away, which Viktor grasps firmly in his, his other hand reaching for Jayce’s neck, bringing his forehead down to rest against his partners. Try as he might, Viktor cannot hide the half smile that emerges on his lips, causing Jayce to beam in utter adoration.
“In fairness, we both made things complicated, Jayce. And we were busy with Hextech, changing the world and everything. If you do recall.”
“I only recall kissing you last night.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”
“I focus on the moments we are given, all while considering the future.”
Viktor rolls his eyes in amusement, his voice growing solemn as he ponders Jayce’s words. “Did you mean it? My whole life I have been broken.”
“Of course I mean it, I meant every word. You were never broken. Your imperfections are what make you you . My imperfectly perfect partner. There is nothing more I could ask for.”
“But you couldn’t accept-”
“Viktor, I choose you. This day and the next. I cannot see so far into the future, but I know that there we exist together. I want to be with you, if you will have me and all I am. Accept me for who I am and all my flaws, everything in between. I feel this for you.” Jayce holds out his hands to Viktor who takes them, squeezing gently, for once this morning at a loss for words. Until, he snickers in realization.
“What’s so funny? Oh no I messed up the speech, didn’t I? I am an idiot,” Jayce groans.
“Not at all, Jayce. We have carried this conversation half dressed. We have not been wearing pants and we will be late to the lab if we wait much longer.”
“You’re right, that is important. Can I…may I kiss you again?”
Viktor smiles, pecking Jayce’s cheek. “Well, at least let me get my pants on. You as well. That is, if we can find any around here,” a raised brow follows the statement with a wry knowing smile.
Jayce laughs. “Yes, that is a wonderful idea. Heimerdinger would be tremendously confused about the situation.”
“That or he would lock us in the lab for an entire night claiming it was an accident.”
“Mel would be more likely to do that.”
“Mel? Wait, was that why she was there last night ....”
“Perhaps…perhaps not.”
“Viktor, did you enlist Mel’s help to get the lab for the night?” Jayce inquires while finding and putting on his pants. Viktor did likewise as he formulates a reply.
“A great scientist doesn't have to reveal all their unique methods, Jayce. You should know this by now. However, I am not done with you today.” Viktor’s eyes narrow as he contemplates all the things he wants to do with his partner, but quickly shoves it away.
“By all means, Viktor,” Jayce whispers in his ear, coming behind him to take him in his arms, whispering more sweet nothings, “I am looking forward to it.”
“Good good. It is nice to know I have a willing participant to test a new device I have tinkered with. You would be the perfect candidate.”
Jayce stumbles, mumbling a few words, not knowing what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to Viktor’s neck, kissing behind his ear, nibbling the earlobe, making Viktor groan low.
Viktor silently swears to himself for what feels to be the hundredth time in the span of twenty four hours. He can’t wait to hear all the pretty sounds Jayce will make for him. How lovely it will be to break him, bring him to the precipice of pleasure again. All because of him.
******
#jayvik#jayce x viktor#viktor x jayce#jayvik fanfiction#jayvik smut#jayvik fanfic#jayvik fanart#jayce talis#viktor arcane#arcane season 2#arcane league of legends#jayce league of legends#viktor league of legends#it was affection that held us together#my writing#my alleyway
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Demon's Devotion
Pairing: Incubus!Lloyd x F!Hunter!Reader
Word Count: 6.2k~
Summary: A deal that should have been black-and-white has suddenly become grey. Swapping souls means swapping places. You just didn't think that meant to spend eternity with him.
Disclaimer: This is my submission for @yenzys-lucky-charm & @sweater-daddiesdumbdork Horny Hootenanny writing challenge~ sincere thanks to lovely Yenzy and Amber for being the gems that they are <3 I'm also going to submit this into my own writing challenge (lol) Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge . Anyone is welcome to join~
Dividers and banner by me :)
***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cute~~~~
Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Minors DNI; dubcon, non-con, softdark!Lloyd (but mainly dark tbh), mentions of death, very slight slight mentions of infidelity, drugs, alcohol, Reader has low self-esteem/self-worth, demonic manipulation(?), Latin dialogue (cannot claim accuracy!).
Tropes/situational prompts: fantasy/supernatural AU, the villain/monster has feelings (or thots) for you
Kinks: size, cockwarming, belly bulging, praise, possessive, squirting, corruption.
Seasonal prompts: meeting a demon/ghost/witch on All Hallows Eve
Smut dialogue: "You gonna be good for me?" + "I'm gonna make you mine" + "you love it like this, don't you?" + "If you only knew the things I want to do to you" + "Tell me you're mine" + "You wanted my attention, now you have it" + "Please! I can be good. So good for you. I promise" + “You belong to me now” + “Look at that, I think I broke your pretty brain, made you all dumb for me” + "Just a little more" + "Look at how good you're taking me"
Other kinks: mild choking, spanking, overstimulation, dumbification; degradation, thigh fucking, dacryphilia, aphrodisiac/demon trance (if I missed any TW, feel free to lmk)~
A/N: this is the first time that I'm writing Lloyd too so I hope I did him some justice. Also, mild references to the tv show Supernatural (I do not own the lore of TGM nor Supernatural)!
The wood was splotchy– and itched against your skin uncomfortably as you sat on your knees. The ‘devil’s trap’ was intact as you leaned over to complete the chalk-circle. Quickly gazing over the symbol to ensure the correct sigils, you leaned back once more to close your eyes and take a deep breath. You tried your best to calm your body and connect with that part of you justifying the reasons behind calling upon a demon.
“Promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.”
You cringed as you heard your ex’s solemn request echo in your thoughts. Yet again, you made a promise that you couldn’t keep. But this time, it was for his life. His soul. Your relationship was never perfect, and that’s certainly what nipped your romantic relationship in the bud, but you’ve known each other for so long…you couldn’t let him go through with it.
Broken promises was the cycle of your romantic relationship together – whether it was infidelity, drugs, alcohol, all the way to the end of the spectrum where it would also be just him going on extensive hunting trips without proper communication.
You both knew that the relationship was doomed when it started. He wasn’t capable of showing up for you the way that you were ready to do for him. You knew that, that’s why you ultimately ended the relationship.
And yet, here you sit in a mildew-infested, smelly, abandoned church on All Hallow’s Eve - ready to trade places with him.
He was meant to do a lot of good in the world. He was a good hunter, a good brother, and a good friend. He was the main character in a story that you weren’t meant to be a part of, and that’s fine. You didn’t belong in his arc. You were a side character that had a stunted narrative for a while, but didn’t belong nor play any significance into moving the story forward.
When you heard the news about how he made a deal with the crossroads demon, it suddenly clicked on how you could actually do something worthwhile. You knew that he experienced a loss, a real hit from what you’ve heard. They fell in together not long after you both ended your relationship. While that fact spared no pain on your end, you did your best to stuff it down as he obviously loved her enough to have made that deal for her life. So you did what you did best, extended light and support through your pain. Feeling so selfish to have even felt a mark of bitterness.
A hunter’s life is a grim one. Everyone knows that any relationships that you do end up having either end in misery or in blood. But the value of something light and wonderful like love was tempting for people in the life. But, it always seemed to have a cost.
You were a shit hunter, maybe a mediocre person, but maybe, just maybe, your life could have purpose by doing this one thing.
Something that just makes the pain that you have endured worth it.
It was that purpose that hardened your resolve. Any lingering doubts solidified into genuine acceptance as you relaxed your body and invited a deep breath, “I summon you, anima daemonium. Anima obscura, i vocare te.”
You repeated the command two more times until you finally felt it. A warmth that seemed to grow steadily hotter which had you hiss in pain as you felt the sordid temperature through your jeans. The chalk circle in front of you started to beam this blinding, white light that illuminated the dark vast space for a few seconds. Your eyes couldn’t hold open for too long as you scrunched them closed in alert from the sudden, bright visual.
The air in the room became thin and you could feel your lungs expanding to fill them up with as much air as you could with your breath falling heavier with each silent minute that passed. The silence was consciously loud as you looked around the still empty dark space.
“Hmmm…now what’s this?”
You heard a low rumbled, amused voice come from behind you. Your heart was beating so fast and you could feel your stomach just plummet to the floor. He was supposed to manifest within the circle…if he bypassed it like that completely, that meant that he was no ordinary crossroads demon.
A deep and intense fear rose up in your throat as you attempted to ground yourself out of your frozen state. You could feel your body tremble as you slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder only to find a looming, darkened figure standing directly behind you. Your gaze drifted upwards to find the identifying face to the haunting voice and you couldn’t hold back the gasp that left your dry lips.
He was…human. A tall silhouette that exuded an air of danger and allure. His skin seemed to absorb the light around him, contrasting sharply with the piercing, smoldering gaze that flickered an ice blue in the dark. A chiseled jawline gave him an almost otherworldly handsomeness, while his full lips, donned with a daring mustache, curved into a knowing smile that hinted at secrets best left unspoken.
Your confusion to his form, and his looks, felt like an aside as you took in this almost invisible yet loudly formidable being standing over you.
“Who are you?” Your lips moved faster than your brain could register any coherent thoughts. Your curiosity peaked the moment that you saw him appear in the space.
The handsome demon merely chuckled at your confusion before indicating towards his own body. “This meat suit? Mmmm, not too sure. A poor, unfortunate soul shrouded in his own darkness enough for me to climb into him and take over.” A resounding smirk followed his explanation as he narrowed his gaze at you with an interest that you couldn’t place.
You could only stammer out, “B-but, you’re h-human?” You looked over his figure again as he donned an unorthodox causal fit that you would never have pegged a demon, or honestly anyone, to wear. But with the way that he carried himself, the demon’s confidence was palpable. He was comfortable in this physical form, that’s for sure. The power that was exuding from him was staggering.
The demon cooed at your naivety, “Oh, sunshine. You have no idea who you’ve called and what you’ve just done, do you?”
He moved with a grace that was both mesmerizing and predatory as he knelt down to meet your petrified stare. There was an intoxicating aura about him, a magnetic pull that made it impossible to look away, even as a primal instinct warned of the peril he represented. His presence was electric, a heady mix of danger and desire, making it clear that this was a being not to be trifled with—a seducer cloaked in darkness, where charm and menace intertwined seamlessly.
You’re frozen in place in dual fear and pure fascination as he leaned forward into your personal space to clutch your chin with two fingers, prodding up your face for his invasive inspection. You weirdly felt awkward as you knelt before him under his scrutinous gaze. Piercing blue eyes were washing over the features, nooks-and-cranny, details of your face. Every so often, he would tilt your head to the side to inspect your profile, all the way down towards your kneeling body, and just smirk.
After 5 minutes of his torturous appraisal, he let go of your chin suddenly only to lean closer to your face. His pointed nose brushed yours so lightly, you couldn’t help the urge to look down at his mouth, feeling the hairs of his mustache graze your skin. But you could also see and almost feel the softness of his pink lips. His smirk grew on his face as if he figured something out as he turned to brush said lips against yours very faintly, almost teasingly.
You gasped at the unexpected contact and a haze washed over you that you didn’t question and felt compelled to close your eyes. Almost as if you didn’t, you would pass out from the intensity of the contact of the potential of his kiss. You leaned in slowly as your mouth was almost waiting for the pressure of his teasing brush…but it never came.
Coming back to yourself, almost like out of a trance, you gasped harshly at noticing the proximity between the two of your bodies and pushed against his chest to sit inside of the chalk circle to gain distance.
Breathing heavy at how close you just were to this supernatural inane being, you cursed yourself for letting yourself get entranced into his allure as it hit you.
“You’re an incubus.” A sneer was released unconsciously at the realization. The demon’s smirk only softened at your disdained use of the term and his only response was to deeply hum in confirmation.
“I suppose that is one name that people know me by…but I sense that you may not be so comfortable with that. How about we go with…’Lloyd’?” He proposed as he stood up with his hands in his slack-pockets.
You ignored his comfortable jeering to stand from your coveted position within the circle. “I didn’t call for you, incubus. I’m here for a crossroads demon.” You clarified sneeringly.
“And yet again, another name that people may know me by.” Lloyd said simply with another smirk on his face. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander over your shifting body once more. You certainly looked like a hunter, but your ignorance and naivety gave you away at how utterly unskilled/trained you were in the craft.
The realization made Lloyd’s dark soul tremble in excitement at the potential of catching a brazen, beautifully innocent, yet idiotic soul like yours. And to feast on one that looks like you, with an energy so devoting and submissive…he was suddenly ravenous.
The haze that you felt earlier felt almost like a white, hot energy that was wading towards you when you noticed ‘Lloyd’s’ gaze shifting over your figure once again but with this newfound hunger in his eyes. You shifted uncomfortably as your body responded to the shift in the air. You couldn’t help but close your eyes briefly in shame as you felt it…the wetness that was accumulating in your underwear.
