#towards tracking location

[ghostisredacted]

my attraction towards machinery, robots, mechas, technology, AIs and anything of that kind vs the way certain people intend to use them

[kooktrash]

SHAMELESS ⊹ jeon jeonkook

summary: unsatisfied with your current relationship, you find yourself swept into an affair with a regular at your gym. it turns out he’s not the sweet, charming man you fooled yourself into believe he was but for some reason, you keep going back to him.

⊹ genre/au: gym instructor!y/n x jungkook. infidelity au. obsessive [she/her. afab] yandere

⊹ 31.6k

warnings: yandere towards the end. smut. coercion. morally gray characters. established relationship. cheating. heated arguments. aggression. angst. mentions of bl00d. manhandling. slight mind break. victim blaming in a sense. beware jk is very condescending and mean at times. he’s a munch. kissing in the bathroom. implied stalking. slutshaming.a lot more probs. manipulation. fight or flight response

[ song inspo: the greatest — billie eillish. phantom bride — deftones. jigsaw falling into place — radiohead. red sex — vessel ]

The first time you ever got a good look at the stranger was just a couple weeks ago. It was hard to keep track of the new members all the time and rarely had the chance to get to know any of them. You weren’t one of the ones at the front desk checking people in, getting them signed up and greeting them for their every visit. It made sense why you’d never seen him before that time.

You ran into him by pure coincidence one late evening when you were heading downstairs after a session and practically crashed into him at the water fountain. You apologized countless times, making sure he was alright and went on your way without thinking about it too hard. The only reason he was still on your mind was because of the others here. They wouldn’t shut up about him.

“He’s got a nice build, I think he’s my favorite,” Eunbi began with her usual rant about the new regular. You stood at the front lobby reading over your schedule for the morning when your friend started.

“Did you figure his name out?” Hoseok asked, only half interested in the conversation if not to entertain himself.

“Jeon Jungkook,” Eunbi said with certainty, “He’s from another location but looks like he’s switched over to this one. Y/n, just look at him.”

“Who?” You asked with feigned curiosity, looking over to the gym floor and who on Earth your friend could be talking about.

“The new guy, kind of tall, buff, tattoos,” Eunbi tried to explain but you and Hoseok just laughed. That describes most of the guys here nowadays.

“He’s over at Upper-Body,” He nodded his head toward the training area and found the presumed, Jeon Jungkook, Eunbi was going on about. It didn’t take long for you to realize she was talking about the guy you bumped into.

Today he wore a dark gray compression shirt under a baggy hoodie he had pulled off to do pull-ups and an entire sleeve of tattoos caught your attention, “So you found your newest victim?”

“Hardly, I’ve tried being friendly when he checks in but he couldn’t care less, it’s gonna take more to butter him up,” Eunbi said with a sigh, “Maybe he has a girlfriend.”

“Maybe,” Hoseok shrugged, “But it won’t hurt to try.”

“Y/n, what do you think?” She asked playfully, contemplating it.

“I think you can do whatever you put your mind to,” You answered sarcastically, making her lightly shove you as you smiled. Without much thought to it, you looked back at Jungkook trying to see what Eunbi saw.

He was attractive but he looked similar to many of the other regulars here. There was definitely something in his aura that seemed different but was Eunbi attracted to that type? Somewhere between your zoned out staring, he caught your gaze.

“I met this girl last night, she’s hot, her friend’s hotter and she’s interested in you,” Taehyung told him as he let go of the bar and made room for his friend’s turn.

“Is she?” Jungkook asked, barely paying attention as his friend did a set. He was supposed to be making sure he was doing them correctly but he was more distracted by who he saw in the mirror.

He’s seen you a couple times now but everytime is more exciting than the last. He doesn’t know you, doesn’t know anything aside from the fact that you’re an instructor here, but he’s only been able to have one interaction [if he can call it that] with you.

“Yeah, I’m hanging out with them this weekend, you should join,” Taehyung huffed tiredly, pacing a little to catch his breath, already wanting to move on to something else.

“I’ll think about it,” Jungkook wiped sweat off his forehead with the end of his shirt, “Have you ever checked out the training here?”

“Not when I’ve got free training sessions with my best friend,” Taehyung said with a chuckle, patting Jungkook’s arm, “Come on, I can’t take any more of this torture.”

He let Taehyung lead the way to the locker room, trying his hardest not to start at the front desk where you had been at for the last ten minutes waiting on someone. He still remembers how you bumped into him and he had to put a hand out to stop you from stumbling against the corner of the wall.

“Why?”

“Huh?” Jungkook asked, opening his locker to grab his things.

“Why are you asking about personal training ? You trying to ditch me onto someone else?” Taehyung asked jokingly.

“No, nothing like that. You’ve been here longer, I just wanted to know if you’re close with any of them,” Jungkook said with a shrug.

“I know the guy at the desk, his names Hoseok,” Taehyung said after they grabbed their things, “And Eunbi.”

“Which one’s that?” He asked, beginning to walk out of the locker room.

“The one at the desk, she always says hi,” Taehyung said, trying to subtly point at her. Jungkook looked with some recollection of who she was but she wasn’t the one he was curious about. He’s seen you a couple times around but not as much as the others.

He just simply thinks you’re pretty.

“Have a goodnight,” Eunbi said with her usual polite smile as they walked past and he couldn’t help but look at you instead as he said it back. You weren’t looking but that didn’t bother him too much. For now he had to play it cool, he didn’t want to be the creep at the gym who flirts with people there.

