#so keep an eye out for that too if you like answering questions or talking about cosy crime shows / bbc father brown / cold opens ✨✨

[delicatebarness]

Extremely cracky but I am cackling at the thought of Thunderbolts endcredits(/Doomsday?) Bucky and pregnant reader hanging out with other heroes and the topic falls on everyone's hero suits and someone asks reader what she thinks of Bucky's new suit and she goes "Well, does this answer your question?" and points at her belly because he absolutey knocked her up when Bucky fucked her still wearing the fit.

If you want to make it smutty it can always include a flashback. 🤷‍♀️

in the suit?! | bucky barnes

Summary: ^^ Request

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI | Possible Thunderbolts* Spoilers | Smut | Detailed Open Door | Dirty Talk | Innuendos | Are we still saying John Walker as a warning? | Choking | Pregnant Reader | Mild Language | Alcohol Use | Suit Kink

Word Count: 965

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. And getting to stare at clips of Bucky in the suit as references. Thank you. Ps-Gif has nothing to do with the one shot, but fuck.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

Present:

Your post-mission debrief had somehow turned into a party—beers around a bonfire, with s’mores. Yes, someone had brought s’mores. It was Bob. You half suspected that he’d googled ‘what do friends do for fun?’ on the way back to the tower.

You were sitting on a lawn chair, mocktail one hand, the other absently rested on your stomach—the baby bump very much obvious at this point. Behind you, Bucky stood with one hand on your shoulder and his vibranium hand wrapped around a beer while he looked like he wanted to re-enter the void any time anyone got too loud.

And naturally, Yelena got loud.

“Okay, here’s the real question,” she called out, waving her beer bottle around the team like a sword. “Which one of the ‘new’ Avengers has the best suit?” 

“That’s so subjective.” Ava groaned.

“Exactly my point,” Yelena replied. “Subjectively, it’s me.”

Puffing out his chest, Alexei snapped. “I will ignore this insult and remind you of this iconic design!” 

“You literally squeak when you move,” Walker said. 

“You squeak emotionally.” Ava scoffed, taking a swig of her own beer bottle.

Walker pointed toward Bob. “What about him? Dude’s got like, three different fits.”

Bob smiled politely, yet his hand visibly trembled. “Thanks… I’m molecularly unstable.” 

Then suddenly, all eyes turned to Bucky.

Including yours. 

How could they not? The matte black suit. The red star. The arms. 

After a beat of silence, someone—you think it was Ava—looked at you and said: “What do you think of Barnes’ new suit?” 

Bucky froze. His hand tightened against your shoulder. Slowly you lowered your mocktail, raising your brows toward Ava.

“Well, Miss Starr,” you gave your swollen stomach a gentle double tap. “Does this answer your question?” 

In surprise, Yelena dropped her beer into the grass. Alexei smiled, until the realisation flashed over his eyes and he clutched his chest like he’d been shot. Bob blinked rapidly in your direction, as though he was running a diagnostics. Walker let out a bark-laugh, quickly turning it into a full wheeze. 

“No. Nooo,” He shook his head, the laughter still ringing through your ears. “Are you saying—Wait—in the suit?!” 

You smirked, and shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Didn’t even take the glove off.” 

Bucky’s eyes widened. 

Three Months Ago:

The safe house door slammed behind you. You barely crossed the entryway before Bucky had you pressed against the wall. His breath was hot, his body humming with some leftover tension from the mission.

He was still in his New Avengers suit—matte black kevlar clinging to his body like a sin, his dog tags swung with every move, and his arm plates clicked together.

You barely had time to catch a breath before his mouth crashed into yours. 

“Are you going to keep the suit on?” you murmured between kisses, fingers tracing the lining of the red star embroidered into his right arm. 

His teeth pulled at your bottom lip. “Are you complaining?” 

You weren’t.

Instead, you desperately tugged on his belt.

He growled.

And before you knew it, your legs were around his waist, his arm braced under your thighs. His vibranium hand reached up to cup your cheek, trailing his lips over your jaw with a ragged breath.

“You’ve been staring at me in this thing all damn day,” he hissed against the shell of your ear. “Did you think I didn’t notice, babygirl?” 

“Maybe–Maybe I wanted you to.”

In response, he ground his hips against you—still dressed, but the feel of him had you clenching around nothing. Bucky didn’t rush. He never did. He made you feel it. He made you feel him. And every ridge of his suit, the inches of him still layered between you.

Finally, he freed himself, and you let out a sharp gasp at your underwear being shoved aside. “Don’t hold back, sergeant.” you breathed, fingers entwining in his hair, pulling the strands. 

And he didn’t.

With one hard thrust, he was buried to the hilt—dragging out a broken moan from the back of your throat. He was rough, relentless. His hips snapped into you, driving you like he was proving a point.

He let your name fall from his lips. 

The suit creaked with every movement, and his gloved right hand tightened around your thigh. His grip was bruising. His left hand found your throat—firm, grounding. Just enough to make your vision blur—not enough to lose control.

“You take me so good, baby,” he panted. “Fuck—you’re so tight, can feel you everywhere.”

Unable to form words, you gasped. High-pitched, wrecked whines of: ‘Harder—’. Pushing your chest out, you felt his dog tags swing between your breasts with every thrust.

Bucky’s fingers found your clit—still gloved, the textured leather moved over your skin toward the sensitive nub—rubbing tight, delicious circles. 

You screamed his name.

Your body shuddered against him, vision turning white at the edges as your orgasm washed over you. Bucky’s hips stuttered, groaning deep from his chest as he spilled into you. His forehead pressed to yours. 

He didn’t let you go.

Breathing hard, you clung to him.

Present:

“So, just to confirm,” Walker continued to laugh. “Bucky Barnes, the Winter freaking Soldier, turned into a thirst trap and you said ‘yes’ without any hesitation?”

“I said ‘harder’, actually,” you corrected, taking your mocktail straw between your lips.

Bucky muttered under his breath, looking up to the sky, up to the stars. “You tried to, at least.” 

Yelena collapsed into Ava’s shoulder. “I never want to see that suit again.” 

“I’ll be seeing it again, tonight,” you said sweetly, standing up to make your way toward the bathroom. Patting Bucky’s chest as you pass. “Pizza first, though. I’ll need the carbs.” 

Bob blinked. “Should–Should I get more s’mores?”

“Yes, Bob,” the New Avengers said in unison.

___

[ohtobeleah]

Chameleon // Jack Abbot

Summary: When Jack Abbot sees the love of his life has changed her hair colour…it doesn’t go as well as he, or the rest of the ER, would have hoped.

Warnings: Separated Reader x Jack Abbot. Jack Abbot x F!reader. OBGYN Reader. Marriage problems. Mental health issues. Mentioning of divorce. Age gap relationship. Younger female x older male.

Word Count: 2k

Author Note: I’ve used this scene before in a series. But for this one-shot, it was perfect inspiration. I had to revamp and create this little one-shot for my Friday afternoon serotonin boost.

“You know, soon enough you’ll have to sit down and have a genuine discussion about the state of your marriage, brother,” Robby walked with Jack down the bustling ED corridor. The two were getting ready for handover, as they did every morning and night, like yin and yang. “Personally, I think the two of you can work through whatever this is, together. I don’t think a divorce is necessary.” 

There it was…that goddamn word that carried the weight of the world. ‘Divorce’, Jack Abbot hated that word. He always had. But he’d never hated it more than when it became relevant to his own marriage. 

“Besides, I hardly recognise you, all you do is work and go home and listen to that scanner. Then, come back as soon as the sun goes down.” Robby wasn't wrong. He wasn't wrong in the slightest bit. But Jack still didn't appreciate it. 

“Who said anything about a divorce?” Jack growled as he caught the back of someone by the nurse’s station he couldn’t recognise. “Look, it’s complicated,” Jack paused his steps. Robby mimicked his friend's stance as the two continued to talk, all the while Jack never let the blonde in pink scrubs out of his sight. “I love Y/n, and I know she still loves me, because if she didn’t, we wouldn’t be in this mess trying to fix what I broke.” 

It’s an inevitable part of depression. The part where you tend to push people away. The part where self-isolation becomes a form of therapy. Jack knew the solace of being alone far too well. He knew it so well that he forgot that he was married…

And that broke your heart. Enough that the love you had for Jack couldn’t outweigh the pain of his behaviour and lack of affection. Attention. Understanding and empathy. He forgot you even existed. So…You left him. But not before you gave him everything you could. And not without explaining in great detail, why you were leaving. 

Jack needed time and space to better himself. You wanted him to come back to you when he was ready to love you the way you deserved to be loved. You wanted him to realise what he’d done to drive you away. PTSD, untreated depression. It all became too much. 

“You need help, Jack!” He can still hear your words echoing in his mind. “You save people all day and yet you can’t seem to understand that you’re slowly killing yourself with this fucking bullshit!” He knew you were right, you had been from the start. But at the time? Jack wasn't ready to listen. So he watched you walk out of his life instead. “I can’t keep waiting for you to jump off a building because you don't give a shit who you hurt as long as your pain ends, I can't watch you die because you won't let me help you.” 

It's a haunting reminder of his biggest mistake. Letting you go. But a reminder Jack won't ever forget. 

“Who’s the blonde from OB?” Jack followed up his statement with a question that hung heavy in the air. “There’s no blondes in OB? Did we get a new resident?” 

Robby doesn’t answer right away. He simply studies the way Jack's eyes examine every inch of the woman standing over by the nurse’s station. He has to know, right? It’s the woman Robby had only just seen in the elevator ten minutes ago. The woman who had just been sobbing on his shoulder about how much guilt she felt for separating from Jack. 

He needed it, though. Even Robby agreed that Jack had been teetering on the edge of a full-blown psychotic episode. Your separation was the best thing for him. He needed to realise that he was going to lose the one thing that mattered most if he didn’t get a grip on reality. 

“Uhh—“ Robby knew it was you, the blonde that was. You’d told him about your crash-out. The one that ended with a bottle of hair bleach and some not-so-professional measurements. You’d explained how you’d been missing Jack like crazy, but maybe it was time to think about divorce. You weren’t sure if he was ready to change. To help himself get back to a point where he could love you just as much as you loved him. It killed you every day that passed, but you knew if you went back now, Jack would only revert to his old ways. 

And he’d slowly, but surely, been making progress. Robby had mentioned to you that Jack had been seeing a therapist. He wasn’t sure for how long, but he had mentioned it. That gave you a little hope, and eventually stopped the tears from flowing before you had to get out of the elevator. 

“I’m not sure, but let’s—“ Before Robby could think of any excuse to remove himself, and Jack from your trajectory…the normally brooding attending was excusing himself with a smirk only reserved for mischief. 

“Excuse me.” Jack looked at his best friend with the intent to cause trouble before he walked off in the direction where you stood. Not knowing it was you. 

“Oh, well, now I recognise you,” Robby chuckled as he watched Jack saunter off. “This isn’t going to end well—” He groaned through mumbles as he looked anywhere but at the car crash about to happen right in front of him. His hands were tucked deep into his pockets with fear. 

“Hey—!” Jack started as he approached the nurse’s station. “Are you down here for a consultation? I’m not sure if we’ve met. I’m-“ It was worse than a car crash… it was like a double homicide. But not a soul could take their eyes off the scene before them. 

Emergency Room attending physician. Dr. Jack Abbot verves obstetrician and gynecologist Dr. Y/n Abbot. Separated spouses, who can barely work in the same hospital right now, let alone have a conversation face-to-face. 

As you turned around, Jack swore his heart fell out of his stomach. His heart raced inside his chest. You were stunning. He’d never seen you like this before. In all your years, you’d never been blonde. It looked…you looked beautiful. 

“Ahh!” Jack stepped back a little, fear was evident in the lines on his face. Holy shit, what was he supposed to do now? “What did you do to your hair?” Nope…That wasn’t what he should have said. But it was a question with many layers. 

Much like Jack Abbot himself. 

“I—I-I changed it.” You stumbled over your words as your husband, uh, ex? Husband? Separated spouse? asked with a tone you couldn’t tell was good or bad. Self-doubt immediately bubbled to the surface. “I uh, I coloured it.” You reach up and ran your hand through your blonde hair, not usually the standard issue colour. “I just—“ Then, as you stopped your mind from running off with the idea of shaving your head entirely, you caught onto what was happening... 

“Wait, you thought I was someone else?” Your heart sank. Jack didn’t even know it was you, yet here he was.

Jack immediately turned to look back at where he’d left Robby. Much to Jack's dismay…Robby had vanished into thin air. Shit. This wasn’t going to end well. He’d really put his foot in it this time. 

“You didn’t know it was me? And you were hitting on me!?” There was a tone in your voice that had everyone around you on edge. It made the blood in Jack’s head rush south…he liked you a lot when you were being mean to him. 

Langdon, who was only just getting situated with his patient pool for the morning, looked over at Jack with wide eyes and a shocked expression plastered across his smug face. He was so thankful it wasn’t him in Jack’s shoes right now. 

“No! No—“ Jack tried to explain himself. “No, I just thought you were, you know, some blonde.” But he had nothing to explain as he lowered his head and pressed his lips together. 

God help him. 

“Jesus, Abbot—“ You sighed. It was hard enough to love him enough as it was. Now, the idea of him running rampant around the Emergency Department, flirting with anything that moved, was going to ruin the small ounce of strength you had left. “You’re pathetic, and hypocritical—and slutty!” You whispered, shouted through gritted teeth. 

“And you are no blonde!” Jack retaliated, sending the Emergency Department into a buzzing gossip column. It was rare to ever see the two of you together anymore, let alone arguing like a married couple. 

“What did you just say to me?” It was a loaded question, like you were just daring Jack to continue. You stepped closer to where he stood, matching his intense gaze like you knew the way passed and into his heart. He fucking loved you. Being this close made his heart yearn for you. He just wanted you to be his again. 

You can’t pull that off, sweetheart.” The term of endearment slipped off his tongue like it was something Jack said every day. It was…But he wasn’t supposed to be calling you that anymore. Much like he wasn't supposed to be wearing his wedding band. 

It made your heart race. He still noticed you. He still wanted you and only you. He still cared. But not enough for you to trust he had your best interests at heart. 

“Blondes are either badass, or fun, and you’re—“ Jack paused, he was trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t inadvertently hurt your feelings. He was flirting, after all. “You’re a brunette.” 

“Fuck you, old grumpy bastard!” That was all you said as you collected your things and turned away with quick haste. You needed to leave. You were needed for a consultation, and that's what you were here to do. You weren't here to argue with your ex. 

“Damn—“ You heard it as you walked by. Langdon was looking at you like he’d just witnessed a public execution. “If you want my opinion, I think the blonde looks rad.” He smiled. 

“Oh, shut up!” You hissed with enough conviction that it had him thinking you might actually be venomous. 

“That didn’t end well, did it, Romeo?” Robby reappeared as Jack stood idly, watching you walk away. His heart ached, like he had a school-yard crush on the popular girl at school. 

“When did she dye her hair?” He asked softly, kicking himself for not noticing sooner. 

“Two weeks ago,” Robby replied. He knew Jack would take that as an answer he was hoping not to get. An answer to the question he secretly asked. The question was about your hair, but in reality, Jack had asked how long it had been before he noticed you. 

And the fact you’d been walking around like a totally smoke show for two weeks and Jack hadn’t noticed…made his stomach churn with guilt. 

“She’s too good for me,” Jack sighed. He knew he screwed it up. He knew he stuffed up your marriage. He just wanted to get back to you. “But holy shit, she looks good.”

“I think that’s what she was going for,” Robby smiled as he tapped his friend on the shoulder twice. “C’mon, we got hand over to get through Mr. Casanova.” Teasing, Robby coaxed Jack to follow him. 

Meanwhile, you watched on from where you’d run off to, secretly pining for your husband to flirt like that with you again any time. He was coming back to you. 

Slowly. But surely. Jack Abbot was coming back to life.

[willyoubemycherryy]

The fix it au!

Summary: Everyone survives UNTURNED besides Mary because this is for the _, strictly for the _. Takes place in the juke joint tho and Bo is still my man- argue with the wall.

Contains: Arguing, cursing, dancing, background stuff, everyone has a southern accent, gambling mentions, some fighting, but still cute sweet and nice, some anxiety and tension, the twins talk it out, flirting, Smoke x Annie, established relationships, one innuendo, this is for the _, strictly for the _

“Will you shut the fuck up?? Damn!”

“Boy, who the hell-!”

It was hot, drunkheads abound, and worse- there was still 2 hours to go until sunrise and you were tired, sighing from where you were sat on Bo’s lap, watching him deal cards with nimble hands.

“How don’t you know the steps? You black ain’t you??”

“Man, watch out!”

It’d been a long night for everyone.

It didn’t take long to figure out what the pale trio from earlier was really after, especially after Mary got back in and tried to off Stack. Annie was the first to ask the important questions while Smoke checked him over.

“She tried to bite me-“, and from that plus them asking earlier if they could be invited in, the answer came. Vampires.

The first order of business was to keep everyone inside. There was the usual fair share of complaining but no real protests once the situation was made clear: this was real and happening- leaving meant death. Period. Everyone had lives and families to get back to; even the ones that didn’t still had things they wanted to do so living was essential. Next, every window and door was locked shut.

“Well what if I gotta piss?” Cornbread whined out. A couple people shouted in agreement with him but Smoke wasn’t playing.

“Then yo ass can piss right from behind that door.” And the sound of his gun cocking made that end of discussion. Lastly, everyone had to take at least one bite of garlic to make sure no one got bit in all the fuss of the initial panic. Pearline complained, Sammie got knocked in the mouth, Stack almost caught it too because Smoke ain’t have to hit the boy like that and Delta Slim almost died since raw garlic and liquor don’t mix. Shaking your head, his old ass know damn well.

Y’all did what you could to help Stack grieve losing Mary- now you’re not saying she deserved it but god’s timing is always right. Slowly but surely, once the tension of the situation set in a bit, everyone got more comfortable. It’s just staying until the sun comes up. Delta got back on the keys, filling the room with a lazy but heavy tune, drinks got to being served again but since Sammy was temporarily banned from singing for the night, he and Pearline took to the floor with the other couples. Meanwhile the rest were either playing cards, dice, drinking or arguing.

“Mmhm! That’s why he ain’t here tonight!”

“Ya bullshittin’!”

“I ain’t! Ask anyone! Smoke shot em clear in the ass! Got the limp and erry’ thang!” The man vividly recounts what he saw earlier that day to the other slack jawed men at the table when Smoke came to get some stuff for the juke in order. It shouldn’t have been funny but you giggle anyways, leaning in to whisper in Bo’s ear over the music.

“S’that true?” He nods, grinning. You shake your head lightly at that as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“How you feelin’, baby?” You hum, laying your head on his shoulder as you answer back.

“Sleepy. I wanna go home. Want you back to myself..”.

Bo’s eyes widen. Out of all the things, you just wanting to go home so y’all could be alone was what was bothering you? A fond smile dimples his cheeks as he presses another kiss to the top of your head, holding you closer to him. Voice dipping low as he gets close to your ear,

“I want you all to myself too…in bed…where I could-”, by the end, you���re flushing.

Meanwhile Smoke and Stack are off arguing in the corner office.

“See? I told you to let me handle it!” Smoke yells in his brothers face, breathing heavily in anger.

“She wasn’t yo’ business to handle-“,

“Which is exactly why I should’ve! You ain’t never been able to watch yo own back and damnnit I told you it’ll catch up and look what!”