It didn’t matter that he was a literal sex demon who preyed on women– it was like all boundaries didn’t matter as you felt a similar urge to throw all inhibitions out the window, stalk over to him to have him throw you down on the dusty, creaking floor to just take you over and over again as you begged him for more.
You shook your head to clear your sinful thoughts, knowing that demons can sense wicked thoughts– but to your detriment, Lloyd seemed to clock something about your tense and conflicted frame and suddenly inhaled deeply.
You knew that you were caught when you saw that his cocked head straightened in discovery at smelling your arousal in the musty space. He released a deep grunt as his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure. The atmospheric drop in the air was palpable and the room became so distinctly warm, you could feel sweat dropping on your temple at the change.
Panting at the sudden rise in heat and thinning air, tears started to build in your eyes at looking over the demon’s now darkened gaze. He looked like he was going to attack you, and it didn’t scare you that you may lose your life nor was it that he would take you without consent.
What was scary was that you wanted him to take you. You wanted to feel him in his own heat on your bare, naked skin as he thrusted his hard cock into your eager pussy and feel the supernatural strength of his grip holding your hands above your head. So much so that you wouldn’t be able to escape him. You didn’t want to leave him, you wanted him to devour you.
You tried to shake your head out of these fantasies and get back to the present but the heat wouldn’t let you. The haze felt so strong. You could hear yourself mumbling something about the heat and subconsciously took off the denim jacket you’re wearing in desperation to feel cool.
In your present view, you could see Lloyd walk determinedly towards you and you found a consciousness present enough to take a few steps back to the tops of the chalk circle. You knew that he wouldn’t be able to enter it, that’s why he bypassed it in the first place. A demon’s trap is meant to do exactly that, he wouldn’t risk losing his prey and enter the circle where you could easily escape.
Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, Lloyd’s eyes narrowed in mirth as he released a dark chuckle and stopped before entering the circle. “Oooh, sunshine, you’re so cute to think that you could escape me now. You wanted my attention, now you have it.”
He took one dramatic step inside.
Your eyes widened in shock, not being able to process what he was doing and you turned to run out but you couldn’t.
You physically could not leave the circle as you felt an invisible barrier brush against your hands that were banging against them to desperately leave. “NO! What’s happening, no–,” you gasped out, tears started to roll down your flushed cheeks as you felt him close. What was worse was that even though you wanted to get away, you wanted him to get even closer. To keep you inside of the circle with him. Delightfully trapped.
A large, warm hand touched your shoulder and spun you around as you shrieked. Tears of panic and confusion were still streaming down your face. Using the sudden invisible barrier as a wall, you shrunk yourself against it as much as you could, trying to resist the confusing and tempting pull, but it didn’t work. Lloyd gripped your waist and pulled you tight against him, your body non-resisting to his touch even though your mind protested.
Your hands reacted to instinctively catch yourself against his suddenly bare chest. You released another squeak at the feeling of his skin. The heat of his naked torso felt so relieving against yours.
“Just like you thought he would feel like…” You thought to yourself, eyes narrowed in its seeming haze. The part of you that was still conscious and afraid frowned at the feeling of his skin on yours. Looking down, the both of you were bare naked.
“What- !” You shrieked, not even remembering when or how your clothes disappeared. A wave of insecurity rushed through you at the vulnerability that you were left with in front of Lloyd, who although is a demon, was shaped like a Greek god. You felt as if dignity was taken away from you as Lloyd’s hands wandered over the skin of your naked back and up towards the back of your neck. His touch was not forcing though, it was as light as a teasing feather.
You tried, you really did, to get away from his wandering, sinful hands but he felt so smooth, warm, and so comforting. The reality was that you didn’t want to get away as he kept you pressed against him where you could feel everything. His hardened cock that you weren’t able to really look at earlier was firmly pressed against the pudge of your stomach. You couldn’t tell where the intense rush of heat was coming from, whether it was this haze or him, but you felt it flushed in your cheeks at feeling Lloyd’s erection. The knowledge that he was turned on by you.
“Of course I am, little one. Look at you. So beautiful before me. Calling for me. I'm gonna make you mine.” Lloyd murmured seductively as he responded to your hazed thoughts. His other hand moved to grip the front of your neck carefully.
He wasn’t choking you, his grip was deceivingly light, but the promise of it was what had you whimpering in response. You just barely registered how he was able to give you a response to something that was being noticed in your head.
“What’s happening to me? How are you doing this?” The only curiosities that your clouded mind was able to circle around were asked as his grip turned your face upwards to sultry and lustfully graze your lips against his.
Lloyd wickedly grinned and hummed again before he murmured his response against your pillowy lips, “You’re sleeping, sunshine.”
You could only look up into his mirth-filled eyes as you mildly registered the shock settling in your system. “No, that can’t be…I drove here and drew the circle, I called…” you drifted in your disbelief as Lloyd turned your bodies so that he was behind you. Your view no longer obscured by his taut body, you looked down to see your limp body…just laying there, seemingly unmoving.
Your eyes only widened more as Lloyd petted your hair soothingly, sensing your distress. “Oh my god, I’m dead. I’m. dead.” Flooded with panic, your body was frozen as your thoughts ruminated in a vicious cycle.
Almost condescendingly, he noted carelessly, “You’re not dead, little one. Your body is in what we call, the in-between. Or purgatory, as some may say.”
A high-pitched ring sang in your ears as you tried to take in Llloyd’s words. “But, I didn’t let you in. I didn’t give you permission.” You remarked disbelievingly as you tried to recall the regulations and rules surrounding demon possession. It’s only if you invite them into your soul, do they insert themselves, almost brutally, into your physical body and spirit. But you didn’t say the words…
“Didn’t you though?” Lloyd deviously smiled again in response to your disbelief. He hummed against your skin as he proceeded to inhale your hair and down towards your inner neck.
Unknowingly, your eyes closed deliriously as you felt his breath brush against your skin. Lloyd nosed your shoulder affectionately while he revealed mockingly, “Sealed with a kiss – a brush against the lips is all it takes to bind a human soul with a demon. And you, sunshine, are the sweetest soul that I’ve taken in a long, long time.”
His cerulean blue eyes met your shocked filled irises as he witnessed the reflective realization wash over you. Noticing the tears in your eyes, Lloyd thought that you’ve never looked more beautiful than you did right then and there.
He cooed at you again and turned your frozen frame to face him once more. “Aw, little one. I promise to take good care of you. If you only knew the things I want to do to you.”
Lloyd’s large hands grasped the back of your head to pull you hard onto his weathered lips. You were stunned at the sudden move but also couldn’t hold back the pleasured moan that left your throat at the feeling of his wet tongue caressing yours. You’ve never been kissed like this in your life– feeling cherished or owned by somebody…something else. And it felt so fucking good.
An insidious and sudden gratification came over your body as your hands clutched onto Lloyd's muscular frame to clutch yourself to his body. The heat felt overwhelmingly dangerous as you kissed the incubus demon with as much eagerness as he was extending upon your aching lips.
You couldn’t remember the reason as to why you even came here in the first place, nor do you even recall where you were at that moment. All you could feel was Lloyd as he kissed you languidly and passionately. He was all that you wanted to feel.
Breaking the kiss, Lloyd drew back but kept his hands in your hair to ensure his control. "You gonna be good for me, sunshine?"
The only thing you could do is cry desperately as the warmth overtook your body once again. Feeling flushed and needy for his skin on yours, you wantonly cried out, “Yes! I promise I’ll be such a good girl for you, Lloyd. Please! I can be good. So good for you. I promise. Please.”
You didn’t sound like yourself at all, but at that moment, you couldn’t find anything in you to care. You were desperate for him. You only wanted to be touched, wanted, and seen by him. Almost as if you needed him to know how devoted you were to giving him all of you, your soul.
Lloyd’s eyes rolled back in his head in derived pleasure as he smelled the desperation and need come off of you in waves. He nuzzled your nose against his with a gratified hum and said, “Tell me you're mine. You need to say it, sunshine, and then I’ll give you whatever you want.”
In one breath, you didn’t even hesitate, “I’m yours. Please, I let you in.”
Hearing the words explicitly spoken from your pouty lips, Lloyd growled out possessively while granting you another deep and wet kiss. As he pulled back, his teeth bit your bottom lip slowly and seductively as he finished the deal against your pursed lips, “You belong to me now.”
A binding force tingled from your feet and up all over your body once his words were spoken. It felt ethereal and other worldly, but it felt right. You didn’t even recognize what you’ve just done as you have suddenly found yourself on your back, Lloyd kissing you so softly, it felt so contrasting to his demonic nature.
“I’ve treated all of my soul thralls as I see fit in the past. Though you, little one, are by far the brightest soul that I’ve come across in a millenia. Right when I saw you kneeling right by my feet, those eyes looked up at me so delicately. There was longing in your gaze that I needed for myself. Seems like you knew that you needed me too, hm?”
You only could nod preciously against his soft lips as you pursued another kiss from him. Your tongue sought his as you battled for his attentive mouth, and before you knew it, just as you predicted and wanted, he was laying you on top of the chalk-drawn circle.
Not even registering the cold harsh wood against your back, you felt so enveloped by his aura. Something internally shifted as you felt that warmth that radiated from your physical body internalize and bloom into something so wholesome, almost as if you felt that hole in your heart repair into a strong, full organ that wanted for nothing.
You felt complete.
A gasp escaped you as you broke away from the impassioned kiss. The warmth in your chest seemed to materialize all over your body, inside of you and out. A keening moan left your mouth as you felt the heat start to rush down to your core between your legs. Another gush of wet just seeped out of you and Lloyd growled as if he could feel it escaping too.
You questioned him breathlessly against his impatient lips, “What’s happening?”
Another whimper left your throat as you felt this deep desire from before just amplify into something that felt not of this earth. It felt transcendent, ancient, and light. It felt like a high that tuned up the feeling of pleasure and ecstasy so that any brush of Lloyd’s skin on yours, the smell of him, the ridges of his muscular body, turned you on so delightfully.
Lloyd teasingly brushed his lips against the exposed length of your neck and you could feel his smirk almost seep into your skin with the following words.
“Our souls just became one, sunshine.”
A brief moment of panic escaped that cloud of bliss that overcame your conscious body and mind. Sensing your panic, Lloyd cooed at you once more to provide a comfort that you didn’t know that you needed in that moment. A reassurance of sorts against the thought that this feeling between you in this moment was fleeting and temporary.
“Don’t worry, little one. I’m yours just as much as you are mine. Forever.” His lips whispered against yours intimately before he licked into your yearning mouth, capturing your tongue in another heated dance.
His words lit a fire deep inside of you and you felt your pussy clench on nothing but his promise. You gasped and tilted your head back in pleasure as Lloyd proceeded to press heated kisses down your throat and towards your breasts.
“Forever?” You gasped out as your lungs tried desperately to breathe in more air. The conscious part of you incredulously realized that all of this made no sense to you. How was he able to read your body so well? Your thoughts? How is he able to impact you like this? Give you the greatest pleasure and burning desire that you’ve ever felt in your entire life?
Taking a pert nipple into his mouth, his tongue brushed over the tip teasingly while you pressed his head closer to your chest at the sensation.
“A soul contract is an everlasting bond between your soul and mine. You have something valuable that I need, and so did you. I just needed you to submit to me, give yourself completely to me in order to make the trade.” He spoke in between placing wet kisses on your sternum to switch his attention to your other breast. Blowing cold air on your nipple, Lloyd smirked and darkly chucked as he witnessed you tremble in delight. You sobbed at feeling the cold air brush against your warm skin, a temporary aid in relief for more.
“But, you didn’t even know what I wanted.” You attempted to recall the reasons as to why and when you summoned him. Although, you were unsuccessful as that part of you was dimming as time went by, especially the more that you felt Lloyd descend closer towards your heated core.
Lloyd chuckled against the smooth flesh of your soft tummy and to your detriment, kissed his way back up towards your lips. After taking you apart with his fervent mouth once more, he gathered your clenched fists to hold them against the sodden wood in one strong grip.
Your wrists were now caught in his powerful hold and he leaned in close to capture your yearning gaze. His eye contact was so intense as he stared back, even though he already had your soul, it was almost like he was trying to peer inside.
“You didn’t really want to save that piece of trash hunter, did you?” He kissed your cheek innocently as you felt a shock wave up towards your newly-filled heart.
“How did you…? But I didn’t say anything about him…” Your shock was on full display as he continued to press small kisses over the frozen expression of your face.
“He abandoned you. Mistreated you. He left you for another woman, and you still wanted to go and save him?” He whispered darkly against the swell of your ear before pressing delicate kisses to your earlobe. Nipping lightly, he continued to murmur ominously, “He isn’t worthy of your loyalty, little one. So, I decided to take it instead.”
