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hhaechansmoless · 1 month ago

Text

OFF THE GRID PT.2

pairing: f1driver!scoups x ex!femreader

genre: angst, romance, exes to lovers au, childhood bestfriends / neighbours au

description: Part of the Beyond The Grid series Four-time world champion Choi Seungcheol has spent years at the top with Ferrari, but as the 2025 season drags on, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s not quite where he used to be. The competition is catching up, his team isn't what it used to be, and for the first time, he’s starting to wonder if he’s past his prime. By the time the season winds down, he finds himself back in his hometown, which isn't quite the same either. But the hardest race was never on track, and sooner or later, he’ll have to figure out what comes next.

warnings: strong language, stressful situations, descriptions of car crashes and physical exhaustion, f1 heavy

w/c: Part 1 - 14k Part 2 - 13k Part 3 - 19.5k

glossary taglist a/n: please don't hesitate to comment / reblog / leave an ask w your thoughts !! hope y'all like this too <3

HOME

You walk down to your driveway, car keys jangling around your finger. Across the street, you see Seungkwan nearly colliding with his own front door as he stumbles outside, yelling a rushed goodbye over his shoulder. His bag is half open, a half-eaten apple in one hand, keys barely hanging onto his fingers. It’s a mess, but a familiar one.

You scoff, shaking your head before calling out to him. “Hey! Why are you still here? Didn’t you say you had an early meeting today?”

He grumbles before biting into his apple. He takes a minute to swallow it while he throws his bag in the back seat of his car before he turns to you.

“Do you really have to shove it in my face? I’m already late, stop bothering me!”

“You look like you’ll crash into the next tree you see,” You roll your eyes, “Do you need me to drop you off?”

Seungkwan shakes his head and is about to say something when a car pulls into the driveway next to yours. You turn towards it, getting ready to wish Seungcheol’s dad a good morning. Seungkwan probably waits for him to get out of the car too, seeing that he hasn’t driven off yet and stands next to his opened door.

“Good morning, uncle!” Both of you greet him at the same time, making him chuckle. He waves at the two of you before looking back into his car’s window.

“How come you were out driving so early?” You ask him as you wipe some of the snow left on your windscreen wiper. He lets out a sigh, tapping the roof of the car before turning to you.

“Had to pick a certain someone up from the airport.”

The car door opens, and Seungcheol steps out, stretching his arms over his head with a quiet sigh. His hair is a little messy, like he’s just woken up or spent too long resting against the window. He adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder, blinking against the cold morning air. For a second, he pauses, glancing around the neighborhood like he’s reacquainting himself with it.

“What the actual fuck.” Seungkwan huffs out in disbelief, making Seungcheol snap out of his daze. He turns towards the voice to see the younger boy standing, one leg inside his car and one out, jaw hanging down. His gaze shifts towards you who’s equally surprised yet a little better at hiding it.

“I really need to get to work because I am criminally late for that meeting but I will talk to you later, Cheol.” He blinks before shutting the door.

Seungcheol’s dad pushes him towards you as Seungkwan turns his car on and drives off, not before yelling a warning for Seungcheol to fucking stay or I’ll find you. Seungcheol stumbles a little before coming to a stop in front of you.

You don’t know what to say to him, honestly. It hasn’t been long since the news of him leaving was announced, and right now as you look at him, it’s the only thing on your head. But you doubt he’d want you to ask about that, so you settle for something else.

“How come you’re here?”

He narrows his eyes at you, “Well, it’s my house. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

You roll your eyes, “Gee, thanks. Thought it was mine.”

“It should be,” His dad huffs as he pulls out a suitcase from the boot, “You’re here more than him. It’s like you’re our child.”

Seungcheol scoffs, scooting over to his dad to take the bags from his hand, “I’ll keep them myself.”

His dad gives him a look but lets go of the suitcase, clapping a hand over Seungcheol’s shoulder before heading inside. The front door swings shut behind him, leaving just the two of you standing there in the cold.

Seungcheol shifts one of his bag higher up his shoulder, eyes flicking toward you before he exhales, watching the cloud of his breath disappear into the air. “You’re up early.”

“No I’m not,” You raise your eyebrows, “I usually have work around this time.”

“I know that,” He rolls his eyes, “I was just trying to make conversation, but whatever, I guess.”

“Why are you back so soon?” You ask, kicking snow at his suitcase. It makes him hiss in annoyance. You try to hide the way your lips curve up.

“I don’t have much to do, so I thought I’d grace this town with my presence.”

“Sure.” You hum, “Well, I’m off.”

Seungcheol almost stops you. Do you want me to drive you there? The words sit on his tongue, ready to jump out any moment. But he holds it in.

Instead, he watches as you step toward your car, keys twirling around your finger. You don’t hesitate, don’t turn back, just reach for the door handle like this is nothing, like he hasn’t been gone, like this isn’t the first time you’ve stood in front of each other in months.

You pull the door open and pause, just for a moment. “I’ll see you later, Cheol.”

And then you’re gone, leaving him standing there, hands tightening around the handle of his suitcase. He stands there for a second too long, the cold air creeping into his jacket, before finally turning toward the house.

The front door creaks when he pushes it open. It always has. The house smells the same too,faint traces of his mother’s morning tea, the sharp bite of the winter air sneaking in through the open window. Nothing’s changed.

His dad is already in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge like he has something more important to do than acknowledge his son who just came home. His mom isn’t here, probably out running errands. Seungcheol’s brother, nowhere in sight.

Fine. He drags his suitcase over the tiles, the wheels thudding over the uneven floorboards. He should take it upstairs, put everything away, but instead, he stops at the couch.

The blanket draped over the armrest isn’t any of theirs. The corner of the right armrest, dented from years of picking at it, welcomes him, and before he can think too much about the person who owns this spot, he sighs, dropping his bag beside the couch before collapsing onto it, leaning his head back against the cushions. For a second, he closes his eyes. He knows he won’t sleep, but God, that flight was exhausting.

His dad clears his throat, finally speaking, “You hungry?”

It’s a simple question, but Seungcheol can sense the hesitation in it. The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet, and honestly, he doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. So he ignores it.

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

“You ate on the flight?”

“Yeah,” He breathes out, kicking his legs up onto the sofa, “Was shit, but I’m full anyways.”

His dad hums in response, “Mum’s next door. Went to give something, but she’ll be back in a few minutes. You can go freshen up.”

Seungcheol nods and then realizes that his dad’s probably not looking his way right now, “Fine. I’ll go in a second.”

He leans back against the couch. The blanket still smells faintly of you.

—

Seungcheol spends most of the day drifting between the couch and his room, ignoring the unopened suitcase by the door, ignoring his phone, ignoring the weight of being home again.

It’s only when the sun has set, the house quieter than before, that there’s a knock at his door, soft, but firm, before it creaks open.

His mom steps inside, hands on her hips. "Are you planning to hide in here all night?"

He mumbles, rolling onto his side. "Not hiding."

"Mhm." She doesn’t sound convinced.

She takes a few steps in, eyeing the room. It looks almost exactly the same as when he left it. Same shelves, same framed photos, same forgotten belongings that no one had the heart to pack away. But there are little changes, things he wouldn’t have noticed before. A new lamp on the nightstand. An extra blanket folded at the foot of his bed.

"You should’ve told me you were coming.”

He lets out a quiet breath, turning his head toward her. "Didn’t think I needed to send out a press release."

She scoffs. "Maybe not, but at least let your mother know before you already arrive at the airport.” She studies him for a second, tilting her head. "Have you been eating properly?"

"Here we go," he groans, running a hand down his face.

"I’m serious, Cheol!" She moves to sit at the edge of his bed, reaching out to brush his hair back like she used to when he was younger. "You’ve lost weight."

"I haven’t," he grumbles, but she’s already pinching his cheek like he’s sixteen again.

"See? You’re all skin and bones. Do they not feed you? Must I argue with Seokmin to give you a diet that doesn’t consist of eating nothing"

"Not this again," he mumbles, trying to pull away, “Ma, I eat what I’m supposed to eat. I’m an athlete, come on. I’m fit.”

She exhales dramatically, shaking her head. "You get a little older and suddenly think you don’t need your mom fussing over you anymore. Unbelievable."

"Yes, well, I’m thirty and-"

"You need to eat properly, sleep more, and stop frowning so much. Look at those dark circles-"

Seungcheol groans, flopping back onto his bed. "Okay, okay, I get it! I’ll eat. I’ll sleep. Happy?"

His mom chuckles, patting his leg. "I’ll be happy when you actually do it."

He grumbles before turning away from her, making her pinch his side. Seungcheol protests with a loud yelp, but if feels nice to be here, to have someone fawning over him. He’s missed this comfort.

She sighs, softer this time. "It’s good to have you home."

He hesitates for a second before nodding. "Yeah," he says, even though he’s not sure if he means it.

Before she can pick something else to tease him about, a faint flicker of light flashes against the wall.

Then another.

His mom glances toward the window, then back at him, lips twitching. "Looks like someone’s waiting for you."

Seungcheol groans, rubbing a hand over his face before turning toward the window. He already knows what he’s going to see.

"Of course they are," he mutters.

She chuckles, standing up. "Some things never change."

"They should," he mumbles, but he still gets up anyway, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket as he heads for the door.

His mom follows him out into the hallway, watching as he makes his way downstairs. "Be nice to them, Cheol."

He pauses on the last step, glancing back at her. "I am nice."

She raises an eyebrow.

He scoffs. "I can be nice."

She snorts, waving him off. "Hurry up before they blind the whole street. And ask them if they want to come over for dinner!"

Seungcheol shakes his head, a small smile on his face as he opens the front door, stepping out onto his porch.

“Look. It’s the king. The lion. He’s decided to grace us with his presence.” Seungkwan announces. Seungcheol sees you trying to suppress the laugh bubbling through your throat and rolls his eyes as he crosses the road, hands in his pocket, stepping onto Seungkwan’s lawn.

Seungkwan gasps dramatically, “Wow. My timing was so perfect. I literally mowed the lawn yesterday, so now Your Highness, thou can place thy sacred feet on it.”

“How about my sacred feet kick you in the face.” Seungcheol hisses, kicking his foot up. Seungkwan dodges, but it makes him laugh anyways.

You shake your head, lips twitching as you glance away, while Seungcheol just exhales, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "You done?"

"Not even close," Seungkwan says, tossing his flashlight into the air before catching it again. "I mean, I get it. Who wouldn’t want to trade this boring town for the glitz and glamour of Monaco, Milan, Maranello-" His tone turns pointed on the last word, eyebrows raising ever so slightly.

Seungcheol shifts, rocking back on his heels. "It’s not like I haven’t been back."

Seungkwan scoffs. "Oh, yeah, the wedding. A whole weekend of your presence. How generous."

“Oh yes, I should’ve skipped the race that I was supposed to drive in and spend time with you, since you missed me so much.”

The latter rolls his eyes, “Okay. What about the last winter break?”

Seungcheol stills at that. His glance flickers over to you, but you’ve already been looking away, hands stuffed in your jacket’s pockets as you stare at the floor, silently kicking Seungkwan’s shoes.

“Come on. Can you stop battering me already? My mum’s invited the two of you for dinner. Where’s Jihoon?” He clears his throat, frowning at Seungkwan.

You pipe up at his mention, “He’s on a business trip, probably coming back in a day or two.”

Seungkwan nods before punching Seungcheol’s shoulder playfully, “You said your mum’s invited us to dinner? I’m free.” He looks at you.

You stare back at him, glaring daggers before looking at Seungcheol, a little unsure. You’ve never hesitated to hang around at his parents’ house despite the history between you two, because you’ve known them your whole lives and because they’d convinced you that breaking up with their son did not make you any less of the daughter they never had. But with Seungcheol there, it’s different. He might not want you to be around. You’d understand.

Instead, he simply shrugs, “Are you just going to stand here? Don’t think you’re very busy either.”

You nod, making Seungkwan loop his arm into yours before he drags you across the road. You hear the little laugh Seungcheol lets out as he jogs up behind you two.

“Just so you know, I was here last night too.” Seungkwan sticks his tongue out, “Pretending to ask you was just an act. At this point, the rest of us are more familiar faces here than you are.”

“I don’t return for one year and suddenly all traces of me have apparently been erased.”

“Hell yeah, you’re quite replaceable, you know?”

Seungkwan says it playfully. He doesn’t mean it, Seungcheol knows he doesn’t. But it still hits a sore spot. His grip on the house keys slackens, just for a second, unnoticeable to anyone but him.

“Have you come home just to sit in your room all day and laze around?” Seungho asks as he leans against Seungcheol's opened door.

“Leave me alone.” Seungcheol sighs, facing away from him, eyes glued to his phone.

“Man, you're going to fucking rot in here. Get out.”

Seungcheol doesn’t even look up from his phone. “I am out.”

Seungho scoffs from the doorway. “Right. Sitting in a dark room all day like some washed-up, retired athlete totally counts.”

Seungcheol finally turns his head, glaring. “You’re so encouraging.”

His brother doesn’t even blink. “Not my job to encourage you. Just here to remind you that you look like shit.”

Seungcheol sighs, tossing his phone onto the bed beside him. “And you’re doing a great job. Can I rot in peace now?”

Seungho doesn’t respond right away. He just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes studying him.

"You know," he says after a moment, voice quieter now, "Mom and Dad are actually worried."

Seungcheol exhales, rubbing his face. “They don’t need to be.”

“Well, they are.” Seungho tilts his head. “And so am I. I literally came here as soon as I got off work.”

Seungcheol looks up at him then, eyebrows furrowed. Seungho isn’t usually like this. He’s blunt, sure. Always has been. But he doesn’t usually say things like that.

Seungho sighs, running a hand over his face. “Look, I get it. This is a lot. But you’re acting like your entire life just…ended. Like there’s nothing left.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw, looking away.

Seungho doesn’t stop. “You’ve barely left your room. You won’t even talk to anyone. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want to disappear.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply through his nose. "Well, good news, I already did.”

Seungho scoffs. “You think locking yourself in here is going to help?”

Seungcheol presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, shoulders tense. “I don’t know. I just—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Listen, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Seungho clicks his tongue, staring at him for a second. Then, finally, he mutters something and pushes off the doorframe. Seungcheol hears his footsteps down the stairs and closes his eyes again, sinking deeper into his pillow.

The palm of your hands burn from the heat as you place the paper bag down on the kitchen counter. Seungcheol’s mom peeps into it, shaking her head with a smile.

“Mum said she made too much. She saw Seungho’s car in the driveway and thought she’ll send some over since both the boys are here,” You giggle as she ruffles your hair.

“Well, she always makes too much, doesn’t she?”

“Don’t tell her I told you this, but I’m pretty sure your kids were just an excuse,” You lean in closer, “She definitely made more because she knows it’s your favourite.”

It makes her laugh out loud, clapping your shoulder affectionately before she takes the boxes out, blowing at the tips of her fingers after setting it down. As she moves around the kitchen, you notice the small sigh she lets out, a quiet, tired thing, like something’s been sitting on her chest all day.

You tilt your head. “You okay, Auntie?”

She pauses, before plastering a smile back on her face. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

You don’t buy it.

“Come on,” you say, leaning against the counter. “What’s wrong?”

She huffs out a laugh, but then, instead of brushing it off, she glances toward the staircase, voice softening.

“It’s Seungcheol.”

Your breath stills for a moment.

“He’s barely left his room since he got back,” she continues, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Won’t go out, won’t talk to anyone, just sits up there all day doing God knows what.”

You swallow. “…He’s been like that the whole time?”

She nods, lips pressing together. “His dad and Seungho have tried, but you know how he is.” A pause. Then, gently, “Maybe he just needs the right person to talk to him.”

You stare at her, a pleading look on your face. You knew this was going to happen. You knew the moment you stepped into this house that his mom would ask you this. And still, hearing it makes you want to run right back out.

You bite your lip, shaking your head as she walks around to stand next to you, both hands on your shoulders, “Auntie, please, no-”

“Honey, he’ll listen to you. You don’t have to talk to him too much. Just try to bring him out. Please?” She pouts, tilting her head at you.

You look away from her, knowing that if you don’t, you’ll end up agreeing. It’s futile anyway because it’s like you’ve already agreed by just coming here.

“He might not even want to talk to me,” You argue weakly.

“Oh!” She waves, dismissing the thought, “You’re still his best friend. He’ll still care about what you say.”

There’s every reason to say no. It’s going to be awkward, difficult, and messy. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to him. It was easiest at the wedding because you didn’t think you’d have to be around him for more than a few hours. It was easier that night because Seungkwan was there to fill in the gaps between you two. What will you do now?

But there’s another part of you, the part that has known Seungcheol your whole life, that has spent years learning every stubborn, impossible part of him, that knows he won’t come out of this on his own.

And so, after a long pause, you nod.

"Alright," you murmur. "I’ll try."

She squeezes your hand in thanks, offering a small, grateful smile before turning back to the food.

You push off the counter, inhaling deeply as you make your way toward the stairs.

This is going to be a mistake.

But you climb the steps anyway.

The hallway is quiet. His door is shut. You lift your hand to knock, and pause. What if he really doesn’t want to see you? What if he tells you to leave?

You shake the thought away and finally knock.

"Cheol?"

Silence.

You wait for a few more seconds before gently pushing the door open.

He’s lying on his bed, blanket pulled over his head, face turned away.

"Your mom told me to come up," you say, stepping inside. "She wanted me to check if you’re still alive."

Seungcheol voice comes out muffled. "Unfortunately."

You don’t laugh. You don’t even roll your eyes. Instead, you cross your arms.

"Come on. Get up."

He groans. "Not now."

"Yes, now."

"Why?"

You reach for the switchboard to turn on the lights. "Because if you don’t, your mom is going to start guilt tripping me instead."

Seungcheol peeks at you from under his arm. “Sucks for you, then.”

You don’t move. "Seungcheol."

He knows that tone.

And yet, he still tries. “Just let me-”

"No." Your voice is firmer now, something final in it. "You’ve been sitting in here for days. If you don’t want to talk, fine. But you need to move. I don’t care if we just sit outside. We’re leaving."

He exhales, staring at the ceiling for a moment before finally sitting up, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Where are we even supposed to go?"

You tilt your head. "Just put on your clothes and come out.”

Somehow, that works.

He groans as he stands, reaching for the jacket in reach. He doesn’t feel like going out. But he also doesn’t feel like fighting you.

You turn away from him, pulling out your phone to send a message to Seungkwan and Jihoon.

“I’m going back home to find my scarf,” You tell him, still typing away on your screen, “It’ll take just a minute so wait outside.”

Seungcheol sighs, “Just take one of mine.”

You whip your head towards him, eyes narrowing, to which he replies. “I don’t want to be out any longer than needed.”

You hesitate for a second, still holding your phone, before slipping it into your pocket.

“Fine,” you mutter, stepping past him.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just sighs as you brush past his shoulder and into his room.

The room feels lived in but distant, like someone occupying a space they don’t expect to stay in for long. A jacket is draped carelessly over the chair in the corner, his suitcase still half-zipped by the door. On the desk, a set of keys, a crumpled receipt, and an old water bottle sit untouched, like he came back, but never really settled in.

You shake your head, hoping he notices and cleans up. You haven’t been in this room since… Since after you two broke up.

Your eyes drift toward the chair in the corner, the one you used to curl up in whenever you came over and he was too busy doing something else.

It’s stupid, how comfortable this still feels. Like no time has passed. Like everything is still the same.

You push the thought away and head for his closet, fingers brushing over the hanging jackets before grabbing the first scarf you see. It’s only when you pull it around your neck that you realize that it was yours. Memories flicker, piecing themselves together. A winter evening, a half-hearted argument, him tugging the scarf from around your neck with some teasing remark before stuffing it into his jacket.

"You’re always forgetting your stuff anyway," he’d said, grinning as he walked ahead.

But you never got it back. You don’t even remember when you stopped looking for it.

Yet, somehow, he had it all along.

Seungcheol is already leaning against the banister, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. When he glances up, his gaze stays on your for a few seconds, like he knows exactly what you just realized.

The cold nips at your skin the second you step outside.

Seungcheol exhales sharply, shoving his hands deep into his hoodie pockets as he follows you down the steps.

For a while, neither of you say anything. Your footsteps crunch softly against the thin layer of snow coating the pavement, the air crisp and quiet.

Eventually, Seungcheol sighs. "So where are we actually going?"

"Nowhere far," you say simply.

He doesn’t push, just breathes out, tilting his head back slightly as he walks beside you. The silence between you is less heavy than before, but not quite comfortable either.

When the playground finally comes into view, you hear the soft creak of the swings in the distance, the last few kids of the evening still chasing each other across the grass. The sky is turning shades of deep blue, the early winter sunset settling over the town.

Seungcheol slows his steps, eyes narrowing.

"Seriously?"

You step onto the curb, turning to face him. "You got a better idea?"

He looks at the park, then at you, then back at the park again before scoffing.

“…God, we really are just lingering at this point, huh?”

You snort, brushing snow off a wooden bench before plopping down. "Just sit down."

Seungcheol exhales, shaking his head. "This is pathetic. We’re like jobless thirty year olds who look like we’re avoiding our real world responsibilities.."

“Speak for yourself, I have a job,” You frown as he sits down next to you.

Seungcheol huffs after a few seconds of silence, “Why are you here? I mean, this must be uncomfortable. I’ll let my mom know that-”

“That what?” You interrupt him, but he flinches in a way that makes you think you came out snappier than you meant to.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs defensively, “We broke up, but we’re here now pretending like nothing happened.”

“Well, you quit your job and the one thing you’ve spent your entire life doing and we’re here pretending like that didn’t happen either,” You snap now, “What do you want me to do Cheol? Ignore you and pretend like you haven’t been my best friend for my entire life?”

“Can we not do this now?” He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “I just thought—”

You tilt your head, voice quieter now. “Oh, so you’re okay with talking about our breakup, but not something that’s literally changed the course of your life?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “That’s not-” He stops himself, jaw tightening.

You don’t push.

Because you could. You could press him, ask him why he won’t talk about it, why he can sit here and acknowledge that you left him but won’t say a word about how he left racing. But you don’t.

Instead, you sigh, rolling your shoulders back. “Alright, fine. No more talking about feelings. You want to discuss the economy instead?”

He scoffs, his expression caught between amusement and frustration. “Shut up.”

You shrug. “You don’t want to talk about anything real, so I figured we’d pivot to stocks or whatever.”

Seungcheol huffs, shaking his head as he leans back against the bench. “I hate you.”

You hum, “You can avoid stuff, but lying is a new low.”

And before Seungcheol can respond, a voice cuts in.

“Are you guys seriously arguing at a children’s playground?”

The two of you turn to see Seungkwan and Jihoon standing behind you, the younger with his hands on his hips, thoroughly unimpressed.

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Seungkwan.”

Jihoon sighs, already tired. “Can we go now?”

Seungcheol blinks, shifting where he sits. “Go where?”

Seungkwan raises a dramatic eyebrow. “To the supermarket.”

Seungcheol stares at him. Then at Jihoon. Then back at Seungkwan.

“…Why?”

Jihoon exhales sharply. “Because I just got back home and my fridge is literally empty.”

Seungcheol’s expression barely changes. “And that’s my problem because…?”

Seungkwan smacks the back of his head.

"Ow—"

"Because we’re functioning adults who need food to survive, and you need some fresh air and some normalcy in your life, dumbass.”

Seungcheol glares, rubbing the spot where he got hit. "You say that like you function."

Seungkwan gasps dramatically. "How dare you."

Jihoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh my God, just get up before I starve to death.”

—

It starts the second you step inside.

Seungkwan grabs your arm, Jihoon immediately makes a beeline for the produce section, and Seungcheol ends up pushing the shopping cart.

He stares down at it, hands gripping the handle. “Why am I the one doing this?”

Seungkwan breezes past him, dropping in a family-sized bag of chips. “Because you’re the tallest. Cart-pushing is a tall person’s job.”

Seungcheol squints. “That’s literally not how that works.”

Jihoon, standing by the vegetables, doesn’t even look up. “It does now.”

You snicker as you step past Seungcheol, tossing a pack of instant noodles into the cart.

His eyes flick to you, unimpressed. “And you’re contributing to my suffering.”

“I don’t make the rules,” you hum.

Seungkwan immediately points. “Yes, you do.”

You wave him off, reaching for something on the shelf. Seungcheol watches as—without thinking— you pick up a box of his favorite cereal and toss it into the cart.

Then, like your brain just registered what you did, your hand twitches slightly.

You don’t take it out.

Seungcheol exhales, looking away before he can think too much about it. “Jihoon, hurry up, you’re taking this way too seriously.”

Jihoon doesn’t appreciate that comment as he inspects the head of lettuce that he’s holding

“It’s called being an adult, Seungcheol.” He puts the lettuce back, reaching for another one. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Seungcheol scowls. “You say that like I don’t literally pay taxes—”

Jihoon holds up a finger, “You’ve been living in Monaco recently, man. Don’t know about that.”

Seungkwan grabs the cart and dramatically swerves it away. “Okay! We’re splitting up. Jihoon, you get your boring groceries. Cheol, you stay here and mope. We-” He gestures between you and himself. “-are getting snacks.”

Seungcheol watches as Seungkwan drags you away, leaving him with Jihoon, who is now very aggressively examining a bell pepper.

“I hate my life,” Seungcheol mutters, rolling the cart forward.

Jihoon hums. “Yeah? You think this bell pepper cares?”

Seungcheol sighs, rolling the cart forward as Jihoon picks up another vegetable.

“You’re seriously overthinking this,” Seungcheol mutters, watching as Jihoon turns a tomato over in his hand, eyes narrowed in intense concentration.

Jihoon doesn’t respond immediately. He places the tomato back, fingers tapping against the cart’s handle as he walks a little further down the aisle. “And you’re seriously underthinking everything.”

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows. “Is this about the groceries, or is this about something else?”

Jihoon hums, inspecting a bag of onions before dropping them into the cart. “You tell me.”

Seungcheol grips the handle of the cart a little tighter, jaw tightening. “If this is your way of saying I should start talking about things, you should know by now that it’s not gonna happen in the middle of a supermarket in the fucking vegetable aisle.”

Jihoon finally turns to look at him. “When is it gonna happen, then?”

Seungcheol doesn’t answer.

Jihoon sighs, pushing his sleeves up. “Look, I’m not gonna sit here and lecture you like some after school special. But I know you, Cheol. And you know me. So let’s skip the part where you act like you’re fine, and I pretend to believe you.”

Seungcheol rolls the cart forward, not meeting Jihoon’s eyes. “It’s not that deep.”

Jihoon laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “Right. Not that deep.” He gestures vaguely. “You’re just home, doing nothing, avoiding everyone, and pretending like leaving Ferrari and your career was just some casual decision you made overnight.”

Seungcheol’s grip on the cart tightens. “You know it wasn’t.”

Jihoon watches him for a second, then sighs. “I’m not trying to piss you off.”

“You’re not,” Seungcheol mutters, but he doesn’t sound convincing.

Jihoon doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, he picks up a bunch of bananas, inspecting them for a second before tossing them into the cart.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Jihoon says, voice a little quieter now. “But don’t expect people to pretend it’s not happening, either.”

Seungcheol exhales, tilting his head back.

For a second, he just stares at the ceiling. At the blinding, stark white, boring supermarket lights, at nothing in particular.

Then, finally, he mutters, “I don’t expect anything.”

Jihoon watches him for a moment longer, then shrugs. “Good.”

And just like that, he grabs the cart and starts pushing it forward like the conversation never happened.

Seungcheol lingers for a second before following him without another word.

When he gets the message from Seokmin, Seungcheol tries hard. He tries really, really hard to not care. To just swipe away the notification, to switch his phone off and go outside. But Seungcheol’s own mind is his jail, his actions his chains, and he unlocks his phone to open Twitter. He still follows the Ferrari account, thinks it might be too harsh to unfollow them already, so the tweet is the first thing on his time line.

“Welcoming in a new era of Scuderia Ferrari, we are glad to announce that Kim Jungwoo will be driving with us in 2025!”

Attached to it is a visualiser of Jungwoo—who was previously a reserve driver for Mercedes— donning the Ferrari suit.

Seungcheol doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at his screen when a follow up message from Seokmin pops up. He clicks on it by mistake and is instantly hit with a bunch of messages asking how he is. How does he reply to this news? If he said he didn’t care, Seokmin would see right through him. If he admitted to being surprised, it would be too honest. So instead, Seungcheol leaves him on read.

He gets up, shoving his phone into his hoodie’s pocket. He should probably go out for some air. It’s a Sunday morning, and even though it’s still December, the sun shines a little brighter today, and the cold bites a little less. It’s pleasant. Maybe he’ll just catch some sunlight outside in his backyard.

Seungcheol walks out of the back door, still lost in his thoughts.

The red suit, the new ‘era’. Even though he chose this, it stings. It feels like they’re erasing his presence. The rational part of his mind reminds him that this announcement has actually come late. That any other team would’ve found a replacement as soon as they could’ve. That Seungcheol leaving actually did leave them stranded for a while.

Jungwoo. Jungwoo. Why would they replace him with… Jungwoo?

It’s not like he’s a bad driver, Seungcheol reminds himself. His talent was being wasted as a reserve.

It’s just that Jungwoo wouldn’t have been the first person he thought of. He feels a little bad for thinking that the man wouldn’t have been Ferrari’s first choice either. But Jungwoo has always been a nice guy to be around. The team will have it a little easier this year without two drivers constantly fighting each other on track, all the time.

A muffled thud against his chest makes Seungcheol snap out of his daze. He looks down, seeing the white remnants of snow before looking up again. His first thought is Seungkwan, but the boy’s house is too far for him to aim so accurately. His eyes slowly move towards your backyard, separated only by a picket fence.

“What are you thinking so hard about, man?” You squint at him, “Not a very common sight.”

“Hey,” Seungcheol greets before bending down. It makes you yell in defence.

“Don’t! Please!” You squeal, running away from the fence, “Cheol, I have a cold.”

“Oh come on,” He rolls his eyes, “Excuses.”

“No, seriously.” You nod, stepping closer to show him, “My nose is red, see! From all the blowing.”

“Really?” Seungcheol asks, walking over to you.

You nod again, sticking your face over the fence so that he can see.

He bends down to your level, leaning in to observe. And then he gasps.

Seungcheol doesn’t usually gasp, you realize. Not unironically, anyway. But you’re too slow to move away before he drops a small snowball onto your face.

You stumble behind, spluttering to get the snow off your nose and mouth. You hear Seungcheol laugh, bright and loud and for a second you have half the heart to deck him in the face. But it hits you that you haven’t heard him laugh like this in ages, so you hold it in and splutter a little more.

But just as soon as he realizes it, he stops, drawing his lips back into a straight line.

You narrow your eyes at him, “What was that?”

“What?”

“Why are you suddenly frowning again?”

He shakes his head, telling you to let it go but you don’t. “Come on, just tell me, it’s not going to kill you.”

Seungcheol stalls for a second. He could tell you. You’d understand, and it isn’t something that he’s very, very deeply upset by. He knows he’ll get over it in some time. So before he can second-guess himself, he opens his mouth.

“It’s nothing really,” He shrugs, shifting weight from one foot to another, “Ferrari’s getting Kim Jungwoo to drive for them from next year.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, an understanding expression flashing over your face. He waits, wondering if you’ll say something else. When you don’t, he speaks again.

“Did you already see the news?”

“Nah,” you purse your lips, kicking the snow around absentmindedly, “After it was announced that you were leaving, I kind of unfollowed them on all my social media. Not much reason to know what’s going on with them anymore, is there?”

Seungcheol hates that what you said makes him smile. It’s good to know that the only reason you kept up with the team was him. He tries to keep a blank face. “Huh.”

You snort. “Honestly, I don’t know why I even followed them in the first place. They’re so unserious.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She shrugs, leaning against the fence. “Come on, you know what I mean. Always making the worst strategy calls, acting like they have their shit together, and then screwing you over, like, five laps into the race.”

He shakes his head, “That’s not-”

“Ok. Explain Brazil 2024, then.”

It makes him groan, hand coming up to cover his face, “Can we not talk about that. God.”

“Like? Who the hell puts intermediates on a drying track? God, imagine spending years dealing with that.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. "Yeah, imagine."

And somehow, just like that, he finds himself slipping into it, this old, familiar rhythm. Complaining about Ferrari like it's just another bad joke between them. It’s easy.

Too easy.

"Honestly, I should’ve known they were hopeless when they let you sit in the pit box for ten minutes at Silverstone with no tires ready," you muse, shaking your head. "Like. Be so fucking for real."

Seungcheol is about to laugh when he realises.

His ex is standing here, bitching about his old team the way best friends complain about their friend’s shitty ex.

And the irony of it fucking knocks the wind out of him.

He pushes the thought away before glancing at you again. “Have you always disliked Ferrari? I thought you liked them.”

You scoff, shaking your head, “No, not really. I just had a favourite driver.”

And fuck.

That shouldn’t get to him, but it does.

Without thinking, he mumbles, “Yeah? Don’t have one anymore, do you?”

You still, gaze flying up to his face. “It depends. Are you going back?”

Seungcheol holds your stare for a few seconds before looking away, bringing his hand up to brush his nose. He pretends to sniffle, to fill the silence. But you wait. It’s about time he answers anyways. It’s been more than two weeks. None of you know what’s going on with him.

“Cheol.” Your tone sounds a bit stern now, and it makes his turn further away from you, “Cheol, look at me.”

He begrudgingly faces you, glancing at your face for a second before looking down at his shoes.

“Are you going back?”

He doesn’t reply instantly. You didn’t expect him to anyway, but when he does, it only confirms what you’ve been suspecting all along.

“No,” He sighs, “Not for this season, no.”

“Okay,” You nod, “You’re just taking a break. Not retiring.”

He nods too, swallowing hard before looking up at the sky, “Sun’s out today. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

You roll your eyes, “Just say you want me gone.”

Seungcheol shrugs, “Assume whatever you want.”

“Alright then,” You hum, turning around, towards your house to leave when you remember. “Did Seungkwan tell you, by the way?”

“What?” He’s looking at you.

“He was wondering if we’d like to visit this rooftop bar on New Year’s Eve. I think it’s opened recently.”

His shoulders drop visibly. He’s trying to put on the exhausted act, you know.

“I don’t know, I don’t feel like celebrating anything right now and-”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I should’ve phrased this better.” you interrupt him, “He’s already reserved a table for the four of us and wanted me to inform you.”

Seungcheol scoffs, “Then why’d you say it like that?”

“Just wanted to make it seem like you had the option to decline, sorry.” You yell over your shoulder as you skip up to your porch. “Guess I’ll see you day after, then.”

The door swings shut behind you.

Seungcheol exhales, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicks lightly at the snow.

“Guess so.”

The bar is warm, buzzing with life. On second thought, coming here in the midst of winter was probably not the best decision, but the heat from the alcohol and the many radiators around the place make up for the cold. The low hum of conversation weaves through the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table. The four of you have been here for a while now, tucked into a corner booth, half-empty plates in front of you and the remnants of shared appetizers pushed to the side.

Seungkwan, already three drinks deep, leans back against the booth with a dramatic sigh. "Man, I love this place. Good food, good company—" He points a fry at Jihoon. "Except for you."

Jihoon, unbothered, spears a piece of chicken with his fork. "Good."

You snicker into your glass. "Couldn’t even make it ten minutes into the meal before fighting, huh?"

Seungcheol exhales, shaking his head as he pushes his sleeves up. "It was inevitable."

Seungkwan groans. "Oh my God, listen, I’m just saying, I don’t understand why you’re like this. We’re here to have a good time, and you’re sitting there like a- like a-" He waves his hands, searching for the right words.

Jihoon deadpans, "Like a what, Seungkwan?"

"A fun-hating, emotionally repressed, grumpy old man."

Jihoon hums, chewing. "And yet, here you are, still inviting me places."

Seungkwan gasps. "Because I pity you."

Seungcheol, who has been stirring the ice in his glass with his straw, shakes his head. "You two have issues."

Seungkwan scoffs when you nod along, “Hey, you two have issues too!”

It makes you snap at him playfully, “At least we’re still amicable about it!”

Seungkwan continues, “Okay, then. Only ‘Mr. I won’t fucking talk about my emotions’ does.”

Seungcheol stiffens. He recovers quickly, taking a slow sip of his drink, but you catch it.

Jihoon does too. "Seungkwan."

"What?" Seungkwan blinks, setting his drink down. "I’m just saying-" He stops when Jihoon elbows him under the table. His lips purse, eyes darting to you, then back to Seungcheol. "Fine. New topic."

You exhale, trying to ease the sudden tension. "Yeah, let’s maybe talk about literally anything else."

Seungkwan, still slightly flustered, snaps his fingers. "Okay. Resolutions. Everyone, go."

Jihoon rolls his eyes. "I’m not doing this."

Seungkwan ignores him. "I’ll start. I am manifesting a rich, hot, emotionally available woman into my life. Preferably earning like seven figures. I can be her house-husband if she wants."

Seungcheol snorts. "Good luck with that."

"Don’t be jealous just because my standards are higher than yours."

Jihoon hums, “I know you mean to insult him, but don’t you think it’s more insulting to her?” He waves his fork in your direction, “I mean, they literally dated for what, like three years? And they’d been crushing on each other for literally half their lives.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. "You guys are literally bullying me at my first social event in weeks."

Seungkwan pats his shoulder. "Welcome back, buddy."

You smile, watching them banter. This feels normal. Almost like it used to be before everything changed. Before Seungcheol’s entire world flipped upside down. Before yours did too.

You glance at him. He isn’t saying anything, just stirring his drink again, gaze slightly distant.

"Cheol?"

He looks up.

You tilt your head. "Resolutions?"

He holds your stare for a second before he exhales, leaning back into his seat. "I don’t know," he mutters. "Haven’t thought about it."

Seungkwan clicks his tongue. "Think your next career should be in PR, honestly."

Seungcheol shrugs. "Don’t have anything I want to manifest into my life, I guess."

Jihoon, still picking at his food, speaks without looking up. "Or maybe you just don’t know what you want yet."

Seungcheol stills.

No one says anything for a moment.

You watch him carefully. He’s good at hiding things, good at pretending he’s unbothered, but you know him better than that.

The silence stretches, too long, too heavy.

So you break it.

"Well, I’ve got a resolution for you."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You nod, leaning forward. "Go outside more. See the sun. Maybe even touch some grass."

Jihoon hides a smirk behind his drink.

Seungkwan points. "Ohhh, she got you there."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes but exhales, his shoulders easing up. "Wow, thanks. Really helpful."

"Anytime." You grin.

Jihoon, now slightly more invested, sighs. "Fine. If we’re actually doing this-" He sets his fork down. "I guess my resolution is to sleep more."

Seungkwan stares. "That’s your resolution? That’s so boring."

"It’s realistic."

Seungcheol hums, tilting his glass slightly. "Yeah. Maybe I’ll add that one to my list too."

Seungkwan gives him a look. "Right. Because you totally need more excuses to lie in bed all day." He turns to you.

“What about you, my favourite person in the room?”

You hum, rolling your glass between your fingers as you think. "I guess… just figuring things out."

Seungkwan tilts his head. "Figuring what out?"

You hesitate. "Life. What I want from it."

For a second, no one speaks. Jihoon glances at you briefly, then looks away. Seungkwan, for all his dramatics, stays quiet, watching you with something like understanding.

Seungcheol’s gaze lingers the longest.

It’s not an obvious thing, not something anyone else would catch. But you feel it. The weight of his stare. The way his fingers drum against his glass, like he’s stopping himself from saying something.

Finally, Seungkwan exhales, breaking the moment before it stretches too long. "Damn. That was deep."

You snort, shaking your head. "You asked."

Seungcheol lets out a quiet breath, tipping his glass slightly before setting it down. "Figuring things out, huh?"

You glance at him, but his expression is unreadable.

Jihoon shifts in his seat, crossing his arms. "Makes sense. We’re not exactly eighteen anymore."

"Thank God for that," Seungkwan mutters, before perking up suddenly. "Oh! Speaking of—what’s the first thing you guys wanna do next year? Like, the second it turns midnight?"