“So this weekend?” Jungkook asked as he unlocked his car, trying to think about what Taehyung wanted to do.

“I’ll text you more about it later. I’m still trying to figure out what we’re doing,” Taehyung said, “Same time tomorrow?”

Jungkook nodded and waved goodbye, leaving the gym’s parking lot to call it a night.

When you left work that day you barely remembered anything special that happened. It was more so the usual with your private sessions, gossiping with coworkers and Eunbi going on about the latest gym rat she’s obsessed with. Your at-home routine didn’t far off from the ordinary either, you had a quiet dinner waiting for your boyfriend to text back and called it an early night.

The weeks flew by pretty mundane aside from the times he’d get a glimpse of you. He still thinks you’re pretty, he likes your smile and your body, even your hair. You’re not exactly his type but for some reason his mind is stuck on you everytime he comes to the gym—which is often. To be honest, he thinks he moved to this location because of you and not because Taehyung came to this one more. It’s nothing serious aside from a small crush and there’s nothing he planned to do about it.

It was just his luck to catch you at the front desk one early morning with no one else around.

“Good morning,” you said with a yawn, regretting telling Eunbi the night before that you’d cover part of her morning shift before your first session. Jungkook hesitated to scan his member QR code immediately like he usually did. The gym was empty aside from a few early morning goers like him and it was still a little dark out.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, exiting out of the app and thought quickly what to say, “The code doesn’t seem to be working right now.”

“That’s okay, I’ll check you in,” You moved toward the desk top, trying to navigate through the check-in system you rarely used and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Jeon Jungkook,” he cleared his throat, leaning against the counter a little. That seemed to wake you up a little more, you looked up curiously to find the guy Eunbi was ‘crushing on’ and who you bumped into a while back. He was definitely more attractive up close and it took you a little by surprise.

He didn’t think twice about meeting your gaze with equal curiosity and he used this time to get a good look at you.

Pretty.

Very pretty.

You looked away first, ensuring the picture in the system had matched the guy in front of you.

“Alright, go ahead—“

“You’re not the one usually here, right?” He asked, stalling just one more time.

“No, Eunbi’s the one who works the front desk, she has an appointment this morning so I’m helping her out,” You told him with more enthusiasm, wondering if he was interested in her. If he was, Eunbi would be thrilled. Maybe, she likes to jump around a lot, her “Gym Boy of the Month” might have changed. It’s a fun staring game that she has and you like to play along with it despite being in a relationship.

Jungkook just nodded in acknowledgment at what you said before heading to the locker room.

He lost track of you when Eunbi came back and he finished his workout. You were probably working with someone and doubted he’d see you again until he’s back later tonight.

“You’re late,” His friend joked as he got to the car shop he worked at. He threw his things down in the office and clocked in.

“Went to the gym this morning,” Jungkook answered with a shrug. He grabbed his navy blue jumpsuit and slipped it over his clothes, “At least we don’t have any early appointments.”

“If you keep going twice a day you’re going to get too bulky like you did when we were at camp,” Namjoon joked as he read over the planner, “And we’ve got a failed transmission to fix some tint to do in an hour.”

He tried concentrating on work but today he struggled which wasn’t usual for him. He was distracted and had an itch of curiosity he couldn’t scratch.

When lunch came around Jungkook found himself on his cellphone, looking over the training program the gym provided and scrolled through the instructors. It didn’t take him long to find yours and learn your name. You’d been at the gym for two years and were basically booked out.

“Who are you talking to?” Namjoon asked curiously.

“Nobody,” Jungkook said.

“How’d it go with those girls Taehyung was talking about?” His friend pressed him.

“They wanted to reschedule so we never met up,” Jungkook told him as he searched you up on other social media platforms, “What are some telltale signs that someone has a boyfriend?”

Namjoon scrunched his face in a scowl, “One of them has a boyfriend? Yikes, and Taehyung still wants to—“

“Not them, who gives a fuck. I mean in general, I’m looking at someone’s Instagram but she doesn’t even post so I can’t tell,” Jungkook said seriously and Namjoon chuckled. He took the phone from him and looked at your profile.

“Everyone’s taken nowadays and this girl definitely is,” Namjoon said with a shrug, “Look at her tagged photos.”

Jungkook cursed under his breath.

“Who is Y/n?” Namjoon asked.

“No one, just some girl from the gym. She works there and I think she’s cute,” Jungkook tried sounding indifferent.

Namjoon smirked, “Ah, so that’s why you went this morning—you're still planning on going later aren’t you? I mean, yeah she’s cute but too bad she’s taken.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything because in all honesty he stopped listening—conveniently around the time Namjoon tried reminding him you had a boyfriend. There was no way to really tell anyway. Sure he was staring at a picture you were tagged in looking close to some guy but it could’ve been anyone. Right?

Later that day when you returned home, checking your cell phone for any missed calls you washed up and began to prep dinner when your boyfriend arrived. He didn’t bother knocking, unlocked your door and let himself into your apartment with no hesitation, “Here.”

“I see that,” You looked over at him from the kitchen, “Where were you?”

“I was with the guys getting a couple beers,” Minu said, kicking his shoes off at your door like he usually did, “I thought you were working late.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, “I got home a while ago.”

“I see that now,” he cleared his throat, walking past you for a glass of water and he reeked of beer, “Oh, and I’m going out this weekend.”