Stack didn’t have anything to say to that because it was true. Smoke was always warning him about chasing waterfalls and when to built dams.

“You could’ve died! I woulda lost you! N’ over what? A woman you ain’t got no business bein’ wit anyways?? And I’m is ‘posed to be calm bout that?!” Unshed tears make his eyes shine as he yells and yells, until Stack understands. Cutting him off as he pulls him into a hug, clapping a hand firmly on his back. He gets it. Smoke was scared. Terrified even- of losing someone else.

Whenever he pictured any aspect of his life- past, present, or future; it always involved his brother. Like a habit. When Stack looked in the mirror, he saw Smoke. When Smoke looked in the mirror, he saw Stack. Two halves of the same whole. For a brief moment, he tries to picture how Smoke would live- truly live- without him and finds himself holding back tears at the grim image.

“I’m sorry I ain’t listen to you.”

Smoke is quiet but brings his hand over his back, patting gently.

“Should be. Don’t do no shit like that again.”

Huffing out a laugh, Stack agrees as they separate. Smoke looks up, narrowing his eyes when he sees Cornbread gambling at one of the tables, drink in hand and yells,

“Fool! Didn’t I tell yo big ass to stay by the door!”

Cornbread rolls again and the table bursts into cheers as he laughs before answering,

“Yea- but the lovebirds got that covered so I figured I take some time off.” Smoke looks around confused. Lovebirds? He looks around the floor, first spotting his cousin with his arms around Pearline then his glare softens as it lands on Annie, beautifully lit where she stood behind the bar. Soft voice and full curves have him gravitating towards her when Stack smacks him on his arm- barking out a laugh as he jerks his chin toward the closed door, smiling.

“I think thems the lovebirds in question.”

There, Bo sits with you in his lap. Thighs around his waist, foreheads pressed together, hands on shoulders as you smile, laugh and whisper about whatever. Sharing a drink and Smoke rolls his eyes as Stack coos.

“Aww~ Ain’t that just sweet?” Smoke is unamused.

“If they call that watchin’ the door then just call me boo boo the fool wit’ a side of ice because-“, Stack laughs again, hitting him on the arm as he hands him a cigarette.

“Ah ah, don’t be like that. Lighten up. S’ a hell of a night for everyone. ‘Nd before it’s over, you needa ease on a lil’”, Stack tilts his head as he rolls his shoulders. Coaxing Smoke to do the same as he takes a deep breath, shoulders dropping and Stack continues,

“And what better way to wind down than dancin’ with yo lady”, jerking his head towards Annie and Smoke follows with his eyes. Zoning out as he takes her in before he remembers-

“Then who gon’ handle the drinks?” Stack sucks his teeth, pushing him toward the bar until he’s face to face with the pain in his heart and balm of his soul and Stack shoots her off too.

“I got it covered. Y’all gon on.”

Annie shares an amused look between the two before offering Smoke her hand and he doesn’t hesitate to take it, leading her to the floor. Delta whistles, laughing as he plays up a tune that spells trouble.

It’s been one hell of a night for sure. But since the club survived this..

It’ll survive anything.

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Asking them if they'd let you get them pregnant

Cw: pregnancy talk, death mention(its blade come on), a little suggestive

Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five

A/N: this isn't omegaverse in the slightest it's just pure crack. I live to make them suffer :3c

-------

Neuvillette is so confused when he hears the question it makes him pause in his work. Get him pregnant? He sits there quietly trying to process everything before turning towards you his brows furrowed. Was this your way of asking to have a child together? All he knows is that based on both of your anatomy he wouldn't exactly be able to get pregnant and tells you as much.

But you ask him if your bodies could would he carry your children and he finds himself lost in thought again. It takes a few minutes before you begin to see his ears and cheeks begin to turn pink. He clears his throat turning back to his work nodding once shyly. You nod at his answer before leaving him with the cryptic words "it shall be done"...what?

Wriothesley is used to your crazy questions at this point but this one really takes the cake. He nearly spits out his tea all over his desk choking a bit and coughing at the question. His voice is hoarse as he asks why you would want to get him pregnant but you don't elaborate just asking him that if you could get him pregnant would he let you.

He stares at you with concern over your mischievous grin before giving you an uneasy and questioning "No?". He runs a hand down his face asking if this was your way of letting him know you want kids together. While he certainly wouldn't mind having some with you he'd definitely prefer if you adopted rather than whatever it is you have in mind. You simply tell him it's too late before walking down the stairs leaving him to his work as he sits there losing his mind. "Too late"?! What do you mean by "too late"?!

Wanderer looks at you in a mixture of disgust and disappointment wondering if you had hit your head on the way back from the market. He openly asks which is emptier your brain or your wallet. You brush him off handing him some of the groceries to put away clearly focused on getting his answer.

He waves a hand in the air deciding to humor your stupidity. "Sure." He rolls his eyes waving a hand in your direction. "If you can manage to find the technology good luck." He sighs. As if you could ever- "I already have it." Huh?

"Wait." He laughs in disbelief, you must be pulling his leg. "I was just joking." "I'm not." And with that you walk off to the bathroom to put away the rest of the supplies you purchased. The bag of grain slips from his hands and thumps to the floor at his feet. Huh???

Albedo just responds without looking up from his research bench that that's impossible for the both of you at the moment based on both of your anatomy. Now it's your turn to be confused just what did he mean by "at the moment"?

"It's just as I said: at the moment. I currently do not have access to some of the materials needed to make that possible so you will have to wait until I do." And he just keeps on working as if he didn't drop the biggest bomb on you ever. You were only messing with him but as you sit there thinking about it that honestly sounds really nice.

So you ask him if he'd be alright with being pregnant as he still has plenty of research to do. He answers that he might not be able to conduct experiments on Dragonspine for some time but he can always do his research at the headquarters or at home if need be.

"Although..."he pauses thinking about this a little more. He would have to limit ingesting any potions he makes and the like in order to not hurt the baby. "Hmm..." he stands up taking a large book filled to the brim with various experiments he has done and wants to do and flips through it. "This is needs a bit more thought than I imagined. I'll have to go through my notes and plan out what I can and cannot do if I were pregnant. So give me some time." You don't have it in you to tell him you were only joking.

Jing Yuan takes the question in stride believing this to be one of your typical silly questions to keep yourself entertained. He moves his star chess pieces lazily around the board as you play together. He confidently says that should you be able to beat him in the next three games he'll gladly carry all of your future children.

Now he says this just to motivate you to play a little differently perhaps so he can have a few easy wins but he's pleasantly surprised when he actually loses the next three games. He laughs at how determined you were to beat him and jokes that you must really want him to bear your children even though you both know he can't get pregnant.

"Yes you can." "Excuse me?" He blinks a little stunned by your confidence but he quickly recovers and laughs thinking you're joking. It isn't until you lift a pair of fruits he knows from a foreign planet that can alter ones anatomy he begins to click the dots together. "OH! So you were serious. Well then..."

He takes one of the fruits for himself examining the odd fruit and its pleasant mouthwatering scent. He teasingly takes a bite of the sweet fruit licking the spilled juices off his lips and chin and wrist keeping eye contact with you.

"I hope you'll take good care of your darling general."

Blade simply grunts out a "No." and begins walking away as soon as he hears the words from your lips. He's done with you for today. Of all the foolish questions to ask him. But you follow after him determined as ever to have him answer any and all of your inane questions.

He's made at least two rounds around the Stellaron Hunter base before stopping in one of the common areas that's fortunately void of anyone but you two. He finally acknowledges you as you look at him with the biggest wettest puppy eyes you can. Why is he here? Just to suffer? He pinches the bridge of his nose feeling a headache coming in that he wishes was from the Mara honestly.

He knows you won't leave him alone until you get an answer so he groans that unless it's written on Elio's script that it ain't happening. So imagine his shock when you confidently say that it is on the script pulling up your phone to show him.

Even more so when his own phone he barely uses vibrates and he opens it up to show his own piece of the script that does in fact say that you get him pregnant. He's stiff as he walks off with you following behind humming a simple happy nursery tune. Death could not come soon enough...but at least it's you.

[andforyouevan]

Post 8x17: Until Next Time

I could not resist when we saw the 217 was at the emergency, so here's a little ficlet. Hope you guys like it.

spoilers for 8x17: Don't Drink the Water

bucktommy - words: 800 ish - rating: gen - complete

Everything is all said and done, the fire is out, and they can breathe again when he remembers what Pepa said about things changing, about accepting it, and going after what he wants could be just what he needs right now. When he’d heard the 217 was coming, when he’d heard Tommy’s voice over the radio, he’d felt like his heart was in his throat the entire time, knowing he was out there, knowing that all he’d have to do is open his mouth and he could get what he wants.

What he’s wanted for months.

He finds him rolling up the hose at the 217 engine, turnouts undone, hair sweaty from the helmet and sticking to his head.

“Um,” he says, then clears his throat, dry from both the emergency they just thwarted and from nerves. “Uh, ground crew, huh?”

Tommy turns and Buck sees the soot on his face and thinks about how much he wants to wipe it off, take care of Tommy again, like he used to after long shifts when Tommy had wanted to get to him so badly, he'd only take the most cursory shower at the station to get the worst of the grime off. Buck feels a pang in his chest at the memory. He wants that back so much.

There’s something else behind the soot, though, and Buck doesn’t miss it, because Tommy doesn’t hide it. His face lights up when he sees Buck.

“Evan,” he says, sounding happy and Buck feels just a little lighter. Tommy motions to the truck behind him. “Um, yeah. They called for all hands and I heard the 118 was here so…”

Buck lets out a slow breath. “You came.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says softly. “I came. I wasn’t sure if I should come talk to you though, so I’m glad you came over. How...how are you? We haven’t talked since you asked me to be a pallbearer.”

“I know,” Buck says. “Thank you, again, for doing that. I just...I’m...I’m not really okay. With Bobby being gone.”

“I know you aren’t,” Tommy answers and he sounds so damn tender. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I just haven’t been able to keep up with...well, anything really,” Buck continues. “But I just know you’re here and…”

“...have dinner with me,” Tommy blurts out then he looks sheepish like he hadn’t meant that to come out. “I...sorry. I just I miss y-”

“Yes,” Buck interrupts, before he can stop himself. He’s never seen Tommy like this before, a sort of nervousness that Tommy never let him see and he wants to hug him about it, reassure Tommy that, yes, of course he’s wanted. “Yes. Please. I would really like that.”

Tommy smiles, clearly relieved. “Yeah? I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Buck says. He turns and looks around, knows he has to get back help with the clean up, but he can’t resist. “Can, um, can I have a kiss? I could really use one from you right now.”

Tommy laughs a little, but it doesn’t make Buck feel like he’s being laughed at, it never does. No, it’s sweet and fond, like Buck’s beat him to the question. He doesn’t answer with words, instead he takes two steps forward and wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, pulling him in. Buck doesn’t hesitate, wraps his arms around Tommy’s neck, holding him tightly as Tommy presses his lips to Buck’s. The kiss is smokey and a little bitter but he’s the best thing Buck’s tasted in months.

They don’t let it go too long, they’ve been standing for longer than they should have already. If Gerrard sees them, there will be hell to pay, but Tommy leans his forehead against Buck’s, breathes slowly and deeply, eyes closed like he’s still savoring the contact. And maybe he is. Buck knows he’ll be savoring this for the rest of the night, long after they’re gone.

“I’ll text you,” Tommy says softly.

“Buckley! Where are you!” Gerrard’s voice rings out.

“Damn,” Buck breathes. He presses one last kiss to Tommy’s mouth before letting him go. “I gotta get back. But yes, please. If you don’t, I will.”

There’s that soft smile curling up the corners of Tommy’s mouth again. “I promise. Go.”

Buck nods and gets back to work, but he was right he does savor it.

When they’re on the way back to the station, Buck’s still thinking about it and there’s a measure of peace he’s reached that he hasn’t felt in a while. He listens placidly as Hen and Chim chat about Jee’s views on her new brother, but startles a little when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He pulls it out and bites his lip to hold back the grin when he sees the text from Tommy.

Tommy: Hi, Evan. What are you doing Saturday?

[alive-gh0st]

❝Always You❞

Mark Grayson x Childhood Friend!Reader ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

❀ summary: you showed up uninvited, made his dad question all his life (and facial hair) choices, and never left. now you’re older, hotter, still annoying—and mark? very much in love. congrats.

❀ contains: sfw. childhood friends to lovers. slow-burn vibes. emotionally repressed!reader. soft!mark. reader has a difficult home life. light trauma but make it casual. fluff, banter and comedic tension. mark grayson being stupid-in-love.

❀ wc: 1897

a/n: first time posting just to feed y’all some mark grayson fluff.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You don’t remember exactly how you ended up in the Graysons’ house that first day.

You’d only just moved in next door, and your mom was already yelling about boxes. The man she was with—this week’s guy—smelled like beer, sweat, and no patience.

So you left.

Well… not really, but something along those lines.

You wandered down the sidewalk barefoot, dragging your backpack behind you, until you spotted a house that looked safe. Lived-in. Rich. You rang the doorbell like it owed you something.

Debbie Grayson opened the door, took one look at your face, and smiled. “Hi there, sweetheart. You okay?”

You didn’t answer. Just walked right past her like you belonged there.

Mark was on the floor with a comic book. He looked up, mouth half-open.

You pointed at his dad. “Is that mustache glued on, or is it a punishment?”

Nolan nearly dropped his coffee. Debbie choked on a laugh. Mark blinked, unsure whether to be offended or amazed.

You were five.

By the end of the day, you were sitting cross-legged on their carpet, eating cookies like you’d always been there. You told Nolan he “sounded like a guy on TV,” which earned another chuckle from Debbie and a long sigh from the man.

By the end of the week, you were staying over so often Debbie started keeping a toothbrush for you.

By the end of the month, you were helping Mark build Lego towers in his room—then immediately yelling at Nolan for knocking them over “on purpose.”

(He did. He 100% did. Nolan Grayson, Earth’s strongest man, had personal beef with a five-year-old and no shame about it.)

And before long, Mark couldn’t remember a life where you weren’t in it.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Being around you was chaos wrapped in kindness.

You’d stick your tongue out at Mark and Nolan the second Debbie turned her back, then curl into her side during movie nights like you were her own kid.

You terrified Nolan with the things you said—adult questions in a child’s voice, bold and unfiltered. Like asking, “If you flew into space too fast, would your brain explode?” Or, more memorably: “Do aliens poop?”

“Enough,” Nolan muttered one night after your fifth question. “You’re worse than a Pentagon interrogation.”

“But I’m cuter,” you argued, and Debbie nodded like that settled the matter.

You were nine when you figured out Omni-Man’s identity.

You’d been watching the news over cereal, Mark beside you, both in matching Grayson hand-me-downs.

With squinted eyes at the screen, you groaned in disbelief. “Seriously? That’s your dad’s disguise? I can recognize that ugly mustache from space.”

Mark froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Wait, what?”

“Dude, it’s so obvious.”

You didn’t even flinch when Nolan walked in seconds later, fully suited up but holding his slippers like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Morning,” you said sweetly. “Nice cape.”

Nolan grunted and turned on the coffee maker without comment.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Debbie adored you. Nolan, surprisingly, respected you—maybe because you always challenged him without fear. And Mark? Mark had someone who understood him without even trying.

Your home life, though, was never something you talked about.

It wasn’t bad, not technically, but it didn’t feel like a home. The yelling never stopped. The guys came and went. You learned early not to ask questions, and that silence was safer.

So you stopped asking.

But one night—when you were eleven—you showed up at Mark’s window with bruises on your arms and dirt on your knees. You didn’t say anything. Just climbed inside and curled up next to him on the bed.

He didn’t say anything either.

He just pulled the blanket over you and let you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

After that, the Graysons stopped asking if you were coming over. It was just assumed.

That’s how it always was.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

By middle school, the two of you were inseparable. You walked to class together, bickered over who got to name the group projects, and ganged up on anyone who tried to mess with either of you.

One day, in the cafeteria, some eighth grader bumped into you hard enough to knock your tray.

“Watch it,” he sneered, clearly expecting you to back off.

You looked him dead in the eyes while tilting your head innocently. “Try that again and I’ll make sure you’re crapping Jell-O for a week.”

The kid blinked.

Mark stepped in beside you. “She means that in a… non-lethal way.”

“Do I?” you asked.

Mark turned to you, deadpan. “Can you not threaten to rearrange someone’s insides with pudding in front of the lunch monitors?”

You gave him a shrug. “No promises.”

People thought you’d grow apart in high school. That Mark would change. That you would change.

But you never gave him the chance to drift. You clung—stubbornly, fiercely—like you knew if you let go, something in you would unravel. And Mark never wanted to be anywhere else anyway.

High school didn’t change you much. If anything, you just got bolder.

Mark got taller. You got sharper. People asked if you were dating. You both said no.

But neither of you looked too convinced when you did.

You still wore his hoodies. He still shared his fries with you without asking. You stole his blankets. He carried an extra charger in his bag just in case you forgot yours.

He never forgot your birthday. You never missed a single one of his baseball games.

It wasn’t just friendship. Not really.

Not with the way you rolled your eyes at affection from anyone else but melted instantly when Mark laid his head on your shoulder.

Not when you’d fight with him one minute and be curled up against him the next, hoodie sleeves too long, fingers grazing his under the blanket.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Mark watched you far more than he should’ve.

He noticed the way your laugh cracked just a little when you were too tired.

The way you hugged too hard, like you were making sure someone stayed.

The way you’d stand between him and anyone who dared to mouth off—like you were the one with superpowers.

He didn’t need to know the exact moment he fell in love with you. For him—it was always there, he just hadn’t been smart enough to understand.

Maybe it was that one day when you were watching cartoons on the floor, and Mark was pretending not to stare at you. You turned to him, grinning, and said something dumb like, “You’d probably get beat up in a real fight.”

But your eyes were soft.

He smiled back, and thought, God, it’s always been you.

But he never told you. Not really.

Because every time he almost did, you’d turn away. Or laugh. Or call him something close enough to a slur and throw popcorn at his face.

Maybe that was your armor. Or maybe it was his fear.

Either way, the words never made it out.

So he held onto them in silence. Carried them like bruises from a fight—but these ones never quite healed. Let them bleed out slowly over the years—through lingering glances, soft touches, unspoken understanding.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You were sixteen when he nearly told you.

It was late. You’d been watching horror movies with you curled up against him, almost half-asleep.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Mm?”

“You know I—I really—uh, care about you, right?”

You cracked one eye open. “Mark, if this is your weird way of trying to tell me you love me, just do it.”

His breath hitched.

You snorted. “Relax. You’re too chicken to actually say it.”

“Am not.”

„Then say it.”

He paused.

You reached over, poked his cheek, and mumbled, “Didn’t think so.”

And then you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder, blissfully unaware of how badly his heart was racing.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Even now, sitting in his room, you’re stretched across his bed with a random comic forgotten beside you, legs tangled in his blanket like you own the place.

(Because you kind of do—not that he’d give you the satisfaction of knowing that.)

Mark watches you from his desk chair, “Seance Dog” comic in hand, but he’s not reading a word.

“You’re staring again,” you mutter from his bed, cheek half-squished against his pillow, voice muffled and judgmental.

“I am not,” Mark lies—incredibly unconvincingly.

You glance over with one brow raised. “You always stare when you’re thinking something gross.”

“It’s not gross!”

“So it is something.”

“…Maybe.”

You sit up, stretching your arms overhead with a dramatic yawn. “If you’re about to tell me you’ve been in love with me since we were, like, eight, just say it. Don’t do the weird broody stare like you’re in some CW drama.”