You tilt your head. "I don’t know?"

Seungcheol lets out a quiet laugh, and something about it settles warm in your chest.

Seungkwan dramatically shakes his head. "Boring. Jihoon?"

Jihoon shrugs. "Go home."

Seungkwan glares. "Why do I even ask you guys things?"

Before anyone can reply, the TV volume rises slightly, and the sound of the New Year’s Eve broadcast pulls your attention. One minute.

The countdown hums in the air, anticipation bubbling in the spaces between laughter and half-finished drinks. From up here, the city stretches endlessly, a thousand tiny lights flickering.

Ten. Seungkwan wobbles slightly, the telltale sign of one too many cocktails. He grabs your arm, eyes twinkling.

Nine. "Guys," he slurs, "New Year’s tradition. Come here."

Eight. Jihoon exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. "Whatever it is, don’t."

Seven. "You didn’t even let me finish!"

Six. "No," Jihoon repeats.

Five. Seungkwan is already moving, ignoring Jihoon completely. He leans in and smacks a kiss onto your cheek, holding your face in both hands as you laugh and return the favor.

Four. Then, Seungcheol’s name slips past Seungkwan’s lips.

Three. Seungcheol finally looks over, his gaze breaking away from the skyline. You see the exact moment he realizes what’s about to happen.

Two. "Don’t you fucking-"

One. Seungkwan grabs him by the shoulders, dramatically pressing a sloppy, exaggerated kiss to his cheek. Seungcheol jerks back like he’s been physically attacked, wiping his face aggressively.

Zero. Jihoon tries to escape, but he’s not fast enough. Seungkwan catches him by the collar and yanks him back in, completing the set. Jihoon lets out a noise that’s half a groan, half a plea for mercy.

Fireworks explode in the sky, casting everything in bursts of color, reflecting off glass, off city windows, off Seungcheol’s skin.

And when you turn back toward him, he’s already looking at you.

Something heavy settles in your chest.

Because this…this moment, this night, this space between you. It’s familiar. Too familiar.

New Year’s Eve used to mean something different. It used to mean his hand finding yours before the countdown even finished, his smiling lips pressing against yours, just as the first firework lit the sky.

It used to mean you and him, always.

And now, it means this.

Seungcheol swallows. His fingers twitch slightly at his sides, his gaze flickering lower for a second too long, too telling.

For a moment, you wonder.

If things were different, if things hadn’t changed, he would’ve been kissing you instead.

And God, wouldn’t everything be so much easier?.

The world feels softer around the edges, your pulse too loud in your ears, and you wonder if he hears it too.

Seungcheol exhales, blinking like he’s trying to shake something off. And then just like that, the moment passes.

Seungkwan sighs dramatically, swaying where he stands. “God, I love you guys.” He throws his arms around both you and Seungcheol, completely ruining the moment.

Jihoon, still rubbing his cheek aggressively, mutters, “I hate all of you.”

You don’t laugh.

Instead, you break the silence first. “Happy New Year, Cheol.”

Seungcheol looks at you again. Something unreadable flickers in his eyes, something you can’t name. Something you don’t dare to. But it’s the new year, girl. You better start figuring your life out.

He exhales. “Yeah,” he murmurs. "Happy New Year."

The driveway is full of movement. Suitcases rolling, car doors slamming, voices overlapping as their parents double check everything for the tenth time. Seungho leans against the car—the designated driver for the airport run— arms crossed, looking thoroughly unbothered by the chaos.

“Are we done?” he calls, watching the four parents shuffle through their bags. “Or do you want to unpack and repack one more time just to be sure?”

His mother slaps his hand playfully, still making him flinch as she walks past him.

You drag the last suitcase down from your house, stumbling over the lawn, onto Seungcheol’s driveway where your parents wait. But before you can lift it into the car, Seungcheol steps in. “Just leave it here,” he says, nodding toward the side. “I’ll keep it.”

You blink. “Why?”

Seungcheol jerks his chin toward the trunk. “There’s no space left. Just leave it, I’ll figure it out.”

You glance at the car’s boot, suitcases jammed together in a precarious puzzle. He’s right. Trying to squeeze in another bag would probably end with someone’s luggage flying out on the highway.

Before you can respond, he’s already reaching for another suitcase, lifting it effortlessly into place. His arms flex under his t-shirt, veins prominent along his forearms as he shifts the weight. You look away before your gaze can linger.

When everything is put in and all the last checks are done, Seungcheol’s dad walks up to him, clapping a hand over his shoulder. “Take care of things while we’re gone, yeah?”

He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Your mom’s voice comes out muffled as she keeps her handbag inside the car, “Take care of each other, okay?”

His mom nods, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “And try not to fight.”

It’s such a simple remark, one that could easily be brushed off as something parents would say to any two people left alone for a while. But the way they say it, the way their voices dip just slightly. You don’t really like it. Feels like they’re intentionally teasing the two of you.

You open your mouth to protest, but Seungho honks the horn impatiently. “Do you guys want me to book another flight for tomorrow, or are we leaving now?”

Your mom reminds you to throw out the milk tomorrow as she gets into the car and closes the door shut. Last minute reminders and goodbyes are thrown at the two of you before the car finally pulls out of the driveway.

You watch your dad wave from the window, making you smile as you wave back. You stand with Seungcheol in silence until you see the car disappear around a turn.

He sighs, a fond expression on his face before he turns to you, “Well. I’m still shocked with the fact that no one’s sent in a noise complaint about us by now.”

“They’re used to it, I guess,” You snort. “Hey, remember the last time they left us alone?”

Seungcheol lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “How could I forget? You almost burned the kitchen down.”

You scoff. “Excuse me? We almost burned the kitchen down.”

He gives you a pointed look. “You put an entire metal pot in the microwave.”

“And you watched me do it,” you fire back.

Seungcheol groans, rubbing his temples. “I was a little distracted, alright?”

You huff out in disbelief. “By what?”

“I don’t know? You were the one with your hands up my shirt-” Seungcheol clamps his lips shut as soon as the words escape him, his mouth running faster than his brain.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Why would you say that, you buffoon?

You blink at him, an awkward sound leaving your mouth. He looks like he’s about to strangle himself to death any time now, so you try to push down the colour rising to your cheeks and decide to take him out of his misery.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t come off as dismissive as you intend for it to. If anything, it almost sounds like you’re agreeing with him.

Seungcheol notices too. His eyes flicker, like he’s not sure whether to be alarmed or relieved.

The awkwardness settles heavy in the space between you, which Seungcheol should’ve definitely not opened up.

He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Uh. Anyway.”

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly.

Seconds pass, then a few more.

And then, deciding this is definitely getting too weird, you spin on your heel. “I’m going inside.”

“Good call,” Seungcheol mutters, dragging a hand down his face as you walk off.

Great. Fantastic. Just what he needed to begin the three weeks without your parents.

—

You step into your room and shut the door behind you, exhaling sharply.

What the fuck was that?

You press your hands to your face, as if somehow, somehow, that will help erase the last five minutes from existence. But your brain is already working against you, replaying the moment in crystal clear detail.

I don’t know? You were the one with your hands up my shirt—

You groan, dragging your palms down your face. Why would he say that? No. Actually, why would he say it like that? Like it was just a casual, normal fact? Like it was something that could be thrown into the conversation without completely derailing your entire sense of self?

And then—oh, because it wasn’t already bad enough—you had to go and agree with him.

You groan again, louder this time, flopping onto your bed before immediately sitting up again. No, you can’t sit still. You need to move, shake this weird, unbearable feeling out of your body.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. This is fine. It’s just Seungcheol. You’ve said worse in front of him, he’s said worse in front of you. It is not a big deal.

Except it feels like a big deal. And no matter how hard you try, you can’t quite ignore the way your skin feels a little too warm, or how your mind keeps circling back to the fact that, for just a second, he looked like he was waiting for you to say something else.

You take a deep breath, fanning your face with your hands, and march toward the window to pull the curtains closed.

And that’s when you see him.

Standing in his own room, directly across from yours, also mid-freakout.

Seungcheol’s hands are in his hair, mouth moving like he’s talking to himself. He paces around his room and then, as he turns, his eyes land on you.

Both of you freeze.

The silence stretches. Neither of you move.

Then, at the same time, you both panic.

Seungcheol immediately grabs his phone and stares at it like it holds the meaning of life, screen dark and completely off. You, on the other hand, take the only logical course of action. You very slowly reach for the curtains and pull them shut.

Nope. Not dealing with this.

Behind the fabric, you stand there for a moment, gripping the edges so tightly that you think you might pull the curtains down. Outside, you hear a muffled “Fuck.”

Yeah. Exactly.

Your hands are still gripping the curtains when your phone buzzes.

You don’t even need to check to know who it is.

Seungcheol: you saw nothing. [16:25]

A disbelieving scoff escapes you before you can stop it. Like hell you saw nothing.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, debating whether to respond or pretend you’re already asleep. But then, another buzz.

Seungcheol: You… didn’t right? You looked just as surprised. [16:25]

You roll your eyes and push the curtains open just enough to peek out. Seungcheol is still in his room, still looking thoroughly distressed, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing at his jaw. When he sees you looking, his eyes widen comically.

You narrow your eyes and type back.

You: Oh I saw EVERYTHING. [16:26]

Across the window, Seungcheol visibly groans. Your phone vibrates again.

Seungcheol: okay but honestly what the fuck was that. [16:26]

“You were the one that said it, idiot.” You call out to him, an edge of irritation in your voice as you whip the curtains open completely.

Seungcheol has the audacity to open his windows as he scoffs, “Well, you replied to that in a very weird way.”

You open your mouth to argue, but you have nothing to say, really. You could’ve ignored him, or just thrown a weird look, or called him an idiot. But no. Your stupid mind went Yeah, well, whatever.

You glare at him through the window. “Maybe I was just too stunned to think straight.”

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. And I wasn’t thinking. There. Done.”

“Like you ever do, come on,” You throw your hands up in the air, “Really, what was the need to even say that in the first place?”

Seungcheol looks offended as he points at you, “You were the one who fucking put that metal pot in there. You were also the one who was getting handsy, not me!”

You let out a strangled sound, nearly slamming your hands against the windowsill. “You probably enjoyed it then, shut up! That was three years ago, Cheol.”

“And yet, here we are!” He waves between the two of you. “Still dealing with the consequences!”

You stare at him, chest heaving. Seungcheol stares back, just as fired up.

Then, at the same time, you both inhale deeply before breathing out.

“three weeks,” you mutter. “three weeks without our parents.”

Seungcheol nods, looking grim. “We might not survive.”

Another pause. Then, without another word, you both shut your windows.

Two days in and Seungcheol hasn’t bumped into you, thankfully. To be fair, he hasn’t actually stepped out of the house, so there’s not many ways to see you. Unless, of course, through your windows. But your curtains haven’t opened up since that day and while it makes him cringe at himself everytime he sees the soft blue fabric through your window, it also amuses him. Your room must be a little depressing by now, with not much sunlight or air coming inside. He wonders how long you can go.

Right now, Seungcheol’s dragged himself off the couch and into the kitchen to cook something up for dinner. After digging a little into one of the cabinets, he settles on a pack of rigatoni. Shrugging to himself as he sets the pasta aside, Seungcheol moves around the kitchen, pulling out the rest of the ingredients. A can of tomatoes, a head of garlic, some olive oil. He checks the fridge next, grabbing a wedge of parmesan and a pack of butter, setting them onto the counter in a neat row.

If there’s anything he’s learnt from spending all those months in Maranello for Ferrari, it’s how to cook Italian food. In the beginning, Seungcheol remembers thinking how much of a hassle it was to go to Italy all the time. Most of the other teams had their bases in England, which meant that for most drivers, home and work weren’t too far apart. But for him, every return to Ferrari meant another flight to Maranello, another stretch of weeks spent in a place that never quite felt like home.

But food was easy. Food was routine. It was something he could rely on, even when everything else felt uncertain. Late nights at the factory meant post-midnight plates of pasta, thrown together with whatever was left in the kitchen. Pre-season training meant strict meals, but the off-season? That meant sitting down for a proper dinner, watching as the mechanics argued over which trattoria had the best carbonara. Somewhere along the way, he’d started paying attention.

So now, as he stands in his kitchen, setting up to cook, he almost functions on autopilot. He pulls out the ingredients one by one, the process easy, familiar. Olive oil first, then garlic, then tomatoes. The butter sits on the counter to soften while he grates the parmesan directly onto a plate, the fine shavings piling up neatly.

The water on the stove is boiling now, but before he reaches for the pasta, he moves to the counter where he usually keeps the basil. His hand goes straight for the small ceramic pot near the spice rack, expecting to pluck a few leaves from the bunch.

But when he looks inside, it’s empty.

He frowns. Checks around the counter, glancing near the sink, even peeking inside the paper bag of groceries he never put away. Nothing.

He could do without it. The sauce would still turn out fine. But knowing it was supposed to be there would bother him the entire time. He glances at the clock. 10:15 PM. It’s not too late, but late enough that he feels lazy to drive over to the grocery store.

Just make it without basil, He tries to convince himself, sighing as he walks back to the stove. It’s fine. The sauce will be fine.

And yet, for some reason, his body refuses to continue. He knows exactly how this will go. He’ll finish cooking, plate it up, sit down, and take one bite before getting annoyed at himself for skipping the basil.

Seungcheol’s fingers tap against the counter, slightly restless. He could just finish cooking. He should.

Or, a small part of his mind pipes up. Or you could just shoot her a text and ask if she had some.

Seungcheol shakes his head, huffing out a small laugh. No way.

Not like we have another choice. Unless you want to go buy some.

He stares at the stove for another long second, arms crossed over his chest. The water keeps boiling, steam rising steadily, like it’s waiting for him to make up his mind.

It’s just basil.

Seungcheol huffs, dragging a hand down his face before finally pulling his phone out of his pocket. His thumb hovers over your contact name, debating.

Then, before he can overthink it, he types out a message and presses send, locking his phone and setting it face down on the counter.

And then he waits.

You see the message immediately, blinking as the words register in your head. Basil? Out of all the things he could’ve texted you for.

For a second, you debate leaving him on read. Your bed is comfortable and you were probably only a few minutes away from falling asleep. But you sigh, pushing yourself off the bed before sluggishly moving to your kitchen.

When he opens the door after two knocks, you’re standing there, hand stuffed into your hoodie pocket, eyes flicking toward the ground like you’re not sure why you’re here either. In your free hand, a small bunch of basil.

"You owe me," you mutter, holding it out.

Seungcheol huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he takes it. "Yeah, yeah. Come inside before you freeze."

You hesitate for a second—just a second—but then you step past him, kicking your shoes off at the entrance as he closes the door behind you.

The kitchen is warm, the scent of garlic and tomatoes filling the air.. You lean against the counter, arms loosely crossed, watching as Seungcheol moves around like this is second nature to him.

It’s easy to fall into this, watching him cook, letting the quiet stretch between you. The way he moves, the unhurried rhythm of it all, is strangely familiar. Like this isn’t the first time. Like it won’t be the last.

You watch as he picks up the basil, rolling a few leaves between his fingers before tearing them over the pan. His movements are steady, practiced.

“Well,” you say eventually, tilting your head, “guess your time in Ferrari was fruitful after all.”

Seungcheol huffs, raising an eyebrow as he stirs the sauce. “Yeah?”

“At least you learned how to cook.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Right. Spent years fighting for championships, but I guess this is my real achievement.”

You smile a little. “It’s not nothing.”

He hums. His voice is a little softer when he agrees, “No, it’s not, I suppose.”

You watch the steam rise from the pot, twisting into the air, before speaking again. “You know… you used to be really bad at this.”

Seungcheol lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were,” you insist, amused. “You didn’t measure anything. You used to dump in way too much garlic and just hope for the best.”

He presses his lips together, looking down at the counter like he’s holding back a grin. “And you used to complain the whole time.”

“I had to,” you say, “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have learned. But to be fair, I wasn’t that great either.”

Seungcheol glances at you then, gaze undeniably soft. But instead of saying anything, he just shakes his head, stirring the sauce like this conversation isn’t stirring something else up entirely.

You exhale, tapping your fingers against the counter. “I used to think about it, you know.”

“Think about what?”

You shake your head, letting out a small laugh. “Who’d do the cooking.”

He pauses, glancing at you again.

You shrug, “We were both pretty bad at it back then. I used to wonder if we’d ever get better or if we’d just end up eating terrible food forever.”

Seungcheol blinks at you before scoffing, shaking his head. “Wow. That’s what you were worried about?”

You laugh lightly. “I mean, it was a real concern.”

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “And? What did you decide?”

“I figured one of us would have to learn eventually,” you say, flicking a stray basil leaf across the counter. “Guess I was right.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He turns back to the stove, stirring the sauce one last time before lowering the heat.

“Well,” he mutters, “you still haven’t seen how it tastes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

He doesn’t look at you, but you catch the way his fingers drum quietly against the counter, the way his jaw tenses like he’s debating something.

Then, finally, he sighs. “I wouldn’t make you bring me something and then just make you leave without tasting it.”

You shift against the counter, watching as he reaches for a pair of plates. A pair.

“Alright,” you say lightly. “Don’t screw it up, then.”

Seungcheol snorts, shaking his head as he grabs the ladle.

“No promises.”

Seungcheol twirls his fork slowly through his pasta, gaze flicking toward you between bites. “So,” he says after a moment, “what’s everyone else been up to?”

You glance up. “Everyone?”

He nods, leaning back slightly. “Yeah. I know what Seungkwan and Jihoon are up to, but what about the others? It’s been a while.”

You pause, thinking. “Well… Hyerin got fired.”

Seungcheol stops, fork mid-air, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Fired?”

“Mhm,” you hum, spearing a piece of pasta. “She got into an argument with a customer and called him an dumbfuck or something.”

Seungcheol lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“It shouldn’t,” you say, smiling faintly. “But what should surprise you is that the customer just so happened to be the owner's brother.”

His fork clinks softly against his plate. He blinks at you once, then exhales, rubbing a hand down his face. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish,” you murmur, shaking your head. “She had no idea who he was, and by the time she found out, it was too late. He complained, and she was fired the next day.”

Seungcheol huffs a laugh, tilting his head slightly. “I bet she doesn’t regret it.”

You shrug. “Not even a little. She said she hated the job anyway. She works at a bookstore now, says it’s peaceful.”

“Figures.” He takes another slow bite, chewing as he watches you. “Didn’t she always hate dealing with people?”

You nod in agreement, twirling your fork absently as you think. For a moment, it’s almost easy to forget how much time has passed.

Seungcheol leans forward slightly, resting his elbow on the counter. “What about Daehwan?”

Your lips press together. “Still an idiot.”

His mouth twitches. “That bad?”

You sigh, setting your fork down. “Worse, actually. You remember how he used to do those ridiculous stunts?”

Seungcheol nods, “Hard to forget.”

“Well, now he does them online. He started filming them, and somehow, he has an actual following.”

Seungcheol walks over to his fridge, pulling out a drink. You notice how he slides your favourite one towards you. “…Are you telling me Daehwan is famous?”

“Unfortunately,” you mutter, rubbing your temple. “Last month, he tried to skateboard down the town’s library’s stairs, and the video got over a million views.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a moment before shaking his head, laughing quietly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re telling me.” You take another bite, shaking your head as you chew. “And, of course, he hasn’t changed at all. Still does everything last minute, still never thinks things through. I swear, one of these days, he’s going to get himself seriously hurt.”

Seungcheol hums. “He’s lucky, though.”

You tilt your head. “What?”

A faint smile plays on his lips, but there’s something thoughtful in the way he exhales. “Not everyone gets to stay the same.”

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around your fork.

Seungcheol doesn’t elaborate. He just shakes his head slightly, reaching for his drink. “Anyway,” he says, voice lighter now, “who else?”

You let out a slow breath, deciding to let it go. “Jiwon’s engaged.”

That gets his attention. His brows raise slightly as he sets his glass back down. “Really?”

“Mhm.” You nod. “Her fiancé proposed in Jeju. On a boat.”

Seungcheol scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Of course he did.”

You smile. “She called me after and talked for forty-five minutes about how seasick she got.”

Seungcheol huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Sounds like her.”

You push a piece of bell pepper to the edge of your plate, barely paying attention as you continue talking. Seungcheol absentmindedly reaches over with his fork and takes it.

You pause mid-sentence, watching as he eats it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

For a second, your brain stutters. Because it is.

Because he’s done this before, so many times that it’s instinctive now, something he probably doesn’t even think about. He never liked bell peppers much either, but back when you were together, he always ate the ones you picked out, saying it was “a waste to leave them.”

When you go back home to your room, climbing under your covers, you see the faint light from Seungcheol’s room fall onto your wall.

What were you thinking, really? Pretending like everything would be fine if you just acted like you always did in front of him. You’d been his best friend before his girlfriend, yes. But you realize now that it doesn’t make anything easier. Pretending you could sit across from him, talk to him, let him be a part of your life again without it meaning anything. You’d hoped and convinced yourself—in the fifteen minute car ride to work, the day he came back—that it would be easy. None of this is, you know now. Maybe you've always known.

Maybe he had made it easier for you by not coming back last winter, even if he didn’t intend to do it. There’s no part of your life he wasn’t in. No part of you that wasn’t shaped, in some way, by him.

And now he’s here again, living across from you, eating across from you, seeing you almost every day like this is normal. You press the heel of your palm against your eyes, exhaling shakily. You were supposed to be okay.

You left him. You were supposed to be okay. You told yourself you did the right thing, that there was no other choice, that this was what needed to happen. So why does it still feel like you lost something?

He did have a point. You didn’t have to act like everything was fine. That whatever happened between you two didn’t exist. Maybe you really should have ignored him. Maybe that would make this easier. But Seungcheol remembers. You remember. It’s only been a little over a year. Did you just need more time away from each other? Maybe if he’d never come back, then you’d finally have enough time to forget him.

You had convinced yourself that distance was enough. That if you just stayed away long enough, if he stayed away long enough, the weight of him would eventually fade. But he’ll never truly leave you and you know it. Because the moment he sits across from you, the moment he speaks to you like nothing’s changed, the moment he reaches across the table and takes something off your plate like he always used to, it’ll all come back. The familiarity, the ache, the unbearable knowing that he still fits into your life in ways you thought you’d outgrown.

Your body betrays you, months of restraint splintering apart as a sob slips past your lips before you can stop it. You press a hand over your mouth, but it doesn’t help. Your shoulders shake beneath the weight of it, your lungs constrict, and for the first time since he came back, you let yourself break.

You don’t think he even realizes what he’s doing to you.

You don’t think he knows that with every little thing he does, he’s unraveling everything you’ve spent the past year trying to stitch back together.

You squeeze your eyes shut, exhaling shakily. It’s not like you can suddenly ignore him and start acting different now.

Maybe tomorrow, it’ll hurt less.

Maybe tomorrow, you’ll be able to look at him and feel nothing.

Maybe tomorrow, you’ll finally believe it.

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gurugirl · 9 months ago

Text

BRUTAL | step!dad!h

NOTE: Just a reminder that while this is step!dad x step!daughter - Harry has never been a father figure to Y/n in this story. They met when she was already in her 20s and Harry is closer in age to Y/n than he is to her mother. Their relationship is clearly inappropriate but he never knew her as a minor or a child and I would never write that kind of stepdad fic (anyone who's been a fan of this trope since the beginning knows this). < for all the haters who accused me of that not long ago

Summary: You come home for the weekend and Harry just wants you to tell the truth. Based on this ask!

A/n: It's been almost a year since I've given y'all anything for stepdad!H. ENJOY!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: cheating, smut, lying, inappropriate relationship, spanking

step!dad!harry masterlist

. .

“Stop,” Harry warned.

You did it again. Reached your socked foot out to his lap and nudged against his crotch. Your mom was just in the other room talking to you about what she should make for dinner since you were planning on staying for the weekend.

“What if we just order pizza?” You answered as you grinned at your stepdad, pressing down at the lump that he was trying to keep at bay.

Your mom walked into the living room just as you quickly pulled your foot away from Harry. You’d both been sitting on opposite sides of the couch and the moment she stepped out of the living room to get ready for her scheduled surgery you started fucking with him.

“Okay. I’ll pick up a couple of pizzas on the way back. There’s this new pizza spot not far from here that I’ve been wanting to try.”

Harry sat up and placed his elbows on his knees to hide the way he was already thickening in his pants, “Sounds good, love.”

She bent down to kiss him and then looked at you, patting your knee, “Glad you’re here for the weekend. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

You smirked to yourself as you turned your attention to the TV and Harry sat quietly in his spot as your mom walked out. You knew you were in for it.

For one, you hadn’t seen Harry in weeks. You’d been too busy and you were enjoying college life. You still texted him frequently but he was jealous because you’d often be out with friends and that included guys. He’d see your Instagram posts where you were dancing with other boys or wearing very little and he’d text you asking who you were with and it’d just make you feel all smug and satisfied to know he was suffering like he was.

For another thing, the moment you walked into the door that morning you’d been nothing but bratty with him. A right pain. But that was because you needed something punishing and rough from him. Something that would stick between your teeth and that you’d feel for a few days after you left.

Well, you just needed Harry to fuck your brains out. You’d tried fucking around with other guys but they didn’t do it for you. No one did it the way Harry did.

And the moment your mom’s car was out of the driveway and down the street you felt his hand gripping your arm and pulling at you, “You know better than to act this way with me.” He pulled your stretchy shorts down, taking your panties with them and tossing them across the room before he had you stuffed, face down on the couch with your bare bottom up in the air.

The first swat to your ass was welcome. It was like a shot of pain relief to your insides. The next one stung but you moaned with a grin on your face. The third and fourth made you wiggle your bottom at him and sigh loudly, “Yes, Daddy…”

And that made him pause, “You know what? I’m too nice to you, aren’t I? Giving you exactly what you wanted. But you’re nothing but a childish brat,” the palm that landed on your ass that time had you hissing in pain. He did it again, harder and you felt like your skin was starting to welt.

He held your wrists together behind your back as he landed blow after blow to your backside, making you howl and attempt to move away from him but you had nowhere to go. Tears and slobber were wetting your face and the couch cushion.

It hurt. It fucking smarted. Every strike was worse than before and you knew you’d started it all but damn was he making you wish you’d just been nice.

There was also the fact that you sent Harry a photo of yourself making out with a college guy as you sat in his lap half-naked. You and Harry had been arguing and he told you he didn’t want you anymore anyway and you were hurt by that so you found yourself someone who did want you. You knew Harry was pissed about that too.

“So did you fuck him?” He growled as he finally let up with the spankings.

“Yes. Big cock too,” you lied. You didn’t have sex with him, but he did finger you and it was awful and the moment he pulled his pants down so you could blow him you realized what a mistake it was. His prick was barely half the size of Harry’s.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you so wet from me just beating your ass like this, hmm?” His palm ran over the achy raised skin on your bum and then down to your pussy where you were drenched, “Feel like if you were being fucked properly you wouldn’t be so desperate right now. Bet you’re lying to me.”

You grunted into the couch, your words muffled, “I’m not lying. He’s so good in bed. Miss him.”

Harry laughed, “No you don’t. You missed Daddy. That’s why you got all excited the moment my hands got on you… Yes, Daddy…” he mocked your voice as he repeated your words before landing another solid thud against your bum cheek. You jolted forward and cried out.

“Just tell me the truth and I’ll give you what you want. Something you can’t get from anyone else.”

“He fucked me with his big cock, bigger than yours, and he made me come so much. I let him have me anally last night.”

Harry’s thumb slid over your ass, “If he did then he has a pencil dick. Either that or you’re still lying to me. All you have to do is fess up. Be a good girl for Daddy and tell the truth. Have you really had sex with him?”

You gulped as you felt his thumb tease around your tight hole. Rearing back to urge him to push it in he pushed you back into place, “I’ll stick my thumb inside and fuck your pretty cunt if you tell me the truth.”

Moaning at just the thought of it you turned your head, “He only fingered me. But I hated it. I promise that’s the truth. Now please, Daddy…”

Harry was still and stiff suddenly. It was like the atmosphere in the room had grown thick and heavy as he pulled away from you completely, your hands falling away when he released your wrists. You turned to look at him.

“Harry… I only did it because I’m trying to move on. You get to–”

“I really don’t want to talk about it. Get your top off.”

You stood from the couch and pressed your lips flat, pulling your t-shirt off over your head before stepping in front of Harry completely naked for him to do with as he pleased.

His eyes were dark, brutal, as he slowly removed his belt and then tugged at his button and zipper.

“On your knees on the couch, turned away, face down. I don’t want to look at you right now.”

You did as he said. You knew he was extra pissed off. That you let someone else touch you. Placing your knees on the couch cushion you bent forward and placed your face back into the cushions, “Daddy, I’m sorry. I only want you. He wasn’t even goo–”

You yelped at another smack to your very tender ass and felt his hand pressing down at the back of your neck, “Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear about him.”

He stood behind you and you felt his hands on your hips after letting go of the back of your neck before he rewarded you with his big cock, impaling himself until he was buried in balls deep. You were already sodden from the way he’d spanked you and the way he spoke to you. You’d needed it. You’d need him.

And when he began jackhammering into you, hips thudding against your ass, hands gripping meat of your hips to pull you against him every time he thrust forward, the sticky heat that formed around his cock from your dripping hole… it was relief.

You knew you were fucked in the head for everything. For what you liked and for doing what you were.

He was pounding into you like he was in a hurry and it was all you could do to hold yourself steady as he bullied his fat cock inside. He hissed as he watched the way he stretched you open, “Always gonna need Daddy, aren’t you?”

You gurgled as drool pooled onto the cushion under your mouth, “Yes!”

Just like what you wanted, it was punishing and unkind. You gasped as you held onto the material that covered the cushions. Involuntary grunts were falling from your chest as Harry punched into you.

“Try to make me jealous by sending photos of little twerps you’re seeing but we both know they can’t give it to you like this. Because you’re dirty, filthy… you like your pussy getting railed deep and hard with a nice big dick just like this…” He was panting his words, gritting his teeth. He was on the edge already. He’d missed your tight your pussy. And you too, but he wouldn’t admit it right then.

Letting go of one side of your hip he slowed his plunges and you felt his thumb drag through the spot against your pussy where he was pushing into you. He wiped your arousal all over his thumb and smeared it around your anus before awarding you with a nice little stretch as he pushed his digit inside and began it thrusting, “Need your ass and your pussy stuffed, need to be spanked… you need a lot of things don’t you, baby?”

His cock was dragging into your guts and against your front wall just right, making your walls flutter. And when Harry felt you squeezing he couldn’t help but to take his fingers over your clit and press circles where you needed it. As mean as he might be, he still wanted you to come. That was partly due to his ego and needing to be the best. At least if you did sleep with someone else one day, Harry could tell himself he always made you feel good when he fucked you.

You were grinding back against him, muffled moans coming from you as slick dripped down your thigh. Every plunge of his cock through your wet pussy was gushing, sloshing and Harry was clenching his jaw. What he was watching was filthy and hotter than anything he’d ever seen. Your ass was all marked up, your swollen pussy was gulping him in, and your ass was pulsing around his thumb.

“Coming already?” Harry inhaled deeply, almost in a whimper when he felt you begin to shake and your pussy began to milk him. “Fuck… So desperate to have someone take care of you. Can’t get what you need from any of those losers… mmm shit baby… always coming back to me for more.”

It was true. You hadn’t had sex with any of the guys you tried dating because they didn’t do it for you. You tried but they weren’t Harry. They didn’t handle you the way he did. They didn’t know your body the way he did and they never would because you didn’t want them anyway.

Harry groaned and cursed as he drove into you deeply and you could feel him throbbing as he pumped his come into your tummy. Illicit and hot… you both got each other off like no one else ever could.

When he pulled himself out he cooed, his thumb gently tracing around your ass, “That’s my favorite. Watching my come drip from your pussy after I just destroyed it. Still shaking too,” he gripped the back of your thighs, “Can you sit up?”

You mumbled affirmatively and pushed yourself up slowly, Harry steadying you with his hands. He helped you off the couch and you noted he’d already tucked himself back into his pants, while you were stark naked still.

“You okay?”

You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips, “So good. That’s just what I needed.”

Harry smiled and splayed his big hand around the front of your neck and drew you in for a kiss that had you melting.

One day it’d come back to bite you, you were sure, all that sneaking around. But in that moment it was a secret you and Harry would keep holding onto to enjoy for as long as possible.

. .

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madschiavelique · 3 months ago

Text

﹒ ✦ 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐊 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭

✦﹒ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : fiora hosts a party during which reader starts feeling all sorts of new things. between game strategies and open heart conversations, things are starting to look brighter

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : none, werewolf (aka mafia), seven minutes in heaven, heart to heart conversation, omg they're touching hands, jealous viktor if you squint

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 14.8k

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : oof, biggest chap so far! we've officially exceeded the epic length in terms of wordcount, and the slowburn is finally starting to spark a bit hihi. i'm scared y'all will get bored with the game parts OOPSIE but yea i hope y'all will like it nevertheless!

✦﹒ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐘 : the pretty boy @oneoftheextras

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 ．．𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐎-𝐅𝐈

The rest of your stay went much better than you could have imagined. You were undertaking visits, each more friendly and educational than the last, discovering customs and foods, and having a great time that would leave good memories in their wake.

Like when Sky recited phrases in a strong Demacian accent to you, giving credit to Demacia and its imposing stature, or when Jayce made a fool of himself by pronouncing ‘croum de la cram’ wrong again while eating a cream puff in front of a waiter.

Fiora had seemed to slow down her charms towards Viktor on a grand scale, although she still gave him the nickname ‘Vikkie’, which made him roll his eyes to the sky as he searched for you and uttered ‘kill me’ with mute lips.

You always smiled at him when this happened, amused, his eyes resting on you, making you feel all odd. As the days went by, despite the fact that Fiora stayed largely with him and you with Garen, you couldn't help looking for him, lowering your gaze or pretending to look away whenever his eyes crossed yours.

As another day out came to an end and you found yourself in bed, lights out and ready to sleep, you were thinking about it for a long time.

There was this strange urge growing inside you, and you couldn't work out what it was. You kept feeling the heat on the back of your neck as well as on your cheeks as you thought back to all the moments of your close proximity. And that warmth in your belly, that strange, light, fuzzy sensation that persisted in his presence. Why did you feel that way?

Perhaps you were allergic to something Viktor had on him, and you were having a physical reaction to it?

When you had drunk his coffee where his lips had rested, your whole body had warmed up in the same way after all. He didn't seem to apply any lip balm or add anything to his coffee that might have caused you to have such a reaction, so you ruled that out.

Did he have a particular perfume whose ingredients made you react badly? You remembered the masquerade and his coat, and although it didn't leave any physical traces on you, it did leave slightly stronger inner impressions.

In the wood of his cane, perhaps? Maybe the varnish of the wood or the metal of the knob gave you a bad reaction. But you'd hardly ever used it, the rare occasions being when you'd hit Tyler with it, and when you'd handed it to him after he'd picked you up from your fall in the library - even if some of your symptoms had started at that moment.

Or maybe you were just homesick, maybe the air or the food made you react badly, maybe the petricite was more unpleasant than you thought. However, this idea would have meant suggesting that you had an arcane source inside you, and if that were the case, it would have been pointless since it had never saved you from anything where it could have proved useful.

You replayed the moment of the museum over and over in your mind, the feeling of realisation that he had drawn you towards him with a deft movement of his cane going to your head. You could still imagine the warmth of his hand on your hip, of his eyes on you as they rested on your lips.

You turned in your bed with a grunt of frustration as your chest warmed at the thought of it, burying your face in your pillow. What was happening to you? He wasn't even in the damned room, and yet these symptoms were perfectly awake and persistent. Yet you didn't see him any more than that.

A routine had set in. Whenever you came back from a class trip, it was his custom to go and rest in his room, away from more walking and to escape Fiora's presence.

Demacia, all white and glorious, didn't seem to have any great inclination towards accessibility. Its cities were built on mountainsides where bridges and domes overlapped over vast, empty, flat expanses. You never got lost, though, as the streets were never narrow and the view was always unobstructed.

It was almost a little frightening, leaving no room for anyone to hide or escape, whatever the situation.

From most angles, Demacia wasn't suitable for everyone, and the lack of benches in the streets for people to sit on, for example, was backed up by the need for an athletic society and sporting encouragement.

So it wasn't surprising that Viktor was keen to get some rest, as you yourself would end your days out on the town tired beyond belief. You hoped his naps were restorative, even if sleep couldn't cure all ills.

Your own sleep came late that night, your thoughts returning incessantly and inevitably to him.

In the early hours of the morning, what finally woke you up was someone knocking on your door. With a grunt, you rolled over in bed, hoping that the idiot who had just knocked would go away.

The knock came again, a sigh from behind the door. "You in there Piltie girl?"

Why did the first voice you had to listen to this morning have to be Fiora's? You turned to face the door, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Come in," you replied in a voice all hoarse with sleep.

So she entered, energetic and judgmental as ever. The room was dark except for a small nightlight on your bedside table.

"You're still asleep?" she asked, almost mockingly, as she strode over to the blackout curtains in the bedroom and yanked them open.

You pressed the heel of your palms against your eyes, clearing the sleep crusts and sniffling as the sun penetrated your room and slapped your body with its light.

"Why, did I oversleep?" you questioned as you finally lowered your hands to your legs, crossing them.

She squinted her eyes at your face. "You're so ugly when you wake up."

"And you're an asshole all day long, to each his own," you winced as you planted your feet on the floor, the fresh flagstone floor unpleasant and just making you want to crawl back under your blanket and fall back asleep in the warmth of your bed.

"Look at that," Fiora chuckled, "Miss Phathe's not a morning person, who'd have thought it."

The mere mention of Selene's name between her lips made you want to strangle her. "Continue putting dirt on my name and you'll end up at your own funeral," you replied before heading for the bathroom. "You're just one bad day away from being me anyway."

"You know," you heard her giggle as she followed you, leaning in the doorway as she watched you go through your morning routine, "for a Piltie, you sure have a way with comebacks."

"That is because I'm not a Piltie," you replied as you tended to your hair.

"Really?" she questioned, surprised. "What are you then?"

You considered answering her for a moment. There was only today and tomorrow left when you would leave in the evening and arrive in Piltover the following night.

"Zaunite," you finally replied as you picked up your toothbrush, squeezing your tube of toothpaste mechanically, "but from where? Not sure."

She arched an eyebrow as you began to brush your teeth. "Explains the poor taste in everything."

"Explains the sword up your ass," you managed to articulate.

She giggled, smiling into the mirror as she watched you for a moment. It wasn't a look of expectation that you'd screw something up, more a look of consideration.

"You know," she began, "prettying yourself up wouldn't be that complicated."

You huffed, spitting into the sink. "Why would I need it?"

"Not saying you need it," she corrected, "I'm saying it'd be fun."

"Never took much attention to it anyway," you sighed before returning your toothbrush to your mouth, "I'm not trying to charm anyone."

Her eyes rolled up to the sky as if you'd just said the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "It's not about charming anyone you idiot," she shook her head, "It's about doing this for yourself."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your tired eyes watching you as she continued.

"If you're applying makeup and pretty dresses for anybody else but you in the first place, that's a bit desperate."

You spat into the sink again, rinsing the bristles from your toothbrush. "Making yourself pretty for someone you like would be desperate?"

"In some cases, no," she admitted, "Like wearing something someone offered you."

You grabbed one of the glasses of water on the sink, filling it to rinse your mouth.

‘"But I can tell you're negligent of yourself," she continued as she moved forward to stand next to you, "and that's what's bringing you lower than zero."

You turned to her, thinking the conversation was going to turn negative and immediately demeaning, but her tone wasn't condescending.

"This doesn't just apply to your physique, Zaunite girl," she pointed out, marking the new appellation with her tongue, "but to the way you consider yourself. You want to be number one at all times, but you forget to put yourself first and that is the very reason you're losing."

You sighed - she wasn't wrong. You weren't taking care of yourself, weren't giving yourself enough of the treatment you deserved or simply needed to live. The memories of your fever during exam week and of all the deviations you had made out of greed to win also came back to mind.