A tear fell down your cheek at the feelings of loss and sadness, memories of your old life flashing behind your bewitched eyes. Lloyd quickly licked up the fallen tear with a growl, “He didn’t deserve you, sunshine. You and I both know that even though you came here for him, you really came here for yourself. You wanted to give yourself to something that could actually hold you. Tame you.”
Your deepest thoughts of yourself being verbalized by Lloyd in such an unconcerned manner brought more flashes to recent memories, it played like a movie in your mind’s eye. Moments where you felt that abandonment by your ex, hearing his resolute voice on the phone as he mentioned the deal with a demon for the ‘love of his life’, a woman who wasn’t you.
Pressing kisses to the corner of your eye that was now freely leaking fresh tears, Lloyd made sure to nuzzle you in comfort, “But you weren’t meant for that life. A life that only involved the killing of creatures, demons– living a hunter’s life wasn’t what you were destined for, little one.”
Your teary gaze met his confident blue eyes as he leaned over you once more, “Don’t you see, sunshine? You were made and meant for me. And for me alone.”
With that, Lloyd pressed his curled lips against you harshly and any traces of sadness or loneliness left your soul. A feeling of wanting to be possessed completely by him replaced the aloneness that came over you from before. It was like he was the only cure.
Eagerly and recklessly losing yourself in the enriching feeling, you were almost inhaling his kiss as you pressed your naked body up into his. Feeling his erection against your inner thigh, you writhed against him to finally make him take you.
"You love it like this, don't you? The fact that I own you and now, I’m going to ruin you, little one." Lloyd groaned against your warm and willing skin. Shifting just so, you gasped as his hard cock brushed against your weeping pussy.
“Answer me, my little thrall.” Lloyd allowed you to grind against his cock but just barely against your slit. Fucking into your wet and slippery thighs, you whimpered and tried to rock your hips closer to him to push him inside you.
“Yes! I love it! I need you to take me, please! I don’t want to be alone anymore, please.” You begged the demon as the tears returned, feeling this want and power surge through you as your soul and body fully submitted to him. It was so overwhelming. All you knew was that his possession helped smother the darkest depths of yourself from coming out. He welcomed you into himself and you gladly gave it to him.
Lloyd groaned quietly and deeply inhaled the darkest of truths that were emoting from your pheromones within the crook of your neck while he whispered seductively, “Ah, there it is. Thank you, sunshine. Shush now, my good girl.”
He raised his head to look into your weepy eyes once more, “You’re never going to be alone again.” A soft smile graced the strong features of his face and a warmth full of genuine love blossomed inside of you at the sight. Around your repaired heart sat Lloyd’s genuine smile, such a stark contrast to darkness that you would’ve ever expected to receive from the incubus.
The warmth only expanded as Lloyd pushed his cock inside of you with one smooth thrust, your wetness facilitating the most pleasurable union. Instantly, your eyes rolled back in complete bliss as you were so worked up, it was the feeling of his girthy cock just sliding inside of you that made you come undone. You cried out in pure ecstasy and a ringing sound numbed around your ears where you could barely hear Lloyd’s wicked chuckle as he praised you for surrendering yourself to him.
He didn’t stop thrusting inside of you, not even when you clenched around him so tightly that he gritted his teeth at the sensation. His cock was stretching you out and hitting spots deep inside of you that no lover ever could– the gratification of finally being joined together was just too much. His hands weren’t idle as they caressed your breasts and roughly groped your waist, down towards your plush ass where he slapped the reddening flesh.
He slapped your ass again and tilted his hips so that you could feel him go even deeper. You released a squeak at the novel feeling and Lloyd took that as his opportunity to slow his pace, but not lessening the controlling grip that he had around your waist. You marveled and whimpered at the thought of seeing his marks on your body later as you tore you apart.
Going deep and slow, his thrusts became harder and your body jolted with every thrust he gave you as you were inundated with how good his cock felt, finally reaching the spot inside of you that made your mind go blank. It activated that switch where your body just went limp and you felt even more vulnerable to the demon’s ravaging. You didn’t even care to feel embarrassed by your loud moans and whimpers, nor the drool that was escaping you. Your eyes simply rolled shut as you lost yourself in the consistent press against your g-spot.
“Aw, look at that, sunshine. I think I broke your pretty brain, made you all dumb for me.” Lloyd had a smug smirk on his face, accentuating his intimidating presence even more.
You could only release quiet ‘ngh’s as if in a trance as he continued to fuck you hard and deep. The knot in your stomach started building again as tears of heartfelt satisfaction and adoration filled you once more. You couldn’t describe it, but it was like Lloyd was fucking you with purpose and intent to show you that you were truly made for him. Almost as if he already knew all of your kinks and was exploiting them for proof– evidence that he will always be what you need.
“Thaaat’s it, just a little more," he groaned out and readjusted his grip so that he could tilt your hips just right until your eyes opened in startled ecstasy, a cry leaving your lips as his cock went even deeper. “There you go, my little thrall. Look at how good you're taking me." He gestured to the slight bulge protruding from your lower stomach. The sight of his cock being that deep inside of you was what had you shatter around him for the second time.
You released a guttural moan as you let go, barely coming down from your orgasm when Lloyd decided to rub your swollen, drenched clit with the rough of his thumb. Your back arched and your legs thrashed until Lloyd held down your body and fucked you faster with his thumb still placing frantic pulses on your bundle of nerves.
At your limit, your face contorted into an expression that can only depict unrestrained and unexpected bliss as you screamed out your orgasm, squirting all over Lloyd’s wide cock.
The feeling of your sopping cunt gripping his cock made Lloyd release a dark, guttural and infernal roar as he came inside of your still pulsing channel. He gave you three more half-hearted thrusts as his spend leaked around his cock, inadvertently pushing his cum deeper inside of you.
Lloyd caressed your trembling thighs soothingly as he also attempted to catch his breath. He couldn’t help the last resounding smack against your supple flesh as he noticed your fucked out expression. Eyes wilted with pleasured exhaustion, your body shaking as exhilaration died down.
“You're so beautiful like this, sunshine." He moaned adoringly as he pulled his half-hard cock out of your still quivering pussy. You moaned at the loss of him and could feel your shared cum dripping out of you.
“Mmmm, a sight that will never tire me, I’m sure.” Lloyd groaned out deeply with his smirk still upon his pink lips. He leaned over you for a moment to continue taking in your post-coital glow. He pressed a hand to your chest covering your heart and shuddered at the warming feeling it brought him under his palm.
What you would find out later is that every sensation that you felt, he felt. Your thoughts were now his thoughts too. Your desires were his. While you were exhausted from your soul celebrations, the enmeshment gave Lloyd an invigorated rush of power. He only took pieces of you with every orgasm he gave you. Your heightened arousal would become his, and so on, everytime that he would take you.
The way that his own empty hearted chest filled with a lightness and charge that he’d never felt before since his existence. He knew that he would, indeed, keep you forever.
Lloyd genuinely smiled in satisfaction as he felt power rushing through his veins. Nuzzling your flushed cheek with affection, he murmured, “Now, little one, let’s go home, shall we?”
Final A/N: Welp! that happened. I originally was writing this SoftDark!Demon!Lloyd as a stand-alone from this poll but when the Hootenanny challenge was announced, I thought it would be a perfect fit 😈 Hope you enjoyed reading this ficlet, and reblogs/comments are very welcome~
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Disclaimers: DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK. DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.
Warnings: You are in charge of your own experience! Mature Audiences ONLY: 18+, Minors DNI- Use of the N-word, Profanity, Gun Violence, Asphyxiation Pairing: black male x black female Words: 4,062k
A/N: Sorry it took so long! I am back with Part 5 of this series. This is is another development in the story. No smut this time, sorry, however I think that Adrian's story in Part 4 was enough to hold yall for now. LOL.
Summary: Terry looks for ways to advance the case and notices his longing for Y/N in her absence. When unusual circumstances bring them together, Terry has to fight to keep them both afloat. Will he rise to the occasion or must he deal with the consequences of his inaction?
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TERRY
I hadn't seen her in a few weeks, and she missed the morning department meeting. She forwarded her notes to SA Hilt, and from the presentation, she has been working her ass off. Uncovering the next auction and securing a platinum voting card to be duplicated had just brushed the surface. She retrieved snapshots of some of the faces behind the syndicate. Planning to purchase yet another real estate space for a gallery, she gathered some intel that they may be using it as a storage facility instead. What the actual inventory was remained a mystery. Last month, I took inventory of each of the containers at the docks.
During the meeting, I told the team about what I learned about the construction of the containers, weight, size, contents, and compartments. Most of the containers had hidden compartments with the sides and the rear. I found massive amounts of platinum cards in one of them— the same ones we learned were used for voting. The weight of them differed. At least four of them seemed to be of different weights even though their color, width, and length were the same. I passed the ones I collected off to SA Hilt to see if they could break down their contents. Same coating but different materials. The difference in weight had to be the key to how they were bidding or which items they were allowed to bid for. Maybe it was a way to turn in their chips after bidding, so to speak. I found no traces of coke or any drug paraphernalia anywhere. This was strange.
A good portion of the clients attending these bidding wars had strong connections to different cartels. I couldn't open the canvases on the art without it going unnoticed, but all the paintings in the storage containers were of the correct weight. Nothing felt too hollow or too heavy in one particular area. It bothered me ever since I left. Making sure to connect at least five of the security cameras to our feeds and servers, I gave the video encoder to SA Donovan. Before leaving her cubicle, I subtly attempted to ask where Y/N had been.
"Checking on your boo is sweet. You tryna make me jealous or somethin'?" she asked in a lighthearted faux snarl.
"Just wanted to make sure everyone on the team is straight. This meeting was an all-hands-on-deck meeting. She's lead, and she wasn't there." I took time making sure my delivery was even and reticent.
"Riiiiiiight," she started with a knowing eye. Technically, you've been leading since you got here, Hot Shot, and she forwarded all of her materials to you via SA Hilt. With all the information she's uncovered, I would think she's allowed a personal day or two."
"So that's what this is about? She's protesting meetings because I'm technically lead?"
"I didn't say that. I just pointed out that your statement was false and that she did her work. That work was presented on time in the meeting. That is what is required in our huddles at The Box." She was defensive and cold.
"I see" was all I managed.
"I'll let her know that you asked about her—for her safety, of course," she flashed a small, curt smile and went back to looking at the image on her screen.
Taking my leave, I wondered what that was about. Am I on Donovan's shit list too? I don't even know what I did. Regardless, I needed to lay eyes on Y/N. Stakes were getting high, and anything could happen. I arrived home in the early evening after all the paperwork I had to write, fill out, and send. That's one thing I miss about just being an SA. There is very little paperwork outside of your case. Everything has to be reviewed and signed off by me, so I'm doing most of the paperwork in my department.
Breaking up the monotony of scribbling, underlining, circling, and clicking on keys, I went for a run. The trail next to my hold-up was beautiful at sunset. I would clear my head and figure out what the next move would be. In the next two days, everything has to be flawless.
I'm sure my presence is being felt on campus, judging by the stares I get from certain employees. Adrian, no matter what Y/N wants to believe, isn't clueless or harmless. He's exactly who I think he is, and if he thinks I'm law enforcement, he will likely inform others in his organization.
As I ran, I mentally reorganized the pictures on the case board in my office, picturing where Adrian fit in all this. He wasn't the main guy, but he literally came out of nowhere. Something about him doesn't feel right. How does an ordinary curator hire eyes on a college campus? How does an ordinary curator have a detail? I get the expensive cars and luxury apartments in the city, but he has influence. I just don't know why. Two miles skated by me according to my Apple watch; I could get in two more before heading home to hit the showers and re-working the case.
My body collided with another after making a sharp left turn. Contents of a cover cup slipped in the air while papers from a well-tanned leather satchel flew in the other direction.
"Shit!" yelped the voice beneath me.
"Damn, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you. There is sort of a blind spot…"
"It's okay. I know what you mean."
Either my eyes were deceiving me, or this was … no, my eyes definitely weren't deceiving me. I could never forget her face. Why would she be here? How was she here? If she recognizes me, that could blow the whole case, especially if she's a part of what is going on in and around that museum. She looked exactly the same as I remembered her all those years ago. She stood five foot ten inches with long jet-black hair that kissed her back two inches above her waist. Her pupils were infused with the color of jade, her lips were soft and shaped in a relaxed pout, and her facial structure was every model's dream. Her athletic frame was garbed in a loose burgundy jumpsuit and a black leather jacket.
I stood paralyzed for a moment before deciding to help her up. Holding out my hand, I pulled her onto her feet and made my way to the scattered papers. Gathering the ones I could, I returned to her to present my findings in scattered disarray.
"Thank you"
"Again, I apologize for running into you."
"That's okay. You know, you look really familiar."