Mark blinks. “I mean… okay, not since eight. But maybe since… twelve?”

You blink at him.

Then before he can overthink like always—you let out a long, theatrical sigh and flop back dramatically again. “Ugh. Finally.”

Mark startles. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me.” You shoot him a lopsided grin. “Do you know how annoying it is being the only one aware of the mutual pining in this room? I’ve been carrying this ship on my BACK.”

Mark’s mouth opens. Closes. “Wait—you like me?”

“I’m literally lying in your bed, wearing your hoodie, and insulting you in front of your anime figurines. What do you think?”

“…Okay, that’s fair.”

You pause. Then smirk. “So… now what?”

Mark thinks for a second, then shrugs. “I mean, I could kiss you, but I’m 99% sure you’d just roast me for it.”

You hum. “Depends. Are you going to do that thing where you hesitate awkwardly and make a weird-ass face?”

Mark throws a pillow at you.

You cackle, catching it midair. “I’m kidding, dumbass. Come here.”

And when he does—grinning like a total idiot, heart thudding like he’s about to leap off a building for the first time—you tug him forward by the collar of his hoodie and kiss him first.

It’s warm, a little clumsy, way too long overdue.

And when you pull back, breathless and smug, grinning against his mouth—whispering, “Took you long enough, Grayson.”

Mark laughs, his cheeks tinted pink.

His fingers are still in your hair.

And for the first time in years, his heart feels lighter than air.

Because he’s always been watching you.

But now, finally—you’re looking back at him the same way.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

-ˋˏ❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀ˎˊ-

Later, as you both lay tangled in blankets and shared warmth, Mark breaks the silence.

“…Do you think my dad knew?”

The question lingers in the air, and your mind drifts back to the old days—the easier ones—before your eyes open.

You blink up at the ceiling. “That you’re in love with me? Yeah. He always knew.”

Mark groans. “Debbie probably has a betting pool going.”

“She does,” you say without hesitation. “Amber’s in on it too. I think William’s the bookie.”

Mark gapes at you. “Are you serious?”

You grin, smug. “Dead serious. I’m pretty sure I just made someone twenty bucks.”

Mark buries his face in the pillow. “God.”

Patting his back, mock-comfortingly, you snort under your breath. “Don’t worry. You’re still the last one to find out.”

“…That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It wasn’t supposed to.”

And somewhere in the house, Debbie smiles to herself in the kitchen, sipping her wine like she didn’t just win her own bet.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

With Love, @alive-gh0st

[ttsblogg]

Date Night.

Drew Starkey x f!reader

a/n: drew has me like, “i beg your finest pardon.” the entire time in this fic.. so just a fair warning right now, there is smut in this fic. please read at your own discretion 😀 !MDNI! this is also my first smut fic, apologies if it’s not great.. that’s all, enjoy! - tt 🫧

“You look so good, baby.” Drew blurred out. He’d been admiring Y/n the entire night, as they were on their date tonight at their favorite place downtown L.A. Y/n looked up as she drank her wine, catching his eyes.

“Why thank you, baby.” She said giving him the sweet smile Drew loves. Drew stayed silent and kept moving his eyes from her face down to her neck to her chest. “My eyes are up here, sir.” Y/n said tilting her head at him. Drew chuckled at her comment. “Hmm.” He hummed tilting his head back at her. “I'm sorry. I’m just admiring one of my favorite pair of pillows.” He said. “Debating if I should cum on those or my other favorite pair.” Y/n nearly choked on her pasta. “Drew!” She yelled in whisper. Drew chuckled again and leaned back in his chair. “What? It's a very hard decision.” He said shrugging his shoulders. “You know what? I’ll leave that decision to you. I love when you tell me where to cum. It’s different every time.” he smirked, picking up his wine. Y/n felt her cheeks get warm. “Drew, please.” she said shaking her head. Drew loved seeing how shy she got when he talked ‘dirty’ to her, in a way he felt some pride knowing he was the only one that got to see her like this.

Their waiter approached their table before Drew could say anything else. “How are we doing guys? Can I get a check for you?” They asked. “Yeah, that would be great thank you.” Drew answered. A few moments later, the waiter returned with their bill. As Drew reached down his pocket to grab his wallet and started filling out the receipt, Y/n took this time to have a little fun too, maybe even have her own debate question herself. Feeling the shyness start to leave her body, she bit her lip thinking about what she wanted to do after they’d left the restaurant. Slowly, she moved one foot toward Drew, making contact with his leg under the table. She started moving her foot up and down his leg, teasing him. Drew looked up from the table, “Watch yourself.” He said, his voice was deep and raspy, like he was warning her. Y/n let out a chuckle, never ceasing her actions, like she wanted to taunt him, kind of like what he did to her. She knew what this would lead to, so she didn’t want to stop.

All of a sudden, Drew wrapped his hand around her ankle from under the table, making her stop. “Y/n, I’m not playing.” He said again with his deep voice. He’s getting closer. She thought to herself. Deciding to stop for the moment, she obeyed him and stopped. Shortly after the waiter gave Drew his card back, they both got up from their seat and made their way towards the exit doors. Drew kept his hand dangerously low on her back as they walked, keeping her close to him.

Like a true gentleman, when they got to Drew’s car, he opened the passenger door for Y/n and helped her get in safely before lightly shutting the door. Once he was situated in his seat, they started making their way back to Drew’s apartment. Y/n decided it was the perfect time to continue her little game. “So I did some thinking.” She spoke up. Drew placed his hand on her thigh, “mhm?” He hummed. “What about, baby?” He asked, glancing at her slightly before bringing his eyes back to the road. “About what you said earlier.” She said as they came to a red light. Drew furrowed his eyebrows at her signaling to be more specific. “About where you should cum.” She said looking at him with her signature innocent look on her face.

Drew chuckled with a smirk and began nodding his head, understanding her. “And what’s the verdict?” He asked rubbing her thigh. Y/n bit her lip before responding. “I think you should cum inside me.” She said. Drew paused for a second, then chuckled again. “You’re funny.” He said not taking her decision seriously. She leaned over bringing a hand up unbuttoning two buttons of his shirt. She started rubbing his upper exposed chest and whispered, “I’m serious, I wanna feel your warm cum in me.” Y/n can see drew clench his jaw. Oh we’re super close. She thought to herself again. “Babe, you’re playing a dangerous game right now, you know that?” He asked as pulling into the parking garage. “It’s a game I’m willing to play.” She said leaning back into her seat and unbuckled her seatbelt. She reached over to open her car door only to be stopped by Drew.

“Stay.” He said turning off the car and unbuckled his own seatbelt. He got out of the car and made his was way over to Y/n’s side and opened the door for her, making sure to grab a hold of her hand so that she got out safely. Without another word they both made their way inside the apartment building. As they walked through the lobby, Drew kept his hand on her back, guiding her towards the elevators.

Ding! The elevator doors opened, Drew let Y/n go in first, once he was inside he pressed the button to his floor. Without letting the doors close first, Drew couldn’t handle the tension anymore. He lightly pushed Y/n against the elevator wall, smashing his lips into hers. Y/n moaned at the contact. Drew felt her smile against his lips, he pulled away looking down at her lips. “This what you wanted?” He said gripping her hips, pressing himself on her letting her feel how hard he was. “Hmm? Getting me hard infront of the whole restaurant.” He reached down bundling up her long dress then pulled one of her legs up and wrapped it around him, slowly grinding himself on her. Y/n gasped at the contact, feeling herself getting wetter then before as Drew gripped her bare ass cheek in his hand while the other stayed firmly on her hip. He leaned again to kiss her again. Y/n reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer. Ding! They heard the elevator chimed again.

Drew pulled away from her as the elevator doors slowly started to open. Y/n quickly adjusted her dress, feeling her cheeks warm from how heated she was. She could feel herself pulse from the activities that just took place. Luckily no one was waiting for the elevator as they slowly walked out. She looked up at Drew as they made their way to his door, she couldn’t help but feel her legs get weak just by looking at him. His cheeks just as flushed as hers. They way he clenched his jaw, feeling her stare. When he reached into his pocket, Y/n looked down at the bulge in his pants, she nearly came at the sight.

As they reached his door, Y/n stepped in between him and his door, and started kissing his jaw to his neck. Her hand reached down and started palming his hard on. Drew paused his actions and groaned, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself. “So needy, baby. Couldn’t wait till we got inside?” He said reached a hand up and gripped her jaw pulling her head up to look at him. She bit her lip and shook her head. “How could I when you look this good.” She said. Drew let out a small laugh, “Oh you’re telling me.” He said giving her a peck. “Had to stop myself from taking you on the table at the restaurant.” He whispered, Y/n bit her lip, still palming him making him let a small moan. “Especially after that little stunt you pulled under that table.” He huffed. “Almost like you wanted me to lose it infront of everyone.” Y/n grinned at him. Loving this side of him. She loved antagonizing him.

“Such a bad girl, baby.” He whispered looking down as the way her hand rubbed him slowly. “Look at you, so desperate.” He placed his hand on top of hers, adding more force making him groan again. Y/n let out a chuckle. “But you love it.” She said. Drew looked back up making eye contact with her. There it is. She thought to herself. His eyes were dark and full of lust. “Oh, you’re in for it now.” He said then lifted her up on his shoulder making her giggle. “Drew!” She squealed. He unlocked the door with his keep bringing them inside his apartment. He quickly shut the door and walked over to the kitchen counter, placing Y/n on her feet against the counter.

Drew wasted no time putting his lips on hers, placing his hands on her ass bringing her close to him, making sure there was no space between them. Y/n already had her arms wrapped around his neck doing the same thing. She moaned into their kiss as he continued squeezing her. He started bundling up her dress with one hand and brought his other hand to her clothed pussy making her gasp into their kiss. “Oh fuck.” Drew groaned. “Acting all shy in public but look at you.” He pulled away from their kiss to look down at how she soaked up his fingers. “So wet n’ ready for me.” He said making her moan again. “Fuck Drew please.” She huffed. “What is it baby? Tell me what you want.” He whispered placing small pecks down her jaw to her neck. “I need you, right now.” She moaned.

Drew lifted her dress over her head and turned her around, lightly pushing her down so she leaned her stomach on the counter top. He paused at the sight, moving forward so his hips met hers. “So fucking gorgeous.” He whispered lightly slapping her ass. He loved the way she moved her hips side to side. So needy. He thought to himself. She started grinding herself on him trying to find some relief. Drew started unbuttoning his shirt, letting her continue her actions. That was until her saw her reached a hand down to touch herself through her panties. He reached under to grab her wrist to stop her. “Don’t.” He said in a firm voice. She placed her hands on the counter top and looked back at him. “M’taken too long.” She said. Drew grinned at her. “You want it?” He said antagonizing her. She nodded. “M’okay, but you’re going to take it then.” He said unbuckling belt. “Better not try to pull away when you can’t handle it anymore.” He said pulling down his pants along with his boxers, letting his hard swollen cock spring out. “You asked for it.” He said before pulling her panties to the side.

Y/n leaned back down on the counter, keeping her hands on top to steady herself. Drew rubbed the tip of his cock on her slit causing Y/n to gasp at the contact. Slowly he started inserting himself in her. Drew can feel her clench around him as she took him in completely. “Oh fuck.” Y/n moaned. Without letting her adjust to him, he started pounding into her.

All you could hear were the sounds of skin slapping against each other along with moans and groans echoing in Drew’s apartment. “So fucking wet, baby.” Drew looked down to see his cock completely glazed every time he’d pull out. “You like when I talk to you this why?” He groaned. Y/n moaned in response, unable to come up with words. All she could think about was the way his cock filled her up. The way he was starting to hit her spot. “Hm? Got you all worked up, you can’t answer me?” He asked. Still thrusting himself into her, he pulled her up so her back met his chest. She hooked her arm around his neck and turned her head to look up at him. “What’s up, baby? Can’t take it?” He asked looking at her face. It was filled with so much pleasure. They way her mouth curved into a smile, trying to respond but would be replaced with a moan. “M’fuck Drew, I’m gonna cum.” She finally let out. She moved back down to the counter, placing one arm on top for leverage and her other hand holding Drew’s wrist, feeling herself reaching her climax.

“Yeah? Cum for me, baby. C’mon.” He said pounding harder into her. Y/n felt the knot in her stomach quickly come undone as she started cuming. “F-fuck.” She moaned, gripping his wrist harder. Barely recovering from her ending point, all of a sudden drew pulled out of her and turned her around to pick her up and carried her to his sofa. “Not done with you yet.” Drew said laying her down on the couch and immediately inserting himself in her. Y/n gasped, “f-fu-too much Drew.” She groaned as he starting thrusting into her again. Drew placed one of her legs over his shoulder, giving him access to go deeper and leaned down to meet her gaze, “I told you, you were going to take it baby.” He whispered, giving her peck. “Said you wanted to play right?” He said giving her kisses down her neck to her chest. The only response he got from her were moans that echoed throughout the apartment.

He began sucking on her breast, giving them the attention they’ve been craving and brought a hand down to her pussy rubbing her clit. Y/n arched her back. “Ohh g-god, babyy.” She moaned loudly lacing her fingers in between Drew’s hair while her other hand clawed at his bicep. “M’could feel you clenching, baby. You’re so close.” He smirked sitting back up on his knees. “Fuck yes.” She managed to say holding herself up by her elbows and looked down where their bodies connected. Drew’s smirk never left his face as he slowly watched her come undone. “Oh my god. I'm c-cumming.” She moaned leaned back down with her back arched. She brought a hand down to Drew’s wrist trying to stop him from rubbing her sensitive clit. He removed her hand, placing it on her stomach. "Just like that baby, coat my fucking cock." He moaned as she came, her legs shook in the process. Drew leaned down again taking her lips in his. She let out a satified moan as they continued kissing.

Without pulling out of her, he grabbed a hold of her arms bringing her up with him. She furrowed her eyebrows at him making Drew smirk. "Ride me." he said leaning himself on the couch setting her on top of him. Y/n huffed with faint smile. "I can't." she said honestly. Drew leaned up capturing her lips again. "Thought you wanted to play, baby." he said before leaning back against the couch. "I'll help you if you can't anymore, c'mon." he said moving his hips up against hers. He's going to be the death if me. Y/n thought to herself. She leaned into Drew placing her hands on chest and shoulders for leverage as she started rocking her hips against his.

Drew let out a low moan as she continued grinding on him. He reached up and cupped one of her breast, leaning into her, he took the other breast in his mouth, sucking on her nipple. Y/n moaned placing her hands on his knees, arching her back slightly, giving Drew more access. She started moving in a up and down motion now, feeling the same knot again for the third time. "F-fuck, baby." She moaned placing a hand on her pussy as it started to feel warm from how much it was being penetrated. "You got it, baby. Doing so good." He said encouraged her holding her up from her hips, trying to relieve some of the tension on her thighs. "Taking me in so good." He said feeling the way she started clenching around him again. Drew could feel himself start to reach his ending point too. "Fuckk, come here." He said pulling her into his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, placing her head on his shoulder. Drew wrapped an arm around her waist while the other held her up by her hip and started thrusting upwards in fast motion. "Oh my-yes, baby. Right there." Y/n moaned into his ear, unwrapping her arms from his neck and squeezed his shoulders. "Yeah? You like that, baby?" he groaned. " Yes-oh my-." She couldn’t finish her sentence. Drew already knew what she was going to say as she started clenching him harder. "Cum, baby. C'mon you got it." he said looking up at her face. He loved watching the way she came undone. He loved the way she'd arch her back with her mouth wide open, staying silent for a moment before moaning loudly as she came. Y/n gasped as she felt herself cum all over his cock again for the third time. She knew Drew was close to cumming too so with small strength she had left she started rocking her hips on him again, faster than earlier. Drew moaned gripping her hips tighter. "Ahh fuck." he groaned. "Cum in me, baby." Y/n moaned placing a hand on his jaw. Drew locked eyes with her. "F-fuck. You mean it?" he asked. Y/n smirked, "Yes, Drew. I want to feel your cum, please." She said.

Drew gripped her hips again making her grind on him even faster. It didn’t take long for him to cum in her. "Oh fuck, baby." he moaned with his eyes closed shut. He held her hips down, stopping her from moving as he shot up in her. Y/n sighed with a smile loving the feeling of his warm cum inside her.

Drew finally opened his eyes after a couple seconds, seeing the satisfied smile on Y/n's face. "That what you wanted?" He asked leaning up to kiss her. Y/n moaned against his lips. "Yes." She answered. Drew smirked. "Such a dirty girl, wanting me to cum inside you." he said leaning back down on the couch admiring the way she looked on top of him. Y/n gave him a tired smile as they locked eyes for a moment. "So fucking pretty." he added rubbing his hands on her sore thighs.

Y/n looked down noticing her panties were still on. She chuckled. “You could’ve at least taken off my underwear you know.” She said. “There was no time. Gettin’ me all worked up, faster this way.” He said. “Plus looks hotter.” He smirked. Y/n chuckled at his response. “Such a freak, babe.” She said leaning her head on his chest. “Says the one that wanted me to cum inside her.” He said. Y/n lightly smacked his chest. “Take me upstairs.” She chuckled. Drew gladly wrapped her legs around his waist and started making his way up the stairs to his room. “Round 4 in the shower?” He asked. “Alright relax, Joseph.” She said making Drew laugh.

“Well… maybe.” She said.

[suliigwp]

I DESPISE MY ROTTEN MIND AND -HOW MUCH IT WORSHIPS YOU

Oscar Piastri x Mean!Reader

SULI: Reader is the daughter of someone powerful in McLaren like a co-owner or sm idk go along with it please🫶 (ignore my obvious love for lando here) this is my first fic be nice ; I plan on part two ; I tried to speak around her name to not say y/n ; Olivia Rodrigo I bow down to you - stream 'Lacy'!

Warnings: reader is straight up a horrible person (kinda - this is my guilty pleasure), Toxic?, smoking, he just can't stay away, English is not my first language.

Lacy, oh Lacy, it's like you're out to get me.

Oscar Piastri was never one to particularly like audience. He didn't mind company, but preferred the comfortable whispers of silence of whom he learned calmness from. He tried to keep reminding himself that what people thought was not important, and what he did with his time was, but it was different this time.

Having just signed a contract with McLaren, he stood in a big room in his new dress-shirt, glass in hand, speaking to people involved with the team at a 'get-together' before the season started. Zak Brown and Lando Norris taking it upon themselves to introduce him to everyone. He had to make a good impression.

Eventually they introduced him to the small group of people owning the McLaren Formula 1 team and shaking their hands he cursed at himself silently for forgetting to wipe his hand on his pants, hoping his palm wasn't sweaty.

"I like how calm you are. Gives the sense of stability." Chuckled the man, taking a sip of the drink in his hand. "That's good. A driver making you feel steady straight on is exceptional."

"Thank you, Sir." He kept his answer short as he glanced down.

Oscar knew the truth. If anyone in this room was exceptional, it was Lando Norris. The teammate he needed to keep up with, the one he wanted to outrun, he didn't want the second seat, he wanted the first one and Oscar knew that wasn't an easy point to get to.

"I think it's time to change our driver dad. Really, how many times do I have to be late?"

Said a woman's voice behind the man, Oscar watched as the grey-haired man's face twisted into a warmer smile as he turned around.

"Darling!"

Some feeling went down Oscars frame. Warmth? Or was it freezing cold? He couldn't tell. Only thing he knew was that it wasn't a good feeling. The girl now in front of him shined off a feeling that he could only call whimsical. Dark but comforting, heavy but so easy to breathe in. Like something was warning him, stay away.