You'd put your primary needs to one side, neglected your friendships by walking away from them as soon as you thought you'd done anything remotely negative, and ended up in situations where your health was in danger simply because you unconsciously thought you deserved it or that it was the norm.

And every time, Viktor intervened.

He stayed by your side when you were seriously ill, passed you his coat during the masquerade, persevered in wanting to be your friend and assured you that he didn't think badly of you.

You took a sip of water from your glass to keep it in your mouth and spit, hoping that its coolness would contrast with the heat you felt just thinking about it.

"Any reason for this early morning motivation class?" you asked as you came out of the bathroom to find something to change into,"Or are you about to bring me outside barefoot in the grass while we do some flowy movements for better harmony in our bodies?"

She stood by the bathroom frame, giggling. "No party of mine happens barefoot."

You turned to her, frowning and giving up the search for the day's clothes for the moment. "Party?"

"Yup," she confirmed as she walked over to you, observing the contents of your suitcase. "You guys are leaving tomorrow evening, so I wanted to make sure we'd all have our fun one last time." Her eyes returned to yours. "Tonight, I'm hosting a party in one of the apartments under my name, not far from here. Everyone's invited."

You turned to your suitcase, Fiora's earlier questions about your appearance taking on a second meaning.

"I've never been to any party before," you admitted as you found what you were going to wear for the day and headed for the bathroom so you could change in privacy, closing the door behind you.

She approached the door, leaning against the wall next to it. "Have you been that much of a fun killer all your life?" she giggled.

"Just never had the opportunity or any invite, alright?" you sighed, tired of her answers which you found a little too dramatic as you undressed. "My first party of the sort was a masquerade I attended this very year which, apart from a few exceptions, had guests that were all toffs twice my age."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," she argued. "It's not going to be anything wild or club-like unfortunately if I have to fit Lolanthe and Heimerdinger's policy of moderate drinking or fun with a capital F."

You'd never really liked clubs -they were too noisy, too dark with lights only provided by neons and drinks that were far too expensive for how they tasted. Zaun's clubs were quite an attraction themselves, but nothing could have convinced you to end in one of them willingly to party and have fun.

"You know," she continued, "that might be an opportunity for you to get closer to Viktor."

The mention of his name stopped you putting on your trousers and nearly made you lose your balance.

"You're still on this," you whispered as you accelerated your dressing. If you wanted to escape this conversation, or her in general, you had to get out of this room.

"Come on," she sneered from the other side of the door, "have you never ever thought there could be something between the two of you?"

You stood there motionless, your eyes landing back on you in your mirror. Could anyone fall in love with this reflection you saw? Could anyone be charmed by it?

You'd never really had time to think about the possibilities of having a relationship with anyone, since your attention was mainly focused on your studies, but could there really have been a possibility of someone falling in love with you and you being able to return that love?

"You're taking an awfully long time to answer this," Fiora toned from the other side.

You opened the door, not even glancing at her as you walked purposefully to your suitcase and arranged it a little. "I never wondered about it."

She huffed exaggeratedly. "Viktor didn't answer like that."

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to face her. "What?"

"A-ha!" she exclaimed, pointing at you as you realised her little trap. "See? You're interested in him."

You huffed, trying to calm your mind and your heart. She was only trying to elicit a reaction from you, nothing more, nothing less. Wasn't she?

You caught yourself thinking about the possibility that she had actually asked him the question, and wondered whether her remark was a complete lie or whether there was some truth in it. Your heart felt cramped in your chest.

"Whatever," you sighed as you set your suitcase down on the floor again, the box of your tarot cards sticking out slightly from under one of your T-shirts, and you decided that you would wait until evening to read your card.

She didn't press the point any further, realising that she probably couldn't get any more information out of you at the moment. "Have you ever played Werewolf, Zaunite girl?"

"Werewolf?" you questioned.

"You really have come out of a cave," she remarked, "I feel like I'm babysitting."

"Well why are you doing all this effort for me then?"

"Because I want us to find a way to get along at least once, alright?" she finally admitted. "I'm trying to make up for what I pulled on you. Is party-fun forbidden in Piltover?’

You sighed, she was doing it very awkwardly of course, but that didn't stop her original intention from being almost touching, honourable.

"It's not forbidden to me, just... foreign," you admitted.

"Would you like to try it, though?" she asked.

You chewed your cheek, considering this most unusual offer. Was there any harm in trying? You wouldn't gain anything but the usual if you refused this offer and stayed in your room reading a book. You already did that every night, after all, so why not give it a try?

"Come on," she hummed, arching an eyebrow with a playful little smile, "I know Viktor will come if you do."

Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling, although the idea seemed strangely intriguing. Viktor wouldn't come to a place just because you were there, that would sound ridiculous.

"Fine, I'll come," you finally agreed, placing your index up in front of her to impeach her from saying anything. "But it's not just because of Viktor, don't get any ideas."

"Sure, whatever floats your delusion boat," she smiled before leaving the room.

You followed her into the hotel restaurant, which was already packed with students and other guests. You had indeed slept longer than usual, and if Fiora hadn't come to wake you up, you would probably have ended up receiving a remark from Heimerdinger about your absence to his lesson.

Unless perhaps one of your friends had come. It could very well have been Sky, Jayce, maybe Garen.

Maybe even Viktor.

As if searching for the beam of a lighthouse on the open sea, your eyes landed on him, sitting at a table in a corner with Jayce, as usual. Fiora joined them, and you helped yourself to breakfast, turning back to their table as Viktor's gaze fell on you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you gripped your tray tightly, hoping not to make a fool of yourself by dropping it if your body decided to act like this again against your will.

You walked towards them, Fiora sitting next to Viktor who only seemed to be partially listening to her, while Jayce seemed genuinely invested in what she had to say.

"Good morning," you greeted as you placed your lunch tray next to Jayce's.

"Oh hey!" he said as he turned to you, "you're up later than usual."

"Yeah well," you sat down and took a slice of your lunch in hand, "couldn't find sleep."

Your eyes rested on Viktor, his own already on you and seemingly unchanged since he'd seen you come into the room. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, that stupid allergy.

"Oh? Why?” questioned the golden boy.

Surely not because I couldn't stop thinking about your best friend and that kept me up all night.

"Couldn't drop my book," you offered by way of explanation.

You felt Viktor's insistent gaze on you, and you swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, glancing at Fiora next to him who gave you a knowing little smile. Couldn't you look anywhere?

"What were you guys talking about?" you asked, turning to Jayce, who at least didn't seem ready to extort any information from you.

"Fiora was just explaining to us the rules of this game called the Werewolf," he smiled, turning to her.

You did the same, offering him a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘see, I'm not the only one who doesn't know about it’.

"Oh you're teachin’ them Werewolf?"

Garen, tray in hand, took a seat next to you.

"No, I'm visibly showing them how to use an iron curler," Fiora huffed heavily.

He glanced at her perfectly straight hair. "You're a poor demonstrator if that is the case," he replied before lowering his gaze to the contents of his tray and starting his breakfast.

"So," she continued, deciding to ignore him openly, "the game is simple. A narrator, players; two sides, one objective: may the best player win."

Your eyes met Viktor's again, a playful flicker crossing his gaze as your lips quirked with nostalgia for the beginning of the year.

"The players are either villagers or werewolves," continued Fiora. "The villagers' objective is to discover who the werewolves are and eliminate them, while the werewolves seek to eliminate the villagers without being discovered."

"Is this a board game?" questioned Viktor without taking his eyes off you.

You could sense that he was intrigued, and that for some reason he was intrigued because you were potentially going to play it.

Had Fiora just told them about the party? Had she arrived at their table to proudly wave a flag with the words ‘she said yes’ after your conversation?

I know Viktor will come if you do.

You brought the cup of your morning drink to your lips, trying to banish the constant replay in your mind of memories of that infamous shared cup of coffee.

"More like a card game," Garen replied, "all players start the game with a card that determines their role until the end of the game."

"The game is played in two distinct phases - night and day," continued Fiora. "At night, the leader calls out the roles one by one so that they wake up and take their actions. During the day you learn the results of what the night has sown, and you can eliminate a player by voting. And the cycle continues until the end."

"Wait," Jayce finally asked, beginning to really get into the game, "you said there were two sides, villagers and werewolves. But then you said you were calling out the roles one by one during the night."

"That's because some of the villagers have special powers," Garen pointed out.

"Powers?" you chuckled, finishing your mouthful before resuming. "I thought you hated anything to do with magic, isn't it strange to incorporate it into your games though?"

"It's a game, not real life," Fiora informed, and if she could have added 'you stupid cunt' to the end of her sentence, she had the perfect tone for it. "These powers are more special abilities than anything else."

You decided to keep quiet for the moment, Fiora explaining the roles one by one.

"First of all, cupid."

Your eyes rested on Viktor for a moment, his glance never shifting from you but never losing the thread of the conversation. Your gaze fell on his cup of coffee for a tiny moment before you redirected your attention to Fiora and listened to her.

"He points at two players who will fall in love with his arrow, and if one of them dies, the other will kill themselves out of love. The aim of the lovers is to survive the game together, even against the village if one of them is a werewolf."

You understood more and more that the game would be based on strategy and theory, and you found yourself genuinely interested in it.

"Next up," Fiora continued, "is the card reader."

You frowned, but seeing as you'd been rebuffed the moment before for your question about magic, you weren't about to be taken back twice by asking her a second time.

"The card reader can observe a card of her choice, and keep the information for herself."

"Why not say in the morning that she knows the identity of a player?" questioned Jayce.

"Because the point is to manage to keep her role secret, or to bluff," explained Garen, biting into a green apple. "Someone might well claim to be able to tell that a player is innocent when they're not."

So it was a game of lies and trickery... strange coming from the Demacians, unless in the end it was an outlet for them to compensate for the lack of daydreams crushed by the constant oppression of justice and absolute truth.

"Finally, come the werewolves who, still in silence, consult each other to decide by pointing to their next victim. Once agreed, they go back to sleep - however," Fiora arched an eyebrow, “the role of the little girl can spy during the wolves' turn by discreetly half-closing her eyes, or by finding a better way to hide her spying."

"If you knew the possible strategies," laughed Garen, accidentally pressing his knee against yours, the latter turning towards you, "sorry."

"It's fine," you assured him as you shifted slightly to give him more room, it must be said that sitting between Jayce and Garen made you feel a little small.

"The penultimate, the alchemist," Fiora continued, "the narrator shows the alchemist the werewolves' victim, and asks him if he wishes to save them with an elixir," she held up her thumb, "do nothing," lowering it to the side, "or kill them with a poison," placing her thumb downwards.

"So there's another way of eliminating werewolves other than by voting?" questioned Viktor.

"Of course," confirmed Garen, "not only could the alchemist use a poison very carefully, but an eliminated player in love with a werewolf could very well take his love to his grave. Then, of course, there's the hunter."

"The hunter?" you repeated.

"The hunter is the last card," confirmed Fiora. "If the hunter dies, he can choose a target to kill with a bullet from his rifle before he dies."

"That's a lot of roles to remember," sighed Jayce, looking up at the ceiling of the restaurant and wishing he could keep all this information in his head.

"It'll come as the game goes on," Garen assured him, "I can always give you tips, by the way."

"It's cheating if you give them the keys to the game," Fiora grumbled as she slumped back in her seat and crossed her arms.

"They barely know the rules of the game," sighed Garen, "they're going to find themselves up against werewolf war machines without having a great idea of all the different strategies we know."

She said nothing, simply rolling her eyes as Garen turned to you and put his mouth to his palm to whisper in your ear, your eyes resting relentlessly on Viktor's which seemed to narrow under his frowning eyebrows.

"Werewolves can vote on each other, and if they agree on that, it means that when it's the alchemist's turn, they can get a werewolf resurrected and make the village's only saviour lose his life potion to prolong their chances."

He leaned back from you, and you let out a small laugh from your lungs as the confusion grew in Viktor's features.

"The Noxians have a lot to worry about if the Demacians are playing this game as a hobby," you smiled before taking the last of your breakfast into your mouth.

"Great," gasped Fiora, "now Zaunite girl is going to shamelessly try to tear us apart."

"Afraid of a debutant?" you pointed out with a mocking smile.

"I don't have anything to be afraid of," she articulated, her own smirk emerging, "since I will be the narrator."

"Pfft, coward," you huffed.

"I'm just out of this game because I would make it too hard for you to win anything," she countered before standing up. "But if your determination is as fierce as your fists, I think tonight's game is sure to prove interesting."

And with that, as she made her way out of the restaurant, Heimerdinger quieted the room to tell them all about the day's programme.

For the penultimate day, you were entitled to free time. You were allowed to visit any monument, street or other event taking place in the city.

Your day consisted of long walks through the streets, shopping for souvenirs along the way, taking part in street attractions such as a portrait drawn in ebony ink on a stone as white as the cliffs of Demacia, or a small café that gave a personality quiz at the entrance and offered you a coffee to go with it afterwards.

Viktor had left you again when the afternoon came, wishing to rest before the evening in case the Demacian flats reflected their streets by removing any sofas and chairs.

"If there was a way for them to sleep standing up, they wouldn't have any beds," he sighed before leaving.

You took advantage of this little trip back to the hotel to start packing your suitcase. Fiora's remark about your appearance and your neglect of it still lingered slightly in the back of your mind, even though you eliminated the possibility of buying a dress or some make-up soon enough.

As you packed your things, your fingers inevitably landed on your deck of cards. There were two decks today, and you had a feeling that they would be revealing.

After your usual shuffling ritual, the deck offered you the Chariot card.

Advancing towards a chosen goal. Confidence and certainty. Movement and adventure. The city wall behind the Chariot reflects the barrier between you and others. You are freeing yourself.

You huffed as you sat on your bed, could you honestly follow the advice on this card?

The description continued: The character is protected by his armour and all the celestial bodies are reflected on the canopy. Two sphinxes line up on the black and white pillars of the High Priestess. They reflect duality and the outer pillars of the Tree of Life. The Magician has channelled energy through his body to transport it here and push the body into action. Nothing can stop you. You are literally in the driver's seat.

Your fingers ran over the smooth varnish of the card, your eyes searching its details. Could you be so certain? Could you sincerely free yourself from all those cycles and ideas that were needlessly handcuffing you to behaviours linked to the past?

If Fiora's advice was sincerely that you put yourself first, you were going to choose what you wanted for yourself and not someone like Fiora who wanted to tell you how to act and react. But you kept her advice in mind when it came to the physical side of things.

You had to move forward, make up your mind and not look back.

That evening, you met Sky in the hall to go to Fiora's house. Outside, the air was fine, and other students were already on their way to her address. Viktor and Jayce would arrive later, no doubt to avoid the social rule that arriving too early for a party was a waste of time.

"I'm surprised you're going to her party," Sky admitted as the two of you walked side by side. "After everything she's done to you, it would almost be doing her too much honour to come."

"I'd be doing her a favour if I stayed in my room on my own," you sighed. "If I didn't come to her party, I would have admitted defeat and needlessly deprived myself of an opportunity to have a good time."

"I can understand that," Sky conceded, "but don't you think she'd risk a public toast to you again by revealing anything else you'd have preferred to keep secret?"

"I don't think that even with all the effort in the world she would come to any further conclusion about me that she could reveal," you admitted. "But the holiday is coming to an end, and I'd rather leave on good terms with good memories. Something tells me this evening will be a perfect example of that.’

It wasn't long before you reached the address. It was more a large house than anything else, three storeys high with multiple balconies where you had a feeling that some people were going to end up in a counterparty.

When you entered the hall, warm colours cut through the generally cold exterior. Sofas covered in red and magenta cushions were placed in the living room, where some of your friends were already sitting and chatting, a large kitchen with a massive island on which various glasses and snacks were sitting was at the back of the room, while Fiora was chatting with some of her other friends.

You met her gaze and she abandoned her discussion to come towards you as Sky found Orcelyia.

"The pipsqueak and the muscle-bound one aren't here yet?" she asked, looking around the room.

"They won't be long," you confirmed, imitating her gesture. "So that's your place?"

"In part, yes," she confirmed, observing the decoration in turn before turning away towards the island. "It's under my surname, and therefore mine in a way."

You moved forward to follow her, observing the petit fours ready to fill all the stomachs of the evening. "You truly do live like a princess."

"I hate it as much as I love it," she admitted before taking a goblet, uncorking a black felt-tip pen with her teeth and keeping the cap between her lips as she wrote on the cup.

"Too many dresses in your closet?" you questioned as you leaned back against the worktop.

"Too many expectations about me wearing the dresses," she explained before handing you the cup with your name on it and taking another in her hand. "What is wearing me down is the need to honour it."

You watched her elegant handwriting and the way she had added an exclamation mark to the end of your name. "I think you can honour them well, otherwise you wouldn't get the guilt from it."

"I wish I didn't need to honour anything at all," she confessed, writing her own name with little flourishes and other little drawings on it. "All I want is to cut the air with my blade and be considered as someone other than Fiora from house Laurent. Want something to drink?’

If you wanted to be able to stay alert later on during those famous werewolf games, alcohol was probably not a wise choice. So you asked her for a simple drink that you could enjoy without worrying about the side effects it would bring.

You watched the rest of the room, the background music loud enough to set the mood without anyone having to lean over to their conversation partner to hear. You wondered when Viktor and Jayce would arrive.

"So," Fiora continued as if she could read your mind, or was once again far too curious, "you and Viktor."

"Not this again," you sighed, taking a sip of your drink.

"Come on," she lengthened her sentence lasciviously, "I want to know where it all started."

You chuckled slightly, thinking back to all the things you'd been through about him so far.

"Well," you began, looking around the room, your eyes resting on Sky for a moment, "the day I returned to the Academy after the holidays were over, this homo-idioticus, in one single day, refused my help coldly and managed to overtake me in the Academy results."

"Off to a strong start," she smiled, intrigued.

‘’Don't remind me,’‘ you continued, ”there followed weeks and weeks of childish bickering, leading to Heimerdinger eventually pairing us up for a team project and us working together.’’

"Heimerdinger is decidedly well versed in what he needs to do."

"He made me want to rip his moustache off," you sneered, "I even ended up in detention because of it."

"You, in detention? I'd have liked to have seen that," she smiled, "did you hit another pupil to achieve the same result?"

"Well..." you let your sentence fade for a moment as you moistened your lips, "there's a chance Tyler's face might recall that."

Fiora's smile faded in an instant as shock passed seamlessly over her face. "I was joking, but..." she seemed to consider the situation, chuckling as a mocking smile settled on her face. "Gosh he is pathetic."

‘’Tell me about it,‘’ you observed as you searched the room for him with your eyes.

"He's not invited, if that's your concern," Fiora informed you before taking only a sip of her drink. "What happened next?"

You were trying to put the pieces of the story back together. "Then came the exams, and my unforgivable desire to win got the better of me enough that I flirted with death for a moment while the illness confined me to a bed. He…” you breathed in, thinking back to the sun caressing his hair, the crease of his eyebrows in his sleep, “he watched over me.”’

She was silent beside you, and when you turned to her, she wore a small, knowing smile as her eyebrows rose suggestively. "Mhm."

You rolled your eyes. "After that, when I finally realised that our goals weren't common and there was no reason for me to hate him, we decided to call a truce."

"And I suppose he came up with the idea?" she questioned.

You nodded, bringing your cup to your lips in the hope that the heat would subside in your cheeks, your eyes resting on the entrance to the room, waiting.

"You're so blind," Fiora whispered.

You turned to her. "How so?"

"I can't say yet, not when your wit is as sharp as a butter knife," she smiled as she walked over to the counter to get a refill. "But when it hits you, it's going to be like a brick."

“Viktor's my friend,” you repeated once more.

"Yeah, right," she smiled, her eyes settling on a point in the room as her lips stretched into a sneer, "speaking of the devil."

Your eyes inevitably fell on Viktor and Jayce who had just arrived. Jayce was elegant, with a black shirt that hugged his muscular frame and jeans of the same colour. Viktor, on the other hand, was dressed simply in a brown shirt with rolled-up sleeves and simple black trousers, his brace covering his leg. Of the two, you could tell who had spent more time in front of the mirror.

"Finally here," Fiora called before moving towards them and you following.

Jayce had simply taken an inordinate amount of time getting ready, as usual, even if he had seemed to cut back on certain parts of his routine. This was no doubt due to the little teasing you and Viktor had given him, and poor Jayce was probably having an existential crisis about his tastes and appearances.

"This is your place?" questioned Jayce as he observed the architecture and interior decoration.

"I know," whispered Fiora, "it's a bit too big, but for these kinds of occasions, it's perfect. Bathrooms on each floor, a few bedrooms as well as closets, balconies for a smoke if wanted - all we need. Now, let me bring you your cups.’

As she disappeared towards the counter again, you turned towards them. Viktor looked at you while Jayce observed the flat's decorations.

"Thankfully this is not another masquerade," you smiled.

"I think I'd prefer a masquerade," Viktor confessed, "it would help me hide my boredom with a conversation if I find myself stuck in it."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Jayce encouraged, "we're going to spend most of the evening obviously playing games anyway."

He pressed his hand on his friend's shoulder before leaving to see other students. He seemed to find Garen, who smiled at him as they began a discussion. Perhaps the latter would also offer him a strategy for this evening's game.

"I have a feeling it's going to be a long one," you admitted before taking a sip of your drink and observing the rest of the room.

"I was going to go out and look for a balcony to claim as my own for the evening," Viktor conceded, "but I have a feeling it won't be that unpleasant."

"Really? What makes you say that?’ you questioned.

He shrugged, his eyes settling on the armchairs and sofas. "The fact that I don't have to stand."

You couldn't help but laugh at his remark, and he smiled. There was something soft in his eyes, and you couldn't make out what it was, but it cradled your heart in its arms.

"So you're the lady that kicked Fiora's ass!"

You turned towards a cheerful voice that sounded foreign to you. A young lady with blonde hair and eyes sparkling with wonder had arrived at your level.

"I..." you exchanged a glance with Viktor, wondering if he knew the young lady, "I am."

"I wish I could have been there for that," she mused with a charming euphoric smile, "it's all anyone's talked about for a week. It really makes you want to come to the training ground more often."

She hardly seemed to contain her excitement, and you were genuinely surprised. She looked to be about fifteen, and not one of the students at the party.

"Lux, please don't harass her in one go."

Garen reached your height, placing his hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Forgive my sister," he smiled, "I told her a little about our days and I do believe she has developed an adoration."

"I didn't know you had a little sister," you remarked before turning to her and introducing yourself.

"I already know your name," she smiled, "I've heard a great deal about you." She turned to your friend. "And you must be Viktor, right?’

"Himself," he sighed.

She leaned forward to whisper for him. "Sorry about Fiora's behaviour and the way she glued herself to you."

"Now," Fiora rightly interjected as Lux jumped slightly from surprise, coming back over to you and handing Viktor a cup with 'Vikkie' written on it with a little heart over the dot of the i's, "we have games to play. Lux, you're joining us little one?’

When enough people volunteered to play, everyone took their places on two sofas facing each other and an armchair to one side. You found yourself sitting on a corner of a sofa next to Sky, who was sitting between you and Orcelyia, while Jayce and Garen were sitting next to each other on the sofa opposite, and Lux was sitting next to her big brother. As for Viktor, he was sitting in the armchair.

This was a warm-up game so that the new players could get used to the game together - and possibly play with more players in future games. Fiora shuffled the cards for a moment, explaining the rules of the game and the process. She showed you the cards one by one, reminding you what they were, and soon enough she dealt them out.

You took yours and looked discreetly at its symbol: Werewolf.

Great, already an enemy in a game. It would be all right, it would be simple, wouldn't it? There were two werewolves present in the game, and you were wondering who would be the second participant.

"Now that everyone knows who they are," began Fiora, "the village is going to sleep for its first night."

Everyone closed their eyes, although it took Fiora's clarification that ‘you sleep with your eyes closed’ for Jayce to finally understand that he couldn't keep his eyes open at the moment.

"I call Cupid."

Having your eyes closed made for a strange experience. You found yourself trying to work out every movement of the more or less close players to try and work out who had what role.

"Designate two lovers who, at first sight, will fall madly in love with each other."

Despite the music, you tried to guide your ears towards the players and the reaction time.

"All right, cupid, you can go back to sleep," said Fiora. "I'm now going to touch the heads of the two lovers, who will see and recognise each other."

The idea of having to be associated with anyone and that one of these players might be your partner displeased you at the time: what if they made a mistake? What if they were targeted and you ended up dead because you had to commit yourself?

You heard Fiora start to walk, and you feared that your head would be hit. She passed by Orcelyia and Sky, and her legs brushed against your knees without you feeling anything on your head or her continuing on her way.

Saved. All you had to do now was kill one of the lovers to kill two birds with one stone and speed up the game. It didn't matter who your furred partner was, if you could kill one of the lovers, you were going to seize the opportunity.

"The lovers wake up, to recognise each other," Fiora continued, leading the game with finesse and constantly moving around you to mislead the players.

Near you, however, you felt movement to your right, towards Sky and Orcelyia. Could they be the lovers of the evening? A player like Garen or possibly Lux, who already knew their way around, wouldn't have made the simple mistake of not being sufficiently quiet.

If that was the case and Sky was one of the two lovers, you could certainly try to silently convince your sidekick to come to terms with it - even if the thought broke your heart.

"Lovers go back to sleep," sighed Fiora. "I call the card reader. Point me to a player's card you'd like to see."

You concentrated hard to try and hear anything, but it seemed impossible to ignore the slight stirring of Sky next to you. Perhaps she was the card reader, perhaps she was just fidgeting to reposition herself.

When Fiora came round to move the cards and make you doubt, you dreaded your card being shown. What if you were eliminated from the start?

"The card reader can go back to sleep. I'm now calling in the werewolves."

You opened your eyes and lifted your head, looking around until your eyes landed on Viktor to your left.

He looked back at you, cheek pressed lasciviously to the back of his hand. You were the two werewolves.

You couldn't help your lips from stretching into a smile as he winked at you, your cheeks heating and your heart missing a beat.

"They recognise each other," Fiora confirmed with a wry little smile. Had she intentionally dealt the cards so that you'd end up together like this? "The werewolves are now going to choose a victim for the night who will be their meal."

Your eyes roamed over the small group of closed eyes, apprehending to point with your thumb to the right towards Sky, but Viktor pointed without hesitation to Jayce. When your eyes landed on him, you noticed that his fingers were spread apart, barely hiding his open eyes.

The little girl, of course, barely concealing his identity as he tried hard to hide behind his thick fingers. You stifled the little laugh that rose up inside you before pointing to Jayce.

Fiora rolled her eyes. "Well, the werewolves have made their choice and can go back to sleep."

You exchanged one last glance with Viktor, who smiled at you before his eyes gently closed and you did the same.

"The alchemist's waking up."

You couldn't hear anything coming from the opposite sofa, and if the alchemist was on yours, they were very quiet.

"This person has been named as tonight's victim," you imagined her pointing at Jayce, "what do you wish to do? Save this person, do nothing, or kill someone?’

You could hardly hear anything, until Fiora spoke again. "Alright, alchemist, you can go back to sleep." She paused for a moment, then resumed. "The village wakes up."

Everyone raised their eyes, opening their falsely tired eyelids. You watched everyone, examining their faces and the way they acted.

"Dear villagers, last night a victim was devoured by werewolves."

You tried to remain calm, observing the rest of the participants, trying to gauge who might have what role. You met Garen's eyes, who was also watching you, followed by Lux, who seemed to be smiling in satisfaction. She could be a target for the vote, but you were counting on finding a way to cut it short by killing the two lovers.

Fiora turned to Jayce, pointing at him. "Jayce was found this very morning, jugular ripped out while he was out last night," she stepped forward to pick up Jayce's card, which until now had been lying like all the others on the coffee table at the centre of this affair. "The little girl died last night."

You feigned surprise, watching the other participants until your eyes fell on Viktor. It would have been more than suspicious if you hadn't been looking at him, and as you watched he seemed serene although falsely intrigued by who could have committed this murder.

"I suppose I can't say anything of what I saw?" questioned Jayce with a frustrated pout.

"Do dead people talk?" questioned Fiora in return, and Jayce crossed his arms, slumping back on the sofa as he stared into space followed by a long sigh.

"Wasn't so subtle about being the little girl I guess?" remarked Orcelyia.

"You guess?" underlined Garen. ‘Were you awake when this butchery happened?

Orcelyia abandoned her small smile for an expression of shock. "Of course not!"

If Orcelyia could become the target of the day, that was fine with you, and you intended to make sure that the day went in your favour. But you still had to pretend you were a villager and invent fictitious concerns.

"What's troubling is that the Alchemist did not use a life potion, Jayce is," you turned to him for a moment, "sorry, was not a threat."

"Hey!" he shouted indignantly.

"The dead don't speak," Fiora pointed out, Jayce grabbing a cushion from the sofa, putting it on his stomach and wrapping his arms around it to steady himself.

"She's right, though," Sky resumed. "The Alchemist kept his life potion. Now, who wouldn't want to save him?’

With a strange unanimity, everyone turned to Viktor. The hitherto silent man looked at you all, frowning.

"You really think I wouldn't have used some magic potion to save my friend if I had the opportunity?"

Viktor was playing the ‘it would be suspicious for me to target a friend’ card, and he played it wonderfully. You dreaded the possibility of Garen pointing out that it was precisely because Viktor was his friend that he had an extra chance of targeting him, but he did not.

You refrained from emphasising this idea, not wishing to eliminate your partner in crime even though this possibility could have given you undisputed immunity. No, you wouldn't do that to Viktor even if you could, and that idea made you feel all weird.

"Orcelyia," you resumed though, hoping to steer the conversation away from any further ideas about Viktor, "how did you make that assumption about Jayce?"

"Well, just look at him," she gestured broadly in the air at him.

You knew that Jayce wasn't the most discreet man in the world, but that didn't stop the remark from seeming like a perfect opportunity to pin her down.

"Excuse me?" you almost choked out. "Would you have attacked him on the logic that he was an easy target?"

"No don't take it this way," Orcelyia hastened, "you know what I meant!"

"You seem nervous," added Viktor calmly, the difference between his calm demeanour and Orcelyia's provided a convincing contrast - who would believe someone who looked guilty?

"Indeed she does," Garen remarked.

"I'm not a werewolf!" continued Orcelyia.

"You're not putting up anything to defend yourself though," Lux remarked, taking a slight dig at Garen's attitude.

"Because you don't give her time to defend herself," remarked Sky.

The two of them were in love, that was for certain.

"Are you defending her because she's your partner in crime?" you questioned.

You were insinuating a doubt, and the others were starting to hang on to it. You weren't seeing Viktor at the moment, trying not to let on that you had a more than dubious connection with him.

"Absolutely not," continued Orcelyia, "isn't my truth enough?"

"The truth will be what we make of it," you remarked.

"I think it's time for the village to vote," Fiora observed.

You had prepared your target, Orcelyia perfectly in the lion's den as the others would follow. Even if your target was originally Sky, the possibility that the latter two were in love meant you could hope for a big score. After their elimination, only Garen and Lux would be left to foil, and one against two, no matter how it ended, would be gifted to win.

"On the count of three, you will point to the person you wish to consider as the target of this day's vote. One, two, three."

The count fell, and so a majority of hands turned to Orcelyia, besides her and Sky pointing one to you and one to Garen. You won.

"Well, the vote is almost unanimous. Orcelyia, today the village has chosen you as its victim. Offer your card."

She grumbled, taking her card and turning it over on the table.

"Orcelyia was the Alchemist," confirmed Fiora, showing the card to the players.

"Why didn't you save Jayce?" questioned Viktor.

"Because she was in love," you said, turning to Sky.

By making this remark, you were allowing yourself to be seen as the cupid left in the two villagers, even if after tonight you were going to win.

Orcelyia sighed as she turned to your friend in turn. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she smiled, "they had already made their choice."

Fiora stepped forward. "Sky, pierced by cupid's arrow, was madly in love with Orcelyia. And following today's vote, she has decided to join her lover in the grave" Sky grabbed her card, turning it over for all to see. "Sky was the card reader."

"Damn," you breathed, falsely shocked, although there was very little left to pretend given the rest that remained to be eliminated.

"So the reason you kept your potion close was so you could save Sky in case she was in danger of dying?" questioned Jayce.

"Yes," she breathed, "sorry Jayce, I had to make sure she stayed alive."

"Is the village ready to go back to sleep?" questioned Fiora, watching your heads nod. "Well, the village is going back to bed. The dead, meanwhile, can watch."

All those remaining - you, Viktor, Garen and Lux - closed their eyes or buried their eyelids in their palms.

"I'm calling the werewolves."

Viktor and you raised your heads, and Jayce opened his mouth wide, silently articulating with his lips ‘you two?!’

You shrugged as your lips pressed into a thin line, Viktor smiling shamelessly.

"Werewolves, from now on choose who will be your victim this night."

Any one of them could make the choice, but the hunter remained, and something told you that Garen hadn't been the one to make Sky and Orcelyia the lovers. So, if you devoured him tonight and woke up in the morning with one of you dead, you'd end up with a tie. No, you had to win, take this first victory proudly and handily to show the other players that even if you were just beginners, you were formidable.

So you pointed to Lux, and Viktor exchanged a glance with you before following you with his finger. He trusted your instincts, just as you had trusted him with Jayce.

"Right, the werewolves can go back to sleep," she indicated, waiting a final moment before saying, "the village wakes up."

The four of you opened your eyes, the other two seeming to understand the fate that awaited them.

"Tonight, a new victim has been taken," she moved towards Lux, "between the white feathers and the blood, Lux has been devoured." She grabbed her card, showing it for all to see. "Lux was the cupid."

Sky and Orcelyia smiled at her, while Garen understood the situation.

"Of course it had to be the both of you," he smiled, "it's always you two."

"You don't change a winning team," you grinned for a moment, your eyes settling on those of Viktor.

There was a glint of quiet, dark amusement in his eyes, nodding.

"She called you an homo-idioticus," Fiora commented as if reading a line from your lecture notes, or a post-it scribble you'd put on Viktor's forehead to make him guess what he was.

"It's a pet name," he remarked, chuckling slightly at the appellation as he turned to you.

"Birds of a feather flock together," you tried to clarify at least.

"Right, could the two cubs finally name their voting victim?"

You both pointed at Garen, who sighed as Fiora picked up his card. "Garen was the hunter."

He huffed, slumping down on the sofa next to Jayce before pointing his index finger at you like a pistol, pretending to aim at you.

"Poof," he pressed as with that imaginary trigger he winked, to better aim for a moment.

"And so the werewolves win with Viktor," Fiora pointed out before starting to pick up the cards again.

"You killed me?!" Jayce finally exclaimed in your direction.

"You were hardly discreet," pointed out Viktor.

"You were spreading your fingers a lot," you confirmed.

"I was doing my best! Why did you kill me straight away?"

"You were going to reveal who we were if we let you live until tomorrow," you continued, "and knowing it's you, everyone would have believed it."

Other students from the party eventually wanted to join in, and just as you were expecting to start another game of it, Fiora had other ideas.

"We're going to try a new game, but with a different layout," she indicated as she stood up, turning to some of the rest of the students, "you're doing seven minutes in heaven?"

"Yeah, we've just cleared the dressing room," grinned one of them as he nervously scratched the back of his neck while his other hand had a thumb busy pressing against his red lips. Another girl behind him was redrawing her own with a red lipstick.

"What's a seven minutes in heaven?" you questioned, mixing curiosity with slight concern.

"You really do live in a cave," sighed Fiora, turning to you and Viktor, "you two, follow me."

You exchanged a glance with Viktor, himself looking confused, before you both stood up and followed her out of the room.

"Seven minutes in heaven is simple," she began to explain as you headed down a corridor, "we choose two people to meet for seven minutes in a closet."

"To do what?" asked Viktor.

She turned to the two of you once she'd reached a door at the end of the corridor. "Make out."

Your heart leapt into your throat as your mind raced. Make out?

The idea seeped into your mind like sunlight through the cracks of a cave. For a moment you imagined the scene, how close you'd be, how his hand would rest on your waist like you'd tattooed your mind with it in the museum, how your lips would have no cup to separate them.

But you pulled yourself together. The idea should have repulsed you, or made you feel more unpleasant than anything else - not possible.

Why had you even considered it?

You turned to him, who seemed just as surprised as you were as your eyes fell on his.

"What?" you finally asked nervously, turning to Fiora.

"Relax, I'm kidding," she reassured, and your shoulders slumped as you realised Viktor was doing the same, "although most people in seven minutes in heaven do make out. You can just talk in there, do absolutely nothing at all and wait for the time to end, or engage in further than just kissing.’

She wore a naughty smile, and you hoped your cheeks would miraculously stop heating up.

"Although I don't think you'll get to that stage, I suppose it's always good to know your options," she pointed out as she opened the dressing room door and grabbed what looked to you like an alarm clock. ‘Here, no one will come and spy on you or hear you. Please enter your palace for the next seven minutes."

You exchanged a glance with Viktor, who seemed to be gauging the situation just as you were. You didn't have to kiss him or anything, and you obviously doubted that Viktor would want to engage in such an activity. You were reassured by the fact that simple conversation was a possibility, but the closeness would no doubt trigger this allergy even more.

"Do I have to push you inside or are you going to go in?" Fiora was getting impatient.

‘’All right, all right,‘’ you grumbled, finally stepping into the room.

You stood there for a moment, arms folded as you looked at Viktor, who seemed surprised by your choice.

"It's not like we're going to make out or anything," you shrugged.

He was silent for a moment, a look in his eyes that you couldn't quite work out was there, before he finally nodded and walked over to you. The room wasn't so small, at least not small enough for you to feel claustrophobic.

Fiora placed the alarm clock on the floor, then grabbed the door handle to close it on you. ‘’Good game!" she wished, the door closing and leaving you both in a room illuminated by a small orange nightlight that kept most of the room bathed in darkness.

Her footsteps faded into the echo of the corridor, leaving just you and Viktor, silently alone, just the two of you. Just goes to show, you didn't need a balcony to have a contre soirée.

Your eyes inevitably met, drifting slightly to one side but surely out of embarrassment or nervousness at the situation.

"So," Viktor broke the silence, "I'm a Homo-Idioticus?"

You laughed, your head falling back as you closed your eyes with a smile before your head fell lazily forward again. "Not you too, please."

"Under what context was I called such an endearing nickname?" He smiled, seeming in no way offended as he teased on.

You sighed, leaning against the wall adjacent to your exit door. "She asked me how we met."

"Ah," he realised, "yes I suppose a Cretinus Totalus would have been good for you too at times."

"Are you tired of calling me Miss already?" you joked.

He took a small step towards you to face you. "It's going to take a miracle for me to get tired of ever saying it."

The memories of your discussion at the museum came back to you just by your mutual position. You remembered his jaw, your proximity, the feeling of his hand on your waist keeping you in place and waiting for Fiora to leave. The situation mirrored itself in a new angle.

And the way you had to leave things only underlined the need for a continuation to it. You were well aware that you hadn't come to the end of that conversation yet, and he seemed to think so too.

"That day," he said as his eyes pierced you with their questions, "why did you leave?"

You knew instantly of the moment he was speaking about. You replayed in your mind the fight against Fiora, the disgusting feeling of the blood on your hands, and Viktor's shocked eyes on you that you tried not to think about if possible.

"I felt like..." you lowered your eyes to your hands, nervously fidgeting with them, "I disgusted you."

It was his turn to giggle and for your gaze to gain back his level. "So you used to be disgusted by me and now you're the one scared of me being disgusted by you?"

"You never disgusted me, Viktor," you articulated firmly as you met his eyes, your jaw tightening for a moment as he seemed a little surprised by your seriousness and the mention of his name. "Never have, never will."

His lips parted for a moment in astonishment.

"And I'm sorry that I ran away, but," you tried to hold your breath and not let your heart get the better of your words, "I really needed to get it all off of me."

Your fingers were almost itchy, and you tried in the moment to distract the sensation by bringing your hand to the back of your neck, which felt like it was burning, while your other hand hung down your body.

The muscle in Viktor's jaw tightened, the orange glow of the nightlight lingering on it for a moment before he relaxed. He didn't look angry, disappointed, or disgusted.