"Do I?"
"Yeah, I can't quite put my finger on it, but it feels like we've met before," she chuckled. "My friends laugh at me and tell me that I literally say that about everyone these days. My name is —"
My phone rang loudly, interrupting the sentence I didn't need her to finish. I was well aware of who she was, but I wanted to stick around and see if she remembered who I was.
"Excuse me for a minute," I said, answering my phone. "Hello?"
The phone on the line was quiet for a moment before replying.
"We need to talk. I can meet you at The Box."
"I'm not there. I can send you an address, though."
"Okay. I'll see you there."
I turned back, eager to pick up my previous conversation, but she was no longer there. At least that remained the same. I texted the coordinates in my phone to the caller and ran home. Showering and changing into a comfortable Maison Cashmere sweatsuit, I headed out of the location. I parked two blocks down from the side entrance and walked around until I came to the front of the diner.
After ensuring I wasn't being followed or there weren't any marks in the surrounding areas, I walked in the door. I sat in the booth in the far back and ordered a coffee. I wouldn't drink it, but I did want something to warm my hands with. Besides, coffee mugs are always made for good weapons. I had taught that lesson several times to my former students at the Corp and the occasional 'badass' who tried me. The scent accosted me. I missed it. I longed for it. I silently cursed it for being absent for so long. She sat down with another man across from me in the booth. I looked at her intently, waiting for her to explain her cryptic phone call and the man beside her.
She took her time revealing the nature of this impromptu meeting; I made her feel my gaze until she started to speak.
"SA Richmond, this is Matthew. Matthew, this is SA Richmond."
"SA Richmond? What does Matthew mean to this case, SA Olisa."
"Matthew is a runner for Adrien and his half-brother."
"His what?"
"His half-brother," she said shakily.
I lifted my eyes from her and turned them on him. I didn't know whether she had secured a key witness or endangered our whole case. I watched him fiddle with his ring. His hands were steady, but he kept rotating his ring with his thumb. He had a family or at least someone he cared about losing. He caught me staring at his ring and stopped fidgeting.
"If you want to know if you should be sure about me. I don't know. I don't know about me either. I ain't never been on this side," he said, voice low and raspy. He was loyal and always had been it appeared.
"So why are we here?"
"Cause he's going too far, and I can't have that."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that he's flying a little too close to the sun, and it's starting to affect what I got going. That's a big problem."
"So y'all couldn't work it out? Say what you're not saying, or we can leave here. I got shit to do." He looked on for a while, then began to speak.
"We were thick as thieves. I was his left and right hand. Everything was good after we came back from Panama. We were on top. Then, he took a trip to El Salvador alone. I didn't hear from him until two years later. I was managing things in his absence as he requested, but we started to worry. We went to look for him for the third time, and he just popped up. He was quiet, had new scars, had new close. He looked like my nigga, but that wasn't my nigga.
Then, he got a job as a curator. I'm thinking something happened to him and he wanted out the game. No. He wanted to maintain everything we had going on and then some. Three weeks later, a lot of whites and Latinos started showing up at our shop to talk shop. I went to sit in on a meeting, thinking that we would move more weight, but he had one of the boys tell me I was gonna sit this one out. When the meeting was over, I confronted him about it. He told me that it was a separate aspect of the business that would bring us more money than ever, and it had to do with moving illegal art. Since I didn't know much about art, he would handle that. What he did want me to do was figure out how we could move weight through sculptures and shit. I was satisfied with the answer, but I was still salty that he didn't tell me himself and had a little nigga come tell me that my presence wasn't wanted.
I started noticing he would never come by the house anymore. He used to come by every chance he got to see my kid and buy her all kinds of shit she shouldn't be having. She still hasn't seen him 'till this day. I chalked it up to him not wanting to be around the women and kids because of whatever fucked up shit he had seen when he was missing. He kept his distance, and I didn't pry. Last year, around the springtime, we dropped off the illegal art out the back of the gallery, and I saw her. Alana. He ain't tell me he had a girl. He met my great-grandmother. He wouldn't keep something like him having a girl from me unless he was truly cool on me. All the things I made up in my head about him not wanting to be around women and children were a lie.
I went inside from the back and went to the gallery floor. I picked up a program and a glass of champagne and watched him make a speech. His eyes were hollow. Everyone clapped as he rejoined the crowd. I watched him with her…you," he said, looking at Y/N, "he looked like he found something. Like you brought a flicker of whatever he had left back to the surface.
I interrupted them and introduced myself. He was polite, but he was annoyed. After Alana and I exchanged words, he started treating me like the help. I waited until he was finished and looked him in the eye. Facing him head-on, I ensured he caught the drift I was sending before apologizing for interrupting their evening. Then I left. Since then, this niggas had been giving me dummy missions to do. Whenever I tried to confront him about what was happening, he made an excuse to leave. The last time we got into a heated exchange.
Last week, I got a call from him saying that one of the drivers was missing and something went wrong. He needed me to be at the port, get the container, and then drop them off at another location. When I tried to question why I needed to drop off a seaside container at another location when we had already paid to occupy a private portion of the port, he told me that I needed to do what he said for once. Then he said the word 'please'. This nigga rarely used the word please and I damn sure never heard it since he got back from where ever the fuck he was for 2 years.
That's when I knew something was wrong. I got to the port, intercepted the container, and took it to the location he sent me. I had to know the reason this nigga begged me to get this container. When I opened it, I couldn't believe what the fuck I saw." His voice caught in his throat. His eyes moistened. "They not running drugs man, they running—"
"Excuse me, I was wondering if you all had an extra bottle of ketchup on your table. They forgot to bring me some packets for my burger," a stranger with a red hat said, motioning to the ketchup on the table.
Matthew stilled. I handed the ketchup bottle to the man and turned back to Matthew.
"Aye, I gotta go," Matthew said.
"Wait, where are you going?" Y/N asked.
"Thanks for your time," he replied.
"Matthew, you told us—" Y/N started.
"Thanks for your time," he repeated, cutting her off.
It was no longer safe. He stood, looking at me for a second, and then he was gone just as quickly. I motioned for Y/N to sit back down. We sat quietly, eyes saying what we knew our lips could not. I stirred my tea as I looked up at all the exit signs. Where there were once slate grey doors now stood men, appearing like shadows emanating from no particular place. They varied in height but were not below 5'9". They wore dark clothing, faces obscured. No one else in the diner seemed to notice they were there until they started walking towards us from all directions.
"210, 240, 175, 180," I said calmly, still stirring and hoping she understood what I meant. Her eyes left me, and she looked behind me.
"210, 245, 176, 180," she corrected.
I took a swing of my coffee. It was just how I liked it.
The first man approached. Mr. 210. He approached me from the right, attempting to place his gun discreetly at my temple. His first mistake is that he got too close. Close combat was where I came alive. Grabbing the gun with my left hand and reaching the man's neck with my right, I slammed his head on the table repeatedly. The other approached from my two o'clock position to help his "friend". Y/N, to my surprise, jammed her steak knife into his right leg just in the inner.
Doubling over in pain, 245 made enough space between him and 176 for me to throw the now empty coffee mug in the air and have it land right in between 176's nose. Retrieving 210's gun from his waistline, I wasted no time firing two rounds into 176's leg and thigh. I turned around and found Y/N struggling with 180. He had her in the air by her throat. Sweat streamed down her face as she tried to free herself from his grasp. She kicked and clawed, but he was unrelenting. The light was leaving her eyes as blood failed to reach her head. As she got closer and closer to unconsciousness, so did I.
The walls began closing in, and invisible shadows took hold of my limbs. Breathing became difficult. My heart rate tripled, and my chest tightened. Vomit threatened to escape my lips while my stomach churned. My vision darkened. Her eyes turned slowly toward me as if I was the last thing she wanted to see before she went. Pleading. Summoning. Beckoning. Conjuring. Her eyes rolled back.
Blood spattered on the side of her face. She dropped. The man who previously had her in death's grasp fell to his left. The sound of his body hitting the floor caused me to look around to see who fired the shot. He wasn't the only body hitting the floor. The rest of his crew lay in puddles of their own crimson. I scanned the area quickly and realized that there was no one else here but us, and the heated metal that laid them to rest lay in my hands. Pushing the questions of how this came to be and how I couldn't remember any of it aside, I ran to her.
"Y/N, hey, wake up for me. Please. Get up for me, sweetheart," I pleaded. She stirred but not by much. Scooping her in my arms, I headed for my vehicle. Leaving through the diner's doors, I noticed a final body lying on the floor a block away. Without getting any closer, I already knew who that body belonged to.
My pace quickened. Once in the car, I headed to the nearest hospital. In the emergency room, they peeled her from me while they placed her on a gurney and rushed her into a room. The questions and discussions around me melted into the background. I couldn't address them without addressing some of my own.
What would've happened if she died? Would I have died too? Would it have sent me back to that place? How would she explain this to that fuck nigga who probably arranged for this ambush? Could she go back there? Are her things there? Is her cover blown, and if so, how was she made? Would she mind staying with me? Is there someone she would want me to call to let them know that she's okay? Shit, is she okay?
"Sir, I need you to tell me what happened," a voice said. I looked down toward where the sound was coming from.
"It was an ambush."
"Are you too gang or law enforcement?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know what I think. You haven't answered a single question since you got here, and you showed up with an asphyxiated woman in your arms?"
Gathering the darkness in her tone and the scenario she painted, I began telling her what happened.
"I need to use your phone. I need to call the team."
"There's a phone at the nurse's station."
Within minutes, the team swarmed into the hospital in plain clothes. I debriefed as best as I could under the circumstances. We still had no word on her whereabouts until finally, the doctor came out to the waiting room. Brooke and I were the first on our feet.
"Is this the Olisa party?"
"Yes," Brooke and I said in unison.
"Nice to meet you all. My name is Dr. Sanders. She was fortunate. A second longer, and she wouldn't have recovered."
"So she's okay," Brooke asked, pleading for good news.
"She'll recover, but it will be slow. A good bit of time passed when oxygen wasn't getting to her brain. Her memory will start coming back slowly but surely. She knows who and where she is but doesn't remember how she got here. Hopefully, seeing your faces will jog her memory. I will say her reflexes are impeccable."
"What do you mean?" I inquired.
"Well, one of the nurses startled her, and she grabbed a syringe from the table and stabbed him with it. The whole thing happened in less than 2 seconds," he replied, fascinated.
"That's slow for her. I need to see her," Brooke urged.
"I can take you to her, and you all can visit her two by two. She will need her rest, but I understand that you all have questions to ask her," he finished, leading Brooke to the room.
Two by two team members went into her room and visited her. Some debriefed her and reported how much she knew.
"Sir, she can't go back to that apartment," I blurted. I didn't know that her cover wasn't already blown or how she would explain what happened today. Her phone was in the wind, and she hadn't checked in with that nigga all day.
"We have people sitting in the apartment. No one has come in or out of there since you placed the call. Y/N had people tailing Adrian when she apprehended the asset. He was at the museum all day. We don't know who is behind this or how much Adrian knows. Until we find that out, her being in the wind will raise suspicion."
"With all due respect, I don't give a shit. She's not going back there."
"Not sure when you and Y/N got so close, but you need to get over that and look at this logically. This is going on 6 months of hard work, and how we handle this is crucial."
"She brings his former right hand in and is ambushed at a diner across town. Do you think this is, what, a coincidence?"
"You should watch your tone. We've known her way longer than you have. We all have a vested interest in making sure whoever did this pays for what they did. Now is not the time to get reckless."
"She doesn't even remember this asshole. What lie are you going to make her say that is actually going to stick.? Her life depends on lying this day away and making it so convincing that he doesn't dig further into who left marks on her neck. You haven't met this nigga. He's not the type to let that go. He's either going to think she's fucking around and would burn the city looking for who she's sleeping with, or he knows how and why she's fucked up right now and will be looking to finish the job. You're sending her right into the pit. It's all fucked. She's not going back there."
"Where do you think it's safe for her to go to?"
"With me."
"And you think internal affairs would be good with that?
"I'll have her held up at her own space of my choosing where I can have close eyes on her and guys I trust until I string that bitch up and get answers."
He stopped asking questions because he knew my mind was made up and there was no use in discussing the topic any further. He cursed under his breath and left, pressing numbers into his cell phone. I hoped whoever he was calling was packing up all her shit from her house because she was coming with me. She was mine.
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As always, thanks for reading!! Check out all the previous parts here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Please hit the comments with your feedback, give suggestions on what you'd like to see, and let me know who you like and don't. Talk TO ME!!! I've tagged everyone that I could remember, but if you're coming across me for the first time and want to be tagged in this fic or any others, please comment and let me know you wanna be tagged!