She nodded to everyone when they greeted her, smiling an off smile, eyes glancing at everyone and then landing on him. His consciousness shook.

"Darling, Meet Oscar Piastri. Our new driver." Oscar gave a soft smile and a nod, offering his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you."

She took his hand and shook it slowly, looking him up and down, darkly painted lips twitching upwards. "I've heard a lot about you, Oscar."

Oscar blinked away, slowly taking his hand from hers, offering another soft smile, not knowing what else to say.

As the talk around them picked up again, he never lost that heavy feeling. The weight of her eyes pushing down on him as he continued trying to breathe.

...

"Breathe Man, you're doing fine." Landos voice comforted him as they got away from the scariest circle in the room.

Oscar took in a large breath as he put down his finished cup on one of the small tables around the room. Looking at his teammate as he laughed. "Shut up."

"Sorry, sorry, I would be this sweaty too if she looked at me like that."

"What?" He turned to the curly haired man.

"What? You're kidding right? You caught the eye of one of the most scary people here." The man chuckled, leaning on the table.

"Scary?"

Lando raised a brow at him. "Do you only know how to ask one word questions?" And shook his head teasingly when Oscar gave him a deadpan look. "Depending on who you ask, She's not a very pleasant person. That's how dumb people think, I think she's awesome." He smiled.

Oscars brows furrowed, that feeling came back. "Why would people think that?"

"Ah, long story... To say it short she was an intern at some event, she leaked a private recording of some executive making corrupt comments. She didn’t go to the press. She posted it herself with zero warning. It exposed real corruption—but it also broke dozens of NDAs, compromised trust with an entire network of professionals, sparked a scandal, you know? People got fired. Security got tighter. She didn't really care but... A lot of people lost their jobs so..." He trailed off.

"...oh" Oscar muttered, looking back at the glowing figure behind him, he couldn't really tell if that glow was white or as dark as a black hole.

"That's the main thing, she doesn't really like staying quiet about things, she's brave, I could never." Lando muttered the last part under his breath, bringing a drink to his lips.

Oscar watched her as she ran her fingers through her hair and looked at him, the dark pencil around her eyes pulling him in. She smiled and looked back at the men in front of her.

He felt dizzy.

...

"Too pretty to be caught up in all of this, don't you think?"

He jumped a bit when he heard her voice, whipping around to face her, and for a second, he's speechless.

"I'm just... trying to enjoy the night." He muttered, trying to gather himself.

"I'm sure you are... Don't worry about my father, he likes putting a lot of pressure on everyone but, he really likes you." She said, smiling as she looks over him again.

Oscar cleared his throat, not knowing what to say. She chuckled "See you around." She called out as she walked away.

...

2023 BAHRAIN QUALIFICATIONS

She was reviewing something on her tablet, tucked into a far corner of the garage where no one would bother her. The usual flurry of team personnel moved around like clockwork—headsets, data, tires, noise. She liked the noise. It drowned out everything else.

Oscar had spotted her, but only because she looked like a fixed point in a sea of chaos—calm and sharp. He froze 'she's here?' He almost starts shaking. He wasn't trying to bother her. Just grabbed a bottle of water and stood near her, needing a quiet corner himself.

She glanced at him smirking to herself and going back to her screen, thinking he didn't see her.

"Oscar!" Someone shouted out suddenly, carrying out the garage. Oscar, startled, whipped around—smacking his water bottle right into the edge of a tool cabinet.

The cap flew off. The water went all over his shirt.

Her mouth dropped open.

He looked down at himself. Wet shirt. Clinging fabric. Silence.

She raised an eyebrow.

"...well," he said, monotone. "This is deeply unfortunate."

That did it. She laughed. Not loud, but real—like something cracked in her, like she'd been holding it in for years. It startled her more than him. She even looked away like she hadn’t meant for it to slip out. Holding a hand over her mouth.

He grinned slowly. That heavy feeling when he looked at her was gone. That voice. Her laugh. God, was she casting a spell on him? He hoped she knows a million spells “Is that my reward for humiliating myself?”

She didn’t respond. But she didn’t go back to her tablet, either.

...

It was after qualifying. Chaos had simmered down in the garage. She hadn’t meant to linger—but she did. Arms crossed, sitting on a crate that clearly wasn’t meant for sitting. Watching.

Oscar was standing alone for a second. Helmet off, suit unzipped to the waist, undershirt damp with effort. He was flipping through something on a monitor, lips pressed, jaw tight.

She studied his side profile. Pretty. So pretty. She spoke before she could stop herself. “You looked pissed after Q2.”

He turned, brows lifted, clearly surprised she was talking to him. “Did I?”

She hummed. “You stomped past the cameras like they insulted your mum.”He laughed softly, quiet. Gosh, is he testing her?

“Guess I need to work on that poker face,” he said.

“No,” she replied coolly. “It was entertaining.”

He gave her a look, half amused, half curious. She's fun to be around. People don't know what they're talking about...right? “You always hang around garages just to roast drivers?”

“Just the ones with weak qualifying laps,” she said, then smirked.

He blinked, taken aback for half a second and then grinned. “Okay, now I know you’re flirting.” immediately regretting it, heat rising up his neck.

She raised a brow, surprised at his boldness “I don’t flirt.”

“That’s what all good flirts say.”

She rolled her eyes but chuckled. For a few moments, they just stood there in the humming silence of the paddock. Not much said. But she noticed how his fingers tapped against the table. How he kept glancing at her like he was trying to figure her out.

He's so soft, so quiet, beautiful... And oh, did she love breaking pretty things. They start talking regularly after that day.

...

Oscar hadn’t meant to find her.

He was just looking for some quiet during the chaos of a post-qualifying press circuit. The hotel was packed, the lobby was louder than the paddock. So he slipped through a door that led to a narrow balcony, needing a breath.

She was already there.

Leaning on the railing, cigarette in hand. The night was velvet dark and gold-lit, and the glow of the cherry cast her face in an almost cinematic silhouette. She didn’t look at him right away. Just exhaled slow, smoke dancing around her like flames. He froze for a second.

Everyone had whispered things about her. Harsh. Cold. Dangerous, even. But standing there, her shoulder blades rising and falling with each breath, she looked more like someone who’d built her armor carefully and wore it heavily.

She finally glanced over her shoulder. “Lost, golden boy?” He blinked, not sure whether to answer or leave.

“You can stay,” she added after a beat, tapping ash off the side with a flick that said she didn’t really care either way.

He leaned on the opposite end of the railing, giving her space. “Didn’t know you smoked.” He muttered awkwardly, tapping his finger on the glass.

“You didn’t know me,” she said. Not cruel. Just matter-of-fact.

He looked at the skyline instead of her. “Guess I still don’t.”

She smirked, finally looking at him. “Smart boy.”

The silence hung, comfortable and strange. That feeling is back, he thinks, but it's different this time, it doesn't bother him, maybe he's gotten used to it. Then she offered the pack toward him without looking. Not really asking. Just holding it in his direction.

"No, thank you." He didn’t take one. But he didn’t leave either.

And she didn’t say a word about it. She just smoked her cigarette and let him share her quiet, the way someone might hand over a piece of themselves without even knowing they did.

She lit a second cigarette. Oscar watched her. “I don’t smoke often,” she said suddenly, voice quieter now. “Only when I feel like I’ll explode otherwise.”

He glanced at her, brows pulled slightly. “Bad day?”

She laughed, low and bitter. “Bad life, maybe.”

He didn’t smile at that, didn’t make it a joke. Just nodded like he understood. Like he wasn’t afraid of that edge she lived on. “I get it,” he said. “I don’t smoke, but… I’ve had days like that. Where it feels like if one more person asks how I’m feeling or tells me to smile for the camera, I’ll just—” He made a vague exploding gesture with his hands.

She looked at him. Really looked. “You don’t seem like the explode type.”

He shrugged. “I hide it better than you.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. Oscar lost his breath for the way the lights from the hotel hit her “So there’s a version of you that screams and throws things?”

“Maybe not throws. But I’ve thought about it,” he said, smiling now.

She grinned, soft but surprised. “Huh. Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought.”

He blinked, she's been thinking about him? He gave her a look. “You thought I was boring?”

“I thought you were safe,” she corrected, a little too honest. “And I hate safe.”

“Maybe you just don’t trust safe.”

That landed a little too hard. She went quiet, fingers tightening around her cigarette.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “That was... too much.”

But she didn’t get mad. She just looked out at the skyline again. “No. You’re not wrong.” putting the poison to her lips.

A long silence stretched between them, something warm and brittle. A truce.

Then she glanced sideways and muttered, “Still not taking a cigarette?”

He shook his head.

She exhaled smoke toward the stars. “Golden boy.” And she didn’t say it like an insult.

...

After that night on the balcony, the air between them shifts just a little. Next race week, she walks past him in the paddock. Doesn’t say anything at first, just shoots him a knowing look. He offers a tiny smile, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes unless he means it. This time, he means it.

As she's about to turn the corner, he calls after her quiet, but clear.

"Hey."

She stops. Looks over her shoulder.

He walks up, a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. The golden baby hairs at the nape of his neck catching light. “I figured... if you ever need someone to talk to. Or not talk to. Just… stand around and keep quiet next to you.” A soft laugh. “I’m good at that.”

She eyes him, chin tilted, unreadable. Then, after a pause, pulls her phone from her back pocket and hands it to him without a word.

He takes it, surprised but not stupid enough to question it, and enters his number first name and a little racecar emoji. Hands it back.

“What should I save you as?” he asks.

She smirks, plucking the phone back. “Don't worry golden boy, you'll figure it out.”

That night, he gets a text.

New contact added...

...

The garage had quieted, the roar of engines long since faded, replaced by the low mechanical murmurs of winding-down systems and the occasional clang of tools being packed up. Overhead lights cast long shadows, soft and golden against the cool gray of concrete floors and carbon fiber. Most of the team had cleared out, only a few stragglers remained, their voices echoing faintly from the far end.

She sat on the edge of a workbench, one leg crossed over the other, ankle bouncing lazily. Her lips were parted slightly, gloss smudged from biting the inside of her cheek. She was dressed sharply as always, but the sharpness dulled in this quiet hour, jacket shrugged halfway off, strands of hair falling messily from where she’d tucked them behind her ears.

Oscar was leaning against the wall opposite her, helmet in hand, still suited up. His curls were messy with sweat and humidity, cheeks flushed faintly from the day’s heat. He looked tired but content, relaxed in a way she’d only seen when no one else was around. They’d been talking for a while, longer than either of them intended.

He'd made her laugh. Really laugh, something startled and unguarded, a sound that cracked out of her like lightning. It silenced them both for a moment. She blinked at him, stunned, as if she'd just let something important slip out.

"What?" he’d said, smiling crookedly.

"You made a joke," she replied, feigning horror. “I thought you were the serious one.”

“I have layers.”

“Like an onion.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

And she laughed again, quieter this time, but closer to him. The distance between them had been shrinking all evening, physically and otherwise. Every time she leaned in to say something, her perfume wrapped around him like a whisper. Every time she pushed his shoulder or smirked at him, he had to fight the instinct to reach back.

Now, the air between them hung heavy, still. She stared at him. He stared back.

Then she uncrossed her legs and hopped lightly down from the bench, stepping closer, too close. Her chest brushed his arm, her fingers lightly skimming the fabric of his sleeve, a touch so casual it felt intentional.

“You’re not as boring as you look,” she said, voice lowered just slightly, eyes darting to his mouth for the briefest second.

He huffed a laugh, lips curling up, but his heart was thudding in his chest. “You always flirt by insulting people?”

“Only with special ones."

The words landed between them like a strike. His gaze dropped to her lips. Hers flicked to his. He leaned forward a little. She tilted her head, fractional movements, both of them holding their breath. Her hand was still on his arm, nails lightly brushing the fabric.

It would take nothing, just one more inch, one more second, for them to close the distance.

And then—

“Oscar!”

They flinched apart like they'd been caught. He stepped back, blinking fast. Her hand dropped. The moment splintered like glass under pressure.

She tried to brush it off. “Guess they still need you,” she said, recovering faster than he did, but her voice was quieter now. Her walls didn’t go all the way back up, but the door was closing.

He nodded slowly, trying to smile but not quite managing it. “Yeah… I guess they do.”

She didn’t move. Neither did he.

Until he turned away, slow and heavy-footed. And even as he walked toward the voices calling his name, his mind stayed behind, with getting the taste of her so close he could’ve sworn he still felt her breath against his cheek.

...

You poison every little thing that I do

“Watch out for her, mate. She’s not someone you want to get too close to.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a little surprised by the caution in Lances voice. “What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely curious. He’s seen the way her boldness and confidence have always left him on edge, but he’s never really thought of her as dangerous, at least not in any serious way.

“She’s... got a reputation,” the driver says, glancing around as if to make sure no one’s listening. “People say she’ll use anyone to get what she wants. Doesn’t care who she steps on. And the rumors she spreads? She’s good at making people believe them. She gets inside your head, makes you question everything.”

Oscar feels a knot tighten in his stomach. That feeling is back. The warning stirs something in him. He’s seen her as this intriguing force, someone who’s always had a way of challenging everyone, pulling him in. But this doesn’t sound like the woman he’s been getting to know.

“Who exactly is saying all this?” Oscar asks, trying to keep his tone light, but there’s an edge of doubt creeping in.

Lance looks away, his expression turning serious. “It’s not just one person. Ask around, Oscar. You’ll hear the stories. She’s not someone you want to be mixed up with.”

Later that night, unable to shake the warning, Oscar starts digging. He asks a few more people, cautiously at first, but it doesn’t take long before the whispers start pouring in. Everyone seems to have an opinion on her. some avoid her entirely, others just don’t trust her. But the more Oscar hears, the darker the picture gets.

Rumors swirl about her—how she manipulates situations, uses her beauty to get people to do what she wants, and how she’s torn apart friendships and relationships in the past. Stories about her spreading lies and causing chaos are repeated again and again. It’s clear now: She isn’t just a woman who plays by her own rules; she plays with people’s lives like they’re chess pieces.

Oscar’s heart sinks as the weight of the reality settles over him. He thought he saw something good in her, something worth fighting for. But now, it feels like he’s been blinded by his attraction to someone who’s far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.

The realization hits him hard, and as he stands in the middle of the paddock, the buzz of the race weekend around him, he’s left with a choice: walk away from this whirlwind he’s been caught in... or keep going, despite knowing the truth.

...

He’s lying in bed. Lights off, the room silent except for the low hum of the hotel air conditioning. But Oscar can’t sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, it’s her face he sees.

The way she looked at him on the balcony. The softness in her voice when she said his name. The smirk when she caught him staring too long. But now all he can hear is “You don’t want to get too close to her.”

He turns onto his side, frustrated. Grabs his phone off the nightstand. Just a peek. Just something to quiet the noise in his head.He types her name into the search bar.

Big mistake.

The results hit like a slap: headlines from glossy tabloids, anonymous gossip blogs, F1 forums with threads full of theories and rants. And then… videos. Short clips from events, shaky footage of her arguing with someone in a VIP lounge, walking out of a gala, stone-faced while a woman behind her is crying. Tweets calling her manipulative. Reddit threads filled with speculation and story after story from “insiders.”

“She said I was irrelevant to my face.”

“She told my friend she wasn’t pretty enough to date an F1 driver.”

“She leaked that PR scandal before the team could control it. I know it was her.”

He scrolls. He reads. He watches. Each new click feels worse than the last, but he can’t stop. He’s consumed.

And then he finds a post -long, detailed. An anonymous user claiming they knew her personally. It’s brutal. Cold. A timeline of friendships destroyed, opportunities taken by force, people she "exposed" for things no one was ever supposed to know. Some things might be exaggerated. But others… they line up.

He sits there in the dark, lit only by the glow of his screen, the sick feeling in his stomach growing stronger. He should block her. Forget her. Walk away. But he doesn't. He still wants to see that smirk again.

...

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. They weren’t even officially friends at first. Just two people orbiting the same space, brushing past each other between interviews and paddock chaos, trading a look here, a quiet nod there. But something shifted slowly, then all at once.

It started with the laughing.

It wasn’t loud or wild. Just soft moments, shared glances, little jokes muttered under their breath when no one else could hear. Oscar had a way of drawing out a laugh she hadn’t used in years. Not the sharp, cynical kind she usually wielded like a weapon, but something warmer. Something reluctant. Genuine. She started looking for him, tracking the way his shoulders shook slightly when he tried not to smile too wide.

He made her feel… human again.

And somehow, despite her walls, despite the rumors and the carefully sculpted exterior she showed to everyone else, she started letting him see her. Really see her.

Late night texts turned into voice notes. Voice notes into video calls. She sent him songs without lyrics that said everything she didn’t know how to. He sent her blurry photos of the sky, his cat, his face half-hidden by the sun behind him, each one followed by a soft, “Thought you’d like this.”

In the paddock, he walked a little slower when she was around. She leaned closer when he talked. There were days when their shoulders brushed and neither of them moved away. Nights when they found each other on balconies, sharing secrets like confessions, smoke curling through the quiet between them.

He never pushed. Never asked for more than she was willing to give. And she hated how much she liked that.

There was a moment, a stupid, tiny moment, when she realized it had gone too far. He had made her laugh so hard during a rain delay that her eyeliner smudged, and she’d reached to gently wipe her eyes, when she looked up, he was already watching her with that look. The kind of look that says, I’d follow you anywhere even if I knew I’d get hurt. And I don't know why.

She had to walk away then. Pretend it didn’t matter.

But it did. Every little thing mattered now.

The way he waited for her after media duties without ever saying why. The quiet way he’d ask if she was sleeping okay when her her eyes looked darker than usual. The time he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and didn’t make a big deal of it when she didn’t give it back.

And she let him in. Slowly. Recklessly.

He saw her, and she let him.

So when things changed, when his texts became shorter, his eyes colder, his laughter quieter around her, she felt it like a knife to the chest. She knew something had happened. Someone had told him something.

But before the silence, there had been this... almost. Like they were standing on the edge of something real, something wild and sacred. Like they were about to step into something neither of them could undo.

And now? Now he was slipping away.

And the worst part? She was starting to realize she cared.

More than she should have. More than she wanted to.

...

Lacy, Oh Lacy, I just loathe you lately

2023 JAPANESE GRAND PRIX

He was pulling away. She could feel it.

Oscar didn’t say anything outright, he was too polite, too careful for that. But she had always been good at reading tension, and lately, he’d been a damn novel of it. Shorter glances. Polite nods. No more waiting for her after interviews. No more inside jokes muttered under his breath.

It infuriated her.

Not because she needed his attention, she didn’t need anything. But because she let herself want it. Want him. And now he was acting weird. Distant. Like someone had whispered something in his ear that made him look at her differently.

So what did she do? She burned.

She stalked through the paddock like a storm cloud in heels. People whispered again when she passed, just the way she liked it. She leaned too close to Lando during a pre-race briefing, laughed too loud at something Charles said just as Oscar walked by. And when she caught Oscar’s eye across the garage, she tilted her head and smirked, sweet, dangerous, knowing. As he looked at her like a kicked puppy.

“You’re being horrible again,” Lando muttered, watching her from the side.

She popped her gum and said, “Am I?”

He wouldn’t say what was wrong? Fine. She’d make it worse. She showed up in the garage when she didn’t need to be there, lounging on the pit. She didn’t even look his way, not until he had to pass her. And then? A slow, calculated look up and down. One brow raised. Her lips curled like she was enjoying a private joke at his expense.