"I," his own hand gripped his cane differently, "wanted to find you then, to talk to you, to..." his amber eyes met yours, concerned, "make sure you were okay."

Your heart almost sank to its knees in the hollow of your chest - Viktor cared about you. Of course, that's what friends do for their friends when problems arise, but it didn't change the fact that the idea made you feel strange.

"Fiora was in a worse state than me," you mumbled.

"I do not care about Fiora," Viktor pointed out, shaking his head to clear the idiotic idea, "she is no friend of mine."

You inhaled harshly. "You stay friends with violent people?"

"I stay friends with people that I admire."

The lack of hesitation in his voice and his words left you almost speechless. There was this easiness about the way he said it, like it was an evidence, like it couldn't have been otherwise.

"Admire?" you repeated, as if to make sure you hadn't misheard what he'd said.

His eyes on you made you burn, eradicating everything in their path and revealing only truths you thought impossible to be seen. He took a step forward, and it seemed to you that their heat was setting you ablaze.

"Yes," he resumed, "admire."

"What is there to admire about me?" you chuckled, feeling like a lost cause.

"Do you want the chronological or the alphabetical order?"

You raised your eyebrows. "You have both these lists prepared?"

"If you can have our clauses numbered at the top of your mind, I don't see why I wouldn't have my own list prepared for the reasons to be your friend," he confirmed.

You blinked rapidly, amazed at the immediacy with which he responded. He cut short any possibility that went against his reasoning, and if you were coming up with anything that would try and rival such comebacks, he already had two prepared in advance. You breathed in, but ended up huffing out a sigh.

"No need for this list," you chuckled, a small pause taking the air before your grin left your lips. "I feared the way you would see me after," your eyes fell on your fingers again, "what I did. There was just something that..." with your fingernail, you were trying to scrape off a flap of skin sticking out near your thumb. "I just couldn't get you to be disappointed in me."

He frowned, his head jerking back in disbelief. "I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that."

"What?" you questioned, confused.

"Disappointed?" he repeated, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. "In you?"

You shrugged. "Does it seem that surprising of a concept?"

"Yes," Viktor confirmed with an incredulous grin, "or maybe do I have to remind you of your number one spot at the academy?"

You turned your head away, his eyes becoming an annoying mirror of what you were as you fled your reflection. "Not needed."

"Then why think you'd disappoint me?"

But you regained his gaze in the moment, he deserved to see the fear in your eyes and the uncertainty that stalked you. "Because who would want someone that is violent to hang out with?"

He shook his head. "It was legitimate defense."

"If it was legitimate defense, why did I end up with her blood on my hands, Viktor?" You almost raised your voice.

"Violent?" He frowned, taking another step towards you, leaving only a metre between you. "Don't you think I would have wanted to know how to fence with my cane to go against anyone that would have dared say what she said aloud to me?"

There was a firmness in his tone, his accent snapping across his teeth and lips. You parted your own, inhaling heavily. Had you pissed him off? Had you finally pushed him too far?

Noticing, however, the way you had tensed up, he let out a long sigh, his eyes softening as they roamed over your face and came to caress with the tips of his lashes where Fiora had struck.

Your back was pressed against the wall, you couldn't escape him. But would you have escaped if you'd had the chance? If the wall didn't exist, would you have backed away?

"We all have our angers," he continued, his voice softer, "and our reasons to fuel them. All different, all tailored, and that is what makes it so much easier to feel." He moved a little closer, and your chest swelled with warm air. "But in no way shape or form does it define you."

You swallowed, trying to force down the knot that was trying to form in your throat. Your eyes lowered to your hand, to your fingernail, still trying to tear off the cursed skin that kept sticking out.

"Anger has left a gash in me that never wants to heal," your voice had grown small, a tiny light emerging in the darkness of the room, "I'm doing everything I can to make sure it never spreads again and closes."

You didn't meet his gaze, head down, continually scratching your skin to eradicate this weed growing on your skin. For as long as you had tried fighting all of this, it seemed as if you could never truly run away from it. Living with yourself had become a luxury through time, a possibility to move on with your life. And yet this clingy, sticky sensation clung to your fingers and mind horrifyingly.

And then, silently, Viktor gently moved his free fingers towards your hand without touching it. He just hovered over it, considering the situation, hesitating.

Then, his fingertips brushed against yours, sending sparks all over your arm and igniting your heart before he pressed his thumb against the skin you were trying so hard to rip off.

His hand was warm, more than you would have expected, slightly calloused but soft and reassuring. He caressed the skin next to your fingernail, providing it a care your own treatment vould never have offered.

"To heal a wound, you have to stop touching it, Miss."

His voice was gentle, what little warmth there was in the room coming to lodge close to your heart for a moment. You inhaled harshly, the touch of his thumb on your skin washing away your worries like waves on sand.

If this allergy really was an allergy, why weren't any of the symptoms unpleasant?

"I know," you murmured, your thoughts slowly drifting away as the simple sensation of his skin on yours anchored you.

You could feel his eyes on you. "Then why do you keep letting it open?"

You tried to regain his gaze, to let yourself be seen, to let him see you. You inhaled sharply, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked up at him.

"Because it's the only thing I've ever known."

He tilted his head to one side, your heart missing a beat as his eyes showed no embarrassment, no fear, no disgust. His thumb pressed a little closer to your skin, moving ever so slightly along it.

"You don't have to live in it anymore," he murmured, his eyes resting on yours.

You lowered your gaze to your hands, Viktor's thumb sliding along the length of your index finger towards the inside of your hand, undoing your clenched fist in the process as his fingers barely covered the back of your hand.

"It'll take time," you whispered, letting the tension fade from your body.

You were close, only a small space separating your shoes from each other. There was something almost hypnotic in his caresses, in the fearful slowness with which he moved. There was something inside you, something that seemed to wake up a little more each time you were in his presence.

"All the time it needs," Viktor confirmed, his thumb continuing its journey to your knuckles, still darkened by the force of your strikes.

You watched, feeling his fingers pass under yours and support them as if you'd just given him a dance.

His eyes watched your hand, yours raised to meet the serenity on his face. "Has your anger ever calmed?" you asked.

His chest swelled with air before he let out a long sigh. "It had," he confirmed.

"Had?" you questioned.

"Lately, I can't lie about the fact that a certain frustration has taken hold of me," the tip of his thumb brushed against the knuckle of your middle finger, the latter particularly dark compared to the others.

"Why?" you questioned, your fingers clasping his for a moment to gain his attention on the subject. "What happened?"

He straightened up, his eyes setting on you for a moment before letting go of your hand gently to rest it on top of the other one on the pommel of his cane. You were already strangely missing his warmth, why were you disappointed that he'd let go? Why had he held on to it? He could have let go of it a long time ago, so why did he go on? And you, who hadn't withdrawn it, why was that the case?

"Well," he continued, "a certain friend of mine started spending more time with a Demacian and neglected help from me but not from him."

You frowned, "Garen?"

"Unless your wounds were magically treated by air the day after the fight, I don't see anyone else," Viktor confirmed.

You remembered the morning itself, the alcohol stinging your lips as your eyes found Viktor. Was his frustration due to the fact that you hadn't come to see him instead of Garen?

"Well," you began again, "that was because my friend was monopolised by another Demacian that hated me."

He nodded. "I could have used a little help on that one too, I suppose."

"Sorry, your guard dog had a bit of trouble against the Demacians," you joked before gesturing vaguely to your face to show the area where you'd been injured.

He gave a small, amused smile. ‘’Damned Demacians, all bark no bite."

"Well, they do bite, just not as hard as Zaunites." You remembered what Eris had said just before you met Viktor, and found it ironic that you'd gone from lone wolf to watchdog. Were you that dedicated?

"The underground brings out the best underhounds," he confirmed, "we have a way to claw our way up to success that remains unrivalled."

You smiled, and he returned the gesture. There was an ease in the air, a comforting return to normality. But did normal include him taking your hand again? Or were you just going to go back to being a simple classmate? The second idea seemed more bitter. You would have liked to stay like that, in the softness of a room where, even if it was full of clothes, you were naked in the eyes of the heart.

"It's a good thing the trip is coming to an end," you admitted reassuringly, the impatience to know what the year's continuity had in store for you residing close to your soul.

The alarm went off, and you gasped before bringing your hand to your forehead to sigh. Time was just up. Viktor laughed as you recovered from your disorientating shock.

"Let's go," he offered as he opened the door and held it open for you, "before Jayce ends up martyred to the Werewolf."

You laughed lightly, breaking away from the wall to step out into the corridor as he followed you. Your heart was still pounding in your ears, and you couldn't decide whether that was a result of your surprise at the alarm, or whether it was due to the phantom feel of Viktor's fingers on your skin.

How lucky, you thought, that his digits hadn't wandered up your wrist to discover the erratic rhythm of your pulse.

The two of you walked back to the living room, another duo designated to take your place as you appeared.

Fiora seemed deeply disappointed that your lips weren't mutually swollen or your hair a mess and that you were returning as she'd left you.

"Joining us for a new game?" questioned Lux excitedly.

"Absolutely," you confirmed as you sat down on the sofa and Viktor, unable to get back his place on the armchair, sat down next to you.

Fiora redistributed the cards, promising one last game before adding more players so that the games would last longer and not end as quickly as the previous one, which you and Viktor had won hands down.

You picked up your card, bringing it discreetly to your eyes: hunter.

After finishing a game in which the hunter had killed you, you were taking on his role. You put your card down in front of you, and Viktor did the same. You wondered whether he was a werewolf again, whether he would target you if he was, or whether he too had a different role.

"The village falls asleep," Fiora began again.

You closed your eyes, happy in the knowledge that you would only have to be attentive and not active, given your sleeping role.

"I call upon Cupid," Fiora proclaimed, "designate two players who will love each other until death do them part."

You waited a moment, feeling Fiora move slightly in space. "Good, Cupid you can go back to sleep. I'm now going to touch the heads of the two lovers, who will wake up and recognise each other."

You could feel her moving, hearing her footsteps on the carpet, until you felt her hand press down on your head. Brilliant. You thought you could play a game without having to go through debates and stuff, but here you were, having to watch someone's back.

You opened your eyes, looking around to see who might have been your love for the game. Everyone in front of you had their eyes closed, and you frowned before turning to Viktor.

He was awake.

You were the lovers of this game.

The lovers' card came to mind in Eris's draw, and a wave of heat ran through your body.

You arched an eyebrow, eyes half-closed and chin high, offering a wink in response to his gesture from the previous game. His eyes darkened for a moment, a mischievous smile spreading across the corner of his lips.

"Lovers can go back to sleep, or do what lovers do," Fiora smiled, your eyes rolling up to the sky as you closed them.

The rest of the night went on, you paying little attention to what was going on, though your thoughts kept returning to the feel of his hand on yours, his warmth, his tenderness. The more time passed, the more this idiotic allergy theory crumbled. You wouldn't look for symptoms of an allergy to happen again, so why did you feel so drawn to his touch? To his words? To him?

What would happen if you engaged even slightly physically? Would he be disgusted by it? Would he be embarrassed? Would he move away like he had ended up doing?

There was only one way to find out.

Gently then, tentatively, you pressed your knee against his. Your heart was racing, so much so that it was difficult to hear anything other than the rapid rhythm of its drumming in your eardrums.

A second went by, then another, and another, and you wondered if you shouldn't have withdrawn your leg after such a ridiculous gesture.

But just before you pulled away after a good ten more seconds had passed, he pressed his knee against yours, not as a request to pull away, but as an acceptance.

You tried very slowly to let out a sigh of relief, the air escaping in bumps as your heartbeat cut it off slightly.

"The village wakes up," Fiora finally announced.

You hadn't thought about the fact that eventually you'd have to open your eyes, and the idea of meeting Viktor's gaze again after that attempt, from which you still hadn't moved, scared you a little.

But you had to open your eyes, and so you put them on Fiora to listen to what she had to say and concentrate.

"Last night, the werewolves claimed a victim." She moved towards Orcelyia. "After firing her arrow, it seems she didn't use it to defend herself." She picked up her card, showing it to everyone. "Cupid died last night."

So Orcelyia, who had previously died because of your relentlessness against her, had no doubt decided to take revenge by putting you two in love.

You met her gaze as she slumped back on her sofa.

"Another alchemist who didn't save a victim," Garen remarked.

"So maybe an alchemist who's in love again," theorised Sky.

You were perhaps realising this pattern. Was Viktor saving his life potion to save you in the potential event where you'd be designated a victim?

As the others began to put forward their theories, you let them do so without saying anything, your thoughts too busy on the contact that you and Viktor had.

It was just two knees, two limbs from two different bodies, bones covered in muscles covered in skin and then clothes, nothing more and nothing less. So, if that's all it was, why couldn't you stop thinking about it?

Maybe what was stopping you from not thinking about it was the fact that you had thought about doing it? Maybe what was stopping you from not thinking about it was the fact that you'd done it? Maybe what was stopping you from not thinking about it was the fact that he had returned the gesture and hadn't moved back?

The conversation passed without you paying much attention, except that Lux and Garen seemed rather devious. Maybe it was just the brother and sister effect, you thought. So the vote of the day came, and Sky was chosen, the theory being that since she had been linked to Orcelyia in previous games, she would have tried to make herself feel safe about being a werewolf by killing her to prove that she would never have done that. But the verdict was in: she was the little girl.

The village went back to sleep, without you meeting Viktor's eyes, but without forgetting him. It seemed as if every light and reflection that had lit up his eyes so far came back to you under closed lids.

The night of the power cut, when the almond of light from the candle had been lodged in his pupils, the morning after passing out when he'd slept at your bedside before waking up for the sun to settle in his eyes, and just then when his eyes were reflecting the little orange glow.

You had been used to cold lights, to the Safphire burning in Selene's hearth, to the darkness of the night, to the depths of a neon-lit city.

And he had come to illuminate all this, as the day set to let the night live on, the two coming together in a single colour that proved to be his favourite - the one he preferred.

Fiora called out to the players one by one until the village awoke.

"Last night there was a real massacre," Fiora exclaimed theatrically. "Not one, but two people died!"

"Did the lovers die?" questioned Garen.

"The Alchemisy used his death potion?" exclaimed Lux.

"You'd better believe it," smiled Fiora. "Last night, found amongst her incense and candles, Jayce was killed," she uncovered his card, "and Jayce was the card reader."

"I was going to make it all right!" he exclaimed as he brought his face into his hands.

"Don't worry, Jayce" Fiora comforted though, "because out of your two killers, one died last night." She turned to Lux. "The alchemist had concocted a deeply devastating elixir that very night, capable of taking out any man..." she grabbed the girl's card and turned it around for all to see, "or any beast."

You smiled, Lux sighed and tilted her head back in disappointment. Now there was only Garen left.

"It seems it's always the two of us against everyone, Miss," Viktor smiled, his knee pressing ever so slightly against yours as a small sign of victory.

"You..." Garen opened his mouth into a smile as a unique burst of laughter rose up his throat, "of course you were the lovers."

"Hmm," Viktor hummed, frowning with a thoughtful expression. "What are we going to do with him?"

"Well," you pressed your lips into an inverted smile as you watched Garen, "if you live by the river, I got a bag."

"Just finish this already," Garen sighed, pointing at you again for his vote as the two of you pointed at him.

"And just like that," Fiora walked over to Garen and picked up the card, "the reign of the werewolves ends with the union of two lovers."

You turned to Viktor, a victorious smile tugging at your lips as you offered him your hand to shake. Was it a simple desire for politeness in the gesture of having played so well as your sidekick, or was it another unconscious desire to feel his hand close to yours?

He smiled back, shaking your hand. The handshake wasn't very long, just to seal your victory in everyone's eyes, but you couldn't help noticing the way his thumb lightly caressed your hand before withdrawing.

"Another game?" suggested Fiora.

And so the evening continued, the group of students growing in size as roles were added and debates sparked. You laughed when Jayce let out an ‘ouch!’ when Fiora touched his head to determine who the lovers were, or when Orcelyia almost grabbed Garen by the collar when he referred to her as a werewolf even though she was a villager.

The strategy Garen had given you ended up coming handy when you both were werewolves, and it became evident that you’d bring this game back to Zaun to teach it to some kids.

When those who closed their eyes during the night part of the game finally really felt actual sleep taking them, the living room began to empty little by little, until there were only too few students left to play games. Some had returned to the hotel or to their homes, others had taken free rooms to sleep there. What about you? Well, you were helping to tidy up a little.

Fatigue began to pull you as you put the few remaining cups in the trash. Your eyes rested on two of them, sticking close to one another - yours and Viktor's, near each other.

Your shoulders sagged, his name next to yours now seeming to you more than simple letters, more than simple black strokes on plastic, more than two names on a list of league tables.

You pressed your thumb against your fingers, remembering the feeling of his hand on yours, and your two knees joined on the couch, and his eyes…

You shook your head, turning away from the kitchen to leave the apartment. Jayce had already accompanied Viktor home earlier in the evening, Garen and Lux had left earlier, Sky and Orcelyia were probably occupying a room, while Fiora was probably sleeping in her bed very comfortably.

You were leaving the house, the morning freshness making you regret forgetting a jacket. You didn't expect to have so much fun, to stay so long, or to experience all this. The delicate sunrise was your morning caress, accompanying you alone until you reached the hotel.

Even if the outside was profoundly silent and was barely waking up, your thoughts were all jostling in your head as you went over each event of the evening, catching each one like fireflies in your hands and delicately observing their light between your fingers.

Inside, the personnel were already busy preparing the buffet – today it was hotel brunch and therefore was open until noon. You felt that after a meager sleep, you would find great comfort in a cup of coffee.

You walked mechanically to the end of the corridor leading to your room, inserting the key with a lack of energy, but you stopped in your gestures. You turned to the door facing it, Viktor's.

If you opened your own door, it would have been like leaving again for seven minutes in the paradise of memories, ready to recast your entire conversation, for your eyes to annotate your thoughts by rewinding the track, your heart making close-ups on the most important passages. His eyes, his hands, your fingers tied. No element would be forgotten.

You pressed the handle of your room, not finding there the dimness of the orange nightlight, but the blue of the mosaics and slabs. You closed the curtains, pulled yourself out of your shoes and pants with great fatigue, and collapsed on your bed.

Your eyes rested on the ceiling, stinging with fatigue as you fought a hard battle with your lids. Your hand rested on your heart, the latter beating under your t-shirt, covering your skin covering your muscles covering your bones.

You inhale gently while closing your eyes, and it's as if you were breathing him in.

All these sensations that were turning upside down in you, you didn't know what they were. But one thing was certain, you didn't want them to stop.

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

✦﹒ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt @enoojnij @stilinskisensation @emlovesya @soupsaurus @luvreadingfics @the-valars-sapphire @solbringer @adorabluesposts @pxszels @nerolovesseongjiyuk @cyberwears @cryptidcut @seohaepeachyun @danielsbackupglasses @2hiigh2cry @16novvs @cicadastoner @patchs-curiosity-corneriosity-corner @w41k3r-94290 @minniiv @roku907 @lumilarity @peachy-writings @disturbyn @ddandelionfluff @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @notyuralycat @glenn-slayer @k07ume @hexb0nes @ravngers @fushirika @glenn-slayer @watergirl13girl @graveyardtrain @theuclid @catspook @mildly-discouraging-future @nataliea @frogbuggy

#a crown of ink #acoi #viktor x reader #arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor fic #viktor league of legends #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you

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queers-gambit · 1 month ago

Text

Let the Redeemed Tell Their Story [ pt. 2 ]

part one: Not So Heavenly Surprise

pt 1: Let the Redeemed Tell Their Story

prompt: reunions are bittersweet. feelings are hard. times are tough, redemption is sought, goodbyes feel impossible; there's blood in the snow, tears in their eyes, and a haunting goodbye in the air.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 7.8k+

note: in my best Tom Segura voice, "get. fucking. ready." -> second 24-27 from this TikTok for reference

second note: broken up into two parts. pt 1: the reunion, pt. 2: the drama and angst

warnings: suicidal ideology / mention as pertains to Joel's story. we talk death and dead bodies, mentions of dead children. cursing, use of Y/N, so many spoilers, reader insert!! pet names for / by all, step parents are REAL parents, forgiveness, heavy redemption arc, canon-level violence!! small comfort, some fluff, established relationship, and then super-sized angst, author wants you to hurt! oh, and fatal main character injury! maturity and caution required! written before season two! intentional person shift at the end.

❗️season one, episode six (and beyond) spoilers

you will find no comfort here. you've been warned!

Tommy was heard from the mouth of the stable, revealing you grooming and tacking up an angry looking beast the color of an oak tree in the middle of the aisle. "And if you really wanna get under her skin, just start nitpickin' all she does, all right?" He smirked at Ellie, who appeared ghastly that morning. "I'm talkin' the way she makes a fire, fixes food, shoots her gun - "

"You're fixin' for a smack down, Tommy Miller, better watch yourself," you warned with a chuckle. Ellie trudged towards you with her pack - slowing when she noted in the stall just before where you stood, Joel, tacking a chestnut horse.

She didn't question the two horses being fixed up, thinking one was for her and one for you; instead setting her unimpressed glare on Joel. She sneered, "You came here to say goodbye or something?"

"No," Joel answered. "I came here to steal one of these horses and go."

"We woulda gave you one," Tommy offered sadly, looking towards your knowing smirk with confusion.

"I know," older brother assured younger. "But then, this nagging voice just started - "

"All right, fuck off," you chuckled, patting your horse's neck. "Truth is, he changed his mind - don't matter who convinced him or nagged him," your eyes rolled. "You deserve your autonomy, darlin'," you directed at Ellie, turning your gaze to Joel to silently encourage him to speak up.

"She's right," Joel sniffled, approaching Ellie, "you deserve a choice. I still think you'd be better off with Y/N - "

"Let's go," Ellie shoved her pack into Joel's chest.

"Okay," he stiffly accepted, meeting his brother's amused stare before dropping it to you. "You get a choice, too, Y/N."

"I didn't get up early out my warm bed with my long-lost husband for fuckin' nothin', Joel," you scoffed. "Y'all don't know where you're goin', I do. So let's shut up and let's ship out, all right?"

"Okay," again, Joel accepted begrudgingly.

Tommy followed you out of the stables, taking the reins when you handed them for his hold as you helped Ellie acquaint herself with the basics of riding; letting the brothers say goodbye as you offered her a leg-up. "Hold onta both," you told her gently, handing over the reins; her nodding and humming in agreement, letting you adjust the stirrups and latch the last of their packs.

When the brothers pulled out of their hug, Tommy assured, "There's a place for you here. Both of you."

"Countin' on it," Joel agreed. "Can I borrow that?" He asked, looking to the tricked-out rifle on Tommy's shoulder.

"Yeah," Tommy agreed without hesitation.

"'Cause Maria took mine, you know?"

"Already said yes, Joel," he smirked, situating the strap over Joel's shoulder. You turned from Ellie to stand at Joel's side with a fond expression, Tommy looking the pair of you over before bidding, "Adios, big brother."

Joel nodded, hand lifting to squeeze your bicep to let you have your own goodbye. "You behave while I'm gone, boy."

"You know I won't," he teased, something in his eyes shifting. "You be careful out there. Watch each other's backs..."

"We will."

"Want all y'all comin' home," he tried to smile, opening his arms and bringing you in for a tight embrace. However, when he went to pull back, you tightened your embrace - just needing an extra moment with your best friend. "You be fuckin' careful, hear?" He hissed in your ear, throat tight with emotion. "Your nephew's gonna need you. I'm gonna need you, too."

"Can't get rid of me so easily," you quipped, patting his shoulder roughly. "I'll be seein' you real soon."

"Better be, babygirl," he sniffled, the pair of you letting go at the same time. Joel was mounted in his saddle, looking away to give the pair of your privacy, but Ellie watched the entire exchange with a somber expression; having witnessed one too many goodbyes in her short lifetime. "All right, now," Tommy held your horse in place as you expertly mounted, "bring me back a souvenir, yeah?"

"You're an idiot," you chuckled, nudging your horse on to lead Joel and Ellie to the gate; which opened upon your command. "Hey - love you," you reached for Tommy's hand; him lifting to grab yours as the horse prodded along.

"Love you, too, babygirl," he smiled, nodding as he was forced to let go; catching his brother's eye as they passed through the gate after you. They nodded with intention, never needing to say many words, and Tommy watched from inside the territory as you and Joel set out into the wilderness. "Close it up," he waved to the guardsmen.

Ellie decided within a day she liked you.

There had been a strange sort of jealousy within a couple hours of listening to you and Joel recount memories of the past; but soon, you had looped the girl into conversation with shitty jokes with shitty punchlines based on shittier puns. Joel sighed, "Ah, fuck, there's two of 'em now."

It spurred the pair of you into deeply personal missions to annoy the man; instantly teaming up to put your best shitty jokes to use. Then came the construction of new jokes, which made Joel smile as he listened to you bicker about the proper nuances of puns. The conversation naturally then lulled into embarrassing stories - of which, you had plenty about Joel. The jealousy of sharing Joel's attention soon morphed into appreciation as the man loosened up under your warm gaze and silky voice; revealing a new side of himself, a part of him Joel had long since thought dead. That night, Ellie noticed the way Joel slept leaning back into your chest when camp was made, thinking he must've felt safe enough to doze even for a couple hours.

By the second day, you had convinced Joel to let Ellie try her hand at Tommy's rifle; assuring you've handled it before and was safe to use. Your own wasn't anything impressive, that left to the ex-Army Ranger; so, naturally, it remained strapped to your saddle as the three of you took time to set up a practice firing range.

"How do you know how to do all this?" Ellie asked you.

"Tommy taught me," you smirked. "I used to be afraid of guns, you know. Didn't fuckin' like 'em."

"What? No way," she scoffed, noting the handgun holstered in the back of your jeans.

"Uh-huh," Joel returned to the fallen tree you'd posted at from setting up a target few yards out. "Wouldn't let me keep one in the house."

"We had a kid runnin' around!" You reminded. "That's how accidents happen!"

"Why didn't you like 'em?" Ellie wondered.

"I was an ER doctor," you revealed. "Saw a lot of unnecessary bullet holes in too young'a bodies. Tend to develop a dislike after seein' shit like that."

"Makes sense," she nodded, taking up the rifle. "Guess it's normal now for everyone to know how to shoot and fight, huh?"

"Just the way the world works," you frowned, lifting the binoculars to watch as she fired her first shot. "That's all right, readjust, don't be afraid of the recoil... Take a breath, try again, honey, you got this."

Her second shot went left, hitting a dead tree. You handed Joel the binoculars after the third shot hit a snowbank. He watched the next few rounds hit everything but the target he erected. When Ellie huffed, he noted, "Wide right. Y/N's right, you're flinchin'."

"The target's too small," Ellie deflected.

"I made it bigger than I should've."

"Eject the cartridge," you told Ellie softly.

"And I'm not flinching!"

"I never said you were! That was all him," you blamed Joel.

"Mhm," Joel shared a bemused look over Ellie's head with you.

"The rifle just sucks."

"A good craftsman never blames the tool, darlin'," you advised. "Here, give it. Lemme see."

Ellie sighed, letting you take control of the weapon; kneeling where the gun was propped on the tree. "It doesn't aim right."

"All right."

"You'll see!"

"Hm," you considered, peering through the scope; suddenly acutely aware of Joel posted just behind you.

"See what she's doin'," Joel pointed out to Ellie. "A deep breath in, slow breath out. Then she's gonna squeeze the trigger like she loves it." You tried not to laugh out loud but smiled broadly, lining up your shot as Ellie hummed and peered out the binoculars. "Gentle," Joel narrated, "steady... Nice and slow, baby," he directed at you.

Which made Ellie quip, "You gonna let her shoot this thing or get her pregnant again?" She just smirked knowingly at the exasperated look you and Joel pinned her with.

"I thought we were on the same side - against him, damn, Ellie," you muttered, looking back through the scope.

"It isn't gonna work," she told you. "It doesn't aim right - " But the gunshot cut her off, watching a small plume of debris sprinkle the air from impact. "Youuuu dick."

With a grin, you just shrugged at Ellie, who clocked Joel's look of immense pride. "That's my girl," he muttered, kissing your temple as you handed off the rifle to stand.

On the third day, Ellie rode with you.

"So, what's Ajax mean?" She wondered as you pet your horse's neck.

"I guess Greek mythology's pretty redundant these days," you quipped to Joel, who only shrugged. "Ajax the Great was a mythological hero, second only to Achilles."

"Oh, I've heard of him. There's a part of the body named after him, right?"

"The Achilles Tendon," you nodded.

"Where's that?"

"In the heel. Do you know the story of Troy?"

"Uh..."

"FEDRA ain't teaching mythology, sugar," Joel shot at you playfully.

"Guess not - why would they?" You sighed. "Okay, Ellie, do you know the term Trojan Horse?"

Ajax whinnied to the girl's amusement. "Nope."

"Troy was an ancient civilization, impenetrable. Until the end of the ten-year-long Trojan War when the Greeks tricked them by building this huge wooden horse - but inside, the Greeks were hidden. So, the Trojans, thinking it was a gift of sorts, brought the wooden horse into their city, and as they slept, the Greeks struck and Troy finally fell. So, a Trojan Horse is a term used when the sheep invite the wolves to dinner."

"Oh... Okay, so, who's Achilles?"

"Greatest Greek hero," you boasted. "He was shot through the heel by an arrow, disabling him to his death. Hence the tendon coined after him."

"That's kinda cool. So, Ajax was his second...?"

"Kinda, if you wanna think that. He was another Greek warrior, best around besides Achilles. He played a major role in the Trojan War. Do me a favor, honey," your head turned to direct at Ellie, "and if you ever get your hands on a copy of the Iliad, read it. 'S a great story, bit long - but worth."

"You named your horse after a dead guy?"

You scoffed playfully, "I named my horse after a strong-ass, legendary dead guy, thank you very much. My boy here - most loyal around, would go through a ten-year war with me. Has even saved my ass few times on outings, sensed or heard the Infected before they could get to us."

"No shit? Horses are loyal like that?"

"Oh, yeah. My boy," you patted the dark bay's neck again, "is a friend till death. I raised him... We go on every raid together, so it's only fitting this be our last, right?"

"Hopefully his ankles don't give out," Ellie teased, making you snicker slightly.

"Not like Joel's back, right?"

Ellie snorted and wrapped her arms around your waist comfortably; head resting to the side, allowing you and Joel to smile at each other. When you turned forward, he just watched the pair of you together, his heart hammering for an entirely different reason. When your gaze turned to him again and caught his stare, you offered a look of gentle confusion, earning a mouthed, "I love you," in return. You grinned until your cheeks hurt.

On the fourth, Ellie rode alone on your trusted steed, Ajax; too excited by the freedom of riding in open fields to comment on Joel's tight and intimate holding of you. She trotted along, learned to canter, made laps around the pair that appeared all too at peace grinding against each other, snuggled tight; calling out the occasional riding direction.

It was mildly impressive how Ajax took verbal command, or so it seemed to the 14-year-old. She was beginning to get a sense of why you were so taken with the beast.

On the fifth, she rode with you again to give Joel's not-named-after-a-dead-guy horse a break. Joel was explaining the logistics of various sports, the pair currently on the topic of American football as your trio approached the conjunction on interstates.

"So, basically just moving in one direction," the child simplified.

"Basically," you agreed, "but violent."

"Oh, well. There's that," she mused, holding your waist loosely as Ajax moseyed along.

Noting the I-25 sign, Joel commented, "Well, how 'bout that? Made it in five days."

"Easy days," added Ellie. She squeezed your waist, "I don't know what you were so afraid of."

"Still time to find out," Joel cryptically told her.

Ellie mocked, "'Still time to find out.'" To Joel's unimpressed look at her behind you, she continued in a raspy voice, "The Contractorrrr."

"We missin' something, Y/N?" Joel asked you, ignoring Ellie's self-amusement and your smirk.

"Not every venture is this easy," you shrugged. "Cities are more dense, more room for raiders and Infected to hide out. And bein' we don't frequent 'round here, they got the jump on us already..." The two horses were directed towards the distant city, "We'd all do good bein' on lookout from here out."

"Yes, ma'am," Joel nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

You smirked at Ellie over your shoulder.

From then on, you were in the lead, navigating the city by the old, rusting signs pointing towards the university campus; the city overgrown with brush, winter killing most to crackle satisfyingly under horse hooves. You nodded to Joel, telling Ellie to hold the reins for you as you both armed yourselves; three heads then on a spin for any sign of life or movement.

Approaching the campus entrance, Ellie read aloud, "'Home of the Big Horns'. What does that mean?"

"Team mascot," you pointed out the charicture, "the rams. It's a kind of sheep."

"Oh, see, Joel?" Ellie noted the nervous energy between the adults, trying to relieve it by offering sweetly, "One step closer to your dream."

It was enough to make you smile at Joel, "The sheep ranch? Really?"

"You get your horses, darlin', don't worry," he eased.

"Uh, guys?" The pair of you glanced at Ellie, who pointed out, "I don't see any Fireflies, though."

"They're probably in the middle - safer that way," you offered, Joel nodding in silent agreement.

"Uh-huh." The arms around your waist tightened and Ajax shifted his weight.

"This way," Joel lead on, you keeping even par.

Through the campus, Ellie gazed around in wonder, your eyes flickering up and down, side to side; never resting in one place for too long. "So these places... People would live here and, like, what? Go to classes and stuff?"

"Yup," answered Joel.

"Even though they were adults."

"Sort-of adults," he corrected. "I think it was just as much about partying and findin' themselves as anythin' else. Figurin' out what they wanted to do with their lives."

Ellie repeated with a breathy chuckle, "What they wanted to do with their lives. That what you did?"

"Sorta... Met Y/N when she was at a school like this," he offered with a sweet smile, "realized she was the woman I wanted to spend my life with."

"You fuckin' butterball," you chuckled, offering him a soft look. "Yeah, he won me over real easy. Was impossible t'say no."

"How'd he do it?"

You shot Joel a coy look, who distracted Ellie, "So I've been thinkin'."

"Mhm?"

"I don't want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean, if the deal is I can do anything?"

"That's the deal."

"Well... When I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer."

Ellie couldn't contain her glee, laughing with disbelief, "Shut up."

"Why is that funny?" Joel looked so vulnerable, it made your heart clench. Only children had this way of unlocking the authentic side of stone cold hearts - Ellie already wedged deep in Joel's.

"Oh, he's got a beautiful voice, darlin'," you tacked on with a grin. "It rumbles like a rain storm. This one time - "

"Baby, don't give her the ammunition - "

Ellie cut Joel off, "You gotta sing something now."

Who immediately refused, "No."

"C'mon, man. I'm not gonna laugh."

"You're already laughin'."

"Yeah, okay, true." Hooves clip-clopped over brick in a distinct echo. "Well, you're singin' for me later. I'm gonna save the fuckin' world, man, it's the least you can do for me."

Joel considered her words for a moment, agreeing, "Fair enough."

"What about you, Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"Dream job - perfect world, no barriers or whatever. Go."

"Oh," you blinked in thought. "Maybe... A historian."

"What? But you're a doctor!"

"Yeah, I know, but you said perfect world, right? I love history but the only career path I could've taken was becomin' a teacher - and I'm none too good with all that."

"She's lyin'," Joel mused, "she's damn good at everythin' she does." Your eyes rolled playfully.

"So why a doctor?"

"Paid more," you joked. "Nah, it just... Felt good helpin' people, fixin' problems. I had a little brother, right? He was a surprise baby, born early, had these medical problems, and I don't know - just really inspired me the way they gave my parents a new hope, fresh outlook on life."

"That's nice. So, ideally, you'd, like, work in a stuffy library?"

"Maybe," you mused. "Get to see all the great cities around the world, recount stories and lore, meet the people, embrace the culture... Sounds pretty cool to me."

"Hm," Ellie smiled, leaning her cheek to your shoulder; a fond smile stretching across your lips as you relished in the feel of a kid depending on you again. The further into campus you got, the stranger sounds that echoed; putting you and Joel on edge. However, the young, sharp eyes of the child riding behind you saw the source of the noises and gaped, "Are those monkeys!?"

Joel offered in explanation, "Must be from the old labs."

"Fuck's sake," you muttered when Ajax side-stepped in annoyance to the scampering creatures; heading bobbing and snorting with mistrust. "Easy, boy, you're all right," you patted the broad neck, Ajax snorting again when the monkeys took off running.

"Look at them go," Ellie laughed.

"First time seein' a monkey?" Joel quipped.

"First time seein' a monkey."

"Y/N," Joel nudged your arm, nodding ahead to a campus directory. There was a spray-painted yellow Firefly on the biomedical science building sign.

Feeling you sit up and situate your rifle with definition, Ellie sighed, "Here we go." Approaching the relatively unaffected building, Ellie pointed out, "Guard stations."

"Mh," Joel hummed. "No guards."

"Uh..."

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Gun?"

"Yeah," you shared a small look of skepticism with Joel.

"What'chu thinkin', darlin'?"

"They could've moved," you shook your head. "Ain't no use theorizing anything until we see for ourselves, right?"

"Right..."

The two horses came to a halt, you offering Ellie one of your arms to help her swing down from Ajax; following suit as Joel did the same. You both left your horses loosely tethered to a tree branch; Ellie arming herself with her handgun as you and Joel did the same - rifles slung over your shoulders.

"Stay close t'me," Joel muttered to you, nodding at Ellie; trio moving forward into the biomedical building as cautiously as possible.

Inside, you were greeted with what appeared to be an abandoned building. The lobby was left in a tattered mess, supplies, machines, papers and more left in disarray as if someone had already picked through everything. Or left in haste.

"There were definitely doctors here," the girl poked through few supplies left on a trolley. "Hey, Doc, these make any sense to you?"

You approached the trolley and leafed through the file left behind; Joel looking over your shoulder, so close, you could feel his warm breath on your neck. After a moment to read over it, you identified, "This is a packing list. Somethin' you make before movin' - when you don't wanna forget the most important shit..."

"They just left?" Breathed Ellie in confusion, thinking they had been waiting for her. Wouldn't they have been? If she was immune? Why leave if they knew she was on the way? Before either adult could answer her, there came a distant clatter from the floor above them; metal hitting linoleum, by the sound of it. "Maybe not all of them..."

"Joel," you reached for his arm when he meant to move forward in investigation. "Look around, baby, ain't nothin' left - shit's already been scavenged over. Or whoever was here, left in a hurry. Should cut our losses and go - I-I can get us on the radio, I'll find Marlene myself - "

"We came all this way, darlin'... We gotta check it out."

"Hey, hey, I get it - I do, Joel, you know I do. But in my experience, noises in abandoned buildings aren't usually friendly. This has bad written all over it."

"It's all right," he soothed, caressing your cheek with his bare hand. "Stick together, we watch each other's back. That's how we stay safe, right?"

You huffed and nodded, knowing it was probably the right thing to do to check for signs of life but every nerve in your body was alight, on fire, begging you to get the hell out of there. Yet as you've done so many times before, you followed Joel; hoping your bravery would pay off towards this act of contrition.

The clattering continued, a sort of trail for you and Joel to follow; Ellie nearly snug between you both, safe. Your teeth clenched and hands held your gun in a steady grip, feeling a renewed sense to protect your husband and his sort-of adopted daughter; love, bravery, adrenaline, and possibly stupidity racing through your veins. Up stairs and down halls, you heard a clash from one of the classrooms; sharing a look with Joel that made you instantly press to the wall, pushing Ellie along with you. His eyes met yours, watching you nod and raise your gun; turning back for the door and wincing as it opened with a creak.

However, inside the mummified room was just a monkey; who screeched in alarm and jumped out the shattered window, leading two more to escape after it. Nobody was sure if they were relieved or disappointed to find the room empty, but Joel still mused, "Well... At least it ain't Clickers."

"Yeah, no Fireflies either," Ellie shot back. "Maybe in all that research, they turned into fuckin' monkeys."

"It ain't no worry, you two," you tired to assure, "I'll get on the radio back home and try to figure this out. All right? C'mon, might be somethin' 'round here that says where they went. Go 'head, look around."

Ellie was already toeing her way through whatever was left on the floor, Joel spying a bulletin board displaying a map. "Y/N?" He called, drawing your being to his side - and Ellie.