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.I'll Kiss You Like I Don't Love You By Rena | Shyent
Scaramouche x fem!reader, taller fml, dry-humping, asexual fml, hand-job, praise, avoidant attachment style, she has so many physical flaws and I love her for that, implied autistic fml
WC: 2.998k
This is a repost from my other account with some minor (BIG, THEY WERE BIG!!) corrections.
You gasp when you feel his knee being shoved further up between your legs against your bare pussy, unshielded by the dress you wore, often without any undergarments for the sake of general comfort at home.
Scaramouche rests his hand on the back of your head and pulls your face towards him. Tilting his head upwards to look up at you, the hairs at the tip of your noses brushing against each other, inflicting a ticklish sensation. A hand quivering with anticipation rests against his cheek, and he leans into your palm that was nearly covering the entirety of the side of his face. Scaramouche rubs against it as a means of feeling your calluses and his skin prickles.
He turns his face into your hand, eyes closing as he inhales your scent, lips pressing into your grasp for a moment of silence (a moment of ceaseless worship). You lean in to kiss his cheek, seeking to get as close to his lips as you can, should, and will.
Scaramouche appeals to his gaze once more, looking back at you through his eyelashes. Turning to you, he would not dare to close his eyes as he leaned in. The world as he knew it became a blur.
His world; your skin, your moles, your eyelashes in an illusion of entanglement with his, the colour of your scarred lips and your eyes. Scaramouche brushes his lips against yours. Grazes would turn into pecks, and pecks would turn into long, drawn-out kisses.
And another, and another, and another.
It was relentless, the creeping flame behind each kiss.
It was measured, yes, the roll of your hips and the warmth pooling at the pit of his stomach as he swallowed every flicker of fire that would spark between you two.
It was bridled, the way he'd consume you. Your scent, warmth beneath his fingers, palm buried in your hair. Your taste, your moans, your searing touch, all of which stoked the embers of a shared fire hot with passion. As always, you lean in. Not to make a plea to an ache you did not feel, but for closeness; the ever-grounding comfort of his presence.
Your desires were cool and steady. However, never in your ignorance mistaken, this want as weak in comparison to his, for it was all but mere. Not when it was so large and present in his conscious mind. Not when it was what tempered the fire you knew burned in him, always for you. Always because of you.
You whine in frustration as he removes his leg from between yours. In an attempt to reclaim his warmth, you’d raise your knee to try and wrap your leg around his waist. Each time, he dodged you by stepping back. Scaramouche chuckled at the sound of your groans of annoyance, his tittering kept light. You’d argue that it was in fact, a giggle. Scaramouche would beg to differ.
The back of his legs hit the soft edge of the sofa, and the corner of his lips curled upwards as he was forced to slump backwards into a relaxed position. Seizing the opportunity to climb on top of him, you jump at the chance to straddle his leg, hands clamped on his shoulders for balance.
You nip his lip before finally pulling back, your gaze shifting from his indigo eyes to the string of saliva that connected your lips. To Scaramouche’s amusement, you regarded him with a victorious, giddy expression, sticking your nose up in the air as a display of conquer.
"I won."
"And pray tell, what have you won?"
Your pause, your features scrunching as you try to articulate your triumph. It was stupidly charming.
"...I won," you say, a giggle slipping out, bouncing on his leg in excitement. You rest your hands over one another on the top of his head, rolling his neck in small circles. You flick your toes and smile teasingly, experimentally rolling your hips with a twinkle in your eyes, "So, may I?".
Scaramouche reaches out a hand to caress your cheek before wrapping his fingers and applying minimal pressure around your neck, whereas his free hand would rest on your thigh. No, his heart will never not flutter at the way your smile would brighten and widen (just for him, only for him) whenever he did it.
"Go ahead," he whispers, softer than he'd intended.
You remove your hands from his head to hold his face, pressing your forehead against his as you try to find your rhythm. Whenever Scaramouche’s face had been held by you, he’d feel so small. Yet, to his surprise, he never found himself feeling undermined or you overbearing. Rather, Scaramouche felt protected in your hands bigger than his, and cherished, and appreciated.
No matter what they did—each time—sometimes it took ten or more minutes for you to feel a spark of arousal, but it never deterred you from the general idea of doing these things with him, and it never made the experience of doing it with you worth any less.
You knew that he was accepting of how your needs differed from him and how enthusiastic he was about accommodating you. You knew it, yet even so, you never quite escaped the creeping anxiety of not being enough, like now.
Flurried and in spite of your better judgement, you press your clit harder, rougher against his thigh, eliciting an ached moan and the aversion of your eyes in something akin to shame, pulling your head back. Scaramouche did not miss a beat.
“Hey, look at me,” he caresses your cheek with his free hand. “You do not have to perform for me.”
“I’m not…I want to do this with you.” your movements were now slow, irregular and stiff, and your heart was racing. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t, you didn't want him to feel undervalued. Not when he was worth so much to you.
He huffs through his nose, rubbing the pad of his thumb into the side of your neck, creating pressure and with efficiency, cutting off your blood flow slightly.
“I know that you do, but I’m reminding you that I want to do this with you too; take your time for me.”
To show you what he meant, he tightened his grasp on your side and forced you to slow down to a more comfortable and relaxed pace.
“Just like that, okay? We'll do this for as long as you want to. The point of this is that I want to feel good with you—not just because of you. You want that too. Don't you, pretty girl?”
You follow the pace Scaramouche eased you into and rests a hand over his stomach before raising his shirt over his chest. You avoid his gaze, the praise making you shy, and gaze down at his bare skin.
“I do…” you murmur, before adding earnestly, willing yourself to look back at him. “I want you too.”
Around the eight-minute mark, you exhale through your nose, nostrils twitching.
“Feeling it now?”
“Yeah…”
His hand on your hip slips up your waist underneath the dress you wore, rubbing tender circles around the fat of your breast, then the areola before pressing down on your nipple, causing you to hum his name.
“And what's this?”
“Good…”
“That's not what I asked, [name]. Let's try again,” Scaramouche pinches your nipple. “What's this?”
“You’re pinching my boob.”
He smiles at the pout on your lips and your furrowed brows, “Go on.”
“Your palm is pressed against my chest…and you feel so cold. And you're rubbing me so slowly…kneading? Yeah, the word is kneading. You're removing your hand from my neck and…”
You continue to narrate what he does. With his now free hand, he raises the hem of your dress over your shoulders for it to cascade down your back, exposing your body bare for him.
Scaramouche palms your neglected breast and rolls each side in opposing directions each with tenderness and care, flicking at and pressing into your cool nipples with his thumbs. As you lean into his touch, he takes it as his to use his right hand to caress your ass. He kisses the areola, before licking circles with his tongue and then finally taking your nipple into his mouth.
And gods, it was adorable. The way Scara looked up at you to gauge your approval, how he’d needily press his face against your breast and flick and twirl his tongue in a careful, methodical manner. The little suckling and clicking sounds he’d make as he sucked on your tit, how heavily he’d breathe through his nose and the occasional puff of his cheek and the pleasured hums muffled against your skin.
The saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth messing up his lips and the drool snaking down his chin and your stomach. The flush of his cheeks and the way he furrowed his brows and sucked on you in heightened fervour as you dragged your fingers through his indigo locks in a manner reminiscent of a cat. At some point, you stopped narrating as there wasn’t much to say anymore, but he did not mind. He didn’t need you to keep on talking to get off any further, not when you were looking at him like that.
“Good boy.”
You almost squeal when he scowls at you, but it wasn’t a scowl he could maintain for long when you decided to reward him. When you slide your hand along his neglected thigh and reach into the looseness of his shorts to palm his clothed cock before reaching into his boxers. Scaramouche rubs into your hand, and the expression on his face, his eyes rolling back and his muted moans did nothing but egg you on. It did nothing but want you to make him feel even better.
Once you’ve had your appetizer, you take your hand out, and you can absolutely hear his whine when you do. Scaramouche grazes his teeth against your nipple as if to threaten you, but returns to licking when you peel the band of his shorts down, allowing his cock to spring out and meet the cold air.
You firmly grasp his dick and rub your thumb around his head. Not enough to make him cum any time soon, but just to induce sensation. He pants, and finally, you hear a pop when he removes his mouth from your nipple, a thick string of saliva between his lips and the mound as he momentarily closes his eyes shut, panting.
Hm, what did you have to lose?
"Your pubes are really cute.”
"...Do you have to tell me that each time you see my dick?"
"They are, though...Can I have some?"
"...I feel I've become so desensitised to your-"
"Love for cute things?"
"If that's another way to say strangeness or degeneracy, then sure, that–to the point that I see no reason to deny you of your request."
"Deadass?"
"Absolutely."
"You're so sweet!"
"And you're ever the romantic."
Despite the sarcasm in his tone, Scaramouche did mean it. As weird, and quite frankly, disturbing, as your request might be, he wouldn’t mind providing you with even his nails torn from the bed..he's unwilling to say that just yet, though; the least he'd want to do is scare you. And he knew that it wouldn’t be the intrusive idea of gory fingers penetrating your imagination that would do it for you, but rather, the idea of him going so far for you. Him being hurt for you voluntarily. To confront the idea of him loving you. To be forced to acknowledge that reality you were not ready to.
You rest your chin on his shoulder, as you tease his cock, moaning into his ear,
“Thank you…thank you so, so much for this…I like you.” You can feel chills crawling up along your skin as your cunt drools on Scara’s thigh.
“If you’re so thankful…” he bites out, giving one hard and aggressive jerk into your hand. “Then touch me like you mean it.”
I love you, he doesn’t say.
And with that, you finally tighten your grip around his wet cock and on the gods, the sound elicited from him was heavenly. How he choked on his moan when you jerked his dick off and dug his teeth into your shoulder.
Giving up on maintaining a cohesive conversation, they allow themselves to be reduced to a cacophony of whining and panting, and on your part, near sobs when the sensation of your impending orgasm becomes overwhelming. When you verbalise this, he grips either side of your hips and forces you to continue rocking your hips. Each jerk was hard, mean and snappy, yet so fucking slow. You didn’t know which hurt more; the anticipation or the stimulation.
“Good good good, so good–oh fuck.” you mewl.
He thrusts his dick into your hand. Through his lashes, eyes half-lidded, his gaze wouldn’t flitter. No, but rather, he’d sensor his eyes up and down from your head to your cradling hips. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be inside of her, forcing himself to align the pace of his hips with hers. As torturous as it was, it did nothing but heighten his arousal.
“Fuck- just like that, don’t stop for me, alright, pretty girl…”
“I’m pretty?”
“Hah…you’re acting as if I don’t call you that on a daily basis.”
“..I just want you to say it again, please...”
“You’re so. Fucking. Beautiful” Each word is accentuated with each thrust. “If I let go, can you, hah, keep moving? Can you do that for me?”
“I don’t…I don’t think that I can…”
“For me. You’ll make me so fucking happy if you can do just this one thing, do you want to make me happy?”
“I do!”
“Then, can I trust you?”
Unfortunately for you, Scaramouche doesn’t provide you the opportunity to answer as he removes his hands to run to explore your body before finally settling on your bare waist. You’d probably pull his cheeks apart if he said it aloud, but the way your sounds had gotten progressively higher when you were forced to carry her pleasure for him was extremely pathetic.
Pitiful, the way you’d try to keep your watering eyes from rolling back (he said that you looked stupidly cute once for it. You had focused on the word ‘stupid’ more than the ‘-ly cute’ part) and trained on him. How you tried and failed to bite down on your lip to keep your mouth clamped shut.
The saliva trailing down your chin, darkened cheeks and tongue occasionally lolling past your lips. The way you’d grunt his name and strings of unintelligible pleas for nonsense was going to send him over the edge. The way, that despite yourself, you stretched yourself between stimulating and performing the task he put onto you. How you’d, despite the burden of his request, would overwhelm yourself with stimulation while putting special attention to his cock.
How you’d flick your wrist, circle his hole and shake. All the while stumbling over your words as you asked him again and again ‘Is this okay?’. Under normal circumstances, he’d tease and mimic you to see your scowl, but how could he now? He admits he’d feel uncharacteristically bad for it. Not when you were doing all of this for him.
Scaramouche didn’t even think that he could speak in full sentences anymore, not when he was panting along with you like a dog in heat. Not when he was pathetically calling your name and reassuring you of your performance. Not while trying his best to swallow the words hot at the tip of his tongue ‘I love you’. Not when he was trying to keep his composure that was melting into a puddle, assuming he still had any, to begin with.
Your thighs, at last, clench around his and you squeal, closing your eyes shut as you grind your pussy down on his leg, your fluids pooling and dripping down into a puddle on the floor. And oh, if you could see how beautiful and fucked up you looked. At the back of his mind, Scaramouche wondered if he could take a picture of you someday.