“With who?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“The guys,” you couldn’t help but mock him quietly. With a shrug of your shoulders you said, “That’s fine, Eunbi wanted to get some drinks this weekend too.”

“Eunbi? Who else is gonna go?”

“Just us two, maybe Hobi I don’t know,” You told him as he watched you finish up cooking.

Minu rolled his eyes, “Great.”

“What? You’re going out with your friends so I can go out with mine,” You told him with a raised brow trying to see what tone he was using.

“Nothing, just Hoseok’s a guy and Eunbi is… yknow,” He looked away, “Boy crazy?”

“So? All your friends are single and I don’t say anything when you go out for beers with them every other night,” You carried plates over to the dining table and Minu followed to sit down, not bothering to help you, “Plus Hobi has a girlfriend.”

“It’s different, the guys and I just hang out. You and your friends get drunk and do who the fuck knows,” Minu’s tone raised with irritation as you began to serve him, “What time will you be home?”

“What time will you be home?” You asked him harshly and watched as he scoffed.

“Let’s just eat, we’ll talk about it later.”

Choi Minu was your boyfriend of three years. Three years together and you get the same questions anytime you bring him up.

Why don’t you live together?

Why aren’t you engaged?

Do you plan on marrying?

Usually, the two of you did pretty well at avoiding them and finding something else to talk about but sometimes you find yourself asking those questions too. One would say you’re in a long term relationship and couples nowadays at least move in together after a few months, why didn’t you and Minu?

You were similar in many ways but it still felt like you didn’t know each other that well. He liked loud sports games and visiting dive bars every other night. He can be somewhat irrational and hypocritical but he wasn’t too bad of a guy. You loved him—of course you did—but you didn’t always like him.

He can surely say the same about you—he has. He’s called you a bitch before or screamed in your face for something stupid but you’ve done your fair share to annoy him. He’d say you’re stubborn and moody, confrontational instead of sweet. In reality, the question should be why you’re still together.

Clearly neither one of you cared to progress the relationship but at the same time neither of you wanted it to end. You’re comfortable with each other’s ugly parts and the idea of letting someone else get that close again grossed you out. So, you stuck around and you’re sure he felt the same.

Saturday came quicker than expected and you found yourself with your best friend getting dressed in your bedroom listening to whatever song was queued. With the weather as shitty as it’s been and packed schedules, you’ve barely had time to go out for a good night and you were determined to make tonight work. It probably had something to do with the fact that your boyfriend would be out doing his own thing and you didn’t want to spend the night wondering what that was.

“Is Hobi meeting us?” You asked, looking at your reflection in the mirror one last time. Despite it being cold, you felt the urge to wear something short tonight and to be honest, you think you looked good.

“Yeah, he’ll meet us somewhere on 11th street,” Eunbi applied a final layer of lip gloss, “Did you order the Uber.”

You rummaged through the grocery bag you bought earlier and pulled out two mini bottles of liquor for some early, well-needed liquid courage. You always got nervous whenever you went out with your friends—not because it wasn’t fun but because usually it ended with Min blowing up your phone while he’s drunk off his ass needing you to meet him somewhere.

“It’s five minutes away,” You handed her one of the bottles, making sure everything you needed was in your mini bag before you quickly cheered each other on and finished the drinks in one go.

Jungkook was thankful he chose to drive tonight. It worked as an excuse to not drink and he could make sure his friend wasn’t driving himself out. Finally, after a couple weeks those girls from before got back to Taehyung and asked him to go out.

Usually, Jungkook doesn’t entertain people a second time. He gives them one chance and if he’s not impressed he doesn’t try again, and when they rain checked his friend for the first time he had no intentions on going out tonight. The only reason he agreed is for Taehyung’s sake knowing he liked one of the girls.

“So you work with cars? You must know a lot,” one of them said to him over drinks. She had to practically tell it in his ear over the loud music and even then he can barely make out what she was saying.

“I guess,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “What's your name again?”

“Koo, we’ve been talking all night and you seriously forgot my name? That hurts my feelings,” she said with feigned hurt, putting her hand on his arm, “Hyejin.”

“Right,” Jungkook couldn’t bother to sound more interested.

He tried, he really did, and when Taehyung scolds him for not being more enthusiastic he’ll have to make him believe that. It’s not even that Hyejin wasn’t attractive, she was and probably his usual type but he wasn’t interested. She just seems like she tries too hard for approval from others. Does that sound bad? She was just boring and the girl Taehyung was with was so much hotter. Okay, now he probably sounds like an asshole.

“Want a smoke?” Jungkook asked Taehyung, hoping to get his friend away so he can convince him to let him go do his own thing with someone he would probably be more interested in.

“Sure,” Taehyung looked down at Mina, “We’ll be back.”

He didn’t bother asking them if they wanted to come along and left the nightclub with Jungkook for fresh air, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook pulled out his pack and handed it to Taehyung while feeling around his pockets for a lighter, “What about you? How’s it going with Mina.”

Taehyung lit the end, “I’m sleeping with her tonight. I just know it. I’m sure Hyejin would be down if you actually acted interested in her.”

Jungkook could’ve said something about the way Taehyung was talking but it seems like he didn’t care enough to, so he just said, “Well I’m not interested.”

“She’s hot.”

“Yeah, so?” Jungkook rolled his eyes, inhaling smoke and releasing it into the cold night air, “I’ve been listening to her go on and on about absolutely nothing for the past two hours.”