"That's where they went?" She asked, using her gun to point at the pinned map to Salt Lake City.

"All the pins lead there," Joel seemingly agreed, gazing over the tricolored pins leading to the city. "Maybe gettin' ahead of the weather, better facilities? I don't know."

Your hand slapped over his mouth and head snapped towards the open window when a voice sounded from below, "This way." With your hand held up, you silently tiptoed your way over, keeping to the shadowed side to peer out, just in time to note four raiders stalking past on the ground with weapons in hand.

"Fuck me," you hissed, backing away to face Joel. "There's four - "

"We can take 'em."

"We're not riskin' it - not with Ellie! We gotta go, now. C'mon, out the back."

Joel nodded at Ellie to follow you; hoping the raiding party wasn't split in two as you swiftly took off in the opposite direction they appeared to be heading in. Before taking corners, you listened for the intruders before leading Joel and Ellie around - finally making it to the doors and pushing out quietly. Joel took refuge behind the sandbags as you caught the door and shut it gently; only then moving as a unit to the next guard post to observe the territory, horses in sight.

"All right," you whispered, "we're gonna make a beeline - and all I want you to do, darlin', is get on the horse. Okay?"

"Okay."

You nodded, glancing at Joel, "Good?"

"Good."

"Ready?" You asked Ellie.

"Yeah."

You moved first, leading the three swiftly for your horses. Ellie evidently had a problem with taking direction from authority as she only grabbed the reins and held Joel's horse as you both swiftly stored your rifles - but movement caught your eye just as Ellie shouted, "Joel!"

You moved into action before a single thought registered; a final act of truest and purest redemption: sacrifice.

Bullying Joel out of the way, the raider swung the wooden baseball bat into the tree; missing his mark but shattering the handle. You used the man's momentum against him, Joel watching in horror as the man managed to wriggled around before you wrapped the man in a headlock and didn't hesitate to snap his neck. Being a doctor and knowing the body had few perks. The fight was over before it began, throwing the dead body aside with the only thought being Joel and Ellie were safe; turning to face them with a pant.

But Joel's face cracked, eyes drawn low, "Oh, my fuckin' God. Baby..."

"Y/N?" Ellie whispered, holding both horses by the reins in one hand, gun still in the other and pointed at the ready.

"What?" You looked down, suddenly aware of the baseball handle protruding from your gut. "Oh. Huh..." You gingerly wrapped your hand around the base, wincing, and without thinking it through or realizing your adrenaline-fueled actions, yanked the wood free.

Being a doctor didn't make you a God - you were still human. And humans made mistakes. This one just happened to be your worst one to date... And your last.

"No!" Joel yelped, lunged forward as if to stop you, but it was too late. He caught your stagger into his side, "No, no, you should've left it, baby, fuck! No, it-it was like a plug - not supposed to pull it out."

"Shit," you chuckled, holding the bloody wound with him; dropping the handle to the dead grass. "I-I didn't think, I'm sorry..."

Ajax whinnied in warning. "Joel! Get her on the horse!" Ellie demanded, eyes over their shoulders at the approaching raiders. She mounted herself, crying in panic, "Now! Get her up! Joel!"

"C'mon, baby, we gotta go," Joel worried, lifting you to Ajax with a scream of pain ripping from your lungs. "I know, I know, just gotta hang tight, all right? Just hang on - "

"Joel! C'mon! Get on the horse! Let's go!" Ellie offered her hand, Ajax already whinnying and rearing his head as if he knew how to protect you by getting away from the rushing threat.

"Hang on, baby, just hang on for me!" Joel panted, reaching to jump on behind Ellie as you whimpered and encouraged Ajax forward.

"Go!" Ellie yelped after him, holding the reins to let Joel reach out and push you upright to prevent you from toppling over the galloping horse's shoulder. "Get back!" She shouted at the raiders, firing her gun wildly at the enemies taking cover.

"You motherfuckers!" They heard in the distance, horses galloping off campus and out of the city.

Joel reached out to keep hold of your body as you tried to staunch the bleeding, supporting whatever weight he could as Ellie constantly looked back down the train tracks they walked down. "They're not following us. I think we're safe," she alerted in time to catch sight of Joel leaning out to try to catch you.

"No, no, no, shit, no!" He grimaced when you slid sideways away from him, landing in the snow with a small grunt. "Baby, no, no, no, hey, hey," he dismounted without stopping his horse; leaving that part up Ellie. "No, hey," he dropped to his knees beside you, pulling you in his lap, "hey, baby, no, I'm here, all right? Yo-You gotta stay conscious for me, okay? Hear me? Hey, I got you, I'm right here," he readjusted to press his hand over your wound, letting the other cradle you.

"Joel?" You wheezed. "Joel - "

"Yeah, baby, it's me - I'm here. I gotcha."

"Hi, darlin'," you whispered.

"Hey," he sniffled, slowing down as he heard the finality in your voice, "hey, hi, sugar, yeah, it's me."

"It's cold," you chuckled, coughing lightly to send a splatter of blood over your chin. Ellie bowed her head as tears slowly built as Joel readjusted you so you weren't totally in the snow. "Never really liked the cold, did I?"

"No, no, never did - 's why we never left Texas."

"Right," you breathed with an easy smile. In near-delirium, you asked, "Hey, baby... I-I'm not makin' it outta this one, am I?"

"No, don't fuckin' talk like that - we're gonna get you help. All right? Ellie - Ellie and I, we're gonna get you help, baby, just gotta hang on - "

"Joel," you wheezed, sounding as if all your strength was being channeled into speaking to him, "just listen, would'jah? Got somethin' for yah."

"I don't need nothing but you, baby, c'mon - "

"'Round my neck," you continued, eyes fluttering, "take 'em."

"What?" He sniffled, shaking his head.

"Take 'em, Joel, please, and remember the good we had... The good we did..."

His brows furrowed but gingerly moved the neckline of your coats, discovering a single golden chain. It was one he recognized from you wearing it everyday after your grandmother gifted it to you, and around the loop, two rings. "Oh, God," he chuckled breathlessly, "you kept 'em?"

"'Course I did... Always knew you'd find your way back t'me," your smile was hazy, eyes unseeing. "Take 'em, please."

"Nah, nah, baby, here, lookit," he sniffled, unlatching the necklace to drop the wedding bands in his hand with a chink. "These ain't never comin' off again, hear me? It's you and me, baby, how it's always supposed to be - in life and death, right? That's what we said, till death do us part. Here, here, I gotcha," he slid the diamond ring back on your bloody wedding finger, shoving his own on and holding it up. "See that? Hey? You see it, baby? They're back on, all right? Where they belong a-and won't ever come off again, 'cause we're not finished." He wrapped you in his arms, hand back over the wound with yours over his, "You hear me? We're not over yet, darlin', so, please, just hold on a little longer. I know you can - please, you have to. All right? You're so strong, baby, just hang on, please. Okay? I just found you again, you can't leave me - I need you, Y/N. I need you. Don't do this, please, please, please," he chanted, the sobs wracking his lungs to chop the words messily. Behind him, Ellie sniffled. "It's supposed to be you and me, doll, remember? So, please, don't do this, I need you. I need you - "

"I'm always with you," you managed to whisper. "But you gotta be there for yourself now, Joel... And Ellie, she needs yah, too."

"What about what I need? Huh? What about how I need you?"

"I'm right here..."

"Shit," Joel glared at his bloody hand. "All right, hey, there's a town - right? There's a town not far, baby, it's just up ahead, you just hang on until we get there." But when he tried to move you, the whimper of pain made him stop, rambling on, "We're almost there, okay? You're doin' so well, baby, but just hang on a little longer. An-And we'll find supplies, we'll get you help, honey, all right? Sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds nice," you slurred. "Hey, Joel?"

"I'm here. You gotta hang on for me, please, okay? Y/N, you fuckin' hang on - I can fix this. All right? I can fix all of this, but you gotta be strong for me - you gotta let me fix this, Y/N, please. I gotta get you safe, but then it'll be all better, okay?"

"Joel," Ellie whispered sadly, knowing they weren't moving anytime soon.

"No, no, no," Joel chanted, pulling you closer as your eyes cracked open to gaze up at him. "Hey, hey, pretty girl, hey, it's me. Please... I need you. I can't fuckin' do this without you."

You smiled that pretty smile, blood lining the impeccably white teeth. "Thank you... For comin' back. For findin' me. I love you so Goddamn much, hate w-we had m-more time apart than we d-did t-t'gether."

Joel whimpered, the tears flooding his cheeks as his chest finally caved in. "I'd find you anywhere, pretty girl, in every lifetime. And I never stopped loving you, you know that? Not a day, not a single minute; it's always you, it'll always be you, you gotta know that. C'mon, baby, just stay with me, all right? We're-We're not supposed to end like this. We got fucking years to make up for, like you said! And we have so much left to do - I just found you again. Please, hang on f'me - "

"I don't think we get anymore do-overs, baby," you smiled still. "But that's okay... It's all gonna be okay, I promise. You're gonna be okay, Joel, because you're the strongest person I know. You got a family waitin' for yah in Jackson, 'member?"

"You're part of that family, Y/N!"

"Not anymore," you sniffled, the tears flowing as the adrenaline drained from your system. "And that's okay, Joel. You're gonna have a new chapter in life... And that's so excitin'."

"You're supposed to be in every chapter," he sobbed, shaking his head. "I need you, baby, please, fucking please!"

"You know what's not fair? How handsome you are - even when you cry," you choked, hand over his tightening. "It's okay, Joel... It's okay to lemme go, you're gonna be all right. I promise, my love, you're okay... It's all gonna be okay..."

Joel's heart stammered as you grew weaker, realizing in your last moments of need, you were still comforting him. He knew that was unfair, that you needed him. So he cleared his throat, found his strength, and nodded, "Yeah, all right, sugar, yeah. You're always right, aren't yah? It's all gonna be okay... You're gonna be okay, just like you say."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, baby, yeah, I-I-I can fix this. Hear me? I'll fix this, you just - you just relax. It's okay... You don't have to be strong anymore, I've got you. I'll be strong for the both of us, and we're all gonna be okay. Got that? You and me, baby, we're gonna be okay. All right?"

"You promise?"

"Of course," he leaned in to peck your forehead. "I'm gonna fix this - like I fixed the roof that time? Remember?" He saw the faint smile and continued, "I swear it, pretty mamas, you're gonna be okay, I'll fix this, don't you worry."

"Oh," you breathed with another pretty smile that would haunt Joel for his numbered days. "Haven't heard that name in ages. Always loved it... When you called me that..."

"Yeah? Remember your first Mother's Day? When Sarah first called you that?"

"I was in that yellow sundress... W-We went t'the park... Had a picnic, just us three..."

"You were so Goddamn beautiful in that dress - still are, you still are, my pretty mama," he grinned, nodding. "And Sarah - Sarah was just in awe, called you that - called you pretty mama all day. Told everyone we saw that her mama was the prettiest, didn't she? That she had the best mama around," he sobbed gently. "Made everyone say 'happy Mother's Day' to you, remember that?"

"She was such a good girl," you remembered, "so sweet, so pure - I don't know how she came from us."

"She was raised with so much love," Joel sniffled, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. "And she was so smart, and-and always right, just like you - y'all ran circles around me, huh?"

"You kept up..." You coughed, whimpering in pain.

"You're all right, baby, I gotcha. It's okay... Y-You can rest now, I'm right here. I have you, ain't never lettin' go. I'm gonna fix all this, but it's okay if you wanna rest... You've redeemed yourself, mamas, hear me? Hey... Y/N, you hear me?"

"I hear you," you slurred, the smile still there.

"You redeemed yourself. You're good, pretty girl, you're so good. You did so good."

"Joel - it-It hurts," you grimaced, whimpering brokenly as the hysteria set in. "It hurts and I-I'm scared, I'm scared, Joel, please, please, please, don't let me go - I don't wanna go. I love you, I love you, please, I don't wanna be alone, Joel, please, I-I don't wanna leave you, I don't wanna be without you, I love you too much, I can't go alone, I don't wanna go - "

"I know, honey, I know, just breathe, you're safe, I've got you. This won't for much longer, okay? I promise, I'm gonna fix it, okay? But you, you just relax. It'll be over soon, I swear, pretty girl. You're okay, baby... And, just think, you're not gonna be alone 'cause you're gonna see Sarah a-and Delilah again. Okay? You're gonna see our girls. That's what you're gonna go do, it's okay - "

"No, no, not with you. We should all be together, please."

"That's all right, mamas, I won't be joinin' y'all just yet, but you go ahead without me. It's okay. I know it's not what we wanted, it's not what we planned, but I'm here with you now and it's okay to let go, baby. You... You don't gotta be strong for us anymore, I'm here, I'll handle this, all right? I'll fix this. I've gotcha... You're okay," he whimpered against your forehead, pressing repeated kisses as if to distract himself from the way your life teetered on the edge. "I love you so much, Y/N. Hear me? Baby, please, I need you to know how much I love you."

"Mh," you hummed, coughing out as breath came harder, "no more... Than I love you..."

"All right, yeah, it's a tie, always been a tie," he chuckled, caressing your cheek as he began to rock. "I love you, you've done so good, baby, I'm so proud of you. I'm so fucking proud of you, my strong girl, my pretty girl," he whispered, leaving another kiss to your lips, "you did so good. You're okay now, baby, you redeemed yourself an-and you're gonna be all right. Hey, just do me a favor? You listenin'?"

"Hm?"

"Tell our girls I love 'em when you see 'em, all right? Can you do that for me? Tell our girls I love and miss 'em, yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Good, good girl, all right, you're okay. I got you, I'm right here... I'm so sorry, Y/N, I'm so sorry, I should've been faster, I should've been payin' attention - " He paused when your head lulled towards his chest, seeking warmth; so he readjusted and brought you in closer; sobbing with his forehead on yours. "Oh, my sweet girl, I'm so sorry, it-it shouldn't've been you, but you're all right - " Joel was forced to pull back when the elevated position he had set you into exasperated the wound that punctured your lung. He watched helplessly as you choked on blood, eyes widening in panic; clawing at him for reprieve, as if you knew he could relieve the pain. The blood in the snow grew darker in a larger, ever widening shape and Ellie's tears froze to her cheeks. "No, no, no, hey, hey, you're okay - you're okay, baby, no, hey - " But the convulsions that wracked your form began to lessen and lessen, eyes dimming of life, and Joel knew this was it. "I love you so much, I love you - you're okay, baby, you're gonna be okay. Ju-Just try to breathe f'me, you're doing so good, I'm so proud of you. Don't have to be brave anymore, 's almost done, I got you - I love you... I love you, mamas, so much, you did so good, I'm so proud, my beautiful girl, I love you so much, Y/N, please - I'm so sorry..." He whimpered as the movements slowly stopped to leave you petrified in his arms.

Just like Sarah.

Understanding you were no longer with him, Joel felt his panic peak; giving a gentle jostle to your form, "Baby?" When there was no response, only your absent, far-off stare, Joel begged, "Baby, hey? No, no, no, Y/N, please... Please, please, wake up! Fuck, don't do this - don't leave me, don't leave us! Fuck! What am I gonna tell Tommy, Y/N, huh? Y-You promised him... Please... Wake up," he whimpered, sobbing as he pulled you into a frozen hold; crying loudly into your neck. "I need you, please! Y/N! Come back, don't do this! I-I can't do this without you, doll, please, just - come back! It's not supposed to end this way, I-I just found you again! Please! Wake up! This is my fault - I shouldn't've - fuck! Don't leave me, not like this! Please, not like this, baby, I need you. Come back, come back, come back..."

Ellie turned away at the harrowing pleas and sobs, her stomach churning with emotion as Joel mourned his wife.

It took the better part of two hours, Ellie sitting on the track as Joel came to terms with the dead body in his arms. If anyone thought he was dead inside before, they didn't understand the meaning until now; where Joel carefully pulled her away from his form with a stream of tears Ellie feared would never end. He slowly set his wife down and backed up a foot; just trying to breathe, keeping a hand on her at all times. Slowly, Ellie stood and neared Joel's side; taking a ginger seat beside him and offering, "I-I'm so sorry - "

Ellie let out an 'oof' when Joel yanked her into his embrace, a fresh wave of tears starting when she instantly wrapped him in a hug. She inhaled shakily and clung to his warmth; the pair counting their blessings they were still alive... But at what cost? "It's like you said, Joel," Ellie whispered, "she's redeemed herself. She's safe, she's okay, she'll be waitin' for you... But we still gotta go, right?"

"We can't leave her here," Joel sniffled, pulling back to wipe his face and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"We're not," Ellie decided. "We're gonna get her home, all right? Give her a proper burial... We're not leaving her out here. Not alone." This made Joel dissolve into another fit, Ellie silently laying her hand on his shoulder in support. "Why don't we move her into town - that way, you can stay with her, where she's safe, and I'll look around for anything we can use to build, like, a sled or something?"

"N-Not alone, you shouldn't be alone. Those raiders are still out there - "

"I'd be worried, if I were them," Ellie snarled, "runnin' into me. After what they did to her... They'd wish they had more back up."

"Right," Joel sniffled, wiping his tears. "I-I didn't protect her - she pushed me out the way."

"She sacrificed herself for you - for us," Ellie nodded, repeating what she heard Tess say once upon a time, "but we can't let her die in vain, Joel. We gotta keep moving."

"Salt Lake City?"

"Salt Lake City," she confirmed; not knowing the repercussions Y/N's death would eventually have. It'd make Joel overly protective and slightly selfish - and eventually, when they got to the Fireflies, her death would make Joel so raw that he'd unflinchingly kill nearly an entire hospital of people to keep his Ellie safe. Being that she was all he had now.

But before that, while searching for material to tote Y/N back to Jackson, the raiders would find Ellie first and snatch her back to their camp. Joel, still mourning, wouldn't come to realize the girl was missing until members of the cannibalistic clan would come searching for him; a mistake none of them would come to contemplate. Fresh off of losing his beloved wife and fearful about losing his adopted child - his third daughter - his found family - Joel would naturally resort to his behaviors and tactics before Y/N began her redemption arc. His emotions were shut off, forced to leave his wife in a stranger's room, in a stranger's house, in an abandoned town, in the middle of nowhere under the loyal watch of her horse; and torture the answers out of the unfortunate raiders he chose to interrogate. There was no coming back after loss like that, and Joel was willing and able to do everything in his power to keep the one single semblance of normalcy he now knew: Ellie.

The pair would slaughter her kidnappers and escape the fiery inferno, but neither were sure how to find their way back to town; needing to move ahead towards Salt Lake City without Y/N. By the time they returned, Ellie in a hospital gown and in a stolen vehicle, Joel's blood-stained hands would wrap his wife's frozen body in a sheet and carefully load her to the truck before releasing Ajax - who had miraculously kept himself alive. Trusting the beast to find his way home, Joel began the journey back to Jackson to his brother and another empty house with a multi-colored stain-glass butterfly hung in a newly vacant bedroom window. A gift in remembrance of their lost daughters that never got the chance to be fully appreciated. When the car ran out of gas, Joel carried his wife's body, carried the golden chain the kid had latched around his neck with her wedding ring strung, and carried the weight of his sins he prayed saving Ellie could redeemed.

[ pt. 1: read here ]

[ part one: Not So Heavenly Surprise: read here ]

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

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camryn-haitani · 1 year ago

Text

you can take us, can't you?

Sam and Colby x Fem reader

you, Sam, and Colby were hanging out by the pool. you decided to go to the hot tub to warm up when Sam followed you. and things took a turn for the better

TW: p in v sex, degrading and praising, squirting, deep throating, recording, fingering (Fem receiving), body worship, fingering in hot tub (also Fem receiving), cursing, sir and daddy calling, pussy eating, masturbating, cum eating, ass slapping, smelling (Colby smells her a few times), pet names (too many to count), unprotected sex, after care

here's the long awaited part 2 <3

I'm sorry for making y'all wait😭

also ion know whats goin on with my caps on my i's. like some are capitalized and some aren't. oh well🤷

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

you were extremely bored. like to the point where you were staring at the ceiling counting the spikes from the ceiling popcorn. you decided to text Sam and Colby in y'all's group chat to see if they wanted to hang out

Spooky Gang😱

you: hello my favorite paranormal investigators, I am very bored and have come here to bother both of yall

Colbs<333: wanna come over and swim princess?

Sam<333: anything for you darling

you: stooooop y'all flatter me🤭

you: but yes I'd love to come and swim. I'll be there in 30<3

Sam<333: we'll be waiting angel🖤

i put down my phone and start to get ready. Colby was already at Sam's so I didn't have to worry about him. i put on a baggy shirt and colbys hoodie wrapped around my waist with my bathing suit underneath. I didn't see a reason to wear pants or shorts so I didn't. i get to my car and I drive to Sam's

Colby POV

i was talking with Sam when I hear a car pull up. we both look at each other and thought the same thing. "shit, y/n's here..". we both swallow the lump in our throats and wait for her to get inside.

we hear the door open and there she is, all in her glory. i snapped out of my ogling over her and meet her at the door.

"hey pookies, how are ya?" she asked as she sets down her keys. "we're ok, what about you?" Sam asks. "hot, extremely hot and bored. sooooo why don't we jump in the pool?" she says as she takes off my hoodie from her waist. 'now it's gonna smell like her.' I take the hoodie from her and go to the kitchen. i make sure she couldn't see me and I smell the hoodie. her scent is so addicting, I can't get enough of it. i put it down before I'm caught.

we all go outside and get undressed down to our bathing suits and y/n just jumps in. she comes out of the water and gets out and comes to where me and Sam are. she bats her eyes innocently at me and holds my hand. i raise an eyebrow but I catch onto her motives. my eyes widen as I realize what she's doing. she pulls me into the pool.

"holy shit! oh my god it's cold!" Sam yells. "oh shut up, it's fine" she says. she starts floating around the pool when me and Sam have an idea.

we get out of the pool and surround her. she opens one of her eyes to look at us and we jump on her. she sinks underwater and comes back up gasping for air. "you little fucks."

Y/n POV

after their little stunt, I get cold and head to the hot tub. i step in and sink under the hot water. my nose and up are the only thing above the water until I feel something else come in. i open my eyes and see who it is. 'oh it's just Sam.' I think to myself.

i look around the pool and see that colbys not there. 'he must've gone inside'. i feel hands wrap around my waist and pull me up "hey what the fu-". I felt lips on mine. hungry and passion filled lips. I'm in shock when I see Sam kissing me and I'm in his lap, straddling his waist.

i kiss him back with the same energy he is with me. his hands move my body back and forth and I hear him groan against my mouth. i put more body weight onto him and he pulls back.

"do you know how much you drive us crazy, darling?" he questions. i shake my head no. "want me to show you?" he whispers against my neck. "yes please." he kisses up my neck and down my jawline while his hand snakes down to my bottoms. he hooks his finger around the fabric and pulls them aside. Sam teases his finger around my hole and grazes his fingertip on my clit. i hiss at the contact and my forehead reaches his shoulder. "you're so beautiful, angel. Colby was right, you get so sensitive." he whispers against my neck. 'colby talked about me?' I say to myself.

"w-wait, we can't do this here. there's no telling what's in the pool." i panic. "yeah, you're right." he says. he picks me up and I wrap my arms and legs around him. he carries me to the beach chair (I forgot what they're called, bear with meT-T) and lays me down. he yanks down my suit bottoms and runs his tongue up and down my slick folds. my hand quickly finds it way to his hair and grips onto it. "fuck Sam!" not expecting him to do that.

he slips his two middle fingers into me and sucks on my clit. his movements pick up as he harshly sucks on my clit. that familiar knot in my lower stomach forms while I can't even form words. "sa- cum-... fuck... Sam... plea...." i stutter out. "gonna cum, sweetheart? gimme a few more minutes love, you taste divine." he dives back into my pussy.

he stops before I can cum. i whine as I throw my head back. "wh...why?" i give him a questioned look. "I'm gonna wait for Colby, darling." he stands back up and picks me up. my bathing suit bottoms still on the concrete. i wrap my arms and legs around him. he shoves his two fingers back into me as I moan in his neck. he continues to finger me as he takes me back inside.

Colby POV

*this was when you went to the hot tub. also this is just a quick Colby pov*

i take my leave and go inside. i dry off and head to the kitchen. I'll let Sam have her for a moment. i see my hoodie and pick it up to smell it again. my eyes rolls back as I get hard from her raw scent. "fuuuuuck" I draw out. i go to my room and immediately take off my swim shorts. i jump on my bed and start to jerk off to hy own fucking hoodie. i place it on my head so it covers my nose and I start masturbating. her smell alone drives me crazy, it already makes me want to cum.

a good few minutes go by and I feel myself get more sensitive and the knot in my stomach breaks as I cum all over my stomach. i take my fingers and just lick it up. I have no shame in eating my own cum, so I do anyway. I hear the door open and I see who it is

Y/n POV

Sam is still finger fucking me as he walks and with every step he takes, his fingers go deeper into me. god it feels so good, I can't get enough of it. i hear Colby come up from behind me and grabs my face to make me look at him. "you gonna be a good girl for us, doll?" i can only nod as I still can't speak words. "nuh uh, I need words, slut." he grips my face tighter. "yes sir, I'll be so good for y'all"

"that's what I thought. can I have her Sam?" he looks at him. "all yours." Colby takes me to his room as Sam follows. he tossed me carelessly on his bed and I look over to see the hoodie I wore over here. 'oh hey there's my hoodie..... what's that?' I question. i pick it up and I see there's cum on it. i look at Colby to see that him and Sam are setting up a camera. 'shit... they're gonna record this.'

"hey Colby?" i ask. he comes over and runs his hands on my chest. "yes baby?" "uhm why is there-" "cum on 'your' hoodie?" he finishes for me. he leans down and starts to smell my stomach. "you smell angelic, sunshine. I couldn't resist."

Sam finishes setting up the camera and comes to where we are and starts pulling down his shorts. i hear the water filled shorts fall on the floor and Sam's cold hands touch my chest. "you ready for us, dear?" i nod my head as I feel two fingers slip into me. "what did I say about words, babes?" Colby grips my face again. "I'm sorry.... y-yes I'm ready" I answer.

Colby walks around to the other side of the bed and takes off his swim shorts. his dick slapping against the side of my face. Sam walks back over to the camera and starts recording. colbys tip presses against my lips, waiting to enter my mouth. Sam gets on his knees and grips my legs so they're over his shoulders. his tongue presses onto my clit ever so lightly. my cold hands run over colbys waist. i feel him shiver against my touch.

"you ready Sam?" Colby asks. "as I'll ever be." he answers. at the same time, Colby shoves his dick in my mouth as Sam slips his tongue in my pussy. i moan around Colby as he thrusts into me with no remorse, while Sam takes his times tasting me.

i get flipped over to where I'm on my stomach, not stopping my movements with Colby. sams nose brushes against my aching hole while he laps up my clit. 'colbys about to cum' I tell myself. i grab his waist like last time and deep throat the rest of him in me while he grips the back of my head, pushing me further than I was. his cum slipping down my throat.

my thighs clench around Sam's head as I'm nearing my high. "I can feel you, you bout to cum, love?" Sam teases. "mhm yes yes" I nod. "she's done such a good job, she deserves a reward" Colby coos as he lifts my head to look at him.

i reach that ever so god feeling high Sam gave me after denying me earlier and I get flipped back onto my back. "now darling, we won't hold back unless you want us to, mkay?" Sam says. i start to nod when I remember Colby. "yes sir" I say.

Sam lines himself up with my hole. Colby starts feeling my chest and stomach again, smelling all of me. Sam gives me a look saying 'you ready?' and I nod. "what did I say about using your words, slut?" Colby grabs my face with his hand again. "thats what? the third time? i think you need a punishment, hm?"

"no no no no please daddy m'sorry. won't happen again." i plead. "hm too late princess, now take my dick like the whore you are." he takes his opportunity and slides his dick back in my mouth

Sam pushes his way into me as I'm busy with Colby ramming his cock back into my throat. the pleasure from both of them is too much. 'i feel like I'm about to pee myself' I know I'm not but it feels like it. next thing I knew, I felt relieved of that pressure. i open my eyes to see both of them looking down at me and sams chest being all wet. i feel Sam and Colby throb in both my mouth and my pussy. "shit you're gonna need to do that more often sweetheart because that was so hot." Colby says as he leans down to smell me once more. his cock still gliding in and out of me.

Sam's thrusts get more erratic and Colby gets more harsh. i can tell both of them are about to cum, as am I. i pull Colby more into me because it seems to get him to cum and I pull my legs around Sam to pull him closer. i feel both of their cum dripping in me as they both pull out.

colby goes and gets a washcloth to clean us up as Sam stops recording and cleans himself up in the bathroom.

"I will definitely be sending this to you" Sam tells me

- - - - -

YAYAYA I DID IT

Also have some Sam and Colby pics

#x reader #x y/n #x you #sam #sam golbach smut #colby brock #colby #colby brock smut #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach #sam golbach x you #sam golbach x y/n #colby brock x reader #colby brock x you #colby brock x y/n #sam and colby x reader #sam and colby

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madaqueue · 1 year ago

Text

forty-love

pairing: satoru gojo x suguru geto x f!reader

themes/content: tennis player gojo, tennis player geto. smut. language, brief alcohol consumption, petnames (baby, sweetheart), fingering (f receiving), handjob (m receiving), oral (f receiving, very brief m receiving), creampie, cum eating, p in v (doggy, reverse cowgirl). 18+, MDNI

word count: 5.1k

a/n: can you guys tell i watched challengers and miss tennis also yay my first stsg smut (based on their vibes from hidden inventory bc they're just so silly teehee) hope y'all enjoyyy (i also have no idea how this got so long oops)

Heat radiates off the court, the sun beaming down against your skin. The air is dry, tense, the only sound between the chirping cicadas is the bright green tennis ball being thrown against the ground.

Once.

Twice.

Gojo readies his racquet, tossing the ball into the air as his eyes meet the glaring sun. In one swipe the crack of his serve electrifies the stadium. The opposing team swings but doesn’t even come in contact with his hit, the ball rattling the fence behind them as applause breaks out.

“And with that, Gojo and Geto have won the men’s doubles!” the announcer’s voice booms through the arena.

The white-haired boy tosses his racquet aside as he charges his teammate, gripping him in a hug as they tumble across the court. Even from the stands their grins are palpable, the shared ecstasy of victory radiating off their bodies.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

“Y’know,” Gojo starts through a mouthful of orange slices, “that backhand you hit during the second set was crazy.”

“Satoru,” Geto chuckles, “you know it’s rude to talk with food in your mouth.” Reaching up a hand, he wipes away the juice that had begun trickling down the other boy’s chin with his thumb. “But thank you. That’s what practice gets you.”

“I practice!” Gojo retorts, continuing to chew the flesh of the fruit.

“When, between all the beer and girls?” Suguru takes a long sip of his Gatorade, his dark eyes never wavering from the bright cerulean of his friend’s.

“S’not my fault I know how to balance work and play,” he teases. “Speaking of which, you’re going to the Nike party with me tonight.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Satoru, we have our final match against each other tomorrow, and I’m not planning to throw the game because you just so happen to convince me to join you in your debauchery.”

“Yes,” Gojo smirks, “because I’m gonna be there, and I refuse to go without you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Geto acquiesces, unable to refuse Satoru’s dramatic pout as he bats his eyelashes. “Fine, but you have to at least let me win a set when we play tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Satoru beams, filling his mouth with another slice of orange.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

The party is loud, neon lights glaring against the darkness of the night. Music blares as miscellaneous players chat, chasing whatever brand deal or sponsorship they think they deserve.

You’re better than that, though - after all, you already have your scholarship lined up for school next year, a full-ride to play tennis until you graduate college. The peace of that knowledge allows you to stand at the outskirts of the party, idly sipping your drink, unpressured to force a conversation with those around you.

When Gojo and Geto walk in, you swear you feel the air thicken. Recruiters flock to them, opponents run from them, but everyone who’s anyone knows that they’re here. You roll your eyes at the theatrics, turning your attention to tug at the hem of your skirt.

“Hey,” a sudden voice appears beside you as the smell of cologne hits your senses, the scent vaguely reminiscent of the ocean. Glancing up, your eyes meet the brightest blue ones you’ve ever seen. “I’m Gojo,” he introduces, extending his hand out.

Crossing your arms, you smirk. “I know who you are.”

Behind him, another man suddenly appears, his dark hair pulled back into a bun. “I’m Geto,” he waves, not willing to enter the trap of your rejection by offering his hand.

Gojo’s lips form into a sly grin as he eyes you up. “Well, we know who you are, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he tilts his head - god, he was cocky. “You won the women’s singles today, we caught the end of your game. You played well.”

Taken aback at his genuine compliment, you almost let your guard down, relaxing your shoulders. “T-thanks,” you stammer, suddenly taking in the reality of being flattered by the Satoru Gojo.

“But,” he smirks, “you should’ve won an hour before we got there - your opponent had a weak spot on her forehand volley, you should’ve exploited it.”

And there’s the overconfidence.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “Thanks,” you reply sarcastically, turning to leave, “but I don’t remember asking you to be my coach.”

“You haven't, yet.” A devilish smile is plastered on Satoru’s face, illuminated by the glowing lights around you.

“What he means to say,” Suguru interrupts, shooting a momentary glare at his friend, “is that we’d love to play with you sometime. You’re really good, and we can tell you have a lot of potential.”

Your cheeks involuntarily blush at his kindness, his honesty.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it,” you mumble through the grin beginning to form on your face, still gathering your things to go. The noise of the music was beginning to blur your vision, your head pounding after a full day in the sun. Your muscles hurt, and you just want to collapse into the uncomfortable mattress in your hotel room.

“Leaving already?” Gojo teases as you begin to walk away from the pair.

Geto smacks his arm before looking at you apologetically. “If you’re staying at the same hotel the competition put all the players up in, there’s a way home that goes right along the ocean, if you want us to walk with you?”

“Didn’t you guys just get here, though? Don’t you want to stay and get courted by brand deals or something?” you ask somewhat rhetorically, incredulous that they would choose to leave with you.

“Psh, like we need it,” Gojo rolls his eyes.

With that, Suguru fully shoves him, his lanky limbs nearly catching over a nearby chair before he regains his balance, a pout evident on his face as he stares at the dark-haired man. “Again, what Satoru means is that he’s already got a Nike sponsorship, and I’m on a scholarship for next year; we only came tonight because we had to make an appearance.”

The gentleness in his voice inspires trust, a certain warmth to him that invites you in. Sighing, you accept their shared offer. “Well, I guess if we’re walking the same way back anyways, you might as well join me.”

A soft grin spreads across Suguru’s features as he leads you and a falsely-dejected Satoru from the venue.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

The soft sounds of waves crashing fills your ears from where you kneel along the beach, sand scratching at your bare thighs. The two men sit across from you, Satoru’s head resting on Suguru’s shoulder, his white hair illuminated under the moonlight. Somehow your walk home had detoured when they promised to show you their favorite spot, one they had found when they competed here a few years prior: the cove where you currently rest is private, away from the noise of the party or any other remnants of society. It’s peaceful.

You clear your throat, finally breaking the silence. “You two played well today too, y’know.”

Geto lights up at your words, a new excitement brewing beneath his skin. “You watched our game?” His hands continue methodically working over Gojo’s calves which sprawled across his lap, releasing the tension he had built up from their earlier match.

“Of course I did,” you hum, your fingers absentmindedly drawing small patterns into the sand. “I wouldn’t have missed your game for the world. You two are about to qualify for the Open, and I honestly think you have a good shot at winning it.”

“Oh, we’re gonna win it,” Gojo states matter-of-factly, his gaze lazily focused on the sky above you.

You can’t help but laugh at his confidence, the sound bubbling from your throat against the stillness of the night air. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” he begins, rising from where he rested against Geto, locking eyes with you, “we’re the best.”

“You aren’t the best,” you scoff in reaction. Hearing your own words, your face suddenly flushes in embarrassment - you did not just insult the two top-ranked tennis players in the country, did you?

Satoru pulls himself onto his hands and knees, leaning forward towards you as his eyes glimmer with the excitement of a challenge. Suguru’s hand rests on his back, ready to pull him back down if he oversteps (as he often does).

“Oh yeah?” he taunts, inching closer to you. “And why is that?”

“Because what you play isn’t tennis.”

Your words seem to stun the two boys, their actions suddenly halting as they turn to you. Allowing a moment of silence to settle, your gaze falls on the waves before you, the calmness soothing your thoughts.

“Tennis is electricity, an ocean. It’s a back and forth, a give and take. All I saw out there was you taking.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with taking what I want,” Gojo smirks, “especially when what I want is to win.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you follow, “but it’s not tennis.” Standing, you brush the sand from your skirt. “I hope to see you two actually play tennis tomorrow.”

Before you can leave, Geto’s voice breaks the silence.

“Come by our room tonight,” he purrs, gathering his confidence. “I’ll show you I know more than just how to take.”

A glimmer of mischief twinkles in your eyes as you turn to him, a sly smile growing across your face. “I’ll think about it.”

Turning, you walk across the beach back to the hotel.

In your absence, Gojo playfully smacks Geto’s arm. “Holy shit dude, that was smooth!” he laughs. “You think it’s actually gonna work for us?”

“‘Us’?” Geto smirks. “I was the one putting in all the work back there, you were just being an overconfident ass.”

“Psh, girls love my confidence,” he chuckles, a sound like raindrops falling on the calm waters of the sea. His blue eyes nearly glow under the moonlight, a brightness to them that’s never lost on Suguru. “Better head back and get ready for our date, though.”

“You keep saying ‘our,’” Geto teases, a newfound warmth beginning to cover his body in contrast to the cool night air as the two stand to leave.

“You know it’s always you and me, buddy,” Satoru smiles, wrapping his arm around the man’s shoulders as they plod through the sand. “You and me.”

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

A knock alerts Gojo and Geto, who had been laying across the floor of their shared hotel room, eagerly awaiting your arrival. Satoru reaches the door first, swinging it open and welcoming you inside. Suguru, meanwhile, remains seated on the floor, his eyes covering your body as you saunter towards him: the curve of your thighs perfectly captured under your tennis skirt, the dip of your shoulders under your tank top, somehow a perfect balance of strength and poise.

Crossing your legs, you seat yourself across from Geto; Gojo is quick to join, holding out a beer to you. Shortly after he cracks open his own, he tosses another to Suguru as he spreads his legs out into the space between the three of you.

Tension builds in the air, an unspoken question forming in the back of your minds: why are you really here?

Even you weren’t certain - sure, Geto and Gojo were hot, and talented, obviously, a true force to be reckoned with in the tennis world. But more than that, they had a certain reputation, a gravitational pull to them. Anyone who got close to the pair was launched into fame, their very presence enough to garner wealth by proxy. And, yes, you had your scholarship, but was it a sin to want more? You had dreamt of going pro since you were old enough to hold a racquet, and now, with the two of them seated before you, it finally feels within your grasp.

Satoru clears his throat. “So, did your boyfriend happen to catch your game today?” he raises his eyebrows.

Gojo was many things, but subtle was not one of them.

“No,” you state, your gaze maneuvering between the two. They shift uncomfortably, waiting for you to continue. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

They both visibly relax, grinning in unison.

“Good,” Suguru hums, almost inaudible above the hum of the air conditioning.

“What about you, did your girlfriends watch you play?” you smirk, bouncing the question back to them.

Geto is quick to shake his head, “Don’t have one,” he smiles easily.

Leaning forward, Gojo ruffles his friend’s hair, which now hangs loosely over his shoulders, released from the bun that held it earlier in the night. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he purrs, tilting his head towards Geto, “his lips haven’t touched a woman’s in a while.”

Suguru roughly shoves him off, a sigh leaving his lips. Turning his attention to you, he forces his frown into a weak smile. “I promise, I’ve kissed plenty of girls.” Tilting your head slightly in jest, his words finally register in his mind. “N-not like that, just, I-”

“I think she gets it,” Gojo jokes, pulling himself from where he landed on the ground to sit behind his friend.