Your toes curl and you can feel his small body tense under you, your backs arching and chests pressing against each other, the saliva left behind him on yours smudging against his. Scaramouche feels his stomach twitch and his eyes roll back, your hips stuttering and your pussy fluttering on his thigh.
“I’m cumming…”
“I’m gonna cum too…”
Your hand stutters to a near halt, but, if the feeling of you alone wasn’t enough to send him over the edge. He played those words over and over as he rutted into your grasp, digging his fingers into your waist almost painfully as you sloppily licked the side of his neck. When you finally met your climax, you also felt his hot cum shooting between the two of you onto your stomachs and underneath your breasts.
No words were exchanged between the two of you. Not when you removed your head from his shoulder, not when you caressed his cheek with your hand messy with his fluids. Not when he leans into your touch, further smearing them against his face. Not when he pulled you in to lick the sweat off your cheek and forehead, not when you kiss him and suck on his bottom lip. Not when he wraps his arms around you and rolls you over to sit beside him on the couch and not when you burst into a fit of giggles and he hums, both your bodies twitching and coming down from your highs. And not when you quiet down, staring back into his eyes.
No words were spoken, but few were imminent in his mind.
I love you, he doesn’t say.
I know. You close your eyes.
Author's Note: This is my second smut piece. Writing it took me a long time, and I'm a bit dissatisfied with how it turned out. I haven't had the chance to proofread it thoroughly, so please let me know if you notice any errors. I would really appreciate your comments and reblogs! If there are any errors, please tell me, comment and reblog.
#scaramouche#genshin impact#genshin smut#kunikuzushi#wanderer genshin#genshin scara#scaramouche x reader#scara x reader#tall!reader#tall reader#scaramouche smut#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x autistic!reader#asexual reader#asexual!reader#scaramouche fluff#genshin fluff#fluff and smut#smut and fluff
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haein ; 21 ; intp
bts : jungkook , bnd : taesan
enha : heeseung , riize : anton
I read everything and repost sensitive content so MDNI.
If you have any suggestions or requests my asks are always open (if you just want to share your thoughts, that's cool too!) <3
WARNINGS:
- my writings will be smut, may include sensitive topics, can be fluff, can be angst but it will mostly be smut so please DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU'RE A MINOR.
- can write about pretty much everything except for things including vomiting or any sick or disgusting secretion of the body (sweat is relatively fine)
- will only write for boynextdoor (if smut, everyone but woonhak), riize, enhypen and the boyz unless I say otherwise.
- english is not my first language yet I like to say I'm good at it. this means that you may find some discrepancies or orthographic mistakes, you can point them out and I'll correct them.
- 97% percent of the time I'll use lowercase on purpose for styling.
지금 이 PLAYLIST:
1. BOYNEXTDOOR.
Sungho masterlist.
Riwoo masterlist.
Jaehyun masterlist.
Taesan masterlist.
Leehan masterlist.
Woonhak masterlist.
OT6.
2. RIIZE.
OT7.
3. ENHYPEN.
Jake masterlist.
4. THE BOYZ. (in progress)
+ loading ... +
5. VAMPIRES/ FANTASY. (in progress...)
BOYNEXTDOOR masterlist.
RIIZE masterlist.
ENHYPEN masterlist.
THE BOYZ masterlist.
#riize#riize scenarios#riize smut#riize imagines#riize x reader#boynextdoor#boynextdoor x reader#boynextdoor imagines#boynextdoor scenarios#wonbin#taesan#heeseung#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#enhypen smut#boynextdoor smut#the boyz#tbz#juyeon#the boyz x reader#changmin#younghoon#the boyz imagines#the boyz smut#the boyz fanfic#the boyz scenarios
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Purgatory Palace
- Plot Summary -
A soul by the name of Ernest Pentious has finally reached the gates of Heaven. Everything is fine, until Lucifer himself shows up and bitterly presents undeniable evidence that that man was once a Sinner. Despite all odds, it seems a Sinner has redeemed himself after death. The high angels discussed the fate of this man, debating whether to send him back to whence he came. Ultimately, a decision was reached- they would test this theory of post-death redemption and present the results to St. Michael. An angel named Sera and her younger, bright-eyed sister Emily, are put in charge of leading this experiment. Who knows what the future may hold for this pair?
- Major Character Overview -
Sera - The Angel in charge of leading the Experiment. Emily’s older, wiser, and more serious sister. Distant towards Sinners.
Emily - Sera’s sweet younger sister. The Angel of Joy, loves those around her and wants nothing more than to help all the Sinners.
Angel Dust - One of Hell’s most famous Adult Film Stars. Addicted to drugs but on his file was labeled as ‘Non-Violent.’ Specifically paired with Emily for his therapy.
Husk- Alcoholic Cat. Former Overlord.
Olivia and Clara - Two Freshly-Dead Residents of Purgatory. Have yet to be judged, identical twins.
Vox - Television Host that’s broadcasting the experiment. Not actually a patient.
Alastor - Radio Host who will not leave. Isn’t actually part of the experiment. No one knows how he keeps getting in.
Charlie - Princess of Hell, daughter of Lucifer. Theater kid bitch. There to monitor the experiment for Hell.
Zestial - The Eternal Watcher of Purgatory.
Welcome to the Palace!
…
Rules:
- Do not trace or repost any artwork featured on this blog.
- Tag us in any posts about the characters! We’d love to see it all.
- Emily is a MINOR-CODED CHARACTER! Do NOT ship her with ANYONE (please).
- This is for fun! But feel free to critique or correct us at any time.
- We apologize ahead of time for any bad translations to other languages.
- Many of these characters belong to Vivziepop, and we do not claim ownership over them. Only our designs and ideas.
…
Want to learn more about our main cast? Check out VOX’S NOTES for some insightful commentary on them all!
…
Enjoy the Show!
#hazbin hotel#hazbin art#hazbin hotel critical#hazbin hotel criticism#hazbin emily#hazbin angel dust#hazbin sera#hazbin husk#hazbin alastor#hazbin vox#hazbin charlie#fanfiction#hazbin redesign#fanfic#Hazbin fanfic#intro post#plot summary#angst with a happy ending#angst#character design#digital art
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Are you taking request? I saw someone on here ask for a JJK man request. Just would like to know so I know when and where to send my submission bestie. 🩷🥹
What Spoiled Girls Get (Bakugou x Dabi x Black!F!Plus-Sized!Reader 18+ One Shot) [REQUEST FILL]
Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Touya "Dabi" Todoroki x Black!Plus-Size!Fem!Reader
Synopsis: You get whatever you want as Bakugou and Dabi’s shared GF. You’re their pretty princess. Their baby. Their spoiled little girl. You wouldn’t have it any other way and don’t know any different, so when they take you shopping to get some clothes for your birthday and you see a dress in the window that costs a bit out of their bracket, they get it for you…but not without you showing how thankful you are.
Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Polyamorous; Aged-Up!Bakugou; Musician/Ex-Villian!Dabi; Reader Has Rolls & Tummy; Sugar Baby/Sugar Daddy Undertones; MMDoms/fsub Relationship; Spanking; Double Deepthroat; Spit Play; Hair-Pulling; Multiple Creampies; Doggystyle; Spitroast; Orgasm Denial/Control; Facials; Dabi Has a Tongue Piercing; Aftercare
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer’s Note: Thank you for choosing me to do your request fill & especially for giving me the okay to just do your request for Dabi & Bakugou (just to make it clear for the readers too). I hope you enjoy this! -Jazz
*************
“So what does my baby wanna do next?” Katsuki whispers to you, his hand on your thigh like you aren’t sitting in a public space.
Or right next to your second boyfriend who isn’t too keen on Katsuki keeping you to himself when this is a “shared effort”. “Our baby,” Dabi corrects him, scooting his chair closer to you and putting a tatted hand on your other thigh. His fingers, adorned in rings, gently squeeze the soft flesh there.
Katsuki’s vermillion eyes flick to Dabi’s ice-blue ones, a secret rivalry between them despite having been with you for over a year now. “Our baby,” he growls out. “It’s your day after all.” The scents of his and Dabi’s cologne begin to cloud your senses, the two bottomless mimosas you consumed at your birthday brunch.
“Um…” Your mind wanders, short-circuiting as your boyfriends squeeze between you between their big, muscular bodies at the table.
The two smirk at each other, for once not bickering or shooting each other dirty looks when one of them gains your attention over the other. “What’s up, doll?” Dabi purrs into your ear in his raspy, graveled voice. “Too shy to tell us?”
Katsuki, too, leans in closer, pressing his big, tatted arms against yours, his pecs pressing against his white tee. He looks so good in white, especially with the chains hanging from his neck and the rayban sunglasses clipped to his collar. His platinum blonde hair is cut into an undercut, making him look sexier and more mature. Very appropriate for one of the most prominent and wellknown pro heroes in the world.
Dabi looks just as fine for your birthday, his black tee and leather jacket standing out against his snow-white hair. You’ve always loved how the bright, white locks contrast with the black ink coating his arms and body. Though older than Katsuki by a couple of years, he is just as handsome and is always turning heads, mostly because of his prior status as a villain who turned into a famous rock musician.
And despite these men both being wealthy and hot, they are completely infatuated with you. You, who works a regular degular 9-5 job and isn’t a celebrity or a model. And you couldn’t be happier with them. They were floored by your beauty and your body the moment they met you. After you got closer to both of them, they agreed to both date you at the same time, spoiling you with their riches.
You could barely believe your luck and almost thought it was a dream. It took some time to get used to things and the way your boyfriends spent their money on you. Katsuki loves you being is passenger princess, dropping a bag on your nails and any clothes you want. He is a “I’ve got it, baby” kind of partner, always paying the check at dinner and taking you on expensive nights. Nothing is too good for his baby.
Dabi is the same way, always surprising you with a trip here or a random weekend at a five-star hotel there (Katsuki is usually there too so both of them can spend the weekend fucking you stupid into the hotel mattress again and again). You once spent a month traveling with Dabi on a tour around Japan, sight-seeing and watching him perform on stage.
Over time, you started feeling more comfortable asking for things. You want money to get your hair done? “Sure, baby.” You want some new kicks? “Okay, but not those ugly ass Yeezys. I see in those and you’re gonna get it bad.” You want to get a pretty skirt to make your plump ass look plumper? “Of course, doll; just as long as I can take it off later.”
You love them. And they love you, especially how easy it is you tease you. “You know I can’t think straight with all this attention,” you whisper, squeezing your thighs together under your pink dress. They love it when you wear your tight, short dresses and skirts. Anything to show off your rolls, ass, hips, and soft, pudgy belly that they just love to kiss, squeeze, and bite on.
“You sure it ain’t them mimosas? You downed those like they were water, baby.” Katsuki snickers at you, Dabi joining in. As if telling on you, the waitress comes over to clean your dishes of your two mimosa glasses and plates from a delicious brunch. “Hey, it’s my birthday!” you scoff. “I can drink all I want to.”
Katsuki’s eyebrows raise, a playful and mischevious look appearing in his eyes that makes you feel hot. “Oooh, there’s that mouth we both love so much. Maybe you need a third drink, huh?” He goes to wave down the waitress, but to stop him. “Stop,” you giggle. “Besides, I don’t know what else I want. Y’all have already done so much for me today.”
And they have. Between surprising you with a flower delivery this morning, picking you up for a brunch date at an expensive bistro, and driving you around in Dabi’s range rover (which he insisted to drive), you don’t know how much better your birthday can get with your two rich boyfriends.
“And it’s just the beginning, babe,” Katsuki says, taking the bill from the table while Dabi reaches into his jeans for his wallet. “Just think. What’s something we can absolutely do for you?” You think about it for a moment, wondering what haven’t you done lately that would make this birthday extra special. “Um….maybe take me shopping?”
Your boyfriends stare you down, creating a tingle in your core. “Please?” you add, staring up at them both through your lashes. Dabi practically groans at your sweetness. “I do love a polite girl. It’s fine by me, doll, but let’s just hope this chihuahua has enough in his pocket to one up me.” He smirks at Katsuki over your shoulder.
The blonde glares daggers at him as he smacks down his black card. “Bitch, you’re actin’ like I didn’t pay for the rounds,” he scoffs. “Why don’t you try matching up to my birthday gift? Did you get her another stupid trinket you thought she’d like from your tour?” He grins maliciously at Dabi who you can tell is simmering.
“Guys, no fighting,” you sternly say, placing a hand on their hard chests. “Not today. It’s my day.” The two look at you as if realizing you’re still here. “Yeah, your day,” Katsuki sighs, pecking you on the cheek. “We can’t help fighting over our baby though.”
Dabi presses a kiss to your face too, both of their lips making your heart leap and your pussy throb excitedly. You just love their kisses! “We’ll make it up to you later, babe. Right now, let’s get you in some stores.” You smile and take each of their bigger, calloused hands in your smaller, softer ones.