“Great wingman,” Taehyung shoved his arm playfully, “Thanks for taking one for the team.”

“Yeah whatever, I’m about to leave you guys and do something else,” Jungkook said, “Tell them something came up and I’ll be back.”

“Are you serious?” Taehyung groaned, “Don’t go.”

Jungkook wasn’t fully listening anymore as he looked across the street at the long line leading into another nightclub. He had to do a double take and make sure who he saw was who he was thinking of.

“Isn’t that the people from the gym,” Jungkook asked trying to get Taehyung to look over. He noticed you first [clearly], you wore something black with light pink accents that suited your complexion nicely and the Eunbi girl had on something green. One of the guys behind you with an arm around another girl was Hoseok from the gym and the other he didn’t know. The only thing he did know was that he didn’t look like the guy from the pictures on your profile.

“Oh shit, yeah, looks like one of them has a boyfriend,” Taehyung said, finishing his cigarette before Jungkook finished his and threw it on the floor. He stepped on it to put it out before picking it up and taking it to the trash bin, “Ready?”

“You go ahead,” Jungkook said, looking across the street curiously, “I’ll go right now.”

“You better not be lying man,” Taehyung said with a sigh, showing the bouncer his entrance bracelet and going back in. He watched your group reach the front of the line to go in and without question, he found himself crossing the street to follow.

“I swear Y/n if I see you look at your phone one more time I’m stuffing it down my pants,” Yoongi said.

“Is that a threat?” You teased playfully, clutching your phone tighter in your hands and trying to deflect, “Or an invitation?”

“A threat,” Hoseok chimed in, “Can we just say ‘Fuck Minu’ and get drunk?”

“What have we been doing for the last three hours?” You asked following them to the bar at the club you just entered.

“We’ve been drinking, you’ve been babysitting one cup at every bar we go to,” Ara, Hoseok’s girlfriend, told you, “You gotta catch up.”

“Minu’s out with the guys, you know how he gets when he—“ Hoseok covered your mouth drunkenly, pulling you into a back hug.

“Shush, enough about him I need a drink and it’s your round,” Hoseok said, playfully shoving you toward the counter. With a roll of your eyes you made your way to the front and ignored your drunk friends behind you. You didn’t pay much attention to who was around you until someone made room for themselves right next to you.

For a second you thought they might try and cut in line before you but he didn’t seem to do that. He was able to get the bartender’s attention better than you but once he had it he directed her to you.

Jungkook listened to your order and waited to see if you’d notice him. Would you even remember him? You see him practically every day now.

“You work at the gym on ___ street, right?” He decided to ask, unable to stop himself from grabbing your attention. You looked at him closely, finally getting who he was and nodded your head.

“Yeah, I saw the other one, Eunbi over there,” He cleared his throat, “I always forget your name though.”

Y/n.

“Y/n,” you said with a clear voice, “Yours?”

“Jungkook, sorry I'm not trying to be a creep or anything but I see you practically everyday,” He said with an apologetic shrug. He tried looking indifferent but in reality he was extremely happy with the way things have turned out. He never expected to see you on a night out. It was like a reminder that you weren’t some figment of his imagination for when he’s working out.

“Yeah, you go a lot,” as you said it you couldn’t help but check him out. He wore a black button-up shirt and baggy jeans with sneakers and he looked good. His shoulders were still broad and his tattoos still peaked from under the sleeve. His hair seemed slightly pushed back which made his face look prettier even under this poor lighting.

Of course you shouldn’t be looking at another guy’s physique when you have a boyfriend, it just happened. In your defense you were a little tipsy.

Jungkook smiled, “Nice of you to notice. What are you drinking?”

You looked back at the bartender who currently made the drinks for you, trying not to think of how you were just looking at him, “I actually don’t remember. One of my friends told me what to order.”

He nodded his head, getting the bartender’s attention, “Add them to my tab—“

“No, don’t do that,” You rushed to say but Jungkook just flashed her a smile and told her to do it.

He couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, “Why? It’s fine, it’s just a little ‘Hey I know you’ gift, nothing more.”

“But—“

You were hesitant to leave, not liking the feeling of him paying. If you were slightly more drunk and less aware you don’t think you’d care but you do. Jungkook shook his head, nudging your arm playfully, “It’s fine, go take them to your friends and if I find you again you owe me a conversation.”

A light scoff left your lips, not able to leave just yet as you caught on to his act. He was flirting, maybe? You can’t tell when someone’s flirting with you anymore [Minu doesn’t even bother] and maybe you’re overthinking it but that’s what it felt like. If that was the case then you shouldn’t entertain it. You know that.

“I thought it was nothing more than a gift,” You said, meeting his stare again. You weren’t nervous per se but this conversation felt strange. There was a slight teasing tone in your voice that urged Jungkook to keep going, hoping the conversation would go somewhere.

“You’re right, but I’d still like to talk to you just a little,” he couldn’t help but quickly look you over once more. Usually when he sees you you’re in some form of athleisure. He noticed your favorites were in soft colors like pink, matcha green, a nice cream and sometimes powder blue. Right now you’re in a black top with pink bows on the sides at the neckline near your chest. Your skirt was dark but he couldn’t quite tell the exact color but he’s sure he’ll figure it out. Simply put, you looked even prettier tonight than usual.