It was driving him insane. She knew it.

Every time she got a little too close to someone else, every time she smiled at the wrong guy for a second too long, Oscar's jaw clenched tighter. She caught it all. He never confronted her, never said a word—but she knew he was watching.

Good. Let him. Let him stew in whatever guilt or judgment he was choking on. If he wanted distance, fine, she’d give him a show. But underneath it all—beneath the smirks and the chaos—she was fuming.

Because he was pulling away And it was starting to hurt.

...

Oh, how he hates her lately.

He hates the way she smirks at other drivers, all flirt and fire and nothing left for him anymore. Hates how she doesn’t look at him like she used to, not with curiosity or teasing challenge, but like he’s a pawn that disappointed her. Like he’s beneath her now. A momentary lapse in her otherwise flawless taste.

He hates that she’s everywhere.

He hates that she leans too close to Lando, that her laugh rings out sharp and loud like a damn warning bell. Hates the way she struts into the paddock like she owns it, sunglasses hiding the eyes that used to meet his in stolen glances. Hates that she gets under his skin without even trying, because she’s not trying anymore, not with him.

But worst of all, He still wants her. Maybe even more now. This boiling need to touch her. This angry, uncontrolled want.

Still finds himself glancing over his shoulder in case she’s there. Still hears her voice echo when he tries to focus. Still checks his phone at night, half hoping, half terrified she’ll text.

He told himself to back away, convinced himself he had to. After everything he heard, after everything people warned him about her... he believed them. Tried to listen.

But she didn’t make it easy. She never did.

She’s turned cruel again. She’s turning heads and twisting knives and pretending he never mattered. Oscar is unraveling.

Because he can’t stop wanting the girl who now acts like she never wanted him at all.

...

And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you

She’s laughing again. Louder this time. Her hand grazes the arm of someone else - he can't remember who, he doesn't care, she's touching someone else. Just to tempt him, make him snap. And it works.

Oscar doesn’t even realize he’s walking toward her until she turns around, and raises a perfect brow at him. Her smile freezes.

God how she missed looking into those eyes. “Can I help you, golden boy?” she asks, sugary venom dripping from every syllable.

He grabs her arm and pulls her away, not harshly, but firm. Behind the garage. Out of sight. He's breathing heavily. Her heels clack on concrete until they’re alone.

Letting go of her hand, he turned to her, chest rising and falling “Are you done?” he asks, voice low, sharp.

She leans back on one hip, lips curling as she takes in the way he's shaking. “With what?”

“With whatever the hell this is,” he snaps. “You being a nightmare to everyone and making it my problem.”

Her eyes flash, face falling. “I’m not your problem anymore, remember?”

“You never were my problem. You were-” He chokes on the words, throws his hands up. “You were something else. And now I don’t know what you are.”

“Oh, poor Oscar,” she mocks, stepping closer. Her voice dropping to a whisper, darkly painted lips casting a spell, he feels. “You get scared off by some rumors and now you can’t handle the consequences?”

“I trusted you!” he breathes out frustrated “And then you flipped a switch and started acting like I’m nothing.”

“You made me nothing first,” she snaps, suddenly too close, fire in her eyes. “You believed them. All of them. You didn’t even ask me.”

His jaw tightens. “Because I thought if any of it was true, even a little... I had to get out before..."

“Well,” she says, lifting her chin. “Guess what?"

The silence between them crackles. Breathing heavy. Hearts pounding. His eyes breathe her in. His head is buzzing, the world is is too light, or maybe she was too dark. He can't breathe, only breathe her.

“You’re a menace,” he mutters.

Her face holding a hidden pain only he notices “Took you long enough.”

And then, like fire catching on gasoline, he kisses her. Pressing his lips to hers harshly, her lips were so soft he needed to press harder to feel her, or maybe that's what his mind was telling him to rationalize wanting to get closer. More. More. Like he’s furious. Like he’s starved. Like he hates himself for it. His big arms come around her, one gripping her side and she melts into him, she kisses him back, just as angrily. Teeth, hands, a silent war with no winners. Her hands sliding into his hair, those golden strands she couldn't think about, the strands that had seamed her heart together without him even noticing. She pulled on it, bringing him closer, drawing out a soft groan from him and he pressed her body closer. She caught his lips between her teeth and pulling away, catching their breaths.

She watches him as he kept his eyes shut, creases on his face making him look so desperate, little whispers between breaths escaping him-

"-hate me. Why do you hate me-"

She grabs his face with her palms, her dark eyes sliding along his face, painting this image onto her brain.

"If there's anything in the world I don't hate, it's you, Oscar."

He lets out a shaky breath at her words and dropped his head on her shoulder.

...

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

Before the champagne, before the podium, before the trophy touched his hands - Oscar was already gone.

The second he crossed the finish line, engine cooling, helmet still on, the world around him exploded in cheers. His team was rushing over the barrier, pulling him into hugs, clapping his back, yelling his name into the chaos of victory.

But he wasn’t really there.

Helmet off, breath uneven, hair a mess, he turned. Eyes scanning wildly, past the cameras, the pit crew, the flashes.

There. Just out the garage. Arms crossed, watching him, expression unreadable.

But he knew her. Knew the tension in her jaw. Knew that if he got close enough, he’d hear her heart hammering under her calm.

He can't wait. He pushed past the clamor, weaving through people shouting his name. Someone tried to stop him, probably PR, but he brushed it off like static. None of it mattered. Not when she was there.

When he reached her, he didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just pulled her into his arms like he was starved for her. She stiffened only for a moment before melting into him, fingers tangling in the back of his suit. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, body trembling, not from exhaustion, but relief.

“Podium.” she whispered.

He nodded into her neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

And in that quiet moment, hidden in plain sight, before the cameras turned their gaze, Oscar Piastri let himself fall. Not from the high of victory, but into her. He can't stay away. He can't.

[ilyprs]

P I S T A N T H R O P H O B I A | s.geum

───𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛───

pistanthrophobia : the fear of trusting people, forming close romantic relationships, and being vulnerable in interpersonal connections

' in which she can't escape her first love

•seong-je x reader

•part 5. (other parts are out on my profile !!🐰)

ׂׂૢ་༘______________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။•✩♬ now playing: wildside | red velvet

The next few days flew by, and Serim could barely keep up. When she showed up at school the next day, everything felt strange. Her classmates—and even her best friend Gotak—were acting so differently that Serim asked him several times what was going on. But he just brushed her off and said it was something family-related. Hyun-Tak, who was usually so talkative, suddenly went quiet, and Serim knew something—or rather someone—was behind it.

But she couldn’t be mad at him. She had done the exact same thing to him the past few days. So with a sigh, she let it go.

The new student was just as strange. Serim had seen him a few times in the school hallways, and all her classmates talked about him during lessons. Every time his name was mentioned, Serim perked up her ears and tried to listen in as discreetly as possible. But she didn’t get much out of it—the students said things like he tried to stab people with pens. She couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Seriously, what high schooler went around stabbing people with pens?

It wasn’t until she saw the completely wrecked basketball club room that she realized something was definitely going on. After seeing the destruction, Serim dropped everything and ran to a very specific place. She knew something was happening and just hoped she could get there in time before Gotak got into trouble. The boy was a walking stress magnet, and that worried her.

She ran like crazy toward the tunnel, where she assumed he was because most of the school fights happened there, her school bag bouncing painfully against her back with every step—but she didn’t care. A few older people gave her weird looks as she passed, and some even complained, but none of it mattered. If Gotak was in trouble, she would drop everything to help him. That’s just how she was and she knew he would do the same for her.

⸻

When she arrived at the tunnel, she froze, rooted to the spot, unable to believe her eyes. She took quick breaths to gain her normal breathing pace back. All of that running had worn her down.

Gotak was on the ground, surrounded by a group of students. Jun-Tae stood nearby, looking worried, and Baku—who, for some reason, now had red hair—was standing a little further away. Serim felt like she was in a bad movie. She pinched herself, just to be sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Something had clearly gone down, though Serim could only guess it had been a fight. But the how and why were still a mystery to her. Hyoman—God, how she hated that slimy guy—was lying on the ground like a corpse, collapsed on his right side. Baku was talking to the new student:

„And who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

The new student just looked at him silently, and Baku kept talking without waiting for an answer. He was never the patient type.

„You’ve got a lot of guts,” he said, laughing.

Jun-Tae was the first to notice Serim. His eyes widened in shock. Baku turned around too, when he saw her he flashed her a proud grin like this was the most normal situation in the world.

„Yah, Lee Serim! Good to see you!” he shouted cheerfully through the tunnel as if nothing had happened.

Gotak looked up at the sound of her name, muttered a curse under his breath, and leaned against the wall. His face was scraped up—clear signs of a fight. A thousand questions raced through Serim’s mind, but they could wait. She rushed over to Gotak and shoved the students surrounding him out of the way.

„Get lost, you assholes,” she hissed at them angrily before kneeling down beside her friend.

He looked at her with guilty eyes, already knowing what was coming. Serim raised her hand and slapped him—not too hard, but enough to make her point.

„So this is what you were hiding from me, you idiot? What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled, completely losing it and tearing into him in front of everyone.

Jun-Tae inhaled sharply, nervous and afraid it could be his turn soon. Gotak didn’t respond—he just listened to her lecture until Baku came from behind, lifted Serim up, and pulled her away from him. She tried to resist, but Baku wouldn’t let go.

„Hey, we all know he’s not the brightest, but the guy’s half-dead. Maybe yell at him later and let him breathe a bit, huh? How about that, Serimi?” he said, trying to calm her down as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

Serim shot Gotak a furious look—but deep down, she knew Baku was right. Hyun-Tak really did look like hell. Guilt settled in her chest. With a roll of her eyes, she brushed Baku off and extended a hand to him. He grinned and grabbed it, letting her pull him to his feet.

Jun-Tae, who had been watching the whole scene with wide eyes, was quiet as a mouse. When Serim noticed his nervousness she gave him a gentle smile, and it seemed to calm him down instantly. Was he afraid of her? The thought made Serim giggle in her head, he was just too cute.

Even the new student—whose name Serim still didn’t know—watched the interaction between the three of them with quiet interest. When she looked at him she first noticed his eyes. The girl could swear she had never seen eyes as sad as his. Now that Gotak was back on his feet, Serim and Baku each took a side and let him lean on their shoulders for support. But Gotak had other plans. He limped over to the new student to apologize for something Serim had missed, then returned to his friends and leaned on them again. The girl wondered what that was about but she quickly brushed it off. He would tell them soon enough.

He used the moment to slap Baku lightly on the back of the head. „That’s for calling me ‘not the brightest’ earlier,” Hyun-Tak explained.

Serim nearly screamed when he leaned all his weight on her because Baku had let him go.Baku was about to insult him but the girl quickly interrupted him.

„Instead of standing around like an idiot, you could help me, Baku! He weighs a fucking ton,” she panted, struggling to keep him upright.Baku cursed Gotak under his breath and finally helped, and the three friends left the tunnel with Gotak limping between them.

„By the way, why the hell do you have red hair, Baku? It looks like shit.”

„Just be glad you missed his entrance. I’ll be having nightmares for weeks.”

„Yah! You guys are such assholes.”

—

By now, it had already gotten dark, and Serim said goodbye to her friends with a laughing group hug. The three teenagers had decided to grab something to eat after everything that had happened in the tunnel, and Hyun-tak had explained the whole situation. He said he was sure that Hyoman had manipulated the entire thing, provoking the two students to fight each other, only to jump in and attack both at the right moment, just like she had guessed in her head. He felt incredibly stupid about it, but his friends reassured him.

„Are you sure we shouldn’t walk you home?” Baku asked seriously, but she declined for the tenth time. She wanted to put in her headphones and walk in peace, without anyone talking her ears off. She was grateful for her friends, of course, but she still cherished the time she could spend alone. Convincing Gotak and Baku to let her walk by herself had been a battle. They were incredibly protective of her and never liked the idea of her walking home alone at night—but somehow, she’d managed to talk her way out of it.

Happy and with her favorite songs blasting in her ears, the girl walked home, enjoying the beautiful scenery around her. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but another reason she wanted to walk alone was the possibility of running into Seong-je again. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her head ever since he’d forcefully started inserting himself back into her life, and she hoped—prayed even—that he wouldn’t show up tonight. That’s why she walked more cautiously than usual. She didn’t want her friends to see him—it would only end badly, which is why she tried to avoid those situations altogether.

But he didn’t show up. Instead, she noticed something else—someone had been following her. A boy, probably no older than her, had been tailing her for quite a while now. Serim sighed in annoyance. She had gotten used to being followed ever since her breakup with Seong-je. It was almost a daily occurrence now—always someone different, always the same feeling. She had tried confronting a few of them before, but the next day, someone new would show up, and the whole thing would start all over again. She had long since given up on stopping it.

But then—she had a brilliant idea.

„Whoever you are, stop following me!” she shouted behind her into the seemingly empty street. But she knew someone was out there, hiding. When no one came out after a few minutes, she turned around deliberately and walked into a narrow side alley, waiting for the person to appear.

Bingo.

A student appeared, and in a split second, Serim stopped, grabbed the boy by the collar, and slammed him against the wall. She did feel a bit sorry for him, but right now, he was just a means to an end. The boy tried to wriggle free, but Serim didn’t let go. Then she spoke sharply:

„Who are you, and why are you following me?”

Serim already knew the answer to the second question. She just needed confirmation—proof that she wasn’t losing her mind. But when the boy didn’t answer, Serim was forced to push him harder against the wall, making it harder for him to breathe. She truly didn’t want to hurt him, but she knew this kid probably wasn’t that innocent either—especially if he was from the Union.

Breathless, the boy started pounding weakly on her arm, already turning red in the face, before finally managing to whisper a faint, lifeless: „Seong-je…”

Serim let go of him instantly, shocked. Sure, she had suspected it, but now she had confirmation. It really was him behind all of this. And with that realization, the anger surged inside her again. How dare he keep inserting himself into her life like this without her consent? All she wanted was to be left alone, and he couldn’t even give her that. Determined, she looked down at the boy one last time before yanking him up and dragging him along. She had had enough of everything going on around her. The boy tried to escape her grip, but Serim threatened to tell Seong-je that he had hurt her—which made him instantly afraid and obedient. His craziness could be useful for instances like this she thought. Of course, she’d never actually do that—it was just an empty threat to make things easier.

—

The girl stopped in front of the internet café, certain—100% sure—that he was inside. She pushed past a group of teenagers, the boy still following behind her, and entered, cursing under her breath. The place was packed with Union members, and she knew someone had probably already informed Seong-je of her arrival. They were like a filthy gang, and suddenly Serim didn’t feel so confident anymore.

She knew she was surrounded by dangerous people. Sure, she could defend herself to a certain extent—but what could she realistically do against twenty teenagers? Her MMA skills only went so far. The girl tried her best to push out the bad thoughts which started to fill her mind. She hadn’t come all this way to just leave again.

She glanced around the strange place. Seong-je used to come here before too, but back then it hadn’t been tainted by all these Union people.

As she entered the main room, her eyes scanned quickly, looking for one specific person. And then she saw him, sitting there facing a monitor and playing a game, not having a care in the world. Her heart tightened—but she knew she had to face this. Furious, she yanked the boy still trailing behind her and deliberately threw him at Seong-je’s feet. The boy slipped and rolled, landing right in front of him, which made Seong-je finally look up from his screen.

His eyes first fell silently on the boy, then on the girl standing there with clenched fists, still in her school uniform, backpack on her shoulders, glaring at him with rage. It took only seconds before a grin crept onto his face—and Serim felt like she was going to explode.

That fucking look.

But she had to stay strong. Now more than ever. She had to prove to him that he couldn’t intimidate her—so he would finally leave her alone „You look so fucking cute standing there all angry.“ he broke the silence in the room.

The reflection of the flashing lights around the room danced in Seong-je’s glasses as he stood up, chuckling, and casually nudged the boy to the side with his foot. Serim flinched. She suddenly felt bad for dragging the boy all the way here. He was definitely going to get punished somehow—she could feel it—and the thought weighed heavily on her chest. She didn’t want any of this.

Without a word, Seong-je walked slowly toward her and came to a stop right in front of her. Then, out of nowhere, he raised his hand, aiming for her face—but Serim was faster. She smacked his hand away in one swift motion, like she did that one time back in the convenience store, the sound of the impact echoing through the room. For some weird reason he seemed to love the idea of pushing her hair behind her ear and it only irritated her every time he tried to.

Gasps rang out. Serim hadn’t even noticed how many people were standing there and just watching, most of them being union members, her focus locked solely on the monster in front of her. Some students looked on in awe; others covered their mouths in shock. Only then did it hit her how much power Seong-je held over these people. They feared him. They obeyed him with a single command. That realization scared her.

He hadn’t always been like this.

Seong-je simply looked at his hand, amused. He was about to speak—but Serim cut him off.

„If I ever catch someone following me again because you sent them, I won’t let the next person off so easily.” Her voice was low and dangerous as she stared directly into his eyes. She tried her best to sound as intimidating as possible but she was only fooling herself.

The worst part was that he was a head taller than her, so she had to look up to meet his gaze which made her feel so small and obedient. As if he was looking down at her. But that didn’t matter. She stood her ground, even as he stepped closer, now way too close for her liking, and started laughing.

„You really think I care about those idiots?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement as he pointed at the boy who was laying there, twitching front the pain. „Do whatever you want with them. I don’t give a fuck. But you’re not walking around alone anytime soon, and you know that. Oh—and by the way, I love it when you threaten me. Better if we do that kind of thing in private, though. Turns me on so fucking much.”

His filthy grin didn’t leave his face as he inched closer to her face, and Serim was on the verge of losing it. His dirty mouth was not something she could deal with at the moment. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying not to burn this whole damn internet café with the people watching to the ground.

„You fucking bastard, leave me alone already!” Her words were venomous as she spoke. She had finally snapped. Then, she shoved him back angrily to create some kind of distance between the two—but Seong-je had other plans. He suddenly grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him.

He pressed her head against his chest, and for a moment, the girl froze. She couldn’t believe where she was or what was happening.

For a few seconds, she stood still, her arms fell limp at her sides, exhausted from all the drama haunting her. Old memories rushed into her mind, and she inhaled his familiar scent. He still smelled the same. That same cologne. Masculine. Good. Familiar.

She could’ve stayed in his arms forever for all she knew.

But when Serim realized what was happening, her entire body tensed, and she shoved him away with all her strength. He stumbled back two steps and looked her dead in the eyes. Even his gaze seemed to reflect the past they shared—and Serim swore she was about to lose her mind. The people around them were still watching, transfixed.

Serim tried again, this time with a firm voice.

„Seong-je, I’m telling you this one last time—and all these people here are witnesses.” She pointed at the crowd watching before continuing.

„If you don’t leave me alone soon, may God help you—because no one else will be able to save you from my hands.” Serim threatened him as she spat the words. The girl wasn’t even lying, with the way she was feeling at the moment, she really could’ve killed him right there.

She took a step forward to make sure her words hit him hard. She was furious—ready to tear this stupid café apart in her rage. Seong-je looked at her seriously for a moment, then sighed and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He offered her one. She stared at him, confused. Was this seriously happening? What the fuck was even all of this even about? It was like she was stuck in a bad movie.

„Come on take one. I know you want to. Just like I know you still want me back but won’t admit it,” he said with a smile, winking at her and pulling the cigarette back before she could respond, lighting his own.