“Thank you, Daddies,” you whisper, low enough for only them to hear. You see their gazes sotften before molen lust takes over. “Such a good girl,” Dabi says, giving your ass a smack when you stand. It catches the eye of an old couple who glare at such an inappropriate display, making you jab Dabi in the stomach while he laughs.
For the next hour, Katsuki and Dabi take you shopping after leaving the bistro. They take you to a small strip on the richer side of the city where designer stores line the block. You pick out bags and clothes, shoes and jewlery. While you don’t keep too many items in fear of overflowing your closet, you do pick out some nice keepers: Jimmy Choo and Saint Laurent heels; Prada sunglasses; a couple of designer dresses that fill out your curves; a Fendi purse; a set of earrings and a diamond anklet to make your French tips looks even sexier.
Through it all, Katsuki and Dabi patiently follow you around and carry your shopping bags for you in one hand. In the other, they hold you by both of yours, making you feel small between the two of them despite your size and weight. As a plus-sized girl, you always feared that they would someday reject you, but they remind you every day how sexy and cute they think you are.
Finally, after stepping out of a Versace store and putting your bags in Dabi’s car, Katsuki grabs you by the waist, his hands grabbing a handful of your ass. “So where to next, baby girl?” he asks, staring down at you from behind his designer shades.
You would say his or Dabi’s place judging by the way he’s palming your behind, but something catches your eye. “Um….oh!” You break away from him much to his dismay and walk over to the boutique window where a beautiful, sexy red dress stares back at you. You marvel at it, pressing your hand adorned in pink nails on the glass.
“I knew you’d have your eye on that,” Dabi chuckles, puffing on a cigarette next to you. He laces an arm around your plump waist, gently rubbing your side. “What? You wanna try it on?” Your eyes trail down to the price tag on the dress, gaping at it. “W-Well, it’s kinda…”
“Pricey?” he finishes, smirking at you. You flush, biting your lip. “I was gonna say small. You usually don’t find bigger sizes in dresses like these.” Katsuki narrows his eyes at you from behind his shades. “Dummy,” he scoffs. “Don’t do that. We always find the cutest shit for you in your size. This dress is no different. Now, come on.”
His tone makes it clear he ain’t up for debate, so you walk inside with boutique with Dabi (after he puts out his cigarette). The place is small but high class-looking with marbled floors and walls, champagne flutes set out on lounge seats, and racks and racks of designer clothes, bags, hats, and accessories. A woman greets you three at the front desk, immediately going wide-eyed at the sight of Katsuki and Dabi.
“She wants to try that dress on in the window,” Katsuki gruffly says, nodding at the red dress. “Please,” you add sweetly, knowing that your men can seem rude sometimes.
“And any bathing suits you have,” Dabi adds. “Add a round of champagne on that too.” You furrow your brows in confusion at this. “Why do you want me to try on bathing suits too?” The two men give each other a secretive look, making you feel like they know something that you don’t. “Just to see this sexy body in somethin’ small,” Katsuki chuckles, once again grabbing a palmful of your ass. “Now be a good girl and go model for us, babe.”
How could you deny them? The employees gather together all the bathing suits they have that will fit you and guide you to the try-on section where Katsuki and Dabi sip on champagne and wait while you try on the clothes. You try on a pink bathing suit first that is low cut in the front so your juicy breasts look enticing and has a thong bottom that makes you want to squeeze your own ass.
With a deep breath, you step out of the small try-on room and model for your men. “Um…how do I look?” you carefully ask, popping a knee up and putting a hand on your hip. They stare at you, not saying anything for a moment. “Like you need to get fucked,” Dabi finally answers, nearly making you choke. “I had alcohol, so I don’t wanna say….I’d much rather show you.”
Katsuki jumps up and has his hands on you before Dabi can do so himself. “You look absolutely stunning, baby,” he sighs. “Just look at you.” He turns you around to face a mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist. And he’s right: you do look stunning. “I still don’t get why y’all want me to try on bathing suits in spring,” you laugh. “The summertime isn’t for another two months!”
“Well, you’ll need new bathing suits for our trip,” Dabi says, downing the rest of his champagne. “Especially since it’s Mexico.” You look at him, confused. “Mexico?” you parrot. “When are you going to Mexico?”
The two share a look, just as confused as you. “You deaf?” Katsuki asks, pinching one of your cheeks. Not us, baby. We are going on Mexico.” He then reaches into his pocket and hands you an envelope. You open it and find a plane ticket to a resort in Cabo, Mexico in it. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” Katsuki says with a smile.
“Oh, my God!” you gasp, immediately throwing yourself at your men. “When did you–“
“We planned it for June so you’ll have time to put in your PTO,” Dabi explains. “And if your boss has a problem with it, he can talk to us. Either way, you’re going. You deserve a little break.” He smiles adoringly at your joy, both of them always wanting to see you happy. “Daddies,” you gasp. “I don’t know what else to say.”
Katsuki’s gaze turns firm, making your stomach flip in excitement. “Try on the dress then,” he orders. “And don’t say shit about the price to your Daddies, got it?” You button your lip and nod, too aroused to speak.
You then hurry back into the room to try on the dress that you carefully take off the hanger. After taking off the bathing suit, you put on the dress and immediately fall in love with how soft, flexible, and sexy it feels on you. Your thighs look juicy and despite your stomach not going anywhere, you don’t care and you know your boyfriends won’t either.
So you walk out to them and drap yourself across the wall, posing for them. “I love it!” you squeal before they can tell you what they think. “I look so, so cute in this!” Both of them walk up to you and squeeze you between their bodies, theirs hard while yours is soft. “Then it’s yours,” Katsuki whispers against your cheek.
“And you don’t have to tell us thank you, doll,” Dabi says, “but you’ll have to show it later.” Pressed against your back, you feel his hard-on pressing against your backside. Katsuki ruts his hips into your front, giving you a taste of his hard cock too. All for you.
You shiver in delight, relishing the fact that they want you just as much as you want them. “Why later?” you purr. “Why not right now? After all, I need to make sure you know how much I appreciate you both.” You run your hands over Katsuki’s biceps while you press your ass in Dabi’s bulge. “Whose place?” he growls, his sel-control quickly leaving him.
You decide to go to Katsuki’s place since its closer and twenty minutes after leaving the boutique with some new shit, you find yourself on your knees still in your new dress on Katsuki’s king-sized bed with your boyfriends’ big, hard, throbbing cocks in your hands and in your mouth.
As soon as you got into Katsuki’s penthouse after a long day of shopping and being pampered, your men had their lips and hands all over you. Squeezing your tits and ass. Leaving hickeys on your neck. Kissing your lips so much that you got drunk. They couldn’t wait to finally have you all alone, feening for it.
Which is why they can’t tear their eyes off of you now as you slobber, spit, and slurp all over their cocks, loving how much their bodies contrast you. Katsuki is beefier due to many years of training as a pro hero with smooth, tanned skin, hard, pierced nipples, and a smooth V-line traveling down to his thick, throbbing cock where a happy trail of blonde hair lies.
Dabi is leaner with his entire body inked in tatts and covered in staples, but they don’t scare you away. His cock is longer and cures slightly, protruding from a cut nest of white curls. “What a thank you so far,” he hums, his black painted nails curling in your hair. “Such a big girl takin’ two big dicks at the same damn time.”
You pop him out of your mouth and instantly take Katsuki’s cock into it again. He takes a handful of your titty hanging out of your dress like fruit dripping from a tree, slowly grinding his hips into your hot, wet mouth. “Fuckin’ greedy thing,” he grunts. “We spoil your ass too much.”
And spoil you they do. To have two hot, loaded men with big dicks and skillful hands all to yourself? What more could you ask for? Katsuki slips his cock out of your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva connected from the tip to your bottom lip. “Open that mouth up,” he demands. You do so, sticking out your tongue like they like and allowing them to tap their cock heads against your tongue.
“Spoiled litle girl,” Katsuki taunts you while Dabi relishes how slutty you look right now. “You gonna suck these dicks like a good little slut for us, hm?” You swallow the pre cum you collected on your tongue and obediently nod, leaking all over your panties and the bedsheets. “Yes, Daddy,” you whimper. “I promise.”
That’s all they need to hear. Despite always bickering, Katsuki and Dabi know how to share you in the bedroom. They take turns fucking your mouth off its hinges, fistfuls of your hair in their hands and filling your tongue with the salty taste of their pre-cum. You love this. You love being used by them. You love being the only one to make them feel good.
Katsuki makes sure you know this as he fucks your throat, making your mouth sloppier and wetter the more he pumps into it. “Fuck, baby,” he moans, his handsome face flushed. “You’re so good at this shit. You make me feel so good!” Dabi slides his dick out of your hand and shoves the blonde out of the way.
“You’re takin’ too long,” he growls. “C’mon, doll, don’t forget about me. Lemme fuck that pretty face.” He slides his dick in this time and nearly touches your vuvula with how long he is. Though you gag and your eyes sting with tears, you take his cock like a champ down your throat, relishing his breathy swears and groans.
“Time’s up, dickhead,” Katsuki growls, pushing Dabi away. “My turn. You ain’t the only one who wants to see that mascara run.” He tilts your face up to meet his eyes, making you show him your glassy eyes and ruined makeup.
“Open that mouth,” he demands. You do so and he leans in as if kissing you. A glob of saliva drips from his mouth onto your tongue, much to Dabi’s delight and arousal. “Now spit it back on my cock, nasty girl.”
You do just that, spitting Katsuki’s saliva onto his dick before he shoves himself deep into your mouth, his balls hitting your chin. For a while, they take turns fucking your face and watching your cheeks fill with their cocks until they’ve had their fill and finally want a taste of you. Dabi shoves you onto your back, exposing your sodden, wet panties to them.
“Fuck, look how wet she is!” he cackles. “Just from gettin’ that pretty face fucked! What a little slut we got on our hands.” He gently brushes his finger down your slit, making you shudder. “Does that pussy need somethin’, doll?” he whispers, pressing his knuckles into your clit.
You pathetically moan, shivering in pleasure. “I…I need you,” you beg, staring into your boyfriends’ eyes. “Please, Daddies, touch me.” Your soft voice forming those dirty pleas do it for them. Katsuki dives in immediately, hiking up your dress and ripping off your panties. “W-Wait, the dress!” you protest.
He gives you the evil eye as yanks your panties down your luscious thighs and legs. “Fuck the goddamn dress,” he snarls. “If we ruin it, we’ll just wash it or buy you a new one. Now shut the fuck up and get your legs up.” Helpless to argue, you put your legs over his shoulders and all thoughts cease to exist the minute he gets his tongue inside of you.
Katsuki and Dabi take turns slurping on your cunt, each one having their own fun with you while the other sits between your thighs. Katsuki drowns in that pussy, putting his whole face in it while his hands pin your thighs apart, forcing more out of you. His tongue is magic, doing all kinds of tricks as it swirls around your clit and pussy lips, making you drip increasingly more than before.
While he does this, Dabi holds you down, watching your cute face contort in pleasure and your plump lips form Os as you moan and whine against Katsuki’s tongue. “So loud for him, little doll,” he chuckles. “You’d better be this loud for me.”
And you are. You can’t not be when Dabi gets between your legs and gets his tongue on you. Your favorite part about his pussy eating skills is his tongue piercing that feels cool and hard against your clit while he sucks on it, drinking in the way you move under Katsuki’s veiny hands as he holds you down. “Take it,” he growls. “Take his fuckin’ tongue, slut. You wanted this so bad, right?”
You whine, unable to form words, grinding your cunt shamelessly into Dabi’s skillfull mouth. When you cum, you cum hard and fast. “F-Fuck, Dabi!” you whine, your voice bouncing off of the bedroom walls. “M’cumming!” You make an absolute mess on Dabi’s tongue much to his delight who moans appreciatively into your cunt.
“No fair,” Katsuki grunts, irked at Dabi’s cocky smile his way as he continues to slurp at your creamy pussy. “You make a mess for him, but not for me?” He wraps a hand around your throat, somehow making your orgasm more intense as it rocks through your body. “That ain’t gonna fly with me, baby girl. We’ll have to fix that.”
That isn’t the only mess you make. Your boyfriends also take turns filling you up and letting you cream on their cocks. Again and again and again. And like Katsuki wants, you make a huge, sloppy, creamy mess for him. You can’t even count how many times you cum or how many positions they put you in.
They fuck you in missionary, your legs on their broad shoulders and eyes staring into theirs as they put you into the mattress again and again. Their cocks fill you up to the brim, making you see stars. They fuck you with your head hanging off the bed, their balls making your clit tingle. They fuck you on your stomach, their hands massaging your ass and causing delicious sparks of pleasure to explode in your core.