You considered stalling a little longer but you knew there was no reason to. All your friends were drunk and your phone buzzed with a notification from your boyfriend but Jungkook said it was nothing… he just wanted to talk. Surely it was nothing more…

With a small sigh, you pushed away from the bar counter and said, “Thank you for the drinks but my friends are waiting.”

And you have a boyfriend, you thought.

Jungkook looked back at the group with little interest but nodded his head anyway. It’s not like can force you to stay even if he really wanted to. You told him a quiet goodbye and he watched you walk away from him. What was he supposed to do now? Return to his friend and those women who could barely remember? Stay here and entertain whatever bimbo approaches him just so he can keep an eye on you?

He was more sure than ever that he was interested in getting to know you.

The way things would go was all mapped out in his head. Not once did he stop to consider your so-called boyfriend because he never saw him. You didn’t bring him up and in reality, Jungkook had no reason to think you were in a relationship. As far as anyone knew he was just someone you kind of knew.

After the night drinking he began to make himself more known when he saw you. He’d say hi at the door or give you a smile when you’d walk past him. Occasionally when he was lucky enough, he’d try and spark conversation—and not once did you mention a boyfriend. You talked about other things, your friends, your hobbies, but never once a partner. Even if you had a boyfriend it must not have been serious, he thinks.

“I can’t anymore Kook, my legs are going to fall off,” Taehyung groaned one afternoon as he nearly collapsed on the ground. Jungkook looked at him, slightly unimpressed and said, “You want to quit already?”

“Oh I’d love to,” Taehyung said sarcastically, “I’m done. I want to go home and take a nice hot shower.”

“Alright, well I think I’m gonna stick around a little lo—“ Jungkook began to say when Taehyung cut him off with a laugh.

“Just grow a pair and ask Y/n for dinner or something. That’s why we’re here this late, right? You’ve got a little crush,” Taehyung said looking around for you, “Personally I think Eunbi is more my taste but I think she’s got a thing for you.”

It was hard to ignore the constant attention Eunbi put on Jungkook whenever the two checked in. Jungkook didn’t say anything about what his friend said and let him leave without much care. After a while he finished his last set and headed toward the locker room to freshen up.

The sun had set by the time your last session ended. You were running behind schedule and hurried downstairs to the locker room to change. Your phone lay in a heap of clothes and you grabbed it to see the time.

You were supposed to meet up with Minu for dinner after work and you’re cutting it real close on time. He hasn’t texted you or tried to call so that worried you a little. Either he was running late too or something came up like usual. You sat on the bench for a moment, trying to ring his line but he didn’t answer right away. You nearly ended the call when he picked up.

“What’s up?” Minu asked casually.

“Are we still on for tonight? I just need to wash up—“

“Oh shit, yeah I forgot, um,” he looked around his apartment nervously, “I got off work and joined a tournament with the guys. Do you want to just pick up a pizza and come over? I got some drinks in the fr—Shit!—yeah, just come over. My team’s winning.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You slumped back, hoping the locker room was empty, “We’ve been talking about dinner for over a week now.”

“I know, I know but I might win money—fuck, I gotta hang up just walk in when you’re here,” Minu hung up on you.

He had the nerve to hang up on you.

You couldn’t help but scoff, annoyed with your boyfriend and unable to do anything about it. You could text him a long paragraph about what a stupid piece of shit he was but maybe that was too much? Was he even worth the energy?

Once you had all your things you walked to clock out at the desk and Eunbi was there talking with no other than the man of the hour. Her mon amour, Jungkook.

She looked at you with hearts in her eyes, “You’re off already? Where are you going now?”

“Home,” You said almost bitterly, glancing toward Jungkook. He flashed you a little smile but you didn’t return it. You were annoyed with Minu and it ruined your entire mood now.

Eunbi’s brows scrunched together, “I thought you and M—“

“Not tonight,” you cut her off quickly, heading around to the front of the desk and began walking toward the front doors, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Jungkook didn’t want to act too sudden when the opportunity presented itself. He didn’t want to raise suspicion from Eunbi who he was currently buttering up. He wasn’t attracted to her but if she liked having him around it could bring him closer to you. Clearly it was working, he caught a hint of your conversation and it didn’t take much for him to understand what was going on.

You were upset, going home and with no plans tonight. The mere mention of you and someone else that Eunbi attempted to bring up was quickly shut down on your end and it was all Jungkook needed to hear. You left a couple paces before him but after a minute or so, he came up with his farewell to Eunbi.

The parking lot was dark aside from a few lamp posts here and there but he was able to find you pretty easily. He wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything but he had to make a move. You were walking toward a white, polished car.

“Are your days usually this long? I feel like I see you all the time,” Jungkook said, keeping a safe distance away to not startle you but he managed to, only a little.

You smiled in relief once you noticed it was someone familiar and began to unlock your car, “Sometimes. I take longer breaks between clients so it's not too bad.”

“You still owe me a talk,” Jungkook said with a playful tone.

“We talk all the time now,” You said back.

“We haven’t over dinner and drinks,” He said, “On me, I know a place near here.”

This was it. This was your chance to just outright tell him you’re in a relationship. He’s clearly not hoping to just be friendly like you’ve been telling yourself lately. He’s asking you to dinner, that’s gotta be something. You need to just tell him you’re taken. You’re in a relationship with someone that drives you insane and you can’t go out with him because he’s so clearly trying to pursue you.

“I don’t know,” you bit your lip, standing at the door of your car but not getting in just yet.