He took a slow, deep drag, then stepped closer to her again—this time managing to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Grinning, he exhaled the smoke right into her face, making her squint in surprise. Then he leaned down and whispered in her ear:

„What I said last time wasn’t a joke. You will be mine again—whether you like it or not.”

His voice was low and rough—and Serim knew he wasn’t kidding. He never was. When Seong-je wanted something, he got it. That hadn’t changed. Serim glared at him with venom in her eyes, then snatched the cigarette from his hand, threw it to the ground, and crushed it under her foot. He just stood there looking at her with what seemed to be amusement in his eyes.

„Like hell I will,” she spat before turning on her heel and pushing her way through the crowd, desperate to leave the internet café as fast as possible. She couldn’t breathe properly in that stuffed place anymore.

His scent still lingered in her nose, and she could still feel the spots on her body where his hands had touched her. With fresh goosebumps crawling across her skin, she made her way home. This was way too much to deal within a day.

What she didn’t know was that she’d left behind a smiling Seong-je, who watched her leave for minutes, mind full of a new plan to get her back… before placing a new cigarette between his lips and making his way towards the door to follow the girl.

taglist: @gacktsa @dripoftheseus @rockerica @b3autyist3rror @jaymiwrld @urfavsagsblog @feralmaneater @mordessaa @inhoswifee @wagawana 🩷

[fandomnerd9602]

Home on the Run (2)

Yelena Belova x Venom!Reader

Set during Thunderbolts*

“You did what?!” Yelena asked angrily, pacing around as Venom practically shrunk back into you.

“I didn’t know about it” you say rather defensively.

“Sorry. But you were heading out on missions and coming home drunk! What was I supposed to do?” Venom argues.

“He’s right” you shrug. “Lena we are worried about you. I’m worried about you!”

“I’m fine!” Yelena yells back only to stop herself. “I’m—I’m fine. And you’re siding with the alien?”

She walks over and begins surveying the area of the base. Bob meekly walks up to you.

“Relationship troubles?” Bob asks.

“Just a bump in the road” you put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m not sure how you got here, Bob, but Venom and I are gonna get you out of here.”

“M-Maybe it’s just better if I stay behind,” he mumbles, “I mean…I’ll just slow you down”

“You’re not an issue Bob. And we don’t leave anyone behind”

“But I’m…I feel like there’s a …void in me and…” he slowly backs away.

“We all have a void in us,” Yelena gently says, “just bury it. like deep down”

“That’s not what Sam told me” venom gently adds.

“How are we gonna get out of here,” Walker says, inspecting the elevator shaft.

“There’s no power.” Ava adds. “And I can’t phase up there. I can’t fly”

Lash and Venom immediately took over you and Yelena. The two symbiotes look to each other.

“I got Ava and Bob, Poppa”

“And I sadly got Walker” venom says.

“Sadly?” Walker intones, an eyebrow raised.

Venom and Lash slowly but surely climbed up the inside of the elevator shaft. And yet somehow the bickering wouldn’t stop.

“Just admit it, Walker. You’re a discount Captain America!” Ava smirked.

“I was Captain America!” He argued back

“And how did that pan out?” Venom shouts. “I am getting hungry (Y/N)! And Walker is looking real tasty right now!”

“Please don’t” Walker replied.

Yelena kinda of pulls herself out of Lash and turns to you, “can we talk?”

You turn, allowing Venom to keep climbing, “sure”

“Why did you come?”

“Simple. Because while you’ve been a pain in the ass lately, I still love you Lena” you say softly.

“Pain in the ass, really?”

“You began taking these assignments without asking me! Were supposed to be a team”

“You were playing house keeper” she argues back.

“Someone had to! Our kids need you, Lena. You want me to say it?” You huff, “I need you too”

“I thought you didn’t” she sighs, “Natalie’s hanging out with friends and Alex…he’s so adventurous.”

“They still need you,” you respond, “so do I”

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Bob asks, “but you two are..?”

“Married” Yelena answers.

“And how long has it been since you two…umm…knocked boots?” Bob winces at his own question.

“Knocked boots?” Walker asks, a laugh escaping his lips.

“Too long” you gently say

“Four months. Two weeks. Two days” Yelena looks to you a little sad.

“You pulled away once Natalie started fourth grade…and started doing ops again.”

“I’m sorry” yelena’s eyes drop a little.

Venom slams the elevator door open and throws Walker to safety. You and Venom along with Lash, Yelena, Ava and Bob all land a few seconds later.

“Next time, we’re going to a councilor’s office!” Venom remarks as he shrinks back into you.

Bob trips and touches Walker. You don’t quite know what he saw but Walker walked almost to the edge of the elevator shaft. You grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Walker? You good?” You try to ask him.

“Y-Yeah. You good?” Walker tries to shake it off but he still looks a little shaken.

Bob looked out the front entrance and froze, “oh no. Guys I think you might wanna see this”

You and Yelena look out to see an entire army of OXE employed soldiers. “Fall back” yelena orders as she grabs you and Bob and heads towards the elevator.

“Fight, momma?” Lash asks

“No no little one. If they had those mean sonic canons for Ava and us down in the chamber, they must have them on hand”

“Great! So what do we do? Just roll over and expose our bellies?”

“They’re gonna shoot gas cans and send in waves” Walker states. “Standard procedure.”

“Anything else you wish to hold over us because of your military career?” Ava says.

“College university quarterback”

“Oh useful,” Yelena states, “I used to be part of peewee soccer team called the Thunderbolts”

“Who sponsored that again?” Venom asks you, all you could do was shrug.

The plan was set. Yelena would blind the strike team when they all switched to night vision.

It mostly worked. As well as a plan written in crayon.

Ava got an escape vehicle. You all loaded yourselves in. Walker would drive while Bob sat in the back.

You were all almost clear when a couple soldiers pulled you over. Bob jumped out and tried to buy you all some time, fleeing back to the base while shooting a gun

You thought he went down in a hail of bullets only for him to stand back up and fly into the open sky. A few seconds later he crashed down sending out a shockwave and knocking your truck off the winding road.

You wrapped yourself and Yelena in Venom’s tendrils as the truck corkscrewed down the mountain side.

Even in the pitch black dark, you could feel Yelena’s face mere inches from yours.

“Yelena? Baby you good?” You tried to slow down your breathing.

“Project Sentry” was all she could say.

To Be Continued…

Tags @deafeningsharkslimeempath @sparks123123 @supercorpdanbeau @marveldcfandom @ma1egamer @multi-fandom-enjoyer @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @julieromanoff @russianredassassin @revanshand @texaswolf23 @marvelflame2010 @vikingking-05

[lampridius]

hii !! can i request anaxa + jing yuan with a reader who struggles with really bad paranoia and often has panic attacks because of it? ^_^

𝙃𝙎𝙍 𝙈𝙀𝙉 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙃𝘼𝙎 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙄𝘼 ᯓ★ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀: anaxa, jing yuan ᯓ★ rules | masterlist | 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 ᯓ★ 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ᯓ★ 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀:

#𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗫𝗔

he doesn’t try to fix you.

the first time you wake him in the middle of the night - heart pounding, voice shaking, convinced that someone’s watching the apartment through the window - he doesn’t roll his eyes. he doesn’t try to logic you out of it. instead, he turns around, calmly walks off, and checks the window for you. the whole room. twice.

then he turns to you and says, “there’s no one here, dear. it’s just us.”

you don’t believe him at first. how could you? your brain’s telling you otherwise, louder and louder, until it’s a scream behind your ribs. he sees that too. and he doesn’t get impatient. he kneels beside you, hands on your shaking knees, and repeats, slowly, “you’re safe. with me. even if your mind says you’re not.”

he studies your panic like a puzzle - not coldly, but carefully. he learns your patterns, your spirals, the specific phrases you need to hear when the paranoia starts to spike. he keeps water next to the bed. grounding objects in every room. he tracks how long it takes for your breathing to settle when he talks versus when he holds you.

he never calls you dramatic. never tells you to "calm down." he just keeps showing up, moment after moment, like safety is a habit he's willing to spend his life mastering - for you.

#𝗝𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗨𝗔𝗡

you call him too often. that’s what you think, anyway.

in the middle of the day, at night, sometimes right after he’s left - your hands shaking as you whisper, “can you just… tell me you’re okay? that i’m okay? that no one’s coming?”

he always answers. always.

“i’m fine, my dearest,” he says gently, even if he’s buried in work. “and so are you. but i can come back if you need me to.”

and sometimes you say yes, and he does. no questions asked.

when the panic attacks hit hard - your breath hitching, the world spinning, convinced someone’s out to get you - he holds you like he’s anchoring you to the earth. he guides your hand to his heartbeat and says, “count with me.” he speaks softly, again and again, even if you’re curled up and sobbing into his chest.

“no one’s coming. it’s just me.”

he smells like home. he never pushes, never asks why your mind does what it does. he simply stays. brushes your hair back. kisses your temple. reminds you, over and over, “you’re safe. right here. i’m not going anywhere.”

he lets you rest when it’s over, curled in his arms, exhausted. and when you apologize for breaking down again, he just hums, low and warm.

“you don’t need to be perfect to be loved.”

and he means it.

©𝗖𝗢𝗣𝗬𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 ● @lampridius 2025

[actuallysaiyan]

Fan Service(Jiraiya x Fan!Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, lewd themes, alcohol, praise kink, oral sex(fem receiving), penetrative sex, age gap, creampie finish word count 2k pairings: Jiraiya x Fan!Fem!Reader summary: during a book signing event, Jiraiya meets you. a breath of fresh air. and an aspiring smut author yourself...what happens when you two meet up to discuss positions?

Usually he wasn’t even really that excited for these types of events, but he can’t let his dear fans down. When he was just an up and coming writer, these types of events would be the highlight of his week. But right now, he was sort of wishing something else would happen. Something more fun and something more exciting than signing autographs for people who seemed disinterested or answering Kakashi’s questions about what’s going to happen in the next volume. Jiraiya was growing very bored.

That is…until you showed up.

Your beautiful eyes were alight as you approached the desk he was sitting at. A stack of books were piled up against his left arm, and Jiraiya nearly topples them over when you come over. You’re nearly bouncing in your steps as you finally get to him.

“Jiraiya-sama!” You squeal as you place a well-loved copy of Icha Icha on the desk. “I am so honored to meet you.”

His heart skips a beat. Your voice is so sweet and it’s so bubbly. He looks up at you and his cheeks redden just a bit. But he’s nothing if not suave. He looks at the copy of Icha Icha you’ve placed on the desk and opens it up.

“Well,” he says softly. “That’s a sweet thing to say to an old, washed up writer. Who should I make this out to?”

You say your name with a smile. “That’s a first edition copy.”

Now Jiraiya was impressed. “Is it? You’ve certainly enjoyed it. You know, I don’t have too many female fans, but this makes me happy.”

He signs his name after leaving a sweet little message. You seemed like a very nice girl. You look at him with stars in your eyes, almost like he’s your raison d’être. There’s something very sincere with the way you talk to him too.

“I…I had something to ask.” You say in a shy voice.

“Hmm? What is it, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks redden at this. “I’ve been writing as well. And I was wondering if maybe you could coach me.”

He laughs. “Nah come on, kiddo. You don’t want that. I’m washed up.”

You shake your head. “No! You’re truly inspiring.”

You place another book on the desk. It’s a notebook that looks like Icha Icha. He opens it up and reads a few passages. His eyes widen in shock. You were pretty good at this. He’s more than impressed.

“You don’t need my help, kiddo. You’re good! Heck, I’d say you’re great!”

You blush even more. “You really think so? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d love to learn from you.”

He scratches his head. “Okay okay…how about we meet for drinks at some point this week? I can give you a few pointers.”

It’s on a Friday night that you meet up with him in the bar. He looks so confident as he sits in the booth with his drink. He waves at you, a cool smirk spread on his face as you approach him with that bubbly gait. You sit across from him, placing your bag on the table.

“I bought you a drink,” he says, placing a bottle of beer in front of you. “I didn’t know what you liked, but the bartender says this beer is popular.”

“Thank you! You really didn’t need to do that at all.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

You pull out your notebook and take a sip of the beer. It’s a very smooth beer, and you know you would have probably ordered something nice like this for yourself. And then you and Jiraiya begin to talk about literature.

He’s got notes himself, showing you some of the rare things he wrote a long time ago. You feel so honored to get to read them. He talks to you about the editing process and how to make time for writing. He reiterates the importance of reading as well to keep your vocabulary up to date.

“I know you can do well,” he whispers softly after he’s had a few drinks. “You’re already wonderful.”

You’re blushing more now since you’ve also had a few drinks. “Thank you so much.”

He loves the way you keep leaning against him since you switched over to sitting next to him. Your perfume smells so good. You’re really cute too with the way you basically melt under his praise.

“I mean it! You could even give me some pointers now.”

You swallow hard. “Well,” you try to get the words out right. “There’s a position that I read in one of your books that I was wondering how good it would be.”

You open up the book in front of him and you read the passage. Then your eyes lock with his and it’s hard to look away. The sexual tension just keeps building and building before he leans in close.

“I’m just going to let you know now,” he whispers. “If we go any further, I don’t know if I could bring myself to stay away.”

You smirk. “Good, I don’t want you to.”

And with this, you seal it with a kiss. It’s slow and tentative at first, but then it turns into something a little messier and hotter. Jiraiya wraps his arm around you, pulling you impossibly close to him. Your breasts press up against his rock hard abs, making him grunt with pleasure. This was becoming the best fan meet-up in the history of his career and you weren’t even the first fan he hooked up with.

“We should probably take this elsewhere,” Jiraiya says as he nips at your bottom lip.

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Despite not wanting to pull away from you, Jiraiya gets up and helps you pack up your stuff. He’s quick to pay off his tab and with that, he brings you outside. The walk to his place is slow and sweet. The two of you discuss all kinds of things while the sexual tension builds inside of you.

Inside his apartment, he tells you to make yourself at home. You feel like this is just the start of one of his books. You grin at him, making him blush just a little bit. In the low lighting of his place, you look like a dream. A sexy, wet and palpitating dream. He approaches you with quick strides, and then he’s pinning you to the wall.

“Look at you,” his fingers brush back some hairs from your face. “You’re giving me those fuck me eyes. You’re making such an old man feel good, darling.”

You giggle. “Jiraiya, I want you to fuck me.”

His cock throbs at the words that come from your lips. He looks into your eyes, searching for maybe something that says not to do this. When he finds nothing but lust, admiration and even something close to love, he captures your lips with his own.

Languidly, his tongue rolls and rubs against yours. It’s a wet kiss that leaves your panties very sticky with arousal. Your heart is pounding in your chest as he moves with a certain suggestiveness that you’ve never seen anyone else have. When he pulls away, he’s smirking at you.

“Want to take this into the bedroom or do you want me to fuck you right up against the wall here?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Jiraiya. I—”

He laughs. “Up against the wall it is!”

He pushes you further up against the wall before getting on his knees. Seeing such a big man kneeling before you like this has your stomach in knots. How could he be this sexy? It was no surprise to you that someone like him was just dripping with pure sexuality but this was better than you could ever imagine.

His fingers are quick but soft as he undresses you. His teeth bite and nip your skin, leaving little marks to remind you that this did in fact happen. This was real and it was happening to you. You moan when he swivels his tongue on your lower tummy, his tongue swiping down under your underwear before he looks up at you.

“You smell good,” His face is pressed between your thighs. “So fucking good.”

He wastes no more time. Your panties are pushed down and he leans in to lap at you like a man starved. Your knees are already buckling and you don’t trust yourself to hold yourself up anymore. Thankfully, Jiraiya is quite strong and he’s good to keep you up while he sucks on your clit. Waves of pleasure ripple through you before you fall off the edge with a loud cry of his name.

“Already?” He asks, his lips still somewhat wrapped around the throbbing nub. “Wow, I didn’t think I was that good.”

You huff and blush, looking away from the very sexual man that sits on his knees for you. He’s toying with your folds, licking them and sucking on them before his tongue dips down to your entrance to get a full taste of you. His eyes roll back as he gets the full flavor of your essence.

“You’re gonna make me addicted,” He growls before he gets up on his feet. 

Jiraiya pulls down his pants, kicking them to the side. He grinds his hips against yours, allowing you to feel his erection that’s now straining against his underwear. Your hand shakes as you reach down to palm him. He’s fucking huge, but you’re not one to shy away from this challenge.

He bucks up into your hand. “Think you can handle it?”

“Of course I can.”

He loves how confident you are. He helps spread your legs before he pushes his underwear down. The look on your face when you finally see his dick says it all. Jiraiya knows he’s been blessed with a big member, but he always loves the way women react to it for the first time.

“Brace yourself, honey. I’m gonna rock your world.”

He uses the tip to smear your arousal all over before prodding your little hole. You were going to be tight, he knows this. But as he pushes into you, he finds it’s the warmth that’s drawing him in more than anything. His eyes close and he grunts.

“Taking me so well,” he praises you before kissing you.

Slowly, he starts up at a pace that’s comfortable for the two of you. He’s surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed like he’d be wild with you, and yet you can’t complain. It feels so good to go slow like this, building a bond without truly realizing it. Your bodies move together in tandem before he picks up the pace and begins slamming into you.

“I knew you were such a naughty thing when I first laid eyes on you,” He lifts your leg and places you in the position you were talking about earlier. “How’s this for the position, hm? Is it as good as you imagined?”

In this position, he reaches even deeper into you. Your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin and he pushes you right over the edge. His gruff voice is coaxing you to cum, cum all over his cock. With your tight walls spasming around him, Jiraiya is finding it so hard to hold on.

“Fuck,” he pants. “Gonna cum. Where should I—”

“Inside, please!”

Your words alone are what send him over the edge. He grunts as his balls tighten, making his cock throb with each shot of hot cum that paints your insides. It’s sticky and messy, but he continues to thrust into you. Jiraiya kisses you, making his whole body shudder from the deep affection he feels for you in this moment.

As things begin to subside, he pulls away and looks at you. You look very satisfied and it warms his heart. He knows he’s a good lover, but sometimes he does worry that his age has finally caught up to him. Another kiss and he slowly pulls out of you. His seed drips down your thighs.

“Maybe…” you pant. “Maybe we can try a few other positions?”

He grins. “I love the way you think.”

With that, he takes you by the hand and leads you into the bedroom…

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2025– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

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[killmeleatherface]

It Had To Be You

Part 3

Dr Michael Robinavitch x f! resident (turned attending) OC

This is a Part 3 to my ongoing series

Heres the last part!

TW: yes there’s gonna be smut! P in v, oral, implied and said, kissing, medical setting, fighting, cheating, pregnancy, age gap relationship, dom sub relationship.

Robby knew where you lived because he’d started insisting on walking you home a few months ago. After your usual beers in the park with the crew, it’d end up to be you, Samira, Robby, and Jack. You’d be rehashing a pivotal case that day or laughing about how you or Samira, “the more inexperienced ones”, would intubate or draw a central line. Whatever, it was all jokes. And then it became less joking and more flirting, as you noticed Jack and Samira sitting subtly closer and closer to each other. It’d usually end in silence and either you or Samira would speak up about needing to finally head home. If it was you Robby would usually mutter something about having a question for you and sliding up to be shoulder to shoulder with you. He’d keep that pace, keeping quiet conversation about the weather, a brick building you were walking by, how he’d had an apartment on this street. He talked about whatever he could to keep your attention and not cause either of you to leave the little bubble you’d surround yourself with. Eventually you ended up at the foot of your place. You never invited him up. You couldn’t. He’s way too professional. He valued his job and your job and the working relationship too much to mess anything up. It’s not like it was explicitly against HR rules, but you were his subordinate. No matter how much it hurt to be in love with him and not be able to do anything about it. But you did always hoped he just wouldn’t stop and would follow you up one time.