Another momentary silence falls, the energy between you crackling in expectation. Satoru’s hands find their way back to Suguru’s body, idly massaging his shoulders as the pair fixes their gaze on you. Behind Gojo’s irises lies burning hot flames; behind Geto’s, well-controlled embers.

“So,” you eye the boys seated across from you, a subtle intimacy underlying their actions, the gentle motion of Satoru’s fingers into Suguru’s skin, “have you two ever kissed?”

“No.” Geto answers immediately.

“Well…” Gojo trails off with a smirk, “remember that one time?”

Suguru shoots him a glare that could kill, eyes cold despite the fire behind them. “That doesn’t count.”

Leaning forward, a grin tugs at the corners of your lips as the rough carpet digs into your skin. “Oh, do tell?”

Gojo mimics your motions, pulling himself onto his knees in front of you. “Around the time we met, Suguru here, the sweetheart he is, got himself a girlfriend but hadn’t had his first kiss yet. So I, being the generous friend that I am, helped teach him how to do it.”

Glancing at Geto, a redness spreads across his cheeks, one that could be designated as rage or embarrassment, either an appropriate reaction to the information that had been unexpectedly revealed. “That was years ago, Satoru,” he grumbles.

“So you’re saying you’re a pro now, Geto?” you purr, egging him on as you place your palms in front of you, the air between you two sparking. “Why don’t you show me what Gojo taught you then, hm?”

A hint of panic lies behind his gaze as he meets yours, taking in a steadying breath. Despite the hesitation in his mind, his body knows he wants this, wants you. Without a word, he lifts a hand to your face, cupping your jaw against his rough fingertips. Pulling you in, his lips meet yours.

He’s soft, calculated, as he kisses you. Parting his lips he gently swipes his tongue along your lower lip, bringing you closer and closer. He’s patient and reserved, just like how he plays.

Separating for a moment, a small smile appears on his face before you turn your attention to the man next to you.

“Alright, Gojo, let’s learn from the coach,” you hum.

Immediately he crawls over to you, a complete and utter lack of hesitation as his hands find you, one moving to the nape of your neck and the other to your hip.

As his lips crash into yours, he’s demanding, ravenous. His tongue roughly works its way into your mouth, exploring it like his first taste of water after hours on the court, like he’ll never get to kiss you again.

Pulling away, you smile, eyes covering the two men seated in front of you. “Okay, c’mere,” you grin as you seat yourself at the end of their pushed-together twin beds.

“W-which one of us?” Geto asks.

As the words hit the air, Gojo is already moving, plopping himself down at the edge of the bed as he looks at you expectantly. Blinking at his friend’s sudden motion, Suguru follows quickly, seating himself on your other side.

Your eyes meet Gojo’s, a hint of mischief behind the cerulean, before turning to Geto, hesitation and nervousness spread across his features. Might as well make this interesting.

Shifting your body into Suguru’s, his eyelashes flutter closed as your lips meet his again. Grabbing at his shirt, you tug him closer.

“Loosen up,” you murmur into his mouth as your hands travel over his body.

Behind you, Gojo’s envy gets the best of him as he reaches around your torso. Placing open-mouth kisses along your neck, his palms travel over your chest, groping at your tits through your bra. He melds into you from behind as a moan escapes your throat, the warmth of their bodies blanketing you. Geto begins moving his arms, grabbing at any inch of your skin he can find. Before you realize it, your clothes are discarded, the boys’ shirts lost to the depths of the dirtied hotel room. Skilled fingers trace the curves of your body, tingles of electricity left in their wake.

Gojo chuckles behind you as his hands find their way between your legs, fingertips tracing your clothed cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.

“A bit eager, are we?” he teases, pulling your soaked panties to the side.

Any insults you began to form die in your throat as his long fingers enter you, a choked, “fuck” the only thing you can get out in response. His fingertips prod at your gummy walls, finding the spot that has you rocking your hips forward, grinding yourself onto him. Your moans echo into Geto’s mouth as you chase your release.

Right as you feel the heat inside you threatening to overflow, Gojo’s motions still.

“W-why’d you stop?” you practically whine, finally breaking away from your kiss with Suguru to face him over your shoulder.

That annoying smirk is plastered on Satoru’s face as he leans forward, his hot breath tickling your skin as his lips brush against yours.

“That was me giving, now it’s my turn to take.”

Gojo’s arms reach around you to push Geto back onto the bed, your body still trapped between the two as you catch yourself on all fours. The dark-haired man looks up at you, stunned into silence as his hands rest tentatively on your hips. You gasp as Satoru suddenly pulls your panties down, the cool air hitting your heat.

Your gaze lands on Suguru’s, your eyes wide before you feel the pressure of Gojo’s cock pressing against your entrance from behind you. Your jaw slacks as your eyes roll back, the stretch of him overcoming your senses as he slides in inch by inch. Geto takes the opportunity to latch his lips to yours, imprecisely sucking against your soft skin.

Satoru’s moans fill the space as he bottoms out inside you. “Fuuuuuck, y’feel so good,” he groans, his pelvis resting against your ass.

As he pulls his hips away, his tip barely kissing your folds, his rough fingertips are suddenly felt against your clit. He imprecisely circles the sensitive bud as he thrusts back into you. In unison, you and Geto moan into each other through the kiss.

“Keep strokin’ me, jus’ like that, mmm,” Suguru hums from beneath you.

Fighting against the haze of your ecstasy as Gojo continues rolling his hips into you, you manage to focus your gaze downward, finding Satoru’s free hand wrapped around Suguru’s cock, precum smearing as he pumps his length.

“S’not - ah - me,” you manage to get out through Gojo’s increasingly rough thrusts.

Geto’s eyelids flit open, landing on Gojo’s over your shoulder. As soon as the two make eye contact, Satoru squeezes Suguru slightly harder as his thumb circles his tip, forcing his eyes back into his skull as his hips thrust desperately into his friend’s first.

Satoru chuckles from behind you as he begins to kiss up your spine, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His teeth nibble at your skin, the slight pain making your back arch further, letting his cock reach impossibly deeper inside you. From the new angle, he hits the same spot he proudly found moments prior.

“R-right there, Gojo, fuck,” you moan, your hands tightly gripping the sheets to stabilize yourself against the weight of his body on top of you.

From beneath you, Geto’s cock twitches in Gojo’s palm as he weakly breathes, “Call him Satoru.”

“Mhm, y’know me so well, Sugu,” Satoru purrs.

His thrusts are unrelenting, imprecise, needy. He’s working purely off instinct and lust as he pumps in and out of you.

“Satoru,” you whine, his motions pulling you closer and closer to your release.

“Y’gonna cum?” he breathes into your neck.

You would roll your eyes at the fact that you can practically hear his smirk through his words before a particularly deep thrust pulls a choked “a-ah mmm” from you.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Gojo chuckles. “Me too, baby, me too.”

His tip repeatedly prods against your sweet spot as his thumb picks up its pace against your clit.

“Hey, Suguru,” the man thrusting into you purrs, “tell me, does she look pretty when she creams all over my cock?”

Geto’s eyes flicker open, his gaze hazy as Satoru continues palming his shaft. Suddenly, your vision goes blind in ecstasy. Broken cries escape your throat as Gojo’s cock twitches inside you, painting your insides white, his hips never stilling as he fucks you through your high.

As you come down, Suguru’s words pull you back to reality. “Yeah,” he breathes from below you, “she looks real pretty.”

“Aww,” Gojo fake whines, “well that’s no fair.” He pulls out, his cum threatening to trickle down your thighs as he removes himself from Geto’s cock to grab the man’s hand. Pulling him up, he spins you around so Suguru is seated with you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest. “Now I wanna see her cum while you fuck her, Suguru,” Gojo hums.

With that, the white-haired man kneels before you, one palm resting on your thigh as his fingers spread open your folds. He slowly rubs the mix of your shared essence over your puffy cunt, his eyes full of awe.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. Turning his attention back to you and Geto, he smirks. “You’re gonna love fucking it, Sugu.”

Finally taking his initiative, Geto lifts you up slightly, just enough to allow his hardened cock to press against your needy hole. Slowly sinking down on his length, another shaky groan vibrates your throat as he stretches you, a searing pleasure against your walls as he fucks Gojo’s cum back into you.

“S-shit,” Suguru mutters, “feels s’good.”

His hands return to your hips, guiding you forward as you grind against him. He’s slow, methodical, in the way he fucks you, a certain precision to his motions.

“Just like that,” Gojo hums from beneath you, “y’look so perfect.”

Your mind is too clouded to decipher if he’s speaking to you or Geto, and truthfully, you don’t care. You continue rocking yourself forward, Suguru’s cock stretching you so sinfully. He may not have Satoru’s length, but fuck, is he thick. Soft moans escape your lips as you lean your head back into Geto, who takes over where Gojo left off, pressing wet kisses over the skin of your neck. Suddenly, Satoru latches his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue circling your clit as he moans into you.

“Y’taste s’good,” he groans, continuing to lap at your folds, the mixture of his seed and your slick coating his chin.

One of your hands instinctively reaches to grab his hair, pulling him into you as the other holds onto the back of Geto’s neck, tethering you to reality.

Feeling the tug at his scalp, Satoru smirks into your skin. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

The moment you open your mouth to respond he sucks at your clit with a new ferocity, cutting your reply short as it transforms into a garbled moan of “y-ahh mhm.” Gojo chuckles beneath you at your incoherent response, his breath hot. So fucking smug.

Suguru lets out a breathy chuckle from behind you as he gradually picks up his pace. “You’re just - hah - flattering yourself, ‘Toru.”

Gojo smiles devilishly against you as he replaces his mouth with his thumb, rubbing unfocused circles into your bud. Lowering himself, he licks a languid stripe up the base of Geto’s cock from where he enters you before gently placing the man’s heavy balls into his mouth, sucking lightly.

Suguru’s motions stutter as he moans, his teeth biting into your shoulder in an attempt to silence himself from the buzz of pleasure that suddenly overcomes him at the new sensation.

“Seems like the flattery was warranted,” Gojo hums before his lips return to your clit, sucking softly as tension builds within your chest.

You can’t even tell where you begin and they end, the searing kisses along your neck, the sounds of your shared moans filling the space. Suguru’s hips grow increasingly desperate yet restrained, small thrusts into your cunt as Satoru’s tongue continues flicking over your core. Geto’s body remains stiff beneath you as you roll your hips against him.

“Let y’self go, Suguru,” you slur, your mind too fuzzy to process the words, only sensing the tension he holds.

Geto’s palms hesitantly grow greedier as he grips at your skin, allowing himself to chase his own high. His motions get rougher, thrusts deeper; he’s always felt that carnal part inside of him, the one labeled desire, yet he would never give into it. But something in your words, the heat of your body, breaks him free of his self-imposed cage.

His grip on your hips tightens as he holds you in place, fucking himself up into you. He’s grunting in effort, beads of sweat forming across his forehead as his fingertips dig into your skin. His motions are sloppy and rough, but so fucking good. Finally, he’s feeling it.

“Mm, I - ah - m’close,” you whine, his messy thrusts hitting every spot inside you so perfectly. The two men hum into you in acknowledgement, continuing their fervent motions.

Wet sounds of pleasure echo through the room as you get closer, until finally, the cord inside you snaps. Broken moans of their names leave your throat as you come undone, your walls fluttering around Suguru’s cock enough to send him over the edge with you. Throwing his head back, he allows himself to feel it all, take everything you’re willing to give him - as wave after wave crashes over him, his body shaking, he finally feels free.

“So, so pretty,” Gojo hums as his gaze darts between you and Suguru, watching you two be overtaken in euphoria, together.

Satoru’s tongue never slows as he messily laps at your essence, still kneeling between your legs. Your body feels electric as you come down from the height of your ecstasy, every nerve vibrating in pleasure. The mix of Gojo and Geto’s cum feels warm inside you as it slowly drips from your cunt. With a sly grin, Satoru collects the sticky mixture on his tongue, his eyes fluttering closed as he swallows. Without a word he rises from his knees, leaning over you.

Is he about to kiss you?

No, he can’t be.

He presses his chest into you as his palms cup Suguru’s jaw, the dark-haired man’s gaze unfocused as he watches his friend’s motions. Gojo’s blue eyes are nearly black from his blown pupils, Geto’s kiss-bruised lips parted as he pants. Silently, Satoru presses his lips to Suguru’s. Their tongues swirl against each other’s, their saliva mixing as the warmth of their bodies covers you, the heat of the kiss threatening to drown you as you’re pulled under, into the current of the moment.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

Back.

Forth.

Back.

Forth.

The crack of the tennis ball echoes through the stadium, each hit adding to the culminating tension hanging in the air. Each stroke was like thunder, each step like lightning as Satoru and Suguru rally.

Gojo hits a forehand down the line, forcing Geto into his weak spot - one only he would know after years of playing together, one Suguru would never dare to exploit of his teammate. Geto falters, missing the shot; a soft gasp erupts through the crowd.

“Forty-love,” the announcer booms, “game point for Gojo.”

Satoru takes his place to serve, absentmindedly bouncing the ball against the court as he readies himself.

Loosen up, Suguru.

Tossing it into the air, he hits a perfectly placed shot, the spin forcing Geto off his feet unexpectedly as he chases the path. It wasn’t what he calculated - yet, you could see it in Gojo’s eyes; you could feel it.

Geto hits an off-balance return, struggling to regain his composure as he returns to center court. For a moment, you lock eyes with him.

Let yourself go, Suguru.

Satoru takes the opportunity, running up to pounce on the arcing, slow shot Suguru returned. He leaps into the air, his racquet held high.

But Geto senses something is off.

The slight smirk at the corner of Gojo’s lips, the glimmer behind his eyes.

If Geto were a betting man, he would run himself back to the opposite corner of the court, preparing to take Satoru’s signature high-speed smash that would win him the game. Yet, for a moment, Suguru lets himself feel it - that’s not the shot his opponent is about to take.

Instead, he rushes the net. The moment his feet plant onto the ground, Gojo’s racquet makes contact with the ball, the slicing motion sending it twisting the exact opposite direction Geto would have predicted as it spins through the air. Landing it exactly where Suguru stands.

Geto volleys, not allowing the ball to make contact with the ground as he sends it back to Satoru’s side behind him. Gojo knows he can’t get to the ball fast enough, and he doesn’t even try; instead, he stands in place where he landed from his last play.

A wide grin forms on Satoru’s face, one of admiration, pride. “Didn’t expect you to get that one, Suguru,” he gleams.

Turning around, Geto’s back faces his opponent as he returns to his place, ready for the next serve. “Your emotions gave you away, Satoru,” he purrs through a smirk.

As Gojo prepares himself to serve again, a new electricity crackles between them. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you watch them play, sweat glistening off their backs as they pour themselves into the game: the back and forth, the give and the take.

This is tennis.

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kazutora-kurokawa · 1 year ago

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Me U & Hennessy: Toman Founders x Fem Reader

♡ NSFW, vibes → smut, drug use (only weed) + hints at a blunt rotation, alcohol, established relationship for each scenario, public sex, bathroom sex, closet sex, unprotected sex + creampie, sex while intoxicated, oral (fem and male receiving), discreet thigh riding, thighjob, fingering, pet names + praise, and biting, this was unfortunately proofread and my eyes are killing me, buckle up because this is a long read ♡

note 1: This includes all of the Toman founders and is kinda different from what I normally write. I loved writing this (Baji’s part especially) and I'm super proud of how this turned out!

note 2: Huge thank you to @i-literally-cant-with-this for planting this idea in my head and offering help. Sarah I love you 😭🩷

note 3: This is the last note I swear and it's probably the most important one too…I HIT 100 FOLLOWERS AND 2500 LIKES 🥳 I love y'all so much 😭

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Playing cards, snacks, and shot glasses littered the living room table of Mitsuya’s apartment. It was the up and coming fashion designer’s turn to host Toman’s weekly get together and you all took advantage of it by having a smoke sesh. Draken pointed the blunt in your direction, you tried to hold your hand up in an attempt to decline but instinctively grabbed it instead. You were stoned out of your mind and kinda tipsy off a couple shots of henny, so it was probably a good idea to pass it to Mitsuya.

Smoke crowded the room, forcing Baji to open the window. “Baji close the window, it's freezing man!” Kazutora whined while curling up on the couch next to you. “I’m tryna air the room out dipshit! Go get a blanket if you’re cold!” “You two argue like a goddamn married couple.” Draken intervened, chuckling with Mitsuya (who was actively coughing his lungs up). This is essentially how every smoke sesh with them went. Baji and Kazutora arguing, Draken and Mitsuya laughing at everything like two schoolgirls, Mikey raiding the kitchen every five minutes, and Pah-Chin being super quiet and just absorbing the chaos going on around him. Me U & Hennessy by DeJ Loaf blasted in the background, filling your head with unholy thoughts and your inebriation only elevated your desire to fuck. And it most certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

Mikey 💠

As Mikey walked back into the living room his eyes landed on you, noticing the way your breathing became heavy. He walked over to the couch and asked if you wanted to go outside for some fresh air, seemingly oblivious to the way your eyes were devouring him. You two slid out the front door of Mitsuya’s apartment, making your way outside and behind the apartment's staircase. Mikey immediately broke the silence before you could say anything. “So what’s bothering you?” “Nothing’s-” “Shut it! I know you better than that, it’s so obvious that you’re soaked right now.”

You couldn’t even argue with him, he was right for once. “You wanna get fucked right? Prove how bad you want it then.” On instinct you got on your knees as Mikey unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants. He tapped the tip of his dick on your outstretched tongue before slipping the entirety of his length in your mouth. He paused when he felt you gag around him, giving you a moment to adjust to the fullness you felt in your throat. “You look so pretty when you’re choking on my dick ♡” The praise combined with the dirtiness of his words invigorated you, pushing past the slight pain in your throat you started bobbing your head. When you could tell when he was close you started to speed up and pay extra attention to his tip, swirling your tongue around it and leaving kisses on it. “Fuck that’s it, just like that princess~” You quickly slipped him back in your mouth before he came, desperate to feel his hot load go down your throat. He gripped the back of your neck as he came, grunting and praising you all the while. “You better be ready to get fucked when we get home princess, I’m gonna be inbetween your legs all night ♡”

Draken 🐉

After almost laughing himself to death with Mitsuya, Draken noticed the way you shifted on the couch. The way your thighs rubbed together in discomfort. “Hey y/n, you okay? Need me to walk you to the bathroom?” He asked, a playful tone in his voice. “Yeah I actually do.” You got up and followed Draken’s lead into the narrow hallway, stopping at a door that most definitely wasn’t the bathroom. “This isn’t the bathroom.” Draken opened the door to what looked like a supply closet. “Why would I take you to the bathroom if I know that's not what you need right now?” He walked in the closet, beckoning you to follow him. Normally you’d refuse, especially since you were in Mitsuya’s house, but he was just so tempting. You walked into the closet, closing and locking the door behind you.

Before you knew it you two were undressed and he had you bent over with your hands gripping a shelf. His thick cock stretching your tight little pussy with each thrust. If it wasn’t for you biting your lip, your moans would be heard citywide. “So fucking tight, feel so good wrapped around me.” “Faster~” “Oh yea? You want it faster darling? I'll give it to you as fast as you want ♡” Lewd noises filled the closet as Draken pounded into you, hands squeezing your hips tighter and tighter until he finally filled you up. He stayed inside you, not wanting a single drop of his cum to leak out of your cunt. “Let's just stay like this for a while, okay babydoll?”

Baji 🔥

“Baji close the damn windows!” Kazutora yelled at him for the tenth time in a row. “Okay fine, I’ll close the damn windows!” Baji yelled back, annoyed about having to get up again to close the windows he just opened. As he finished closing the windows he turned to Kazutora. “There you happy now?” “Very happy, thank you.” You could hear Baji mumble under his breath as he walked towards the glass door of Mitsuya’s balcony. “I’m gonna go get some air.” He stated, as if anyone other than you were listening. After a few minutes you got up from the couch to join him on the balcony, which probably wasn’t the safest thing considering you just consumed alcohol not that long ago. Baji looked in your direction as you stepped out onto the balcony.

“Hey cutie! Decided to join me?” You nodded in agreement, blushing at the pet name. “Come here pretty girl, lemme hold you.” You walked over to the railing of the balcony, letting him wrap his strong arms around your waist. The cool night air felt so good on your warm skin, but what felt even better was Baji’s hands roaming your body. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice how warm you are?” His hands slid down to undo your pants. “I remember you mentioning how you’ve always wanted to fuck on a balcony.” “Baji…I wasn’t being serious. I was probably drunk when I said it anyway.” He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Nah, you were dead sober, so I know it wasn’t the henny talking. Lemme fuck those pretty thighs~” He softly bit into your neck as he slid your pants and panties down far enough for him to comfortably slide inbetween your thighs.

“You’re so fucking warm baby, dripping wet too. You been waiting for this haven’t you?” You could only nod in agreement as his girthy cock slid between your thighs, going back and forth across your soaking wet pussy. The tip of his dick brushing up against your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You were so fucked out and he didn't even put it in. You never even considered that the rest of the guys might see you two, or the fact that you were literally outside. But that didn't matter, not when Baji was biting on your neck and shoulder, nibbling on your ear, and telling you how good you felt. “You feel so good, taste good too. Just can't get enough of you.” Baji’s thrusts started to become sloppier, but he quickly composed himself because he knew exactly what he wanted. He slid his hand between your legs, playing with your clit while he slowly rubbed his cock between your slick folds. As you gushed all over his length, he slipped inside you, filling your pussy with his cum and keeping you warmer than a shot of Henny ever could.

Kazutora 🐅

As Baji proceeded to ignore his complaints about the cold air from the windows, Kazutora decided to actually follow his advice and try to find a blanket. “Hey y/n, come with me to find a blanket real quick?” You two made your way through the hallway, checking closets filled with fabrics and sewing equipment. Kazutora stumbled upon the bathroom and decided to go through the cabinet under the sink. “Kazutora I don't think there's any blankets under there.” You giggled while sitting down on the edge of the tub. “Well duh, I know that. I'm just snooping around a little.” After finding nothing of interest he closed the cabinet, turning his attention to you.

He walked over and crouched down in front of you, laying his head on your thighs. He whimpered underneath you as your fingers gently ran through his hair. “Lemme taste you angel~” He mumbled into your thighs. You didn’t even get a chance to respond before he started taking off your pants, desperate to get a taste of you. “Tora slow down, you act like I’m gonna slip through your fingers.” His muffled response reverberated through your body as he buried his face between your legs, leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He practically started drooling when he slid your panties off, taking a moment to admire your pretty pussy before grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. His tongue circled your clit, sliding between your wet folds to gather as much of your juices on his tongue as he could. He didn’t even bother to praise you, he was far too invested in devouring you to pull away. As the heat in your body built up you gripped his hair, grinding your pussy on his face. His grip on your thighs loosened, allowing you to squeeze his head in between them, letting himself become engulfed in your drenched cunt.

Pah-Chin 🔷

The heat growing between your legs started to become unbearable, prompting you to head to the kitchen for some water to cool you off and maybe sober you up a little. As you chugged a bottle of water you felt a pair of strong hands grip your waist, almost making you choke on the water. You looked back only to be greeted by Pah’s face, his head resting on your shoulder. “Jeez Pah, you scared the hell outta me! Do you need something?” “No, but I can tell that you do.” His hand slid from your waist to the waistband of your pants as he placed delicate kisses on your neck. “Really, in the kitchen of all places? The guys might see us!” “It’s fine baby, just trust me.”

He unbuttoned your pants and slid his calloused hand into your underwear, circling your clit with his middle finger. “You’re so fucking wet for me, lemme take care of you.” His thick fingers worked their way inside you, stretching you out. It was so hard to stay quiet as his fingers went in and out, curling into you and hitting every spot you liked. “You close sugar? I'm not stopping til you cream on my fingers ♡” He didn't have to wait long, as the knot in your stomach unraveled and you finished all over his fingers. Not even a full minute later, with his hand still in your pants, he was asking for more. “You think you can gimme another one baby?”

Mitsuya 🪻

As the smoke in the room started to clear, Mitsuya looked over at you. His eyes scanned every inch of your body, mesmerized by you. He didn’t know if it was the weed heightening his senses or if you’ve always looked as attractive as you did now, and he couldn’t care less. He just wanted you, needed to feel your warmth against him. “Hey love, why don’t you come sit on my lap?” The tone in his voice was so sweet and inviting, how could you deny him? You got up from your place on the couch and positioned yourself on his lap, eventually shifting to just sitting on one of his thighs. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close and kissing your shoulder.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I want you to use me to get off ♡” “Taka, not now we-” Mitsuya held his finger against your lips, politely signaling you to shut up. “It’s okay love, I’ll be discreet. Just be as quiet as you can, okay?” You nodded, relaxing in his grip as he slowly rocked your hips back and forth. The music playing from Draken’s bluetooth speaker blared throughout the room, masking the small whimpers you made as Mitsuya put more force on your hips, increasing the friction between his thigh and your clothed cunt. “Go ahead and cum for me pretty baby ♡” You bit your lip to conceal the moan that threatened to spill from your mouth as you came, leaving your panties a soaked mess. “Wanna continue this in my room sweetheart?”

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel , @trevengersprincess , @happy-trenchcoated-impala , @giugiette

#tokyo revengers smut #draken smut #kazutora smut #baji smut #mikey sano smut #pah chin smut #mitsuya smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x reader smut

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fillinforlater · 1 year ago

Text

Friends that can keep a secret

Male Reader x Jo Yuri (ft. two male friends)

Length: 3.500 words

Tags: foursome, gangbang, MMMF, drunk sex, seducing, a faux game of spin the bottle, making out, sharing a girlfriend, rimming, face fucking, double penetration, anal, spanking, rough sex, anal creampie, riding, cowgirl, protection, not_your_girlfriend!Yuri

TW: there are other male OCs in this and you fuck a girl in all her holes, I dunno, if you don't like that, feel free to leave

Inspiration: @breach12 for the request/prompt

(A/N: here is something I promised to write quite a while back. It's finally finished. I changed the prompt quite a bit, but I hope the person who requested it likes it (and y'all too))

“Should you knock or I knock.”

Daehwi grins and you roll your eyes. He can never make things easy.

“Dude, just fucking knock.”

You and your friends recently finished another semester in college. You really had to think, was it the fifth, the sixth, the—no, it was the sixth. It felt like forever since you enrolled in that university with it’s unimpressive name and even less impressive campus. In the end, you made it through this time without impressive grades or interesting stories, but maybe this is your ideal life.

Calm and uninteresting, at least to others.

Your friends are a bit different. On one hand there is Daehwi, the crazy one. He is like a wild animal, free from every and all constraints but a slave of his desires and instincts. He gets a lot of girls, hookups, relationships, break ups, scandals—nothing ever slows him down. No matter how stupidly crazy his ideas are, they always work out and in the end, even his grades pan out. Daehwi has either figured out how to live a perfect life or he is just insanely lucky.

But he is a good friend in time of need.

On the other hand is Junseo. He is one hell of a cutie-patootie, caring for every one of his friends, colleagues, even profs. No bad word ever comes from his lips and he is always punctual. Literally always. He trades loyalty for loyalty and is the perfect example for genuinity and consistency. It is only fair that he got the most beautiful girl as his girlfriend.

Junseo is a great friend, but sometimes Yuri takes up all his time.

Yuri is the rock star on campus. She can make the entire university fall on their knees by grabbing a mic and singing her heart out. She is talented, smart, gorgeous—the crush of many, until they find another girl to smash. Yuri was never ready for one night stands, and so it was only fitting that Junseo and her fell in love gradually. No hookups, just pure, romantic love.

Love without you. You watched from afar as your best friend fell in love with your crush. That crush on Yuri that everyone has at least once in their campus life, it still lingers in your heart. You have to suppress it almost daily, but it is a tiny stain on your otherwise good life. Suppress it for Junseo, especially today when you get to celebrate another successful semester at his place.

"Oh hey guys, come in!" Junseo opens the door with a wide grin and a surprising pink hue on his cheeks.

"Yo!” Daehwi shouts until his chest vibrates. “We bought beer, let's celebrate—damn, did you start drinking without us?" Daehwi puts down the two six packs and starts to aggressively pinch Junseo’s cheek. You start to laugh as the two playfully fight like two lion cubs.

“I brought some snacks,” you shout and try to get their attention. Fun is good and all, but you’re still standing outside and the cold air is brushing past your sensitive calves. "I got them for you, but if you don’t move, I’ll eat them all alone."

The three of you finally make your way into the flat and onto the couches. You feel the good vibes radiating throughout the room and it only gets progressively better. The first step to make such a celebration unforgettable is good beer and surprisingly, the cans Daehwi bought (at least you hope that he bought them) are filled with it. You down two of them easily, Daehwi is already on his third while Junseo reaches for a Soju bottle to create an intoxicating mixture.

“Damn, I didn’t know you got Soju,” Daehwi groans in ecstasy as he takes a swing straight from the green bottle. “Your grades must have been terrible.”

“Nah, it’s not that,” Junseo responds with a pout. “It's because this might be the last time we have a celebration like this.”

“Huh, how so?” you protest and get a handful of crackers into your mouth, not willing to accept that such a well-kept tradition would end tonight, without warning.

“It’s because, next semester, I’m done, so the party is gonna be bigger. And afterwards, with work and all, I don’t know if it will work out like this again.”

“Shit, life is really catching up to us.” Daehwi clicks his tongue and you can already see that his drunk, a bit more melancholic but still wild and direct self appears. After all, he can’t keep himself from downing liquor.

“If only I knew,” you sigh, angry that you forgot that Junseo was already here when you started to study. He was always ahead and now he will be the first to leave behind college life and become a truly normal person. “I would have brought stuff to make this more memorable.”

Junseo grabs the hem of your shirt and there is this drunk grin on his face as he babbles: “Don’t worry, I have things planned.

“Yuri, dear, you can come in now~”

Honest to God, you forgot about her for a split second—you will never for the rest of your life. Yuri walks in, the walk of a supermodel. Her high heels clack on the wooden floor, her hips sway in that stupidly short miniskirt, her eyes sparkle when she winks at you. You’re staring everywhere at once, to the point your throat goes dry again and you quickly need another drink. Luckily, Yuri brought more Soju and hands you a bottle.

“Congrats on beating another semester,” she says with a saccharine smile that stuns you, glues you to the couch, all to the amusement of Junseo beside you. “You gonna take it or not?”

“Su-sure, thank you.” Grab the bottle like an idiot and drink from it like one. Daehwi isn’t any better, dry lips stuck to his can while his eyes are glued to Yuri’s back. She makes sure to stick out her ass for him to see the nice curve. The green plaid skirt is barely long enough to hide her cheeks as she kneels next to him, hands on the table, searching for crackers or chips.

“Yuri, you are gorgeous,” Junseo compliments his girlfriend with a wicked grin and Yuri responds with an expression so sly and sexy, you almost drop your bottle and spit out its contents. Those two must have been drinking before Daehwi and you arrived, otherwise they wouldn’t be so bold.

“Damn, what the hell is going on with you two?” Daehwi bluntly asks them, but all he gets are glances from the couple and a confused shrug by you. “I bet you two are drunk already. Better stop now before any accidents happen.”

“There are no accidents tonight,” Junseo says firmly and makes room in the middle of the table for an empty Soju bottle. “No accidents, no boundaries, no questions asked. Do you two understand?”

“Well, that is a question,” you try to respond with wit, but it’s quickly forgotten when Yuri spins the empty bottle.

“Whoever this bottle lands on gets to have a free wish—kinda like truth and dare, except everyone else has to accept the dare and what you want to do to them.” Yuri’s words have your mind rotating faster than the bottle; is she for real? No limits, no boundaries? No one will ask questions? Can you just—go for it? Ask her to love you for this one night—no Junseo, just you?

Your wish fades to black when the bottle stops and points straight at Junseo, who does not hesitate and grabs his girlfriend at the wrist. Blink once, blink twice and she already sits on his lap, right next to you, and he is ready to stick his tongue into her eager mouth.

“My wish is that everyone fucking loosens up and just watches.”

The most tense thriller could not be more engaging for you. To see Junseo fondle Yuri, her tight little body, her covered boobs, her flawless back, down to the edge of her skirt has you sweaty all over. All over, again, he doesn’t stop and goes for that long, blonde hair and combs it back. Yuri moans and her nails dig into the back of the couch. Then they go back to making out, provocatively loud and Yuri’s top almost slips over her boobs.

You’re not the only one starring. Daehwi gets into position behind them, and he shamelessly looks under Yuri’s skirt—what he finds must be utterly mind melting, because he quickly grabs the bottle and points it at himself. He clears his throat to get everyone’s attention and for a second, the silence is heavier than a black hole.

“I-it’s my turn.” Daehwi gulps, the couple pants. “Can I pull down your skirt, Yuri?”

“Sure, just let me get up.”

With a final kiss on the cheek, Yuri leaves her boyfriend’s lap and stands in front of the kneeling Daehwi. She reaches for his hands and places them on her hips. This was the final straw, the last chain that held back the savage animal. Daehwi roughly yanks down Yuri’s skirt; with every gasp, more of her lower body is revealed until—nothing but a skimpy thong. You get to see it from behind only for a second, because Daehwi immediately spins Yuri around to knead and lick her cute butt cheeks.

You’ve only heard stories of Daehwi’s sexcapades, the endless rounds of loud smashing, of groaning, of cumming—you never knew he could become so feral at the touch of two small round buttcheeks. It seems to work however, Yuri is definitely feeling herself, hands in her hair, head thrown back as she moans profanities towards the ceiling.

Suddenly, the head of a bottle crosses your vision. Juseon has the green thing pointed at you, on eye level and you don’t let him even start his sentence before uttering your own wish. It’s a bit desperate, but totally accurate to your situation and pent up feelings.

“Yuri, I—I want to make out with you, o-on my lap!”

“Oh yes, for sure~”

Followed by the still manically kneading Daehwi, Yuri climbs on top of you and goes straight for your mouth. Her tongue, still glazed in liquor and tiny chips particles quickly turns into the most delicious treat you have ever had. Yuri engages the kiss, starts off what could have been an equal dance but she quickly succumbs to your sudden dominance.

Call it a return to your monkey brain, anything but civilized. You fuck her mouth with your tongue, play with her hair lovingly while tormenting her slender frame with rubs and squeezes. Yuri’s giggles urge you on more, you become bolder, reach into the top of her bra—there is no bra, just bare tits to fondle and knead the way only Daehwi would, though he has transitioned to eating Yuri’s ass, thong pushed to the side.

You’ve lost sight of Juseon, but who the fuck cares when you can stick your hands down to where the sun doesn’t shine and find Yuri’s pussy. She is laughably wet, her juices dripping on your finger while your teeth move to bite her collarbone. She moans and hugs your body, pressing herself further down your length which has been an issue in the tight confines of your jeans for way too long—

“Yuri,” Juseon suddenly shouts. “I think you’re the last one to make a wish.”

You pull out your fingers from those drenched folds and even Daehwi backs off from the feast that is Yuri’s ass. Everyone listens closely when Yuri finally gets her wish out.

“I want you three boys to finally get your cocks out and fuck them into my tight holes until I can’t walk anymore. Don’t think, just fuck me.

“I’m your semester trophy tonight.”

Juseon suddenly stands next to you, feet in the cushions of his couch and his pants meet them quickly. He whips out his cock and as if her lips were magnetically drawn to it, Yuri starts to kiss and lick over it. From tip to base, she does not leave out one spot. Equally sudden is Daehwi, who’s pants you can’t even see anymore, but his cock is clearly pressed against Yuri’s cheeks and then on the ring in between them.

To your surprise—not that you ever actively thought about it—their cocks are just average in size, maybe even below that. Yours might be bigger, but they get girls and relationships all the time—your thoughts shouldn’t become so weird, especially because you have already pulled out your own dick and begun to stroke it to the hardest it has ever been.

Yuri, while her face is getting fucked slowly, her boyfriend’s cock entering and leaving her lips, gently places an unwrapped condom into your sweaty hands. Good thing that they are prepared, because you of course did not bring something like this to what could’ve been a harmless party.

Harmless college parties? Yeah, no, who are you kidding. Just roll the plastic contraceptive over your hard shaft and then try to find Yuri’s pussy. Those hot folds, they are right there—further down. You rub along her midriff, navel, even her crotch but are unable to find it.

Yuri pops Juseon’s cock from her lips and smiles at you while her hand continues to lazily jerk the throbbing, wet thing. She reaches in between your legs and finds your thing poking her belly.

“Should I help you?” she asks and you avoid her eyes in embarrassment—only for a second thought. Something draws you to their sparkle, lewd and thrilled, while she tries to adjust on your lap until—

“Ah, fuck, Daehwi, wait!”

“Wha-what is it?” he asks with a somewhat annoyed growl, hands wrapped around Yuri’s waist, cockhead perfectly aligned with her asshole.

“Give me a second. I want all of you to thrust in me simultaneously. I never felt something like that.

“It’ll be great.”

You gulp when Yuri gets you to the entrance of her light pink cavern. This is it, the moment you’ve been waiting for for a long time—not really waiting, just dreaming of. Luckily, you don’t need to dream anymore and just focus on not exploding the moment you—

“Now, fuck, now.”

The signal sends your hips upwards in a thrust. It’s not a full thrust, only half of your cock fills Yuri’s insides. You couldn’t commit to all of it; you need to flex your thighs to keep yourself from cumming too quickly. Daehwi and Junseo do not seem to care about that: both went all in from the get go, filling Yuri’s mouth and ass to the brim with their dicks and their thrusts don’t stop.

Daehwi’s rough, feral pumping gapes Yuri’s ass and you feel every second of it. He is on the other side, careless, just like in the stories from the countless one-night stands that loved his enthusiasm. This is not enthusiasm, more unbridled sexual desire. He chases his own orgasm every time her ass meets his crotch.

For Junseo it’s similar. He seems to really enjoy Yuri’s drool running down her chin, sometimes even stopping the thrusts just to spread it all over her face with either his tip or a finger. You totally understand why he indulges in the way Yuri looks, all messy and silly, but you’d love to hear her moan louder—you want to see the strongest kind of bliss on her features.

Instead of your own pleasure, you try to find Yuri’s spots and poke your cock against them purposefully. You’re a lot slower than the other two, but your stamina does not decrease at all. Unlike Daehwi, you don’t need any brakes to catch your breath. You just continue to fuck Yuri in this mesmerizing rhythm that has her humming on her boyfriend’s shaft.

“Is this good, do you feel good?” you ask her in between deep breaths, arms around her torso, while she finds stability on your shoulder again.

“Yesh, yes,” she mumbles as Junseo flops out of her mouth. You see him shaking, losing his mind when she starts to twist his tip with two fingers. “You can go faster, harder—don’t think of me. I’m just the reward.”

“Too bad.” Whisper in her ear. “All I can think about is my reward.”

Yuri’s expression shifts, like she is trying to challenge you, like she doesn’t believe that you really care about her, like she—and then she can only think of Daehwi again, who goes on another rampage in her back entrance, while covering her ass with hard spanks.

A tender pain on your lower lip when she bites it. You halt your thrusts, but Daehwi makes it feel like Yuri bounces and rubs on your entire cock. You hear both the guys scream profanities while your own profanities are stuck, unable to come out because of Yuri’s bite.

“Yuri, babe, I’m—” Junseo can barely stand. “I’m so close.”

“In my mouth?” she asks, cutely-lewdly.

“N-no, I want to… finish on your ass.”

“Great idea.” Yuri jerks his cock harder and starts to stick out her ass which seems to trigger another orgasm. Instead of politely asking, Daehwi just growls like a wolf to the moon and Yuri feels his thick cum flood her rectum. “Yes, fuck! Fill that ass, creampie me!”

Now that wasn’t cute at all. Just lewd. Lewd like her fucking face when Daehwi’s cock loudly pops out and Junseo sprays his cum all over those red buttocks. She looks thoroughly satisfied with all the white on her skin, in her hole—maybe she isn’t thinking yet of the mess on her couch, the carpet or on her clothes.

“Fuck, guys, that was—

“Why haven’t you finished yet?”

Yuri looks at you, as if she expects you to just burst from the look in her eyes. No, she underestimates you. Your stamina is still going strong and your enjoyment of her cunt hasn’t diminished by a single percent.