“It beats heading home for a boring night,” Jungkook said with a shrug, acting like it made no difference but he just wanted you to take him up on his offer already.

What he said hit closer to home than it needed to and it kind of irritated you. You were supposed to be heading to a nice dinner with your boyfriend but like usual he finds something more important to waste his time on. Tonight he chose video games over you, how considerate. The thought alone was enough to make you want to scream but now you’re being reminded of it and felt the need to do anything but spend a night alone.

“Where are you thinking?”

He smiled as you gave in and told you the address.

It was a small ramen place that you’d never been to but it was nice. The food was good and there weren’t many people around which made you feel less guilty. If you told yourself Jungkook was nothing but a friend then it’d be less weird to be having dinner with him alone behind Minu’s back.

“So, you’re always at the gym, what kind of work do you do? I’ve been wondering about that,” You played with your silverware as you waited for your meal, unable to think of what better to say.

He smiled a little at the thought of you being curious about him too and he sat straighter as he said, “I’m a mechanic, I just finished my military service a couple months ago and that’s the only kind of work I knew. It pays the bills.”

You saw the car he drove, it was a large truck that marketed around 80k dollars at the least. Even if he didn’t want to brag, clearly his job did more than just pay the bills. It was a black truck with silver detail and it somewhat suited his mysterious persona. You weren’t into cars but you knew a thing or two about popular models. Plus, although it’s mandatory, knowing he was in the military recently made you look at him differently. Did he bulk up while he was away or has he always been into fitness? What about his tattoos?

When the server came around with your bowl of soup Jungkook helped clear the table for you and watched how you thanked them, “Have you been here before?”

“No, I’ve walked past it before but I’ve never been inside, it’s nice,” You told him honestly, “Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes, with Taehyung or my coworkers,” Jungkook said.

“You live around here then?”

“About ten minutes away, you?” He asked curiously in between bites.

“Yeah, I live about the same distance? Crazy I’ve never run into you anywhere else,” You said, making him nod his head.

“Well we ran into each other that one night,” Jungkook told you, “I was surprised when I saw you. I don’t know how honest I should be but you looked very pretty.”

Okay, he’s flirting, you think. Tell him now, stop walking around it and just tell him that you’re in a relationship and shouldn’t be here.

You looked at him, finding his eyes already trained on you and every thought to tell him left your head. Jungkook was attractive and surprisingly soft spoken. He was attentive and made an effort to get to know you so you found it very hard to end this by telling him about Minu. Could he possibly be interested in a friendship instead of anything more?

“You looked good too. I thought you were one of those guys that lives in gym clothes all day and everyday but you clean up pretty well,” You said in a teasing tone, “I was impressed.”

He quirked a brow in amusement, “Good. Do you go out often?”

“Sometimes if I’m in the mood for it but lately it’s been too cold to be walking around from bar to bar,” You told him. Guys don’t usually like girls that go out and have fun so you fully expected him to get the ick but he just nodded.

“So tell me something else about yourself,” He said. In all honesty he had been waiting for you to bring up your boyfriend. You had many chances to but you hadn’t yet and now he couldn’t be any more clear. You can tell him how you’ve been seeing someone for a couple years now but will you? Will it make a difference to him anyway? He’s already decided that he likes you. Would he run off right away? No.

He’s never struggled in the dating scene but lately he’s found a lot of the women who approached him boring. Hyejin tried too hard to appeal and even Eunbi came off too desperate. He’s gladly never gone for someone in a relationship but he’s finding out that he doesn’t really care. Something about you has captured his attention and he doesn’t think he cares about who you’re seeing. Once his mind is set on you, he doubts it’ll change.

“I want to open a gym and teach reformer Pilates, that’s my goal,” You finally said to him, “I like working at the gym but that’s just something to help me save up for what I really want. Does that seem like too big of a goal?”

Minu always tells you it is. He said there’s other things you can use the money on but that’s what you want.

Jungkook smacked his lips in disappointment and looked away from you. You worried he’d tell you something similar about how it’s not likely to happen but instead he said, “I don’t think I’m flexible enough for Pilates but I’ll be your first client when it happens. Will I get one on one sessions where it’s just you and I alone somewhere?”

Inappropriate, that was inappropriate to say to someone in a relationship but in his defense he didn’t know. You’re supposed to tell him but you haven’t yet.

“I’ll see what I can do,” You said with a smile that matched his. The two of you finished eating, talking about anything and everything in between and to be honest you had a good time. It was getting late and you should be home by now but nothing was really urging you to go. Your boyfriend never called back asking why you didn’t go to his place and it only made you want to be with Jungkook more.

After a small disagreement over whether to split the bill or not, you let Jungkook cover it and followed him out. Jungkook held the door open, “I’ll walk you to your car.”

You didn’t decline his offer and walked down the street to where you had parked and looked back at him. It was late and time for you to go home.

“This is it,” You leaned against the driver’s side of your car, looking up at him as he looked around it. The space between you grew smaller with every step he took toward you but you didn’t do anything to change that. His arm rested on top of the car, practically trapping you between his body and the vehicle but once again, you didn’t do anything to push him away.

“When can I see you again?” He asked just above a whisper, leaning toward you more than before. His forehead nearly touched yours yet you still wouldn’t just… push him away.

“You’ll see me at the gym,” You said in a poor effort to distance yourself from him. He didn’t take the bait, only chuckled at your words and brought his arm closer, slipping down the car and so close to where your back pressed against the door. It would be so easy for him to pull you into him.