And now here you were, all this time later, walking down your front steps greeted by your attending.

Man, he looks good. Really, really good. Like so tantalizingly good you’re stopped in your tracks, and admire him. A charcoal Henley under an expensive grey linen jacket and black jeans. He looked mouthwatering, especially more when he smiled at you, eyes wide.

“You look amazing.” He beams.

“Hey, you don’t look to bad yourself, doctor.” You quip.

You follow down and come to stand in front of him, in a bodycon black cotton maxi dress, black strappy heels and silver earrings. He reaches out for you and stops. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, taking a beat. He turns around and takes a step away rubbing his hands up and down his face, muttering groans of dissatisfaction.

You’re confused, very confused. “Hey, uh, Robby, what’s wrong?”

He turns back to you and says “Y/N, I just…I cannot control myself around you.” He speaks. You’re hiding your stun so he doesn’t stop going.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this, but yeah, we’re gonna do it. I know you applied and interviewed with me at The Pitt and you’ve been waiting to hear back. Well, tonight, tonight, at dinner, at one of the fanciest restaurants in the city, I was going to offer you the attending position.”

Now you can’t hide your shock, your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open.

“I know, I know. And I know I’m not supposed to influence you and you haven’t even graduated yet, but I need to know right now if you’re taking it. Before I can go on. It’s been killing me. I, uh, don’t want to lose one of my best people ya know.” He says.

One of his best people? That’s what you were? Why is he freaking out?

You try to step closer to him. “Um, Robby, of course I’m taking the position. I don’t want to leave here. Why would you even think I’d want to leave the Pitt?”

He doesn’t answer. Where’s he going with this? Was that what he wanted to tell you at dinner, really? That’s really nice of your attending to take his coworkers out to celebrate a job offer. So maybe this wasn’t a date. You instantly feel defeated.

His head pops up. It’s like you’ve unlocked something in him. Like he can read your mind at the current moment. The already started unraveling is speeding up. He finally reaches out to you and grabs your face. You expect him to stop, because that’s always what’s happened. And he does, he looks down at you, really searching for something.

“Am I crazy?” He asks.

You place your hands over his. “What? Why would you be-?”

He stops you and says, “What’s between us, what’s always been between us…I’m not imagining it. Me and you?”

You freeze. Were you awake? Was this really happening?

He’s waiting for an answer.

“What’s always been between us?” You ask. You need to hear him say it. You can’t your mouth betraying you.

You keep eye contact as he says, “Nothing. A good working relationship. I’m just having a moment, tired. Long shifts, ya know. Come on, let’s go to dinner. I’m starved.”

What? What? No, no, no, no, no, no. This is very bad. You realized you’ve answered wrong. He put the ball in your court and you threw it in the complete opposite direction. This is the most confusing man you’ve ever met in your life. What was happening? You could’ve sworn you knew exactly what he was going to say and again, you were wrong. Dead wrong.

He sticks his heads in his pockets, immediately making you miss the warmth of his touch. He starts heading down the sidewalk. So you follow him.

—

Your sat across the table from Robby, barely touched plates in front of you. It’s been a very awkward dinner. You can’t understand what went wrong. Maybe nothing had gone wrong and you were imagining everything. Maybe Robby has just needed a friend all this time.

“Do you work tomorrow?” You ask, making polite conversation. As if you don’t know this man better than he knows himself. He just shakes his head.

By the time the checks come you’ve finished 2 bottles of wine between the 2 of you. Obviously you weren’t the only one who needed your nerves calmed.

You don’t intend for him to walk you home, but you don’t mind his presence, even if you’re both walking in silence. Man this night didn’t end up like you expected.

—

2 Weeks Later

You’ve finally graduated residency. You feel such a wave of relief it’s insane. You’re also about to embark on a week off before you started as an attending at PTMC.

You’re still glad you’ve taken the job, even if you haven’t had a proper conversation with Robby since your not date. Man, you missed him. You missed being able to debrief after an especially long shift. You missed feeling the cool air on your skin as you sat next to each other sharing whatever candy you’d had in your pockets. You just missed his presence. Not as your coworker, not as your attending, but as your friend, your person.

You zone out of your thinking and come back to the bar you’re sitting at with Samara.

“To being attendings!” You clink 2 shot glasses together.

You throw the burning drinks back and suck a lime.

“These are for you too. From the guys down the bar.” The bartender places 2 sprites in front of you and you look at each other, then down the bar.

You see a familiar grey haired man with a friendly smile, Jack Abbot. He raises his glass in a sort of salute. You feel Samara light up. You notice movement next to Jack’s shoulder. There he is. An equally familiar for different ways brunette. Michael Robinavitch.

“Did they just send us soda? Really? Lame!” Samara jokingly yells. “Im going to personally complain. I’ll be back.” And before you can reply she’s picking up 2 more shots and heading over to the 2 attendings. You’d go see Robby, but you’d rather not sour your mood and you’re sure he’d rather be left alone.

You see Samara approach the guys and they offer a friendly smile. Samara leans into Robby and simultaneously makes him smile, causing him to look at you. Robby gets out of his seat, tips his drink to the fast approaching couple and leaves. He head towards you.

Almost in an instant he’s occupying the seat your friendly was just in.

“Hey.” He offers with a smile.

The presence of him next to you makes you want to melt. You just want your best friend back. Even if you’re not his. But your wants could be put aside. You were a doctor, you knew to put the greater good before a single person.

“Hey.” You offer back with a turn.

The silence that follows is awkward. It’s loud. This sucks. You’re annoyed, just what you didn’t want to happen. You’re about to open your mouth and say a lie about how you need to leave, but when Robby sees your awkwardly tense up he goes to say something.

“Listen, I’m no good at doing this. I think we both know that. Can we get out of here and talk?” He inquires.

He’s offering a metaphorical olive branch. You nod.

He’s called the bartender to settle both of your tabs, after sending another round of shots to Jack and Samara, stating “they’ll need it.”

You’re on the warm streets of Pittsburgh halfway to your apartment when you break the ice.

“What’s been going on with you? With us?”

He ponders this. “I know, like I said. I messed that up. I wanted to take you out and offer you the job, but I didn’t do it right. You deserve more.” He’s talking about the job but you feel he’s using job for a different term.

“Well, I accepted the job. I’m an attending now. We’re both attendings. We’re on the same level now.” You offer back. Which isn’t exactly true, but semantics, semantics. Maybe the alcohol you’d had in the hours before had made you calmer and looser than you thought. You’re pulling at what you feel he wants to say, trying to slowly reel it out of him so you can celebrate your prized catch. He looks at you.

“We are not on the same level here.” He offers.

You’re in front of your apartment now. “Michael, what the hell are you talking about? Can you just spit out what you’ve been wanting to tell me so we can go back to being friends?” You don’t mean to say it with such an attitude but you’re over it. You either stay friends and be fellow attendings, and maybe your relationship will stay the same. And maybe he doesn’t actually love you like you love him. Whatever. You’d take it. As long as he was in your life.

He’s silent for a long time. It’s like something is bubbling at the surface and he’s terrified of letting it erupt.

You decide to help. “Okay, whatever. I’m not your subordinate anymore and you can’t fire me so I’m just going to say it. I think I know what you wanted to tell me 2 weeks ago, or at least what I was hoping you’d tell me. And you’re scared as hell to say something. Which I get, I totally do. But it’s been way too long to keep playing games Michael. You owe me more than that. You owe it to yourself, to us..” You leave the last part out there.

Yup, the alcohol had made you very confident.

Something’s burst in him. Using us, as if there is an us.

“Us? What about us?” He asks.

Do I have to say it?

“Fine, I’ll say it. I’m in love with you. I have been for a really long time. And I know that might be stupid and I know you might not feel the same. Which is fine. I just couldn’t not tell you. It’s been driving me crazy and when I thought you felt the same and then didn’t, I thought I’d be okay hiding it. But I’m not. I’m too proud to hide my love for you anymore. I’m not good enough an actor to play like this doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter to me.”You burst with words.

Michael looks at you and in an instant is in front of you hands darting to your jaw. He finally, finally, crashes his lips down to meet yours. Taking, searching, trying to absorb everything that you’ve been missing for so many years. You don’t know how long you stand there making out in the street in front of your apartment kissing like horny teenagers, but you don’t care. Eventually Robby pulls back.

“I love you too. If it wasn’t obvious enough already.” He says scanning your face.

“Finally.” You say.

“Do you want to come up?”

You hear Robby’s steps come up behind you as they wrap around your waist. His lips are on shoulders, slowly going up your neck. He’s handsy, you’d always suspected, but it’s nice to be reassured.

Here’s the next part!

[yummyrevivalfluid]

How To Rizz Up A Scientist

Chapter 3: Acid-Base Titrations-Reaching the End Point

Reader Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here

Word Count: 3,823

Warnings: Scientific dirty talk? Making out, body grinding. Male masturbation, mentions of female masturbation, improper use of a textbook, emotional hand job? Jealous Senku.

.

.

Science is meant to be respected. It is the need and desire for knowledge. A desire to understand why things work as they do—a need to hypothesize, experiment, and search for a conclusion. Science is a collective work of human progress. Years of work expand on one another—the answer to one raises a question for another. In the words of another, science is power- science is elegant.

The diligent work of Sir Isaac Newton, his laws of motion, and the time he put into his work, wasn’t so that Senku could dream of you. Have Senku twist his laws and formulas into something so perverse. Its purpose was to provide the scientific community with a fundamental understanding of motion and the interacting forces of objects, not for Senku’s unhealthy obsession with you. Not so he can use Newton’s second law of motion to calculate the hypothetical force of your hips grinding into him.

You’ve dragged this side of Senku out, but he doesn’t mind. What he does mind is that he feels like he’s alone in this feeling. He doesn’t understand how you do it. You always seem to remain unaffected by the proximity. Unnerved by the tension brewing between the two of you. He feels like you thrive in it.

He wants to know if you think of him the way he thinks of you. Desperate to be in your presence. Longing for the days to end so he can meet you for your tutoring sessions. He wants to know if he clouds your mind- if the lectures remind you of him. He needs to know how you feel.

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It’s been two days since you've seen Senku. It’s not a lot of time for something to change, but something is different about him; you just can’t quite put your finger on what it is. He hasn’t said or done anything out of the ordinary. If someone from the outside were to walk in, everything would appear as it should. You seem to be working diligently on a practice problem, while Senku is using this time to prep for your next review topic.

That was the issue. Everything was too ordinary. Even in the first session with him, you both gravitated towards each other, closing the space between the two of you. At this point in the session, you would’ve initiated some banter, maybe even begun teasing to rile him up in more ways than one, but something was stopping you. The slight change in Senku is preventing you from taking any action.

Instead of trying to answer the problem in front of you, another angular question, you try to answer the problem sitting beside you.

What’s different about Senku?

You sneak glances at him, careful not to arouse suspicion—your line of sight alternates from his form to the cheat sheet of equations he made for you. The longer you glance at him, the closer you are to the answer. The closer you are to continuing his ruin.

“Are you stuck on something?” His voice is curt; he asks you without looking up from the textbook in his hands.

The words are caught in your throat, and your mind is arguing about what to concentrate on. Should you focus on his question, answer him. Or should you focus on the delivery —the tone and his attitude towards you? You choose the easier of the two.

“I’m having trouble understanding t-“

He cuts you off and refuses to face you, keeping his attention on the book, even having the nerve to turn the page.

“It’d help if you wrote something down.” There's a smug smirk plastered on his face.

“Maybe I was solving it in my head.” Your words are a weak attempt to refute him.

“You weren’t,” he says as if it were true—it was, but he doesn’t know that. Finally, since the start of this session, he makes eye contact with you. He pushes the book to the side and stares at you. You notice where his eyes travel, from the blank page to you and back again. “You were too busy thinking of me.”

What’s different about Senku?

You know the answer. He’s reverting to the Senku you passed in the hall on the first day you transferred—the Senku who was confident and snarky. This was the Senku you heard about from others. It wasn’t the Senku who you pulled from his shell. This wasn’t the Senku that no one else knows about. It wasn’t the Senku you told others about and tried to tell you, you have the wrong Senku.

“Senku isn’t a flirt.”

“Senku did that? Nerdy science-obsessed Senku?”

“I don’t believe you. Science would be the only thing to him on.”

The Senku sitting beside you wasn’t the one you wanted. This wasn’t the Senku who fell victim to your teasing. You wanted your Senku back.

“You caught me.” You let out a dramatic sigh, throwing your hands up in defeat. “You’re so observant…”

Senku doesn’t say anything to you; his eyes only narrow at you. You aren’t sure what he is looking for or wanting from you. The only thing you can do is ramble, hoping you say something that sparks his reaction. You’ve studied him plenty. Even the tiniest movement from him is all you need.

“Do you want to know what I was thinking about?” he doesn’t react- you take it as a sign to continue.

“I was thinking about how you compare to my man.” You pause, you don’t elaborate. You need him to use his imagination. You see a reaction, it's small and subtle, but enough to understand what he thinks of you—his nose scrunches just for a second.

Possessive

“Newton?” he asks in the same curt tone.

“Who else?” you ask playfully. You hum, pretending to be caught in a trance. “Newton’s three laws of motion, the law of universal gravitation, not to mention the contributions to optics and calculus! A man who knows it all!”

“You wouldn’t even know what the hell he would be talking about.”  Whether he’s aware of it or not, you notice he’s gravitating towards you. The space between the two of you is returning to being suspiciously small for a tutor and a tutee. The small moment of confident Senku was breaking to reveal the Senku you’ve been craving. “There’s a reason you need tutoring.”

“Rude,” you act hurt, placing your hand over your heart. “But true.”

Neither of you says anything, and an awkward silence consumes you both. You can see the twitchy movement of his fingers, like he’s contemplating what he wants to do. You pick up your pencil and act like you’re attempting to solve the problem, luring him in.

His hand clasps around your wrist, forcing you to stop writing. You tug your hand in retaliation- he tugs back harder.

“What law explains the force between two charged objects?” he asks you, ignoring the fact that he’s jumping from physics to chemistry.

You don’t answer right away. The answer is at the tip of your tongue- you can envision it. In your memory, you see the page, the page number, the layout of the page, but the answer was hazy.

“I know it!” you whine to Senku. You attempt to reach for your textbook, but his grip on your wrist limits your movement. “Please, just a quick peek at my notes.”

“This is gen-chem material. This should be review.” He’s scolding you.

“I hate your stupid questions…”  

“It’s Coulomb's Law,” he’s smug. He loves it when he holds knowledge over you, but he loves to share it with you even more. “The force between two charges depends on the charge present and the distance between them.”

His hand is still holding onto your wrist, his thumb circling patterns into your skin. “Like charges repel and opposites attract.”

“Is this your way of saying you're attracted to me?” you tease him.

His answer is unexpected but not unwelcome.

Senku thought he would be unhinged—feral. Instead, he’s slow and methodical when he presses his lips against yours. He has never bothered to research, nor has he had an interest in learning about physical affection, until you came along. He always preferred a hands-on approach.

He wants to know more and broaden his knowledge. He wants to learn more with you. He wonders if you can tell he’s inexperienced when he moves his lips against yours.

If the dreams he has about you told him anything, he thought he would be the one begging, but instead, it’s you. When he pulls away, gasping for air, you whine, holding onto him. Your breathing is heavy as you beg him, “More.”

He doesn’t fight back when he feels your hands shoving at his shoulders, pushing him down as you crawl over him. His lips part in anticipation when you lean down. Your lips move sloppily against his, your mouth attempting to devour him whole.

Instead of words, you banter with your body. You grind your hips against his, and he fights back with his hips bucking against you, matching your rhythm. Your tongues fight with each other, twirling around, waiting for the other to give in and relinquish control of the situation. Your hands are tangled in his hair, pulling at his strands while his fingers dig into your waist.

Senku pulls away unwillingly.

“Oxygen…” he’s panting heavily, eyeing the string of saliva connecting you both even after being separated.

“I take your breath away, don’t I?” You ignore the fact that you’re also breathing heavily,  already leaning in to close the space between the two of you.

“Always.”

He doesn’t give you time to think about what he said. He uses the moment of vulnerability to switch positions. He hovers over you, his mouth attacking your neck. His tongue locks onto your skin, swirling until he finally decides to seal his lips against it. He’s gently sucking at your skin while you writhe underneath him, gasping at the pressure on your neck.

“Senku…” you plead, your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. “Senku, I need more…” You lock your legs around his torso,

You need him closer

“I need you.” You beg him.

You needed him in a way you never thought you would. It was curiosity that brought you to him—your never-ending need to satisfy every itch in your brain. The boy who spewed chemistry talk as if it were nothing was just another question you needed the answer to. Even when you got the answer you’ve been looking for, it wasn’t enough. He was the stimulation your mind required, and now it’s the stimulation your body is asking for. You need more.

You both hear it—the loud pounding, growing louder with every passing second.

You’re pushing Senku off while he scrambles to act normal as he can. Your gaze is locked on the door while you straighten yourself out. Trying to cool yourself, hiding the flush on your face, and moving your hair to cover the mark Senku left.

There’s ample space between the two of you, waiting for whoever it is loudly making their way to you both. You stare intensely at the same blank page from the start. Senku is trying to act engaged in the textbook, but the words all blur together, and his mind is fried.

“SENKU!” an unknown voice shouts out. You can hear Senku curse under his breath, his reaction leaving you puzzled. In an instant, the door swings open to reveal someone who you soon will learn is Taiju.

“What do you want, you big oaf? I’m busy.” Senku tries to get rid of Taiju as quickly as he can. He wants to continue whatever was happening between the two of you.

But Taiju doesn’t get the hint- Taiju never does

 His inability to read the room is impeccable, his timing even more so.

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Senku finally got the answer he had been seeking. The feeling was mutual.  You needed him just as much as he needed you. Yet, even with this information, he was helpless. He’s losing his mind.  The thoughts he has of you don’t dial down. The dreams were even worse. He was so close to finally having you the way he’s dreamt of, only to be cockblocked by his oblivious friend.

He couldn’t even tell Taiju what he did. Taiju’s respect for women was incredibly high - it was admirable. He would rip into Senku if he told him what he was about to do to you, what he’s dreamed about you, what he’s currently doing to the thought of you.

He waits, the only way he can.

He’s touching himself to the thought of you and trying to relive the moment. He should be ashamed of what he’s doing to find his release. But he’s not. He’s thinking of you and thinking of the mess you’re making. At least he hopes you’re making a mess.

He’s imagining what you’re doing to yourself. Are you as sick and twisted as he is? Are you defiling the purity of his beloved science?Are the images of formulas running through your mind? Are you rewriting them to fit your debauched needs? He doesn’t want to be the only one.

He’s imagining what you’re doing to please yourself. Are you rubbing your hips against a pillow? His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when something even more depraved comes to mind. What if you were riding against your textbook?

He feels like an animal in heat, rutting his hips against his pillow, the sound of your begging consumes him.

Just two more days…

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He can’t seem to pay attention to the professor. He’s fidgeting; his nerves are getting the better of him. His foot won’t stop tapping against the floor, and his hands are playing with the pencil in his hand while he eyes the clock on the wall.

Just a few more hours

Time always seems to move more slowly when you’re wanting something.