“I-I can still keep going!”

“Really? Let’s see about that.”

As if you had fucked a million times already, Yuri’s riding and your upwards fucking synchronizes instantaneously. When she crashes down, all of your cock fills her hole and when she rises, you’re right at her entrance, ready to repeat what can only be described as heaven—an entry to happiness.

But happiness isn’t a dominant emotion right now, hell, you don’t even want it. You just want Yuri and her snug pussy always around you, hot and milking you with that flawless texture. The pink thing should accept you the entire night and with how eagerly she slams herself down on your manhood, she wants it too.

Maybe Yuri feels happiness, maybe that is your wishful thinking blurring with her mindless expression, mindless moans, mindless tongue that suddenly searches for yours and you engage in a tornado of kisses that leads to Yuri resigning. Her body is all yours now, yours alone, and she is begging to cum. Trophy this, award that, in the end she has her needs and you will fulfill them.

Hold onto her waist and like in the final battle of a video game, use all your knowledge and skill to stimulate the inside of her pussy. Nothing can stop you, not the cum from her gaping hole that drips on your balls, not her weight laying on top of you, not the shocked gaze of Junseo—he must have never seen his girlfriend get fucked so well.

“Fuck, I’m-I’m,

“I feel so good, don’t stop.”

Yuri’s whine feels like a victory. You know she will climax before you do. This is all you’ve ever wanted. After this, you can let your feelings for her die in peace. But for these last few thrusts, she is all yours. Her entire body and mind is occupied by you, and so you claim her with a gentle kiss and a not-so-gentle flick on her clit.

“Who makes you cum?”

“You! You, you make me—ah!”

That scream is so long, so good; she is so tight, so perfect. Yuri trembles, electric shocks of pleasure surge all across her body. Her cunt is so tight and hot, you don’t feel the condom anymore and release your seed into it with lazy pumps. Yuri mewls when she feels the hot sticky mess which sadly misses her hot, messy holes and instead sticks to your dick.

“Okay, fuck,” Junseo sighs and sinks onto the carpet. “That was hot, that was crazy.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Yuri weakly says, a bright but tired smile on her lips as she looks back to her boyfriend. She turns back to you, face in adorable scrunches “Lemme, uhm… clean up.”

“Oh, yeah.” You quickly try to get your composure, because you’re still balls deep inside her. “Fuck, sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize.

Junseo can never hear that. He never will. And Daehwi is long asleep. Those following words are just for you.

“That was the best thing ever.”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader smut #yuri smut #jo yuri smut #izone yuri smut

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misslavenderlady · 1 month ago

Text

A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock ‘N Roll - Chapter 16

Summary: After receiving a distress call from the boys, David faces his master head-on in a confrontation. However, it's Max that has the upper hand, as he gives David an ultimatum that he cannot refuse. If he does, it may hurt the love of his life.

TW: Chapter contains mentions of abuse, blood, physical violence, domestic violence, vampire powers, threats, pushing a loved one away, and manipulation

This is a very special chapter, as certain secrets are about to be revealed. I hope y'all are ready for this~

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Never before had David flown so fast. He didn't care about the sharp, cold air nipping at his face or the whipping winds practically pounding in his ears. Hell, he didn't even care if someone happened to look up and see him flying across the night sky.

All he cared about was getting to Max's house as soon as physically possible. His brothers were in danger and nothing else mattered.

The sheer speed of his flight was enough to get him to the house in a matter of minutes. By the time he burst through the front door, he was heaving from being so out of breath. Across the room in a sleek, leather chair sat the man himself. Max was remarkably calm, considering David had practically kicked his door down. In one hand he held his favorite smoking pipe, and in the other he had a book open. To any other person, he was the picture of an all-American, wholesome father figure.

David would never accept such an image. Max was a monster, through and through.

"Why David, what a surprise!" the older vampire greeted him, a smile stretched across his face as he looked up from the page he was on. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I am so not in the mood for these games, Max," David spat. He stormed over to his sire, smacking the book out of his hand and letting it fall to the ground. "Where are they? Where are the boys?!"

Max simply sighed at David's actions. He took hold of his glasses and brought them down to his shirt, carefully rubbing an invisible smudge with the fabric.

"You know, David, it would not kill you to start off with a simple 'hello' from time to time," he sighed. "I should have known this was going to happen. They've clearly only encouraged your terrible manners. This entire plan I had was just one big mistake."

"Don’t blame the boys for the way I am! They didn’t do any-"

"I'm not talking about your brothers," Max interrupted. "I'm talking about the Emersons."

Any anger that David had felt in that moment had stopped in its tracks. It had been quite a while since Max had brought up Michael and his family. He was certain that the party crashing had made his sire shut up permanently about his plans for the humans.

He must have been displaying his confusion quite obviously because Max continued with a more thorough explanation.

"Yes, my boy, your old man did in fact make a mistake. I know I'm not the best at admitting when I'm wrong, but I certainly was this time. I shouldn't have pushed for this plan to blend our families together. I'm glad you didn't end up changing Michael."

David cocked an eyebrow in confusion. Never in all the decades he had followed Max and his commands did he ever hear an actual, genuine apology. His sire would always insist he knew best or that his plans would always work out in the grand scheme of things.

Hearing Max admit to being wrong was so gratifying. If he hadn't been worried sick about the others, he would have had the biggest, shit-eating grin on his face. Instead, all he could do was express some skepticism.

"And why do you say that?"

"Well, isn't it obvious? Their family is....how do I put this nicely....uncouth."

David could feel his gloves tighten around his fingers as he unintentionally squeezed them into a fist. Any negative talk towards the Emersons royally pissed him off. Michael and his family were the best thing to ever happen to him in his life. They were a far better family than Max could ever dream of being.

"Excuse me?"

"Am I wrong?" Max continued, crossing a leg over his knee and leaning back in his chair. "They're loud, obnoxious, crass, and to be perfectly honest, I loathe that trash they call music. I thought Lucy was a darling little southern lady, but she just encourages those hooligans she calls her sons. I think it would be best for everyone if I were to simply move on to something else."

"So...you're not gonna have me pester Michael about sharing the blood?"

Max shook his head, that damn smile still stuck on his face. David was getting sick of looking at it. Max would have been more convincing if he were wearing a mask rather than attempting to show genuine, positive expression.

"Correct. We needn't bother with such company," Max explained. "You can go ahead and stop spending time with them. It won't be necessary any longer."

The blond vampire didn't even bother to hold back the scoff that came out of his mouth. He couldn't believe the audacity of his sire. Their blood bond aside, the man could not control the choices that he made. All of the Lost Boys loved the Emerson family far too much just to ditch them like Max would.

"Oh, fuck off!" David snapped. "You can't stop me from spending time with them, Max. I do whatever I want, whenever I want. I'm sick of you and your stupid rules. Punish me all you want, but you're never gonna change who I am, old man. So back off!"

"Now you know well and good that this kind of behavior isn't becoming of a vampire your age," Max scolded. His glasses had been discarded, forgotten on the side table next to his chair. The smile he once wore had swiftly morphed into a deeply disappointed frown.

"Your brothers would certainly agree. After all, I've given them a very rigorous lesson on what is to be expected of them as my spawn."

In a brief moment, David’s world came to a screeching halt.

His body froze over with an icy shot of terror running through his veins. His hands went clammy and began to tremble. The worst thoughts and scenarios flashed in his mind like some kind of grotesque horror movie.

"What....wh-what did you do?"

"The same thing I do whenever you cause trouble for me," he said. "I punished them."

Once again, the sinister smile had returned to his face. It only worsened David's fears.

"Oh, boys!" Max called out, not breaking his eye contact with David. "You can come out now. Come say hello to your brother."

The silent air slowly filled with the soft sounds of footsteps from down the hall. As they got closer to the room, the more obvious it became that something wasn't right. When the boys finally stepped into the room, it was clear to David why exactly that was.

Dwayne, Marko and Paul were practically dragging themselves along. They all were either limping, hobbling or just off balance with their movements. If their pained movements weren't enough a clue that they'd been through something, then their appearances certainly were.

David was horrified to see that his boys had been battered and beaten. Their eyes were swollen almost completely shut with black eyes already taking form. Dried blood was smeared across their scalps, noses and lips from the gashes carved into their skin. Bruises were blooming over their jaws and around their necks. The patterns clearly showed that someone had tried to choke them out. Their clothing was tattered and covered in gore, much like they were after a hunt. But the dark color of the stains and the slight shimmer in the light told David that it was their own blood, not that of a human. All three of them looked utterly exhausted, barely left with any strength to stay standing upright.

His heart ached in his chest, devastated to see such pain. A thick lump caught in his throat as he could feel the tug of tears ready to fall from his eyes.

"Y-You..."

"Oh no no, I can't take the credit for this," Max nonchalantly explained. "I didn't lay a single finger on them. I can assure you they did this to themselves. Or rather....did this to each other."

Max's brown eyes briefly flashed to gold, a clever way of showing that he had exercised the power of control he had over the boys and their minds. A closer look towards their hands proved that Max was being truthful. All of them had bruised and bloodied knuckles. Flecks of red and mauled skin were stuck under their fingernails.

A thick, bitter flavor shot up David's throat, making him sick from the disgust he felt in the pit of his stomach.

"Wh....why....wh-why would you d-do this...?"

Max tutted and rose from his chair, his height dwarfing David as it always did. He reached out to cup a hand over David's shoulder. The younger vampire was powerless to stop him or move away. The haunting sight of his family beaten within an inch of their lives had paralyzed him.

"I believe I made myself perfectly clear when I said there were consequences when you do not listen to me, son." Max stated. The sharp tips of his claws were making an appearance once again. They threatened to dig into David's skin under the coat, just as they did at the video store.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to take your brothers home, help them feed until they've fully healed, and then you will go about your life like normal. You will not ever speak to the Emerson family again, especially Michael. If I ever find out that you do, then I suppose I'll have to extend my methods to him as well. Then again, I don't know how well he could handle it, given that he's human."

There was no holding back the tears now. Thick, warm drops swiftly fell down his pale cheeks, the dread of what Max could possibly do to Michael overwhelming his senses. He would rather drop dead than let any harm come to the man he loved.

David could not speak. He was certain his silent tears would become terrible sobs if he tried. So, all he did was nod. Accept the words of his sire, and seal his fate. The idea of life without Michael was his worst nightmare, but he wouldn't dare put him in any danger. If not for his sake, then for the sake of his vampire brethren.

"Very good. You three are free to go," Max spoke to the injured spawn.

In a mere second, the boys crashed down to the wooden floor they stood on. They cried and winced as the sudden force of gravity worsened the pain they were in. It was like watching puppets get their strings sliced off. Such an act was all too fitting for a man like Max. That's all his children were to him. Puppets to control and then toss to the side when he grew tired of using them.

While Dwayne was able to gather enough strength to slowly lift himself back up and aid Paul, Marko was still in far too much pain to even attempt to get back up. David rushed to him in a flash, wrapping his arm around the back and throwing one of Marko's arms over his shoulder so he could lean on him for support. Blood quickly began to soak into the side of his jacket. Even through the thick fabric he could feel that the bones in Marko’s arm were broken.

It killed him to see his boys in this state. They horror they must have experienced being forced by their master to hurt one another. It broke his heart.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to think about how much worse of a heartbreak Michael was going to face. This was the most despicable situation he could have ever found himself in. And Max knew that all too well. He only hoped his sire would leave the human and his family out of this if he did in fact stay away.

"Let's go home, guys," David said somberly. It would be the first time in a long while that they would head to their cave at the bluffs and not the warm, cozy home of the Emersons. They were going to be worried about the boys not showing up, but there was simply nothing they could do.

David only hoped they would find it in their hearts to forgive him someday.

"Any sign of them yet?"

"I'm sorry, Michael, but they still haven't been around."

The weekend had come and gone, and Michael hadn't seen his boyfriend or friends the entire time. He had waited patiently that first night for the boys to return home and meet Cookie the cow. David had seemed so enthusiastic about his buddies meeting the newest calf on the farm.

So, when the nighttime slowly morphed into morning and they still weren't home, he understandably got confused. When he noticed that the Triumph was still parked in the driveway, he started to get worried. He took his ATV out at the first light of dawn to go looking around Santa Carla for them. With the wind in his hair and fear in his stomach, Michael was determined to make sure they were okay.

When he went by the cave and found their hangout space empty, he decided to scour every inch of the city that he could possibly find. The beach, the boardwalk, the trails, the woods, and every store and business in sight. Since they liked to go by Max's video store the most, he popped in to ask Maria to keep an eye out for them. He even asked that she give him a call if necessary.

To his dismay, there hadn't been any sign of them. Maria knew how much they meant to Michael. It was such a shame to see him so dismayed as they talked over the counter at the video store.

"You seen Max 'round here either?" he asked her. Even if he hated the guy, that was still David's father. If he was around, then David had to be too.

"Actually, Max took some vacation time," Maria explained. "It's been a bit calmer lately now that school is back in session, so he's just taking some downtime."

"I see," Michael sighed. "Well just give my mama a call if you see them before I do."

Maria nodded, sympathetic to his situation. He gave her a wave ‘goodbye’ as he shuffled out of the store, the disappointment weighing heavy on him as he did so. It just didn't make sense to him. It was as if the boys vanished into thin air, but he knew it really wasn't like them.

Dreadful thoughts danced around in his mind, fueled by his anxiety of the worst possible situations. Even if it turned out they were perfectly fine, he still missed them terribly. Dinners at home were a lot more silent, and he couldn't bring himself to pick up his guitar without David there to play along with him.

Their absence was affecting the rest of the family too. Lucy still cooked grand meals, but sadly had to put more food in the leftover containers each night since there were less mouths to feed. Sam hadn't even spoken to anyone since the night David left. He'd shut himself in his room, not talking to anyone unless it was the Frog brothers over the phone. Grandpa insisted they’d be back soon, but there was a touch of uncertainty in his voice.

It was all just so lonely and hopeless without the others in their family circle. All Michael could do about it was drag his boots along the planks of the boardwalk and hang his head in sorrow. He imagined he looked just like a lonesome little hound dog. All sad, puppy eyes and pitiful-looking pouts. Michael just couldn’t take this. He just wanted his Huckleberry back.

He would have kept on going if something hadn't caught his attention on the boardwalk.

Off to the side, practically hidden in the shadows behind a chain-link fence were two bright-colored shapes. Michael raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, but he was rather interested in seeing what it could be.

Michael moved past the light crowds of people as he got closer and closer to the spot he had his eye on. When he finally got up to it, he realized just what it was he was looking at.

Flowers. Long, green stems with a full bloom of petals. They boasted bright shades that rivaled that of the sunset he saw every day. He didn't expect to find such unique flowers in such a random spot, especially in autumn.

He sighed to himself, reminiscing about that special first date he had with David. Seeing these flowers reminded him of the lovely rose he was gifted. It seemed that everywhere he turned there was something that sparked a memory he shared with David. It was a rather bittersweet experience to say the least.

“David…” he sighed to himself. “I wish I knew where y-”

His words cut off without him even realizing. The train of thought was lost once it dawned on him what flowers he was looking at. Foxtail lilies.

Foxtail.

Without a second thought, Michael sprinted off back to where he left his ATV parked, kicking up dust and dirt as he went. He had to move as fast as he could push himself to go.

He knew where to find David.

Another cigarette was lit up to smoke. Was it his tenth or eleventh? The pack was getting light, but David didn’t even bother to keep track. All he’d done since he woke for the night was hide away from the world and smoke by himself at Foxtail Grotto.

The others were still healing after their gruesome night at Max’s house. David had hidden them as deep as possible in the caves so that nobody would possibly find them during their recovery. Not even Star or Laddie were allowed to see them. It would have been traumatizing for them to see the boys in such a state.

He must have brought at least two dozen victims to their hideout for a thorough draining. Any vagrant, nobody or tourist he could find was fed to his wounded friends. They all drank heavily and slept through both daytime and night, allowing their bodies to repair themselves with the power of the blood.

Still, their journey to recovery wasn’t done quite yet. Max had made sure the damage they inflicted was thorough. The boys still had some bruises and cuts to heal up. David only wished their suffering would end faster.

When he wasn’t taking care of them, he was all alone in the wilderness. His thoughts were so jumbled that it was the only thing he could bring himself to do. All the while he couldn’t stop thinking about Michael. What Max had demanded of him was possibly the worst punishment he’d ever given David. He would have happily taken a beating of his own if it meant he could still be with Michael.

To his dismay, Max’s word was final. He could never see his true family again. He wouldn’t allow more people he loved to get hurt. The best thing he could do for their safety was stay away from them.

But that didn’t mean Michael was going to do the same.

The familiar roar of an engine filled the otherwise silent landscape. David whipped his head around in surprise, the headlights of a red ATV shining directly on him. The fresh cigarette slipped out of his fingers and snuffed out in the sand at his feet.

“DAVID!” a southern drawl called to him. Out from the shadows came Michael, sprinting towards David as fast as he could.

Before he could even get a word out, Michael body-slammed him with a massive bear hug. He gripped David’s shoulders and back tightly while pressing feverish kisses all over his cheek. When he finally let go, he nervously fumbled with his hat, trying to keep it from falling off.

“There you are! Hell almighty, you scared the goddamn shit out of me!” Michael scolded him. He sounded exhausted. “Where did you go? What happened to you??”

The brunet boy pulled away to get a better look at David’s face, desperate to look into those eyes again. Though the expression that looked back at him was not one of relief or happiness. It was more akin to fright. As if he had been worried about Michael finding him.

“How…how did you find me?”

“Well…it’s hard to forget a place like this after that special night we had, Huckleberry,” Michael smiled sheepishly.

David could hear the rush of the human’s heartbeat at the mention of such memory. He had missed that sound more than anything.

“No…” he said. “I’m not your Huckleberry. You can’t be here, Michael. I can’t do this with you.”

Michael’s head tilted slightly to the side while he raised an eyebrow. Surely he didn’t hear that right.

“David, what are you talkin’ bout? Is somethin’ wrong? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

David wanted to pull him into his arms and never let go. Tell him that he could never do wrong by him. That he was always so happy to have the human boy in his life. But he just couldn't. All that he could think about was Max breaking Michael, in both body and spirit.

"No, Michael, it's nothing you did. It's me..." David explained. "We can't be together anymore....I don't love you..."

The silence hung thick in the air. David held his breath, waiting for his lie to sink in with Michael. It had to be enough to work properly.

"Yeah, nice try, slick," Michael smirked. "You wear your heart on your sleeve when it comes to how ya feel 'bout me."

Shit. He should have known that wasn't going to work. Michael was absolutely right, and not even his best attempt at lying could deny that. The blond let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with his gloved fingers. It was difficult not to be frustrated with all of this.

"Look, darlin', whatever is goin' on, you can tell me. I can help y-"

"NO!" David snapped, raising his voice. "Dammit, Michael, this isn't some little problem you can fix! You need to stay away, or bad things are going to happen!"

Michael tensed at the sudden change of tone. David stepped away, turning his back to the human boy. He was running out of ideas, and he couldn't even think straight with Michael looking at him.

"I'm just gonna hurt you, Michael, and I can't let that happen. There's something dangerous that I deal with. Something that is gonna put your whole family at risk."

"David-"

"I'm serious! Go away, Michael, or you'll just make it worse."

"Why should I?"

"THIS IS WHY!"

A piercing screech rang out as David sharply snapped back around. His face had morphed into that of his vampiric appearance. His mouth stretched open to display the deadly row of fangs he had. The blue of his eyes had melted into the color of gold, with red, jagged lines taking over the white space.

This wasn’t how he wanted it to happen. Michael learning about the secret he carried. But it was all he could think of to get him away.

“JESUS FUCKIN’ CHRIST!” Michael yelped. He stumbled backward, his eyes widening in shock as he took in what he was seeing.

“I’m a vampire, Michael!” David hissed out. His voice was deeper and raspier than before. His back was hunched and his arms outstretched, showing off his predator stance that he’d use for hunts. “We all are! Me, the boys, Star, even Laddie. We’re killers, Michael. I’ve been slaughtering the innocents of Santa Carla before your goddamn grandpa was born!”

The heartbeat he heard from Michael before was now ramped up faster than ever. It was echoing in his skull with the fierceness of its pounding. What would have delighted him from any other person just made him feel worse in this situation.

“You should have listened to Sam and those Frog brats. Now go! Run away from the big, bad monster! Don’t ever come find me again!”

Surely this had to work. Michael could see all of the viscous beast he had locked away for months now. All those sweet images he once held of David being his lover would be replaced by the vision of a bloodsucking creature of the night. He’d get away as fast as he could, and David would never be at risk of putting him in any danger from Max ever again.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Michael stayed in place. Though sweat poured from his face and his body shook in terror, he didn’t run away. It could have easily blamed it on shock, so he tried even harder.

“GET OUT OF HERE, MICHAEL!” he growled, baring his fangs and talons even more now.

Still nothing. If anything, Michael’s reaction was only softening. His expression did not hold fear, but rather a deep sadness. As if he had…pity.

“D-David…”

“Goddammit, why won’t you leave me?” the vampire asked, the demonic tone slightly fading. Now he was the one struggling to hold his look properly. He could feel those pesky tears making an appearance once again.

Even in the face of a monster, Michael still had the same love in his heart. His entire understanding of the world and the reality of who was in his life was flipped upside down. Not even in his home state of Texas had such a wild thing happened to him.

But he just couldn’t look away. He couldn’t abandon David. Though his body felt the fear, his heart just wouldn’t deny the feelings he still had.

“Huckleberry…I-” he whispered.

David had enough. He couldn’t take this any longer. If Michael wouldn’t run, then he would instead.

With a swift turn of his body, David pushed himself off the ground and soared into the inky, night sky. Shadows covered his trail as he got away as fast as he could. If this was the last time he’d see Michael, it wouldn’t be the image of him completely gutted with heartache.

Little did he know that the human lover he had left behind was feeling the exact same way. All the love in the world for the monster he had shown himself to be.

Tag List: @crustyboypix @marnievanhelsing @dead-evermore @woodlandstarz13 @kifaya

@adams-fav-roach @ria-coolgirl @acotar-lover @thinkblotted @alex-peirce

@anya-tlb @ghost-timelord @marvelloki23 @piratesangel @Cr-8-on

@microwavemad @oceansrose2002 @palomam18 @silvermaplealder @mikey-darinstar

@legal-lost-boy @crustyraccoon @kurt-nightcrawler @blackcoffeebat @thelostsouls1987

@thornthehellhound @solobagginses @6lostgirl6 @starlahuskyz @american-idiot-jpg

@juss-soupp @bloodsuckingfiends @f4iryfxies @bezinful @vampirefilmlover

@charlizekkelly @blueberrypancakesworld @midnight-in-santa-carla @warrior-616 @queerlittlem0nster

@berd-alert @popironrye @max-dalton @vampyrcorpse

#the lost boys #tlb #my fic #ao3 fic #au fic #michael emerson #david the lost boys #southern michael

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maxdreavus · 10 months ago

Text

Safe (Sebastian x GN!Reader)

Rating: Teen+

Summary: You run into Sebastian on your way into town from the bathhouse, and he invites you to go for a ride with him. The thing is, you’re terrified of motorcycles.

Luckily, he helps you feel safe while you prepare to accompany him.

Author's Note: This was 100% wholeheartedly inspired by these images by sinsydia.. when I say I have been rotating that last one in particular in my brain for DAYS I'm not exaggerating!! ;;w;; Hope y'all like this x

Check it out on ao3!

It was a rough day.

A new season had just started so you spent more time than usual tending to your crops, and then had to delve into the mines for a good few hours to fulfill a bulletin board request.

Got your ass kicked by some bugs and bats all for a stupid topaz… Elliot better need it for something good.

After dinner, you felt awful, but didn’t want to go to bed just yet; you figured you at least deserved a nice dip at the bathhouse first to relax. So after cleaning the dishes, you trudged through the backwoods, up the mountain, and then across the broken, dirty tiles of the worn-down building feeling half-dead; wondering, Is this really worth the hike?

About 20 minutes into your soak, you realized that it totally was worth it. You found yourself shoving your swimsuit back into your locker with a second wind that only a nap could usually supply, ready to enjoy the rest of your night.

Rather than turning right into the backwoods, you made your way further down the hill with an extra pep in your step, deciding to take the long way home. A round headlight stopped you in your tracks, though.

You squinted through the beam and smiled, noticing a tall, hooded figure resting against the bike that beam came from, with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Had to try your best not to ogle at how good he looked. As much as motorcycles freaked you out, you couldn’t deny the appeal of seeing Sebastian leaning so coolly against his own.

As you approached, he turned to you, nodding his head once in greeting. “Hey,” he offered before turning for a moment to breathe out some smoke.

“What’s up?”

“I was just about to head out.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing back his hood in the process.

“Oh, cool,” you nodded, sparing a glance south towards the town. He probably wants me to leave, then. “I won’t keep y—“ you stopped yourself at the sight of a goofy and mischievous — albeit very handsome — grin staring down at you when you faced him again.

A nervous laugh slipped its way past your lips while you looked around at the scenery once more to distract yourself. Hopefully your cheeks didn’t look as warm as they felt…

Through some residual giggles, you asked, “What’s with the face?”

He flashed you a toothier smile. “Wanna come with?”

You took a deep breath in. On one hand, a night out with your crush sounded amazing. On the other…

You puffed your cheeks, still holding your breath while you stared down Sebastian’s vehicle.

Finally letting that air escape your lungs, you hesitantly responded with a question of your own. “You… you mentioned a while back that you'd keep me safe if I ever rode with you, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course.”

“You promise you will?”

“I’ll do ya one better.” He held out a pinky, his face softening as he wiggled it at you.

You could’ve sworn your heart melted a little when you linked your little finger through his. The two of you remained comfortably intertwined for a few beats while you decided what to do.

You knew you’d be wondering about what you were missing out on all night if you didn’t go with him… well, wherever he was going.

Fuck it.

With a sigh, you nodded. “Alright, yeah.” The words came out airy, your nerves putting themselves on full display.

Sebastian’s grin grew wide and genuine while he snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray he kept near the garage door.

“Sick.” He nodded towards the bike, “You get on first. I’ve gotta grab a few things.”

Nodding at the instructions he gave you, you padded over to the motorcycle, inspecting it a little before straddling the seat.

Your heart raced thinking of what was to come. You trusted Sebastian, of course, but you didn’t trust other drivers on the road. Weren’t sure how you felt about being a passenger without a roof or doors to shield you, either.

Your friend came back with two helmets in hand — one very clearly old and worn, and the other sleek and new, as if recently polished. He handed you the fancier one.

There was a noticeable shake to your hands while you took the protective gear from him.

“Hm…” he hummed at that observation, his mouth crooked. “Scoot forward. I wanna try something.”

With the helmet in your lap and your view plastered to the instrument panel, you did just that. Then, you stiffened as you felt Sebastian climb on behind you, reaching around your frame to hold the handlebars.

He hummed pensively again, his baritone reverberating through your back and sending a shiver down your spine, before nodding. “I can work with this.”

“Is this even legal?” you asked, looking behind yourself and up at him.

Yoba above you’ve never been this close to him. As if your anxiety regarding the motorcycle wasn’t enough stress on your poor heart…

He shrugged and looked down at you, grinning. “Probably not.” His breath was minty and smokey as it brushed your face. He winked as he tacked on, “That’s what the backroads are for.” The small gesture had your stomach doing flips.

You nodded, still unsure, but again trusting his judgment; and after putting his own helmet on, he put a large hand on your shoulder and leaned down, getting close to your ear.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll take it slow, yeah?”

Too nervous to look at his eyes this closely through the polycarbonate between you, you kept your view on his knee, nodding.

After a pat where his hand was, he reached around you and grabbed the other helmet, plopping it down over your head. The action made you laugh. Definitely helped to lighten the mood.

“Alright, a few things,” he went on while you adjusted the headgear, pointing towards some metal bars near the front wheels of the vehicle. “You see those crash bars there?”

“Yup.”

“Keep your feet on ‘em. Any dangling when we’re in motion could get dangerous.” Next, while you heeded his words, Sebastian brought both hands around you and grasped the handlebars near where they met. “If you need to grab anything, which you should if you want to really feel secure, hold onto this. Any higher,” he slid his hands towards the grips, “and you could mess with my steering.” You could hear a sly smile in his voice as he suggested, “Unless you wanna steer—“

You cut him off, your own tone amused. “No way in hell.”

He barked out a quick laugh. “Whatever you say. Now, one more thing.”

“Hm?”

“Let me know if you feel too spooked at any point and I’ll pull over, or we can just turn back, or whatever.”

Your anxiety had already been washing away, but that suggestion solidified how safe he really made you feel.

You breathed deeply.

He really would keep you safe.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you nodded. “I trust you, though. I think I’ll be okay.”

Braving the closeness, you turned your head towards his again. He was looking down at you already, so your helmets bumped in the middle, leaving both of you chuckling as a result.

“Thanks, Seb.”

“What for?”

You shrugged. “For looking out for me, I guess, I dunno.” You could see his eyes grin through the lens of his helmet before he headbutted your own with it. You stifled a giggle.

“No problem, ya sap.” He started up the bike before looking down at you again. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Let’s do this.”

#PSA this is right before the 10 heart event but y'all aren't dating yet!!#sebastian x reader #sebastian stardew #sebastian x farmer #gender neutral reader #no use of y/n #sebastian x mc #sebastian x gn reader #fluff #comfort #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley fanfiction #sdv sebastian #sebastian stardew valley #sebastian sdv #sdv fanfic #sdv fanfiction #smoking

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struggling-with-drivers · 1 year ago

Text

No Red Flags - Oscar Piastri

⋗ Pairing - Oscar Piastri x Mechanical Engineering Student!reader

⋗ Summary - Oscar comes crashes back into your life, quite literally when he barrels you down on the paddock, bringing with him all types of unwanted feelings and a whole slew of problems.

⋗ Word count - 11.2k words, fluff, Oscar being emotionally unavailable

⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, I hope y'all don't mind this long fic, this was a reminder to myself that I hate type-setting texting, feedback and reblogs are appreciated

Oscar has never been the type to keep a girl for long, a mix of not having the time, and focusing all his efforts on karting, which has finally turned fruitful and given him a contract in F1.

A series of events has led him to exchange the girl on his arm just twice this year, one for another. His feelings just seemed to change, he tells you.

And you? You aren't much better, never able to hold onto a relationship, never falling fast, but always falling hard. The havoc the last guy left you in is still fresh in your mind, even if the guy isn't.

You're doing your internship at McLaren for their mechanical engineering department, and Oscar is in and out of the factory constantly to get ready for his debut next year. There aren't a lot of people around your age in the department, most are a lot more than a few years older. You would be as well if you managed to get a job when you're done with your master's. But that is years into the future, and you’re still writing your bachelor's.

It leaves Oscar to gravitate towards you, still not used to all the people constantly trying to get him to do this, do that, stand here, stand there. You're asking none of those things of him, mostly because you're stressed out of your mind with the looming deadline, and that you know you're behind on your bachelor.

But you get talking, a few words at first, which turns to exchanging weekend stories, turns to deep conversations when you're the only ones left in the department that one Tuesday afternoon. And you show him what you've been working on for your bachelor.

Oscar is intrigued, seemingly asking the right questions, admitting he would probably have been an engineer if he hadn't become a driver.

You mention offhand that you don't want to go home because you have to eat leftovers again, and Oscar pipes up with "I like food."

"What?"

"I like food, I can eat the last of your leftovers."

The already long Tuesday turns longer as you find yourself heating pasta and tomato sauce for this guy. Both are things that are definitely not on his dietary plan, but you're not complaining. Just happy to finally be rid of the last of your leftovers from the week before.

Oscar starts to talk about himself and tells you he used to go to boarding school, and you slowly realise you have quite a few things in common as the evening progresses. You tell him about your own short stint at a boarding school while your parents lived abroad. When the topic comes to past partners, Oscar tells you of how he kind of met his current girlfriend while being with his past one, how that was a dick move that he broke up with her 2 weeks after telling his ex that he was up for the long distance.

You tell him of the guy that fucked you up, how he had promised the world, only to go ahead and break your heart, and like a fool, you had taken him back when he apologised, only for him to go ahead and cheat on you, not just 1, not 2, but 3 times within the summer months. How he had wrecked your self-esteem, as he hadn't left quietly but wanted to tear you down as he left your world.

Then you sober up a bit and ask Oscar "Does your girlfriend know that you're here?"

Oscar shrugs, and goes "She doesn't have to if you don't tell her." The air shifts and it all feels wrong. He is sitting too close. You’re feeling nervous. A look of worry flashes on his face. You tell him he should get going.

“It's getting late, and I have work early in the morning.”

Oscar doesn't understand why you're kicking him out, and why you've suddenly closed yourself back up.

Once you've practically shoved him out of the door, you realise that you've fucked up. That was not what was meant to happen. That was not how you needed the last few weeks of your internship to be used.

But here you are, with Oscar in your vicinity at work, and he’s not understanding why you're so curt with him, why you aren't having the same kind of conversations with him anymore. And then one day you're gone, and he's told that your internship is over.

You become a passing thought in his head, and he becomes a distant memory in yours, something that happened during your internship.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

2 years later, you’re in the beginning stages of your master's degree. Oscar has had an amazing first year driving for McLaren and is still living his best life, although his relationships only seem to become even more short-lived than the last one. His current girl won't stick around for long, he knows this, it doesn't take an intellect to see that she's here for the travels and followers she gets on Instagram, and Oscar doesn't really care.

But then he sees you in Silverstone, at least he thinks he does. He tries to unsubtly turn around and walk past the Mercedes garage again. Instead, he ends up turning around and just staring straight into the group of students who are talking to the engineers. And sure enough, right by the group of guys you stick out.

"Oscar, what are you doing?" The PR manager asks, "We have places to be."

"Uh, yes, coming." Oscar turns away and catches back up.

"If you're going to steal secrets, don't do it so obviously,” his PR manager jokes, before rambling on about all the interviews he has to do after free practice today.

Oscar doesn't get why he can't get the image of you out of his head. He had honestly forgotten about you, but here you are, wearing Mercedes clothes, and for some reason, it unnerves him. You had always worn your own clothes or something with McLaren branding back 2 years ago. But now you're sporting an ever-usual ponytail and Mercedes clothes.

You stroll past the McLaren garage, hopeful to spot familiar faces from your internship. Instead, you find yourself halting, taking a moment to point out details on the car that you saw being worked on to your classmate – a reminiscent gesture from your internship at the McLaren factory. Unintentionally, your eyes briefly catch Oscar's. Witnessing a moment of hesitation, he pauses his conversation with Lando Norris, the first seater at McLaren. Choosing to move forward, you leave the scene as Patrick wants to see the Red Bull team before the qualifier kicks off.

Instead, Oscar comes barrelling out of the garage, yelling your name after you, causing you to flinch and stop. You turn around slowly, fully aware of the hundreds of eyes that have turned onto you.

"Hey." Oscar breathes out, his lips gracing a small smile.

"Hi?" You question back before your classmate sticks his hand out.

"Hello! I'm Patrick," your classmate says, waiting for Oscar to take his hand, and a few seconds too long passes before Oscar does.

"I'm Oscar, the driver for McLaren."

Patrick smiles wide, "I know! Can I take a picture with you? I'm sorry, I've just been a massive fan the last few years, tried to get in to write my master's degree but there weren't any slots open for our year and-"

"Yeah, sure." Oscar cuts him off, with a nod and a pr practised smile. Patrick fishes out his phone and quickly makes you snap a picture of the two.

"Thank you so much!" Your last lifeline, says as he's hurrying down the paddock ready to brag that he got a picture with Oscar Piastri.

"I thought you were a McLaren fan at heart." He tries to joke, as you shrug your shoulders.

"You heard him, there weren't any spots for our year, and I was lucky to get a foot in the door at Mercedes. I wasn't going to turn that down,” you tell him, looking around awkwardly, fully aware of how it looks to have what looks like a Mercedes engineer talking to the McLaren driver.

"You could have asked me?" The two of you aren't sure who's the most surprised by those words. Oscar for saying them, or you for hearing them.

"What?"

"I mean, you could have, eh, asked me?" Oscar realises how it sounds as he tries to defend his previous question. How could you even do that? You two never exchanged info, you were only friendly at work, and then you just stopped talking to each other.

"I will... I will keep that in mind?" You say although it comes out as another question, the surrounding air is turning awkward, and you know you should probably leave. "I will see you around. I just have things to do, and you know, Mercedes... Yes." You make a weird hand gesture before hurrying off down the paddock.

Oscar waves after you awkwardly, before stopping himself, realising that you aren't turning around to look at him.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The next time you see Oscar, it’s a lot less you see him, and much more you barely hear him calling out your name before he rams straight into you, sending both of you tumbling to the asphalt of the paddock.

“I’m so sorry!” Oscar is quick to apologise, as you’re trying to untangle yourself from the surprise attack. “Hello to you too.” You run a hand over your left elbow, you’ve scraped it. Oscar finally gets up on his feet, staring at you as you sit on the ground. “If I get blood on my shirt, I’m definitely sending you the invoice.”

You crack a small smile at his dumbfounded look, nodding to his hand before he reaches forward and you grab it. You let him help you up.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to catch you before you were gone,” Oscar repeats himself. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to get the chance to give you my number.” He hands over a piece of paper. Chicken scratches in a surprisingly neat row, spelling out what you can barely decipher as a phone number.

“Thank you… Oscar?”

He smiles for a moment before the silence falls and his face seems to as well. He’s openly searching for a response, and you aren’t sure what it is. Apparently, thanking him wasn’t what he was hoping for.

You bite your tongue, before sighing. “You shouldn’t hand out your number to other girls when you’re in a relationship.”

Oscar blinks at you, “I’m not?”

“Then what about her?” You nod at the girl standing by the garage, wearing a hoodie with Oscar’s number on it. She’s looking more and more uncomfortable by the second as Oscar turns around and looks at her.

“Oh that… Yeah.” Oscar shrugs. It sends a shiver down your spine, his dismissal tone mixed with his indifferent facial expression. All of it screaming to you, he’s a walking red flag. Don’t do this to yourself.

You take a step back, your scraped elbow forgotten in the sudden surge of discomfort.

"Yeah," you manage to mumble, not wanting to linger any longer in this awkward exchange. You glance at the girl by the garage, whose eyes briefly meet yours before she looks away. It's clear she's caught in the middle of something she probably didn't sign up for.

"I... I thought..." Oscar stammers, seemingly at a loss for words.

You shake your head, deciding it is best not to delve into the intricacies of his personal life. "It doesn't matter. I have to go," you say, tucking the paper with his number into your pocket, the weight of it feeling surprisingly heavy.

As you walk away, you can't help but replay the brief encounter in your mind. It's a strange mix of nostalgia, irritation, and a newfound realisation that some things never really change. Oscar seems to be stuck in the same patterns, and you don't want to be a part of that cycle.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Days pass, and you find yourself torn between dialling the number and simply discarding it. The rational part of your mind screams at you to let it go, but there's a small, persistent voice that wonders if people can truly change. Another one telling you that you won’t be part of whatever cycle he’s going through if you just keep him at arm's length.

Eventually, curiosity gets the better of you, and you type in his number. Chuckling to yourself at his contact name, before you decide to send a brief text.

You: Hey finally deciphered your chicken scratches how have you been?

The response is almost immediate.

Os🚗: Hey! I've been good. Any invoices I need to pay? You: Invoices? Os🚗: Yeah, for your team shirt, I know the first few ones are special. You: Ah no got it out with cold water and soap You: Thanks for that btw

You wait a minute before sending another text.

You: My elbow is all healed up as well Os🚗: Good to hear 👍 You: You text like my dad Os🚗: 👎 You: Skill issue

You laugh to yourself, before realising half your lecture is now looking at you. It pulls you right back to reality. You only texted him because it seemed slightly more fun than listening to a guest lecture on spring physics.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The days pass, and your interactions with Oscar continue sporadically through text. The initial awkwardness fades, replaced by a casual banter that surprises you. It's almost as if the past is being overwritten by a new script, one in which you're just two acquaintances catching up.