“Not enough,” Jungkook said simply, closing the space just a little more. He licked his lips, looking down at yours and not caring that you were in public or not. There was no one around and it was dark so really, who was worried about two people looking a little too close on the side of the street? “Just push me off if you don’t want this.”

You blinked, unsure what to make of what he was saying as you began to ask, “Wha—“

His hand touched the softness of your face, tilting your chin upward until you were at the right angle for his liking. His lips brushed against yours teasingly, trying to catch a taste if you wanted this or not and you haven’t pushed him away. It urged him on, closing the distance until his lips pressed firmly into yours, feeling the way you gasped in surprise and welcomed his advances.

Your hand fell on his chest, not to push him away but to grasp at his shirt and pull him into you with more force. Jungkook was tender at first, basking in the feel of your soft lips molding against his and how your face fit perfectly in his hand. As slow as the kiss was, it felt oddly intense and wanting like he couldn’t get enough. Once you opened yourself up to his advances, he didn’t hesitate to keep going.

His tongue slipped past his lips, swiping against yours softly and your lips parted more to let him in. With a low groan, he pressed into you harder, arm circling your waist as he kept you caged in his hold so he could kiss you however he liked. Your arms wrapped around his neck, dragging him down and kissing back with eagerness, tongues tangled together and without a care of what you were doing in public.

When you felt his fingers sneak under the head of your top, you seemed to snap back into reality. You shoved at his chest, nipping his lip with your teeth on accident but it didn’t seem to waver him. He stepped back, licking over the sudden swelling on his bottom lip and looked down at you, “Was that too much?”

“I—“ your mouth felt dry, combing your hair out of your face and looking around feeling embarrassed. Did you just kiss someone who wasn’t your boyfriend for anyone to see?

Realization hit you hard and you swallowed the lump in your throat. You shouldn’t be doing this, you were an idiot and a… cheater, what were you thinking?

“Y/n,” He reached down for your hand, lacing your fingers together, “Everything alright?”

Tell him. Tell Jungkook you’re in a relationship. Tell him you’re nothing but a cheating liar and made a mistake meeting him tonight. Tell him you can’t do this and that you don’t think you should see him outside of work but you found yourself staying quiet. Jungkook was waiting for the truth too but it never came.

Maybe if you told him, he might’ve hesitated to kiss you a second time…

This time around it felt more needy. Jungkook could feel the desire laced with every touch of your lips and he wanted more. He struggled to speak between kisses, “Let’s go somewhere more private. Where do you live?”

“No, no, we can’t,” you sighed breathlessly, eyes closed trying to reel yourself back into reality. You looked up at him with lust blown eyes and bit your lip in thought.

“Back to mine?” He asked instead, taking your keys out of your hands when you didn’t protest, “My truck’s fine parked here overnight…”

You didn’t argue when he led you toward the passenger’s side, drunk off his affection when he kissed you one last time before getting in the driver’s seat. His hand stayed firm on your thigh the entire ride, inching upward and back down in a soothing manner like he knew the earthquake that was happening in your head.

The drive back to his place passed you in a blur and you don’t remember how you found yourself tugging at his clothes the second you entered his apartment. Al thought his hands were rough and stained with grease from his job, they were oddly tender against your skin, sliding your top up so he could feel your bare waist.

You kissed heavily, following his lead to wherever he took you and felt yourself fall into black bed sheets beneath you. His hair wasn’t long but the front pieces fell against your forehead and brushed against your neck when he trailed his lips toward your jawline, nipping at your skin teasingly and making you gasp at the feel. With your lips parted to catch a breath, he kissed you again, tongue kissing yours in a nasty, wet mess of saliva. Usually when Minu got a little too handsy or did something you weren’t used to, you’d push him away but right now you’re welcoming this somewhat aggressive approach Jungkook took toward you.

You pushed at his chest gently, surprised when he began to lift himself off you without wanting to break the kiss and you followed him up until you were sitting. You worked quickly to unzip the front of your light pink defined jacket and he didn’t hesitate to help you slip it down your shoulders. His suddenly rough hands held onto your sides, pressing you firmly against him, not able to get enough of your mouth on his.

Jungkook released a breathless grunt when he felt your fingers slip into his hair and he pulled away to stare at you. Your breath hitched in your throat, when his hand cupped your jawline, fingers disappearing in your hair as he held you to look at him firmly. Without any meaning behind it, your fingers wrapped around his wrist as if he was holding you too strongly but that wasn’t the case at all. You liked the way his hand felt on you and he made sure you were looking in his eyes. You were even on your knees, sitting between his legs on the bed and in just your leggings and bra now.

He took the second to look you over, staring straight down at the black material of your bra. The hand around your jaw pulled you further, nearly making you stumble into him while his other hand traced along your spine, feeling around for the clasp of your bra and undid it easily. You didn’t care to act surprised about the indecency you found yourself in. His fingers brushed against your shoulder blades as he helped you out of the straps and his lips kissed every inch of skin he passed.

You couldn’t help but sigh, feeling the way he kissed your collarbone, trailing toward your breasts and teasingly touching you just just under them without acting touching your chest at all. It made you arch your back so your front would be pressed into his face more and he had you lying back down on the bed in no time.