At the sound of the bell ringing, Senku is launching from his seat and navigating the halls with the rest of the horde of students, trying to pass by without getting bumped into. He’s getting closer to his next class. His mind tunes out the chatter from the crowd, but somehow, he hears you. He can’t see you, but he hears you. He’s more desperate than he thought.

He doesn’t think as he stops in the middle of the hall, frantically searching for you. He can hear your laughter and is moving toward your voice, despite the crowd pushing in the opposite direction. He’s being shoved, his shoulders colliding with others. It feels as if the universe is preventing him from reaching you.

He can see you for just a moment, catching small glances. You’re laughing with someone. He’s not bothered. He likes the sound of your laughter, the smile that comes with it.

You're leaning into someone, some boy whom he doesn’t know.

‘Whatever, He’s not bothered. It doesn’t mean anything, especially since he’s held you in a much more intimate manner. In a matter of a few hours, if luck were on his side, he’d have all of you. He would know every crook and cranny of your body, with the help of his five senses.

“God, you're so smart! You’d make Einstein jealous!”

‘Praise another man, whatever. You could be scheming, but compliment another man’s intelligence, you’re flirting.’

He’s walking away from the sound of your voice. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t like it. Only you would make him feel things he doesn’t know how to handle.

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He’s trying not to think about you. He knows he’s supposed to be with you right now, he’s skipping your tutoring session, but he doesn’t care. The members of the science club surround him while he begins the titration lab.

You can get anyone you want, you have the money. You want the best, you want the smartest, but it’s not him. You said it yourself. Telling someone else they were smart, worthy of a reaction from one of the most outstanding scientists of all time- his hero. The words of you praising somebody else fill him with envy. His irritation grows when he thinks of your man Newton and when he thinks of whoever it was you were talking to.

Everyone is watching as Senku turns the stopcock just slightly, enough for a drop to pour every few seconds. The drop falls from the tip of the burette into the beaker. He’s holding the beaker in his hands, giving it a slight twirl as the solution goes from clear to a light pink for a split second before going back to clear.

“What is an endpoint, and how can we identify it?” Senku asks the members of the club, his attention fixed on the beaker, as yet another drop drips into it. Nobody answers him, he doesn’t understand why until he hears your voice.

“It’s a visual indicator that the reaction between the titrant and the analyte is complete.” You don’t hide the irritation in your voice, walking closer to where everyone is gathered. You’re staring daggers into Senku’s back, but he refuses to turn around.

Everyone can feel the tension between the two of you, and they don’t want to be victims caught in the crossfire. They scurry out of the room, hushed whispers shared among the members as they glance back at you before closing the door and trapping the tension between you both. It’s silent, neither of you speak, the only sound is the occasional drop falling into the beaker.

You move from your spot, sighing deeply before stopping right behind him, you cross your arms over your chest while glaring at the back of his head. He still refuses to face you.

“Anything you want to say?”

“You didn’t answer how we can identify it.”

“You’re a dumbass.” You spat at him. “A fucking idiot.”

“This is the first time I’m hearing about it.” He tells you as he continues to swirl the beaker, waiting for the visual indicator to appear.

You don’t say anything as you approach him even closer, pressing your body against his back. Your arms reach over his waist, your fingers hovering over the zipper of his pants. Senku doesn’t say anything to you, but you feel his body stiffen against yours, his breathing getting heavier.

“Push me away, tell me to stop,” you whisper into his ear, “and I will.”

Senku does neither.

You pull down on his zipper, undoing the buttons on his pants. You rub your palm over him, slow yet rough.

“Tell me, Senku.” Your lips brush against his ear, “What did I do to make you mad at me?”

“I’m not.” He’s lying between his teeth, and you know it, but you play along, for now. You feel him harden under your touch. You squeeze him before pulling away his confinements.

This was an entirely new experience for both of you. You’re movements are unsure as you feel him throbbing in your hand. You move your arm up and down while Senku pants. He doesn’t trust himself, so he’s leaning over the counter as you pleasure him. He eyes the titration equipment beside him. The burette is still dripping, but the reaction isn’t complete yet.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here.” It was Senku’s only complaint.

“There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing.” You quicken your pace, causing Senku to jolt, thrusting his hips into your hand. “Chemists do it on the table periodically.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Senku allows himself to succumb to your sinful touch. He focuses on the touch of your fingers as they drag up and down. His eyes flutter when your fingers linger at the tip just a millisecond longer. He whines when you squeeze him, slowing the pace before speeding up again. The feeling was ethereal. It was better than he could imagine, better than the pleasure he gave to himself.

You're pressed against him, and you feel and hear everything from him. You’re experimenting with his body. You can tell what he likes with the way he jerks his body against you. You’re learning where he’s the most sensitive. What causes him to whimper, moan, and gasp. You know what causes his knees to buckle. You might be inexperienced, but you can tell when he’s close.

You feel him throbbing more than he was minutes ago, his hips are moving frantically against your hand, and you can hear him chanting, ‘please.’

When he thinks he’s about to finish, you pull away from him. You're still pressed against his back, but you’re whispering again.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Senku.” You’re pressing kisses against his neck, “Or I won’t let you finish.”

He can feel you pecking and sucking at the skin on his neck- you’re claiming him. “It’s nothing.”

“Senku,” He can feel your lips drag against his skin, “I’ll bring you to the edge of release, but I won’t let you finish in my hand.”  

He can feel you reaching down for him again. You retake hold of him, lazily dragging your nails against the skin, “Then you’ll go home and touch yourself. You’ll be thinking of me, won’t you?”

Senku doesn’t say anything, but he’s nodding his head as he feels himself getting lost in your touch again.  

“What else do you want?”

“I want all of you.”

“Then tell me, Senku.” You beg him. “Please.”

He can feel your tears drip onto his skin, and he caves in.

“I overheard you in the hall talking to someone.” Senku feels his chest tighten, but he doesn’t think it’s because of your touch. It’s much more. “I was jealous. It’s stupid.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jealous.” You burrow your face in his neck. You want to focus on him. You whisper praises to him, your words leave him whining for more.  

He’s throbbing again. His body is slumping onto the table, dragging you with him. You don’t let go, you quicken the pace while Senku thrusts against your hand. He’s panting one second, then gasping in the next.

You feel it, a warmth spreading across your hand. It comes in spurts. You’re squeezing the tip, trying to drain the last of him.

Senku is slumped against the floor, breathing heavily, while his mind tries to recollect itself. He doesn’t notice what you’re doing until you speak.

“I guess both reactions finished at the same time.”

He looks up to what you’re referring to. You’re holding the beaker, and the clear liquid is now a permanent light pink. The light pink color was the visual indicator that the reaction was complete.

---

A/n: How was it? I've rewritten this chapter five times by now, and I'm still unsure about it. I'm not very good at expressing feelings...Do you have any feedback or suggestions? Am I overthinking it?!?!?

I finally got my physics grade, and I'm currently dragging Sir Isaac Newton's name through the dirt...

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Asking them if they'd let you get them pregnant...part 4?

Cw: pregnancy talk, a little suggestive.

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part five

A/N: I put myself to sleep making crack and I awake to do the same. Felt I had too many agree so I've changed it up. Also Idk how many more of these I'll make I am running out of guys because I'm not caught up in HSR and GI but I do believe that once I am they will suffer the same fate as the rest. There is no escape. :3

-------

Welt is always willing to answer your strange questions that seem to plague you in the middle of the night. But this question definitely makes him pause. He turns around from his desk with a raised brow and uneasy expression.

"Aren't I a bit too old to be bearing children?" But you shake your head asking him to answer the question but he blurts out his own spinning his tablet pen in his fingers nervously.

"Is this your way to say we should have kids?"

"Are the younger express members not enough?"

"Perhaps Joey will be alright? He's young enough, oh, but you haven't met him yet not to mention he's rather far away..."

You cut him off telling him that if there were a way to get him pregnant would he let you and not to think about it too hard. He sighs a bit relieved that you aren't serious...at least he hopes you aren't.

"I'm- Well I don't exactly picture myself becoming pregnant even if we could do so. And given my age it'd probably be best not to for both my sake and this hypothetical child of ours." He nods still spinning around the pen.

"So my final answer is 'no'. And if you'd like to have children in the future we can-" He clears his throat. "-talk about it. But for now no hypothetical pregnancy."

Luocha takes off one glove and presses it against your forehead checking your eyes before moving on to check your pulse.

"Luocha? I'm fine. I'm not sick or intoxicated if that's what you're worried about." He nods solemnly pulling back and putting back his glove. "Then it's worse than I feared: You're just a fool." "Hey!"

He catches your hand that attempts to smack his shoulder at the minor insult. He places a kiss on your knuckles.

"As lovely as having children of our own sounds, now is not exactly the time nor place. We are wanderers after all. They deserve better than what we can currently provide."

"Besides...who said anything about me bearing our children?" Luocha pulls you close embracing you placing a kiss just below your ear and whispering. "I think you would look rather lovely...round and full. Don't you think?" Uno reversed?!

Dr. Ratio sighs deeply flipping to another page in his tome. You sorta expected him to throw a piece of chalk at you at this point but it seems he's refraining focus locked on his book. At least that's what he looks like he's doing but the flush of his shoulders up to his ears gives him away.

"Veritas are you ignoring me?"

"What an astute observation. Perhaps we should give you an intergalactic peace prize for such study."

"Veeeriiiitaaaaaaas. Come ooooon answer the question." He rolls his eyes the tome thumping shut in his hands. He walks past you to put it away and grab another two from the short recently purchased pile of tomes.

"No. I've clearly rewarded your impudent questions far too much." He lightly smacks your hand as you reach for some of his tomes. "You need to learn some restraint."

You whine again flopping on his personal libraries lounge. You keep whining until he throws one of the lounges pillows at your head.

"Fool! If you are so determined to have children then why don't you bear them instead?"

"But I wanted to get you pregnant not me. You'd look so pretty carrying our-GAhk" Another pillow makes contact with your head. He heaves his flushed skin much darker than before.

"My answer is 'No' now get out!"

[marie098887]

Y/N who gets migraines.

You get migraines. And the bad kind. The kind that makes your head pound, lights sting, and noise feel like it’s echoing inside your skull. Some days, you can push through. Other days, it knocks you flat. But your boyfriend is there to help, and he always handles it.

Part 1: Isagi, Chigiri, Rin, Bachira, Kunigami, Reo, Nagi

📝 Requests: OPEN

💙 Isagi Yoichi

When he finds out you get migraines: He didn’t realize how bad it could be until he saw you curled up on the couch, lights off, face tense, barely able to speak. At first, he panicked, thinking you were hurt or something along those lines before he started asking questions, moving too fast, trying to “fix it” like it was a strategy problem. But when you flinched at the sound of his voice, he froze. That’s when it hit him, this wasn’t about fixing. It was about calming everything down.

__________

“Y/N?” You didn’t answer. Not right away. Just shifted slightly, arm over your eyes, breath shallow.

Isagi knelt down beside the couch. “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

His voice was too loud. You flinched. Not dramatically. But enough. Of course you weren't straight up ignoring him, you just couldn't find your words, but he froze.

Then he whispered, “Shit. Sorry.”

He stood up, walked across the room, and closed the curtains. Turned off the lamp. Shut off the TV. You didn’t ask, he just did it.(Still running off a hunch that it is a migraine.) When he came back, he handed you a cold water bottle and sat down on the floor next to you, legs crossed, back against the couch. He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t ask more questions. Just sat there. Close. Quiet. A hand resting lightly near yours. Waiting until you were okay.

How he helps you after learning about your migraines. Once he knows how bad it can get, he takes it seriously every time. The moment you mention it, he closes the curtains, dims the lights, and gets your medication and water without you asking. He lowers his voice, moves slower, and doesn’t crowd you. He stays close, usually beside the bed or on the floor near you, and only talks if you need something. He’s quiet, patient, and focused. Afterward, he always checks in to make sure he did things right and asks if there’s anything he can do better next time.

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

🌺 Chigiri Hyoma

He doesn’t notice right away. You hide it well at first, brushing it off, trying to keep the conversation going even though your tone is duller, your answers shorter. He thinks you’re just tired. Maybe even annoyed with him. Then he sees it, the way your eyes keep squinting, the way your fingers rub slow circles at your temples. At first, he tries to lighten the mood. Says something sarcastic. You don’t laugh. Don’t even respond. You just sit there. Quiet. Still. That’s when it clicks. It’s not your mood. It’s your head. And now he’s watching you differently.

__________

“Hey,” he said, leaning over. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer. He watched you for a second. You weren’t mad. Just… still. Your hand was pressed against your forehead. Eyes shut tight.

Then he softened. “Is it your head?”

You nodded, barely. He didn’t push. Didn’t ask anything else. Just moved. Within a minute, the lights were off. Curtains drawn. He tossed you one of his softest hoodies and handed you water without a word. He didn’t hover. Just sat near the edge of the bed, scrolling silently on his phone, glancing at you every so often. The tension in your face stayed, but your shoulders slowly relaxed. He noticed. And he stayed right there.

And he stayed right there.

How he helps you after learning about your migraines: Chigiri doesn’t need reminders. Now, when you say “My head hurts,” he shuts everything down. Lights off. Room cool. No noise. He gives you your space but keeps you in sight. He doesn’t ask questions unless he has to. He’s calm, quiet, and always nearby, doing what you need before you even ask. No dramatics, no overthinking, just care, exactly how you need it.

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

🐠 Rin Itoshi

When he finds out you get migraines: You didn’t say anything at first, just kept rubbing your temples and pulling your sleeves over your hands. Your voice got quieter. Your answers clipped. Rin thought you were shutting down for a different reason, something deeper, maybe even about him. He kept watching you. You weren’t mad. You weren’t distant. You were in pain. His eyes widened for a second, but he didn’t say anything. Just stood up and started moving.

__________

You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, head down. Rin didn’t ask what was wrong. Didn’t poke or press. He walked across the room, pulled the curtains shut, and turned the lamp off. Then he grabbed the cold compress from the fridge, the one he’d noticed you kept tucked in the back, just in case, and placed it gently in your hand. You opened your eyes halfway.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I know.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just sat down next to you, arms resting on his knees, staring forward like it was just another quiet moment. But his leg was angled toward you. Close. Still. And he didn’t leave.

How he helps you after learning about your migraines: Rin doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He doesn’t talk much, but he watches everything. When you say your head hurts, he moves on autopilot, lights off, no noise, meds ready, cold compress in hand. He sits nearby but never crowds you. Always within reach, always alert. If anyone else tries to talk to you or pull your attention, he shuts it down with a look. Quiet support. No questions.

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

🐝 Bachira Meguru

When he finds out you get migraines: At first, he thought you were just tired. You’d been quieter than usual, rubbing your forehead, squinting at the lights. He asked if you were okay and you said, “Just a headache.” So he cracked a joke. Tried to make you laugh. You didn’t even smile. That’s when he stopped. He tilted his head. Watched your breathing. Watched how slow you were moving. And then he realized, this wasn’t normal.

__________

You were lying on the couch, blanket over your shoulders, eyes shut tight.

“Is it your head?” he asked softly, tilting his head.

You nodded once.

“Okay,” he said, voice gentler now.

He turned off the lights. Closed the blinds. Tiptoed into the kitchen and came back with a water bottle, your meds, and a cold rag folded perfectly. He knelt beside the couch, placed everything down carefully, then sat on the floor and leaned against it, quiet for once. No noise. No questions. Just soft fingers brushing your hand now and then. Just so you’d know he was still there.

How he helps you after learning about your migraines: Once he understands what a migraine really feels like for you, he becomes hyper aware. The second you look off or move slower than usual, he’s already dimming the lights and shutting everyone else out. He whispers. Moves quietly. Puts a cool rag on your forehead and hums softly if you let him. He doesn’t always know what to say, but he’s always there. Always warm. Always patient. His energy fades with yours, until you’re okay again.

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🧡 Kunigami Rensuke

When he finds out you get migraines: He noticed something was off when you didn’t look up from the couch after he came home. You usually greeted him, a smile, a nod, something. But this time? Nothing. Your shoulders were tense, your face tight, hunched over, and your voice was barely there when you finally spoke.

He walked over, sat down on the edge of the couch, and said, “Hey. Talk to me.”

You whispered back, “Migraine.”

That was all he needed to hear.

__________

He didn’t ask questions. Just moved. Lights off. Curtains drawn. Kitchen light switched to the lowest setting. He grabbed your meds and water, brought them over, and helped you sit up just enough to take them. Then he guided you back down, adjusted the blanket, and sat on the floor beside you, back to the couch, one hand resting gently on your leg. Not saying a word. Just there. Solid. Still. You didn’t even have to think.

How he helps you after learning about your migraines: He’s calm, steady, and proactive. Once he knows your triggers and what helps, he stays one step ahead. He keeps the lights low, limits noise, brings you food when you're able to eat, and checks the room temperature. He makes sure you take your meds, and if you fall asleep, he stays in the room to make sure you're okay. He doesn't try to fix it with words, he just shows up. Every time.

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💜 Reo Mikage

When he finds out you get migraines: He was mid-sentence when he realized you weren’t really listening. You were, trying. Nodding, smiling, but your expression was tight, your eyes kept blinking like the light was too much. He paused and asked, “Are you okay?”

You just whispered, “Migraine. Sorry.”

He blinked. Didn’t say anything for a second. Then his demeanor shifted.

__________

“Alright,” he said gently. “Don’t move.”

He turned off the overhead lights, switched on one dim lamp behind the couch, and grabbed your meds and a cold drink from the fridge. He came back with a soft hoodie, a folded towel for under your neck, and helped you stretch out without saying much. Then he sat next to you, scrolling on his phone with one hand, the other resting lightly on your knee.

“Just relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

And he meant it.

How he helps you after learning about your migraines: Reo takes it seriously from the jump. He learns your schedule, your triggers, your preferred meds, and keeps everything stocked. He adjusts the lights, cancels plans, turns on ambient noise if silence feels too heavy, whatever you need. He’s calm, focused, and attentive without being overbearing. And he won’t let anyone else get in your space while you’re recovering.

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🤍 Nagi Seishiro

When he finds out you get migraines: You told him once, in passing. He remembered, kind of. But it didn’t register how bad it could get until one afternoon when you were lying in bed, hoodie over your head, not answering his texts. He walked in, saw the lights off, and immediately putting his phone in his pocket.

“You good?”

You whispered, barely: “Migraine.”

His expression stayed the same, but didn’t say anything else.

__________

He left the room for a minute, maybe 2. When he came back, he had a bottle of water, your meds, and a cold rag folded in his hand. He set everything on the nightstand. Then climbed into bed slowly, careful not to shift the mattress too much. Lay down beside you, arms behind his head. Didn’t ask. Didn’t push. Just… stayed. And after a few minutes, his hand found yours under the blanket. Quiet. Still. He didn’t need a plan. He just needed to be there.

How he helps you after learning about your migraines: Nagi keeps it simple. He doesn’t overthink, just makes things easy. Lights off, volume down. He doesn’t talk unless you start it. He’s quick to grab your meds, keep people out of your space, and lie beside you until it passes. No pressure, no noise, just quiet care from someone who knows how to take up less space when you need it most.

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Authors note~

Hey y’all! So turns out I myself get migraines! Not just migraines though I get a kind called an ocular migraine. Basically means my vision acts funny then I get a migraine. Scared the shit out of me the first time. I completely thought I was gonna have a whole stroke 💀 So y’know, if I ghost for a few days that’s most likely why or school. Thank y’all for the support <3