Yet, in the back of your mind, the warning signs still linger. The memory of that awkward encounter with the girl by the garage and Oscar's dismissive attitude towards her. Then add on all those years ago in your apartment where he told you to keep quiet, it all sits as a constant reminder. You find yourself treading carefully, keeping the conversations light and steering clear of anything that could lead to future problems.

As you're scrolling through your phone during a break, TikTok seems to think you’ve found a sudden interest in the edits of Oscar. A notification pops up. It's a message from the man of the hour.

Os🚗: Hey, I have a weekend off, and Lando has me coming to the UK. Do you have time to meet for some time?

You hesitate, considering the invitation. A part of you is curious about how a casual meeting would unfold, but another part is wary. Oscar has been very clear in every single one of your interactions that he wants to get closer to you, in a way that’s intruding on all your thoughts, will only bring you trouble, unwanted complications, and unneeded problems. You know he will try to mask any advantages with the simple gesture of just wanting to be friends.

But friends don’t look at each other the way Oscar looks at you, and it’s weird, you don’t want to find out why he does look at you like that.

You: Thanks for the offer but I've got plans this weekend. Maybe some other time

Oscar's response is swift.

Os🚗: No problem. Just let me know when you're free.

When you’re free? You really shouldn’t, you absolutely shouldn’t be considering it.

As the days pass, you find yourself contemplating the situation. The cautious voice in your head warns against getting too involved, while the curious side wonders if people truly can change. It's a delicate balance, and you're not sure which way to lean.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The allure of a face-to-face meeting lingers, but so does the memory of that uncomfortable encounter at the paddock. Oscar keeps pestering you through texts as the months pass, you’re making up excuses as you go, yet your reasoning keeps running thinner until you’re left with nothing to justify your rejections.

You're sipping coffee and reviewing some notes, as your phone buzzes with a call from Oscar. Why would he be calling you, he never calls, he only ever texts in that dad-type of way. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you answer.

"Hey, it's Oscar."

A small laugh slips past your lips, "Yeah, I know, caller ID was invented half a century ago."

"McLaren has me in London, well, south of it, and I was thinking we could grab a coffee or something. Face-to-face, you know?"

“Oscar… Why are you so insistent?” The question blurts out of you before you seem to realise you actually said it out loud.

“Because we’re friends?” It’s meant to sound like an answer, but to you, it sounds like he’s inquiring about the most obvious thing in the world. And for a moment you feel like an asshole.

A small moment of weakness shows in the way you say, “I don’t have the time to come to London, but if you find yourself in Brackley on Thursday.”

You never mention a time or a place, yet he agrees so easily, and you wonder if you’re going to regret this.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Thursday arrives, and you’re nervously glancing at the clock as the appointed time approaches. Your work at Mercedes keeps you occupied, but there's a subtle anticipation building in the background. The decision to meet Oscar has left you in a state of conflicting emotions, and you're not entirely sure what to expect.

As the clock strikes the start of your lunch break, you're surprised to see Oscar approaching the entrance of the Mercedes facility. His casual demeanour contrasts with the high-security surroundings, but he seems unfazed. You meet him at the entrance, exchanging a brief nod.

"Hey," he greets you with a warm smile.

"Hey," you reply, feeling a mix of uncertainty and curiosity.

Oscar suggests grabbing a coffee from a nearby café, and you agree yet again. The conversation flows more smoothly than you anticipated. It's easy and casual, and you're reminded of the times when you first met at McLaren. The awkwardness seems to have dissipated, replaced by a shared understanding of each other's worlds.

As you discuss work, life, and everything in between, you notice a genuine interest in Oscar's eyes. It's a stark contrast to the distant look he had during your internship. Maybe people can change, you think, or at least, they can show different sides of themselves.

As the coffee date comes to an end, you both stand outside the café. There's a moment of silence, and you can sense a question lingering in the air.

"Look," Oscar starts, "I know things got weird back then, and I probably should've been more upfront. I just want you to know that I genuinely enjoyed our conversations, and I'd like to keep talking, don’t… run away again, please."

You appreciate his honesty, and for a moment, you contemplate sharing your reservations. But you decide against it, choosing instead to take things one step at a time.

"I appreciate that, Oscar," you reply, offering a small smile. "But let's just see where things go."

The two of you part ways, and you can't deny the subtle warmth that lingers. Maybe, just maybe, this time around will be different. As you return to your work at Mercedes, you can't help but wonder how the next chapter of your story with Oscar will unfold.

That voice in the back of your head is screaming that Oscar is going to cause you problems, yet you can’t help but feel a bit giddy. And as much as you know you should agree, you find yourself ignoring it.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

You're not quite sure how Oscar ended up in your apartment once again, however, you can not find it in yourself to complain. Nor do you want him to leave. The smile that rests on his lips has your heart fluttering, despite your mind knowing Oscar is nothing but trouble.

The soft hum of a familiar tune plays in the background as you move around your kitchen, gathering ingredients for a simple pasta dish. Oscar sits at the small dining table, watching with genuine interest as you go about your culinary routine.

"Do you cook often?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder. "Well, I try. It's therapeutic, you know? I want to say it's cheaper, but we both know in this economy nothing is cheap."

Oscar smiles, appreciating the casual atmosphere that envelops your apartment. The aroma of garlic and tomatoes begins to fill the air as you start chopping vegetables.

"Need any help?" he offers, standing up and joining you at the counter.

You hand him a knife and a bell pepper. "How about you tackle this? Just chop it into small pieces."

Oscar nods, mimicking your chopping technique. The rhythmic sound of knives against cutting boards fills the kitchen, creating a comforting melody. As you work side by side, a gentle ease settles between you.

"So," Oscar begins, breaking the silence, "what's the secret ingredient in this pasta?"

You wink playfully. "That's a trade secret. But I'll give you a hint – it starts with 'herbs.'"

He laughs, and the genuine warmth in the sound makes your heart flutter. As the vegetables sizzle in the pan, you find yourself caught in the simplicity of the moment. The soft glow of the kitchen lights, the shared laughter, and the anticipation of a homemade meal create a cocoon of tranquillity.

Once the pasta is perfectly al dente, you drain it and add it to the simmering sauce. Oscar takes a step closer, his eyes fixed on the creation taking shape before him.

"Looks delicious," he remarks.

You grin, handing him a fork. "The real test is in the taste."

Together, you sit at the table, savouring each bite of the pasta. The flavours dance on your taste buds, and you can't help but appreciate the quiet joy of sharing a meal you have prepared together.

The dinner table is adorned with the remnants of the delicious pasta, and the two of you sit comfortably, basking in the warmth of shared food and easy conversation. The soft glow of the kitchen lights casts a cosy ambience.

Oscar looks at you, a gentle smile on his face. "This is really good, you know. You've got some serious cooking skills. It's even better than last time when I got to eat your leftovers."

You return the smile, appreciating the compliment. "Thanks, Oscar. I'm glad you like it."

There's a brief pause, and Oscar's expression becomes more contemplative. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you reply, taking a sip of your drink.

Oscar hesitates for a moment before speaking. "I've noticed that things have been a bit... different between us. You seem to be, I don't know, running away or avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?"

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "It's not that you did something wrong, Oscar. It's just that... it feels like you're set on making things complicated for me."

His brow furrows in confusion. "Complicated? What do you mean?"

You chuckle, a hint of irony in your tone. "Oscar, you're a walking enigma. You come into my life, seemingly wanting to be friends, and then there's this underlying tension, this feeling that you're here to stir up trouble."

He looks genuinely perplexed. "Trouble? I don't want to cause trouble for you. I just want to get to know you better."

You meet his gaze, sincerity in your eyes. "I appreciate that, but there are moments when it feels like you're intentionally making things challenging. Like you enjoy the chaos."

Oscar leans back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I genuinely don't want to complicate things for you. If there's something I'm doing that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know."

You sigh, realising the complexity of the situation. "Let's not dwell on it too much. It's just a feeling I get sometimes."

He seems about to press further, but you change the topic with a light laugh. "Anyway, did I tell you about the time I accidentally set off the fire alarm at University? We were trying to test out this new engine, but it caught on fire. Disaster in the garage, trust me."

Oscar chuckles along, as you make a point to ignore the way he's staring at you. You can feel his eyes searching for your face for something you won't give to him. Instead, deep inside of you, you realise that little voice in your head has been quiet the entire time Oscar has been in your apartment.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

You’re neglecting your book about fluid physics as you and Oscar are talking over Facetime. The idea of going clubbing has just been tossed into the conversation, and Oscar, ever the persuader, leans closer to the camera with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Come on," he says, a charming smile playing on his lips. "Even university students need a break, you know? It's all about finding the right balance between work and play."

You raise an eyebrow, sceptical but intrigued. "Balance, huh? I do have assignments due next week."

Oscar chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "And that's precisely why you should take a break. Trust me, a night of dancing and fun is the perfect way to recharge those academic batteries. Besides, Lando and I have been planning this for ages, and it wouldn't be the same without you."

He glances towards something out of the camera's lens, you aren't sure what, yet you can sense the anticipation in his demeanour.

"I'm not sure," you admit, considering the proposition.

Oscar leans in again, adopting a more serious tone. "Look, I get it. University life can be hectic, but you deserve to have some fun too. It's not just about the grades and deadlines; it's about creating memories and enjoying the journey. Tonight, let's forget about responsibilities and just live in the moment."

His words resonate with a certain truth, and you find yourself swaying toward the idea. Still, a hint of hesitation lingers.

"I promise it won't be an all-night affair," Oscar reassures, sensing your wavering resolve. "Just a couple of hours of music, laughter, and good company. You won't regret it."

You weigh the options, glancing between Oscar's earnest expression and your open book about fluid physics. A sigh escapes you, accompanied by a smile. "Alright, fine. But just for a couple of hours."

Oscar's face lights up with triumph, and he gives you a playful wink. "That's the spirit! Trust me; you won't regret this."

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the club as you, Oscar, and Lando immerse yourselves in the vibrant atmosphere. The dance floor is a sea of moving bodies, and the colourful lights create a kaleidoscope of patterns.

Lando, with his infectious energy, is already lost in the rhythm, leaving you and Oscar to navigate the crowded space. The bass thumps in your chest, and you sway to the music, caught up in the electrifying ambience.

Oscar, with his hand on the small of your back, guides you through the sea of dancers. The touch is subtle, but the warmth of his palm sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but notice how close he is, the proximity making your senses come alive.

As the music intensifies, Oscar pulls you into a spontaneous twirl. The movement is fluid, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. The chemistry between you two on the dance floor is undeniable, a magnetic pull that defies logic.

You catch a glimpse of Lando, who's thoroughly enjoying the night, his carefree spirit infectious. But your attention keeps drifting back to Oscar – the way his body moves in sync with yours, the fleeting touches that send sparks, and the undeniable connection that lingers in the air.

Amid the chaos, you try to remind yourself of the reality. Oscar has a girlfriend, and this moment on the dance floor should be nothing more than a carefree escapade. Still, the pull between you two is undeniable, and your mind can't help but wander to places it shouldn't.

The bass drops, the lights flash, and the intensity of the music amplifies. Oscar's hands find their way to your hips, the touch sending a surge of electricity through your veins. It's intoxicating, and for a fleeting second, you forget the boundaries that should exist.

As the night unfolds, the three of you lose track of time on the dance floor. The chemistry between you and Oscar continues to spark, creating a tension that hangs in the air. Each touch, each movement, is a delicate dance on the fine line between desire and restraint.

Finally, as the music winds down, you catch your breath, the thumping beat still echoing in your ears. Lando grins, thoroughly pleased with the night's festivities, while Oscar's gaze lingers, a silent acknowledgement of the shared energy on the dance floor.

You step away, the cool air outside the club hitting you, offering a momentary respite from the heated atmosphere within. As you take a deep breath, you can't shake off the lingering sensations – Oscar's touch, the rhythmic dance, and the unspoken tension that hangs in the air.

You remind yourself once more, that you're just friends. You're just friends. You're just friends. You repeat this as your mantra.

You are not a homewrecker.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

You're engrossed in your studies at the university library, and your defence of your master's degree is around the corner. You need every moment you can get to study your thesis when a voice interrupts your concentration.

"Hey there."

You glance up, and to your utter surprise, there's Oscar standing right beside your table, a grin on his face.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, a mixture of shock and concern in your voice.

"Thought I'd surprise you," he replies casually.

You cast a wary glance around, acutely aware of the studious atmosphere in the library. "Oscar, you can't just show up here. People will talk."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Let them talk. What's the big deal?"

You lower your voice, trying to convey the gravity of the situation. "The big deal is that you're dating someone else, and it's not a great look for either of us if you're seen here."

He glances around, noticing a few curious stares. "Come on, it's not a big deal. Let's grab some coffee or something."

Despite your protests, Oscar leads you out of the library, and you can't shake off the feeling of eyes following the two of you. As you walk through the campus, people start recognising Oscar, and the camera shutters start clicking.

"Oscar, seriously. This is a bad idea," you insist, glancing nervously at the onlookers.

He brushes off your concerns. "Relax, it's just a few pictures. No one will care."

But you know better. You can already feel the whispers and stares, and you're caught in the uncomfortable spotlight of a situation you never signed up for. As you enter a nearby café, the buzzing of conversations seems to rise.

"This is not how I imagined spending my afternoon," you mutter, frustration evident in your voice.

Oscar, however, seems unfazed, ordering coffee as if everything is perfectly normal. "It's just people taking photos. It'll blow over."

You glance at the coffee cup he hands you, the whole situation feeling surreal. "Oscar, you're dating someone else. This is not fair to anyone involved."

He chuckles, dismissing your concern. "Let them speculate. It's not like we're doing anything wrong."

Despite his nonchalance, you can't shake off the unease settling in your stomach. As the two of you sit in the café, surrounded by curious glances, you realise that Oscar's surprise visit has turned into a spectacle – one that you would have preferred to avoid.

"Oscar, be honest. Why are you here?" you ask, watching his facade of nonchalance crumble.

"I missed your cooking?" he tries, but the way he winces completely gives away any chance that the lie might have worked.

"You're supposed to be, like, in the US," you say, your gaze making him squirm in his seat.

"Brazil, actually," he corrects, avoiding eye contact and glancing around at the spectacle he has unwittingly created. Phones around the two of you are noticeably pointing in your direction. "Maybe we should leave?"

"Oscar–"

He grabs your hand, tugging you along with him. Your coffee, still hot and now abandoned, sits on the table inside the store. As he leads you away from the prying eyes, you can feel a mixture of frustration and confusion bubbling inside you.

"Where are we going?" you ask, trying to keep pace with his hurried steps.

"Anywhere away from here. Let's find someplace quiet," he suggests the urgency in his voice betraying the fact that he recognises the magnitude of his misstep.

The two of you navigate through the campus, Oscar leading the way with a determination that seems at odds with the careless attitude he had displayed earlier. As you distance yourselves from the buzzing crowd, he finally slows down.

"I didn't think it would be this... chaotic," he admits a touch of regret in his voice.

"You didn't think? Oscar, you're dating someone else. This isn't just about me. What were you expecting?" you say, frustration lacing your words.

He looks genuinely remorseful. "I just wanted to surprise you. I didn't realise it would turn into this."

"Well, surprises come with consequences, especially when you're in the public eye," you reply, your tone firm.

Oscar sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I messed up, and I'm sorry."

You stop walking, forcing him to face you. "This isn't just about today. It's about everything, Oscar. You're dating someone, yet you keep showing up, making it complicated."

He looks down, seemingly at a loss for words. After a moment, he meets your gaze. "I don't know what to say."

You take a step back, disentangling your hand from his. "Maybe it's time to figure that out. For both of our sakes."

The weight of the situation hangs in the air, and you realise that this unexpected encounter has unravelled more than just a quiet afternoon. As Oscar searches for words, you can't help but wonder how he thought this could have ever been a good idea.

“Why can't you let me be your friend?” He asks. Oscar has the audacity to ask that? As though he didn't fly across the world to surprise you on a race week.

“Because friends don't act like this, and I don't want to be a home wrecker.” You tell him, frustration bubbling in your blood as he seems to keep missing the point.

Oscar looks at you, a mix of confusion and perhaps realisation in his eyes. "Home wrecker? We're just friends hanging out."

You can't help but scoff at his apparent obliviousness. "Friends don't cause scenes, Oscar. Friends don't make grand gestures across continents when they're in a committed relationship."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. "I just wanted to see you. What's the harm in that?"

"The harm, Oscar, is that you're not being fair to anyone involved. Not to me, not to your girlfriend," you reply, your voice carrying the weight of your exasperation.

He looks at you, a hint of defiance in his eyes. "She doesn't have to know every little thing. We can just enjoy our time together."

You shake your head, feeling the need to make him understand. "It's not about keeping secrets. It's about respecting boundaries, about being honest with yourself and the people around you. I can't be a part of something that feels like it's headed for disaster."

He seems to be grappling with your words, his expression shifting between frustration and a realisation that maybe this situation isn't as casual as he thought.

“I didn't mean to complicate things,” he finally admits, a rare vulnerability in his voice.

You take a deep breath, the frustration in your blood now replaced with a sombre resolve. "Oscar, sort things out on your end. I need to focus on my studies and my life. I can't keep navigating this uncertainty."

He nods, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I didn't mean to make things complicated… For you."

“You keep saying that, and then… You– you do things like this.” You take a deep breath, “I'm going home, I have things to study, and you have somewhere to be across the– god, Oscar… You're supposed to be halfway across the world.”

You tighten the grab on your bag as you watch his eyes flicker over your face, before turning and walking away. Leaving him standing there.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The world is cruel, horrifically cruel in fact. Your nerves are all over as you wait outside the set of doors that's going to decide the fate of your master's degree. You're about to go defend your thesis when your phone flashes with the words.

Os🚗 is calling…

You're quick to swipe it, the last thing you need is to talk to Oscar after 2 months of silence. Especially not right now, not before you're going to defend your thesis.

Os🚗 is calling…

Flashes once more, you glance up at the clock. 15 minutes before it's your turn.

You deny the call.

Os🚗 is calling…

Fuck.

“What?” You hiss into the phone.

“I broke up with my girlfriend.” His voice is slightly chipper, as though the news is supposed to make you rejoice with glee.

“Good for you? Oscar, I don't know what to say, what do you want me to say? I don't have time for this!” You're stressed, the clock reads 14 minutes till your defence. You're pacing the floor, unable to stand still, your nerves are eating you from the inside out. You wish this could all just be over with, you need it to pass you by in an instant.

Oscar's voice on the other end remains unnervingly nonchalant, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions stirring within you. "I thought you should know. You know, in case you cared."

"Oscar, this is not the time," you snap, the urgency of the ticking clock amplifying your frustration. "I have my master's thesis defence in a few minutes, and I can't deal with this right now."

There's a brief pause on the line before Oscar continues, seemingly undeterred. "I just thought you should know since, you know, we're friends and all."

The word "friends" echoes in your ears, a reminder of the blurred lines that have caused so much turmoil in the past. You take a deep breath, attempting to centre yourself amidst the storm of conflicting emotions.

"Oscar, please. I appreciate you letting me know, but I can't handle this distraction right now. I need to focus on my defence," you plead, trying to convey the urgency of the situation.

"Right, right," Oscar says, the realisation in his tone belated. "Good luck with your defence. I'll, uh, talk to you later?"

You nod, even though he can't see it. "Later, Oscar."

As you end the call, you glance at the clock – 12 minutes left. The weight of impending judgment looms over you, but you shake off the distraction, determined to face the panel and defend your thesis with the focus it deserves. The world may be cruel, but you're not about to let it derail the culmination of your hard work and dedication.

The defence room is a blur of questions, explanations, and nods of approval. Somehow, you manage to navigate the academic minefield, answering each query with a precision that surprises even yourself. As the last question concludes, the panel members exchange satisfied glances, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. The defence is over, and you've held your ground.

Exiting the room, you're greeted by the smiles of your family, the relief in their eyes mirroring your own. You share a moment of celebration, the culmination of years of hard work and determination. The weight on your shoulders begins to lift, replaced by the joy of accomplishment.

Just as you're about to immerse yourself in the warmth of your family's congratulations, a familiar voice cuts through the air. "Congratulations!"

You turn, and there he is – Oscar, standing in the corridor, an awkward smile on his face. The shock of seeing him here, especially after the phone call just an hour ago, momentarily freezes your elation.

"Oscar, what are you doing here?" you ask, a mix of surprise and confusion in your voice.

He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous gesture. "I wanted to congratulate you. I mean, you just defended your thesis, right? That's a big deal."

Your family exchanges curious glances, and you can feel their unspoken questions. You take a deep breath, deciding to focus on the achievement at hand. "Thank you, Oscar. I appreciate that. But I'm with my family right now, and we're celebrating. Maybe we can catch up later."

His smile falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "Of course. I just wanted to say congrats. I'll see you around, then."

As Oscar walks away, you turn back to your family, their expressions a mix of understanding and concern. The elation from your successful defence is now tempered by the unexpected encounter with Oscar. You push the lingering questions to the back of your mind, choosing to savour the joy of the moment with those who have been with you through thick and thin.

Your dinner out with your family is nice, but your mind is solely on Oscar. You didn't know he was in town, not that you wanted to know when he was. A headache works its way through your head, as you put on a smile and cheer with your parents and siblings. Brushing off questions about the cute guy who came to congratulate you, forcing you to call him a friend. That stupid word still doesn't sit right in your mouth, it never does when it comes to Oscar.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

You find yourself unable to think about anything but yesterday, your phone is in your hand as Oscar’s contact is pulled up. Why did he call you about breaking up with his girlfriend? Why did he then show up? What did he expect you to do? To say? To… You’re frustrated, pacing the floor once again, as you can’t figure out whether or not you should call him. Instead, the universe seems to decide for you, as his contact flashes on your phone, mirroring yesterday.

Os🚗 is calling…

You stare at the screen, contemplating whether to answer or not. The events of the past 24 hours have left you emotionally drained, and you're not sure if you have the energy to navigate through another conversation with Oscar. However, a part of you, perhaps against your better judgement, decides to answer.

"What now, Oscar?" you answer, your tone a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

"Hey," his voice sounds through the phone, and you can almost picture the casual smile he might be wearing.

"What do you want?" you ask bluntly, not in the mood for small talk.

"I just wanted to check in. You know, after your defence and all," he replies, feigning innocence.

"Save it, Oscar. I don't need your checking in," you snap, the irritation is evident in your voice. "What happened yesterday was unnecessary. I was celebrating with my family, and you just had to insert yourself into the moment."

There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line before he speaks, his voice carrying a sincerity that catches you off guard. "I genuinely wanted to congratulate you. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"Well, you did," you retort, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment. "And I don't need your congratulations. I need you to respect my boundaries."

Another pause follows, and when Oscar finally speaks, his tone is more subdued. "I get it. I messed up. I'm sorry."

Sorry. It's a word you've heard from him before, and each time it feels less convincing. You take a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. "Oscar, I don't know what you expect from me, but we can't keep doing this."

"I know, I know," he says, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, a gesture you've come to associate with his moments of frustration. "I just... I thought we were friends, and I wanted to be there for you."

You let out a bitter laugh. "Friends? Oscar, friends don't complicate each other's lives like this. We've been through this before. I can't keep playing this game with you."

There's a heavy silence, and you wonder if he's even listening or if he's already moved on to the next distraction. Finally, he speaks, his voice softer. "Then let me be more…"

"Oscar, let me be clear," you assert, the frustration evident in your voice. "I need you to get your shit together. This constant back-and-forth, the unexpected appearances, it's not fair to anyone involved, especially not to me. Figure out what you want, sort out your own life, and maybe then we can talk about what 'more' means."

His silence hangs on the line, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts. This is a conversation long overdue, and the weight of the words you're about to say carries a gravity you can't ignore.

“But once you do…” You are already regretting the next words you are to speak. "I will not wait around for you, but... But I wouldn't be completely opposed to finding out whatever ‘more' means."

“Okay, okay I can do that.” Oscar sounds, not happy, but rather optimistic and hopeful. “Do you think you would want to… Maybe let me cook for once?”

“Yeah…” You breathe out, “I think I would like that.”

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The hum of machinery fills the air as you make your way through the bustling Mercedes factory, a stark contrast to the chaotic world you left behind. The engineering department is your sanctuary, a place where the precision of machines and the logic of design bring a sense of order to your life.

You sit at your desk, surrounded by schematics and blueprints, immersing yourself in the intricate details of your work. The rhythm of your routine is comforting, and you've come to appreciate the stability your job offers. As a mechanical engineer, your skills find their purpose in the assembly and improvement of high-performance engines, a far cry from the unpredictable whirlwind that was Oscar Piastri.

Today, a new intern, Gabbie, has joined the team, bringing with her a fresh enthusiasm that seems almost infectious. She approaches your desk, curiosity written all over her face.

"Hey there! I heard you're one of the seasoned engineers around here. Mind if I pick your brain a bit?" Gabbie asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

You offer a friendly smile, welcoming the chance for a break from the monotony. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

Gabbie hesitates for a moment before blurting out, "Oscar Piastri! Do you know him? The McLaren driver?"

Your eyes narrow slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected mention of Oscar in this professional setting. "Yeah, I know him. What about him?"

Gabbie grins, oblivious to any subtleties. "I heard he's a pretty cool guy. You know, being a Formula 1 driver and all. Any interesting stories or insights about him?"

You take a deep breath, contemplating how to navigate this conversation without delving into the complexities of your history with Oscar. "Well, he's certainly talented on the track. As for stories, you might want to focus on the engineering marvels we're creating here. That's where the real excitement is."

Gabbie seems undeterred, pushing for more details. "Come on, there must be something. What's he like in person? Is he as cool as he seems on TV?"

You lean back in your chair, trying to redirect the conversation. "Look, we're here to work on groundbreaking technology and push the limits of performance. If you want insights into the world of Formula 1, maybe you should visit a race or something. But around here, let's focus on the engineering challenges ahead of us."

Gabbie, slightly disappointed but still eager, nods and scurries off, likely in search of a more willing source of gossip. You return to your work, the hum of the factory providing a comforting backdrop.

As you refocus on your work, another colleague, Tom, strolls over, his friendly demeanour evident. He glances at Gabbie retreating in the distance and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"What was that all about?" Tom asks, nodding towards Gabbie's disappearing figure.

You can't help but smile, the memory of Oscar and the whirlwind of emotions he brings resurfacing. "Oh, she just wanted to know something about a friend of mine."

Tom chuckles, sensing there's more beneath the surface. "Friend, huh? Spill the details. You've got that mysterious smile on your face."

You shake your head, a playful glint in your eyes. "Nothing scandalous, just Oscar she's curious about. You know how people get star-struck."

“Ah, Piastri, right? I forgot you know him.” Tom laughs, "Well, since you mentioned that you're friends with an F1 driver, you've got to share some perks with the rest of us, right?"

“Shut up Tom,” you roll your eyes at him, as he wiggles his eyebrows. “What did you drop by for anyways?”

He waves his iPad in the air. “I got the analytical data back from the stress test, and I need you to go over it before this afternoon.”

Your thoughts of Oscars are washed away in an array of statistics and equations.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Despite not being on the best speaking terms with Oscar for the moment, you truly can’t seem to escape him. Twitter has become obsessed with a recent interview with Oscar. You try not to follow his life through the media, an attempt to respect him enough to let him tell you what he wants you to know about him. That said, sometimes the internet makes that an impossible feat.

In the interview clip circulating on Twitter, Oscar sits comfortably in the studio, a backdrop of sponsor logos and racing memorabilia behind him. The interviewer, armed with a charismatic smile, delves into various aspects of Oscar's life, from his recent races to his off-track interests.

As you scroll through the snippets, you can't deny the pang of curiosity that tugs at you. The dichotomy between the Oscar you know personally and the one presented to the world through interviews is stark. It's a reminder of the deliberate distance he maintains, carefully navigating the narrative of his public persona.

The interviewer grins, steering the conversation towards personal anecdotes. "And what about love, Oscar? Any new special someone in your life?"

Oscar squirms in his seat, as a blush spreads across his face. “Well…” His eyes flicker around the room. “No, not recently.”

“Oh really? That’s a surprise, you’re otherwise known for changing it up quite a bit.” The interviewer winks, as though that statement wasn’t wildly inappropriate.

Oscar chuckles nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken. "Yeah, well, I've had my fair share of changes. But, you see, there's someone… someone I've known for a long time. And, uh, I guess I messed up. Big time."

The interviewer leans forward, sensing a potential scoop. "Care to share more about this mystery person?"

Oscar hesitates, glancing at his hands for a moment before meeting the interviewer's gaze. "We've been through a lot together. I've known her for years, and I can honestly say she's the one who knows me best. But, you know, life happens, and I've hurt her more than I care to admit."

The revelation hangs in the air, leaving an unspoken weight. Your heart skips a beat as the pieces click into place. The cryptic words, the veiled references – it's about you. The interview, unbeknownst to the public, has become a confessional, a subtle admission of guilt and remorse.

The interviewer, sensing the delicacy of the situation, shifts gears. "It sounds like a complicated story. Do you think there's a chance for reconciliation?"

Oscar's gaze falters, a mixture of regret and uncertainty in his eyes. "I don't know. I hope so. But I've got a lot to figure out, and it might be too late."

The vulnerability in his admission is palpable, and the internet, now buzzing with speculation, picks up on the emotional depth of Oscar's words. As you close the app, a whirlwind of emotions engulfs you, surprise, sadness, and an unexpected twinge of hope as your phone pings with a text message.

Os🚗: Don’t open Twitter. You: Good morning to you too Os🚗: I’m serious. Os🚗: Remember that old picture from a few years ago? You: What picture? Os🚗: When I ran into you, and we both ended up on the ground, that one.

You snort, you absolutely remember both the picture and that day.

Os🚗: I gave an interview, and I might have mentioned you by accident? You: You don’t sound sure Os🚗 is calling…

You’re quick to accept the call, as you twirl your coffee. A long day of work ahead of you, and now a mess that Oscar has apparently dragged you into it seems. “Okay, so I just wanted the interviewer to change the questions, and I mentioned you, and I’m sorry, and then someone started digging online, and that you’ve been around me for years, and that stupid picture from back then got dug up, and someone else then found out that you’re still working for Mercedes, and please let me pick you up Friday?” All the words come rushing out of Oscar's mouth at once.

“I’m sorry what?” Your head is already spinning.

“Go out with me,” Oscar repeats. “Friday, I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah, okay, okay, okay, I got that part. Now back up. What about the rest?” You suck in a deep breath, as you prepare yourself for what the hell Oscar just said. Oscar takes a moment to gather his thoughts, realising he might have split too much in a rush of anxiety. "Look, I messed up during the interview. I didn't mean to bring you into it, but then people started connecting the dots, and now it's all over social media. I didn't want you to be dragged into this mess, especially considering everything."

"Considering everything? Oscar, what did you say?" Your tone edges towards frustration. “I saw a few clips on Twitter.”

“I thought I said not to – never mind.” He sighs, "I might have hinted that you're someone important to me and that I've messed things up with you. It wasn't supposed to be like this, and I'm genuinely sorry for bringing you into it without your consent."

Your mind races, both with irritation at the situation and a surprising warmth at Oscar's unexpected admission. "Okay, I appreciate the apology, but fuck, I don’t need my job jeopardised because of something online. What if someone reaches out, I mean my supervisor is already not ecstatic about the fact that I’m good friends with you. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m dating you.”

“But –” Oscar starts before you cut him off.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” You tell him.

“So you’ll let me take you out on Friday?” He asks, anticipation hanging in the air, a soft smile on your lips. One he can’t see, and one you would not admit to if he were to ask.

“Yeah, yeah…” You breathe out, “I want you to bring the ugliest bouquet of flowers though, that’s the only thing I ask of you.”

“The ugliest?”

You hum in approval. “We’ll figure out the rest later, I have to get back to work before I get too far behind on my assignments for today.”

“I’ll text you the details,” Oscar says before hanging up, you keep the phone against your chin as you take a long slurp of your coffee. You can’t believe you actually agreed to go out with him, especially in the middle of the mess he has just created.

Oscar drives you insane, and it seems to be in the best way possible. You smile as you finally put away your phone and start up on your first assignment of the day.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The anticipation builds as you wait outside, glancing at your watch and then at the passing cars. It's Friday evening, and Oscar is supposed to pick you up. Your attire is casual, as per his instructions, but you can't shake off the lingering nervousness and excitement.

Finally, you spot his distinctive car approaching, the engine's low growl hinting at its power. Oscar pulls up with a confident smile, and you can't help but notice how his presence seems to fill the space around him.

He steps out of the car, wearing a simple yet stylish outfit. "Hey," he greets you, his eyes reflecting a mix of eagerness and uncertainty.

"Hey," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips. "Nice car."

Oscar grins, clearly proud of his choice. "Thanks. Ready for an adventure?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Is this going to be an adventure?"

He chuckles. "Well, let's just say, it's a night of surprises."

As you get into the car, you can't help but wonder what exactly Oscar has planned. The tension in the air is palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and the promise of something new. The drive is filled with light banter, both of you carefully avoiding the elephant in the room – the mess created by Oscar's interview.

The car pulls to a night school, you look over at Oscar, a smile on his lips. Secrecy in his eyes, as he’s quickly out of his door. Walking around the car to help you out of it, a hand in yours.

“I promised I would cook for you,” he reminds you, as he leads you through the hallways of the school, before reaching the kitchen, “except I would like for it to be edible, so I got us into a cooking class.”

He opens the door, and two other couples are already inside the kitchen, including what you’re guessing is going to be your teacher.

“Oscar Piastri,” He tells the teacher, who notes it down before remarking on there still being a couple missing. She points you and Oscar to stand at the front right kitchen island.

“You’re so stupid.” You whisper to him, as he eagerly drags you over to the island. Helping you get your apron on.

He leans in, his breath hot on your neck as he’s tying your apron. “You haven’t seen the half of it yet.”

As the class begins, you find yourselves surrounded by the aromas of various ingredients and the lively chatter of the other couples. Oscar seems surprisingly excited about the cooking class, and you can't help but be swept up in his enthusiasm.

The teacher, a seasoned chef with a no-nonsense attitude, introduces the menu for the evening – a complex dish that involves a delicate balance of flavours and precise techniques. As the instructions are given, you exchange glances with Oscar, both of you silently agreeing to tackle this challenge together.

Oscar takes charge of the first step, expertly handling the knife as he chops vegetables with precision. You observe his focused expression, the playful glint in his eyes occasionally surfacing. The air between you carries a comfortable warmth, a stark contrast to the earlier tensions.

As you work side by side, the occasional laughter and banter with the other couples create a communal atmosphere in the kitchen. You can't help but be grateful for the distraction – the opportunity to focus on something other than the complexities of your relationship with Oscar.

The cooking process unfolds smoothly, and soon, the kitchen is filled with the enticing aroma of the dish coming together. Oscar steals a moment to glance at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "How are we doing so far?"

You return the smile, genuinely enjoying the experience. "Surprisingly well, considering your questionable reputation in the kitchen."

He mockingly gasps, placing a hand over his heart. "Ouch, right in the culinary skills."

The teacher makes her rounds, offering guidance and checking on each couple's progress. As she approaches you and Oscar, you brace yourself for scrutiny. To your surprise, she nods approvingly. "You two seem to have a good handle on things. Impressive."

You share a triumphant look with Oscar, the sense of accomplishment strengthening the connection between you. The dish is finally plated, and the class gathers to taste each other's creations. The blend of flavours is exquisite, a testament to the collective effort of the participants.

With the cooking portion complete, the teacher commends the class and invites everyone to enjoy the fruits of their labour. You and Oscar find a quiet corner, plates in hand, and sit together.

As you take the first bite, the rich flavours dance on your palate. Oscar watches you, anticipation in his eyes. You meet his gaze, a silent acknowledgement passing between you. Despite the chaos and unexpected twists, this evening has become a shared memory, a moment of unity amidst the complexities of life.

"So," Oscar begins, breaking the comfortable silence, "how would you rate my cooking skills?"

You savour another bite before responding with a playful grin. "I'll give you a solid eight out of ten. Surprisingly, you didn't burn anything."

He feigns offence, but the smile on his lips betrays him.

You lift your fork to let him taste a part of the elderly couple’s dish. You expect Oscar to take your fork. Instead, he leans in, keeping eye contact with you, as he eats from your fork. Your breath hitches, and his eyes are staring into yours intensely. Warmth spreads from your neck and up. Then he pulls back, finally chewing on the food.

He uses the back of his hand to dry off his mouth, still keeping his eyes locked with yours, as he flashes you a cheeky grin. “That was delicious.”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, as you look away. Why did he…?

Then the teacher claps her hands, telling everyone it’s time to start doing the dishes, and your small intimate moment is broken and forgotten as Oscar springs to his feet. Already holding his hand out to help you up, no need for you to tell him this time.

The scene replaying in your mind as you’re going through the motions of washing up, it’s still fresh on your mind as Oscar is thanking the teacher for the great lesson. Even when he slides his hand into yours, and you walk out to his car.

He once again opens the door for you, helping you get into the car.

“Oh, before I forget.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts completely as a bouquet of the ugliest flowers you’ve ever seen is presented in front of you. Oscar smiles proudly at you, happy that he has taken you by surprise.

“I didn’t…” You trail off. The flowers are horrendous to look at, an absolute horror show in floral form. “They’re hideous.”

“Just like you asked.” He finally slips into the driver's seat, smiling at you, waiting patiently for a bit of praise, as you can’t seem to find the right words to describe the warm feelings inside of your heart.

“Thank you.” You settle on, “Thank you, Oscar. You did good… You are good.”

You look over at him, and the flowers in your hands are quickly abandoned and forgotten, when his face is right there. You place your hands gently on each of his cheeks. He leans in close to you, placing his own hand on your cheek. You close your eyes, as his lips finally meet yours.

The car falls away, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, the taste of rich food lingering on your lips. His lips move against yours with a tender rhythm, a silent language conveying emotions that words have struggled to express.

His hand, warm against your cheek, sends a shiver down your spine, and you tighten your grip on his cheeks, deepening the kiss. The connection is familiar yet different, a blend of shared history and the uncharted territory of something new.

Time seems to stretch, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his lips, the warmth of his touch. It's a kiss that holds the weight of unspoken apologies and the promise of something more. At that moment, the complications and uncertainties fade into the background, leaving only the raw, honest emotion exchanged between two people on the precipice of change.

As the kiss finally breaks, you find yourself breathless, a silent understanding passing between you. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, the vulnerability mirrored in both your expressions. There's a question in his eyes, one that lingers in the air, waiting for acknowledgement.

The taste of the kiss lingers, the sweet aftertaste of a decision made, of boundaries crossed. It's a moment suspended in time, a threshold crossed, and you can't help but wonder where this unexpected journey with Oscar might lead.

"Wow," he breathes, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "That was..."

You finish his sentence with a soft smile. "Unexpected?"

He chuckles a sound that resonates with shared joy. "Yeah, unexpected. But good. Very, very good."

The shared laughter dispels any remaining tension, replaced by a newfound ease. As you sit there, still holding each other's gaze, you realise that the evening has become a turning point. The kitchen adventure, the banter, and now this shared kiss – it's a series of moments that have rewritten the script between you and Oscar.

The reality of the situation lingers in the air, but instead of feeling weighed down, you find a sense of lightness, a subtle shift in the atmosphere between you two. The kiss becomes a symbol, a bridge between the past and a future that holds the promise of understanding and growth.

With a contented smile, you break the silence. "Well, I guess we've officially moved past the 'friends' territory."

Oscar grins, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and anticipation. "Yeah, we have. And I'm looking forward to wherever this takes us."

Your worries about your supervisor and what it might mean for your job at Mercedes fade away as Oscar leans in again, capturing your lips once more. You can get used to this.

Oscar might be someone who only brings chaos and problems into your life, but you’re all too prepared to deal with that now. Willing to deal with it all, and happy to have him by your side as you do.

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, shout out to @pucksandpower for making me not kill Oscar, and for them to actually end up together. Also my beta readers Fari and @thisismeracing for editing this.

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