They fuck you doggystyle, hands smacking your ass, loving the recoil and the way it jiggles as they slam their cocks into your sobbing, wet pussy like they’re trying to hit a home run. Katsuki is particularly fond of this position. He grips your hips for dear life as he nails your shit with every pump of his cock, loving how pathetic and needy you sound. He especially loves fucking you in your new dress.
Dabi stands on his knees in front of you, fucking your mouth and watching you take the blonde’s cock, hypnotized by your jiggling tits and ass. It should be illegal to be this hot.
“You gonna cum for me, mama?” Katsuki grunts into your ear. “You gonna cum on this cock while I fill you up? You gonna take it like a good girl for me?”
You can’t speak through your moans, so you nod. It’s enough though and Katsuki rams into you until he lets out a loud moan worthy of audio porn and explodes inside of you. It triggers your own orgasm and you cream all over his cock, your pussy walls squeezing him tight.
“Shit, boy,” Dabi chuckles, watching you both cum at the same time. “I can’t wait to feel her pussy do that to me too.” And you do. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turns you around and fucks your wet, dripping, sore pussy into the mattress, relishing your mews and whines of protest. “D-Dabi, wait!” you sob. “Too much, Daddy! Too much!”
“Almost there, doll,” he pants, his hand on your throat. “Don’t disappoint me. C’mon, be a big girl for me and take that dick.” You have no choice in the matter anymore. You’re forced to take his cock while Katsuki spanks you, mixing pleasure with pain and making you howl. For two men who argue, they sure know how to work together in the bedroom.
But when it comes to making you beg, scream, and cry? Of course, they do.
“Oooh, I can feel that pussy gettin’ tight,” Dabi groans, putting his foot on the bed to get a better angle so he can fuck you even dumber on his cock. “You gonna cum again, slut? You wanna give me that nut?” Katsuki bends down to whisper to you, his lips at your ear. “Talk to him,” he demands. “Say something now or you ain’t cumming.”
Tears spring into your eyes and a wail of pure desperation leaves your mouth. “Yes, Daddy!” you moan. “Yes, I’m gonna cum! Please let your baby cum!” But Dabi slows down, making you cry in pure agony. “Say thank you then,” Dabi demands. “Tell us thank you for all that we did for you today. Say it, you spoiled little brat.”
You then feel Katsuki’s fingers on your clit and damn near lose it. “Thank you!” you scream. “Thank you for the dress! Thank you for the shopping! Thank you for everything! You’re both so, so good to me, Daddies! I love you both so much!”
Both men audibly groan at your hot and sweet confession and profession of love. “And we love you too, baby,” Katsuki says. “Now fucking cum. Give it to us like a good girl.” Unable to hold back anymore, your walls clench around Dabi’s cock and you cum again, your orgasm making you and writhe against him.
“Ah, shit, I’m gonna cum!” Dabi warns and grips your ass as he explodes deep inside of you, filling you up with his cum. There is so much that it drips out of you, mixing with Katsuki’s and creating a creamy ring around Dabi’s shaft when he pulls out of you. “Shit,” he laughingly pants. “Such a good girl.” He gives your ass a feeble squeeze.
But they’re not done quite yet. They turn you over and like desperate men who haven’t had sex in decades, once again lap at your cunt. They take turns doing so, busying themselves fucking your mouth. While one is between your thighs, overstimulating you, the other straddles your chest and pumps their cock in your throat like it’s a flesh light. “You don’t gotta do a thing, baby,” Katsuki says. “Just let us do everything.”
You gladly do so, too exhausted to move or complain that they’ll ruin the dress. You let them do as they please until they’ve finally had their fun and both kneel in front of you. They begin stroking and pumping their cocks in your face, your body and face the best porn they could ask for. “Look at us,” Dabi demands. “Take our cum again like the cumslut you are.”
Without a warning, both he and Katsuki cum together, their moans, grunts, and whines of pleasure echoing throughout the bedroom. Their cum, warm and sticky, spurts out of them and onto your face, tits, and unfortunately, your pretty dress. You are coated from head to toe in them and their scent. “So pretty!” Katsuki grunts. “So fuckin’ adorable! How the fuck are you this cute?”
You don’t answer, too exhausted to do so. You can only weakly mew and pant in response. Finally finished, the two quickly begin aftercare. They strip the dress off of your tired muscles, wipe the cum off of you with lavender-scented baby wipes, and rub you down with oil that smells like mangoes and pineapples.
Finally, the two get into bed and snuggle you on either side. Dabi tosses one arm around you while Katsuki snuggles your head into his chest. “Sorry about the dress,” he chuckles. “But I’m sure we can wash it out. We’ve done it to all your other pretty shit.”
“And then we’ll ruin it again,” Dabi adds, making both men cackle evilly. You softly moan into Katsuki’s chest, half in protest and half deep in sleep. Exhausted from getting your shit beat, it doesn’t take long for you to drift off…
But not until after you feel your boyfriends press two soft kisses to your lips. “Happy birthday,” they whisper to you and you sleep with a smile on your face.
THE END.
#black fanfic writer#smutty smut#bnha smut#black coded reader#black writers#katsuki bakugo x reader#dabi x black!reader#bakugou x black!reader#plus sized reader#chubby reader#poly smut#poly love#requests
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[ 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐏𝐒 . . . ] an 8teen+ writing account dedicated to a variety of different ( fictional ) characters . before proceeding , be aware that majority of the content shared will be 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 . . . minors , kindly , do not interact .
★ masterlist of all writings . . . ( under read more )
★ moderator notes . . .
this blog is moderated by blue ( her & they ) i'm twenty seven , a student , and i work part time . this blog will be semi active and may take frequent hiatuses .
REQUEST STATUS ( loading ) . . . . currently accepting !
underneath the read more are my 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐒 i am actively writing for . . . please be sure to review prior to requesting .
001. this is a casual writing account , you will see mistakes which i will gladly correct. please confront with kindness.
002. writer is above the age of twenty one and only feels comfortable interacting with readers/writers who are also over the age of twenty one. no minors , please.
003. i will not write : yandere, r_pe, noncon, dubcon, m/s dynamics, dd/lg, inc_st, p_dophilia, or any “taboo” genres. my work may contain d/s themes all of which are implied to be consensual. furthermore i will not write for minor characters or age them up for smut. go away.
004. character x y/n only. mostly woman reader but will write for nb reader if requested . . . currently not writing for man reader ( not good at it :/ )
005. do not repost, republish, or screenshot my work. you may like and reblog.
006. only request when requests are open , and for characters from the fandoms below.
MASTERLIST LAST UPDATED, NOV 18TH 2024 @ 4:07 PM PST
[ ★ 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 … RED DEAD REDEMPTION! ]
CHARACTER: ARTHUR MORGAN TYPE: MULTIPLE PARTS.
HONOR AMONG THIEVES. ( ONGOING, HIATUS ) CHAPTERS: one | two | three
CHARACTER: ARTHUR MORGAN TYPE: DRABBLES/ONE SHOTS.
DISTRACTED.
HOLDFAST.
PAY IT FORWARD.
PRETTY RIBBONS.
[ ★ 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 … SILENT HILL TWO! ]
CHARACTER: JAMES SUNDERLAND. TYPE: MULTIPLE PARTS.
LONG TO BE ( ONGOING, WIP ) CHAPTERS: one | two | epilogue
CHARACTER: JAMES SUNDERLAND. TYPE: DRABBLES/ONE SHOTS.
A GOOD SHOW.
ANTICIPATION.
BEHAVE.
IT CAN'T WAIT.
MORE THAN GOOD.
PERFECTLY IN SYNC.
SUNRISE.
TAKING CARE OF IT.
[ ★ 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 … RESIDENT EVIL! ]
CHARACTER: ALBERT WESKER. TYPE: MULTIPLE PARTS.
OFFICE DIARIES ( ONGOING, WIP ) CHAPTERS: one | two |
CHARACTER: ALBERT WESKER. TYPE: DRABBLES/ONE SHOTS.
CHECKING IN.
[ ★ 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 … METAL GEAR! ]
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#CATCZE — Writing and Edit Commissions !!
Thank you for giving me your attention! For commissions, I will be taking two kinds: writing commissions and in-game edit commissions. If you're at all interested in commissioning me for these, please proceed below ♡ If you can't commission me, then I would greatly appreciate you reblogging this post!
— Check below for availability, T&C, prices & more !!
Current status (02/02) : Taken slots
Writing Commissions: 0/3
In-game edit Commissions: Waitlist opening soon !!
Writing Commissions
To have an idea of what my usual work is like, my masterlist can be found here !
What I write :
Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Love & Deep Space
SFW & 18+ content
Reader inserts, OC fics, yume ships, character x character (selective)
Prices & Payment:
[SFW]
Minimum of 100 words — 1 USD / 50php
For every +100 words you would like to add to the minimum word count, that is 1 USD / 50php. So 1k words = 10 USD. 2k words = 20 USD.
[NSFW]
Minimum of 100 words — 1.5 USD / 75php
For every +100 words you would like to add to the minimum word count, that is 1.5$ / 75php. 1k words = 15 USD. 2k words = 30 USD.
If you would like your explicit content to come with some sfw scenes for build up, please tell me so we can negotiate! You can indicate a minimum word count for sfw scenes, as well as a minimum word count for explicit scenes so you can save some money !! After the final piece is sent, the client may request minor revisions. Major revisions, depending on how much is to be changed, may cost extra.
Methods of Payment:
Payment accepted via payp or gcash.
After showing the client the initial draft (minimal editing, mostly only there to get a grasp for the plot/feel of the piece, is usually only 1/2 or 2/3 of the total word count) for suggestions and corrections, 50% of the total price should be sent for me to continue.
Full payment is required only after I have confirmed that I have completed the commission.
Terms & Conditions:
Read my rules before you commission me. All do’s and do-not’s found in there apply here.
I will not be taking commissions from blank blogs. Ageless blogs may not commission me for explicit works.
Please have patience if you plan to commission me. Completion time varies according to details of the commission + my own personal circumstances. Expect about 2-14 days (or more).
I can send the final work to you, or post it on my tumblr. Whichever one works for you! You may repost it wherever you want (as long as it is for non-commercial use only) but you may not remove the byline ( ‘written by Catcze’ ). If you prefer that I don’t post it to my social media, please feel free to say so!
Feel free to ask for updates, but please try not to make them too frequent!
Please be open to any questions I may have! I want to make this as best as I can for you, and sometimes I may need to ask for details or clarification.
If you have any ideas, scenes, dialogue, prompts or whatever that you would like me to use as inspiration for the work, please feel free to tell me! They can be super helpful in knowing what kind of vibe you’d like ♡
If you would like to commission me, please fill out this form!
In-Game Edit Commissions
Important: See my comms carrd for more details !!
Here is an example of a full body edit (left) and a half body / profile page edit (right) !
Prices & Payment:
Full body edit — 50 USD / 2750 php base price
Half body / profile page edit — 40 USD / 2,200 php base price
Add-ons & fees: (Please see my carrd. Examples are found there + more details !)
Flat color back view: + 15 USD / 825 php base price
Custom Character design: + 75% of the base price
Complex character designs: + 5-20 USD — 275-1100 php (or more)
Extra changes fee: + 5-20 USD — 275-1100 php
I will not be taking commissions for characters with full body armor, furries, or anything out of my ability. After the final piece is sent, the client may request minor revisions. Major revisions, depending on their severity, may cost extra.
Methods of Payment:
Payment accepted via payp or gcash.
After showing the client the sketch for suggestions and corrections, at least 50% of the total price is required for me to proceed.
Full payment is required only after I have confirmed that I have completed the commission.
Terms & Conditions:
I can refuse commissions that I'm not comfortable with or not suited to do.
I will not be taking commissions from blank blogs.
Have patience if you plan to commission me. These commissions are heavy on the details, so the more detailed your character = the longer it may take. Completion time varies according to details of the commission + my own personal circumstances (being that I have a legit irl job lol) Completion could take up to 30 days after the sketch has been approved, so manage your expectations.
Final work will include a version with the background & UI details, and a transparent version with only your character. The files will be sent after it has been paid in full, via gmail or gdrive.
You may post your commission wherever you want (as long as it is for non-commercial use only). When posting the version with the full background, do not erase or crop out my watermark. If you will be using the png version (that doesn't have a watermark) remember to credit me when you use it.
Full refunds will no longer be issued after the sketch has been approved, unless I am the one cancelling the commission.
If the client does not respond within 20 days after i send an update on the commission, then I will consider the commission completed at whatever state it is at at that point of time.
By commissioning me, you agree to my TOS ♡
If you would like to commission me, please fill out this form!
Thank you again for the interest ! Even if you can't commission me, please feel free to support by reblogging this post ♡
#Writing commissions#Edit commissions#fic commissions#Genshin Impact#Genshin Impact oc#Genshin impact original character#genshin impact x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader
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