“You gonna let me have a little taste?” Jungkook asked, hand finally cupping your left breast, thumbing your hardened nipple and running the pad of his skin over it to feel how your breath hitched. Goosebumps formed on your body when he kissed down your stomach with his experienced fingers gripping the waist of your leggings so he can pull them off. You went limp as you let him finish undressing you and his eyes didn't shy away from checking out your naked form.

His head fell, looking straight toward where your legs parted around him and lifted a curious brow before looking back up at you.

You shrugged, holding your head upright with your elbows digging into the bed, “Sometimes I don’t like wearing anything underneath when I work out.”

“Mm,” He hummed, taking in your words and running his hands up and down your bare thighs, wanting to crouch over to get a better look at your naked pussy, “Good to know.”

Just before he went all in, face first into your spread legs, you spoke up, “I need you to take something off too, you’re being a little unfair.”

He could hear the teasing tone in your voice and he couldn’t help biting back a smirk as he sat back on his haunches and did as told. You watched him stand up and pull his t-shirt off first, eyes scanning down to his sweats and watching him pull them down too. He wore white Calvin Kkein’s that showed the bulge of his erection clearly. You’ve seen most of this at the gym before but goddamn was his body amazing. Feeling impatient, he got back on the bed, hiding his body from you as he laid between your legs and threw them over his shoulders.

You squealed in surprise when he pulled you closer to his face. With his arms around your thighs, you felt his hands now pushing down on your hips, likely to stop you from squirming away as he pressed a soft, butterfly kiss on your hooded clit. It was just a teasing touch but your body reacted immediately and he smiled knowingly. Even if you had a boyfriend—clearly he wasn’t taking care of you.

Jungkook can show you just how well you need to be taken care of. You were beyond soaked and it made Jungkook want to ruin you with his mouth. He sunk his head down and licked flatly along your cunt. Your slick pooled on his tongue and he dragged it up, wetting your labia until it was to his liking and covered your hardened clit with your own arousal. Your thighs threatened to shut but his bruising hold on your legs kept you suffocating him. Even if you did, he doesn’t think he’d mind.

To be honest, Jungkook loves putting his mouth on someone and hearing them come undone by his actions. It made his cock hard and he couldn’t help but rut against the bed for some friction.

He had your lips parting with breathless moans at the way he worked his tongue inside you, his nose bumping your cloth beautifully and his tongue lapping at your pussy like it was his last meal on earth.

Your hands clawed at the silk sheets, body wanting to shudder with pleasure, unsure how to take everything he was giving to you, “Fuck, I can’t.”

You said it as your nails traced along his hair, grabbing a good chunk of it and pressing his face more into your pussy, moaning at the way he kissed your clit while his fingers pulled your folds apart.

“Just a little more, baby, you’re soaked,” Jungkook said with a glistening chin, looking down at your greedy cunt hungry for another taste. His middle finger played at your entrance, wanting to get inside of you but the longer he tempted the ring of nerves, all he could think about is how good it’d be to feel the first stretch of your cunt around his cock instead.

A low groan left his lips as he sat up suddenly, shaking his head of hair in disappointment when you whined cutely, “Condom, we need a condom.”

“Just pull out,” You said in a sultry voice that made his heart beat faster but he was thinking with his dick too much. He needed to think with his brain, “I’m not gonna pull out so I need a condom unless you want my babies tonight.”

Though the offer was half tempting, you very clearly didn’t want that all and let him search for protection. When he got back to you, his dick was covered and pointing at you and your legs spread shamelessly for Jungkook to lay between them. Instead, he grabbed your left leg and threw it over your right so your hips were on their side and your ass was toward him nicely. He still had a view of your pretty tits but now he got a view of your ass too and the way your torso turned in this position.

“Pretty pussy, fucking hell,” He mumbled to himself, placing one hand on your hips to tilt your ass up and his other hand was pointing the tip of his dick to your puffy folds, red with abuse of his tongue and sloppy wet.

“Fuck me already,” you said with a wiggle of your hips and a gasp leaving your lips the second the words fell from your mouth. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to push his cock in, focusing solely on the tip as he watched you take that breath. He kept pushing in, taking your expression as a sign that you didn’t mind the sudden intrusion and pushed in to the hilt, skin touching skin with his cock fully sheathed inside you.

“I wanted to go easy on you,” He clicked his tongue in disappointment, hand rubbing your ass cheek possessively, “But if you’re going to be impatient then I will too.”

You weren’t thinking clearly at all. He felt too good. You felt too good. You can’t remember the last time you had a good fuck, usually Minu only cares about himself and to be honest he can’t last for shit. You're a little surprised with yourself and how the last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to go easy on you. He was the release you needed.

Jungkook’s presence loomed behind you and sweat trickled down his taut abs that had you letting out a moan when you watched the way the veins on his v-line led straight to his cock. He didn’t catch the way you looked at him, too focused on the way your dripping pussy sucked him in and refused to let him pull out. You’re tight, more than he expected frankly.

It’s such a shame that your boyfriend has someone like you and he doesn’t please you? A real shame, he thought as he licked his dry lips and pulled out, only letting his tip stretch your entrance and once he caught a good breath, he began to set a pace.

His thrusts were slow at first, hard and well making you let out the prettiest of noises. His nails dug into your thigh, anchoring himself as he fucked you with intent to make a mess of you. Right now you hugged a pillow to your face, trying to blur out your noises and he didn’t like that at all. Don’t be ashamed to feel good with him. That’s what he’s made for.

He bent forward, cock buried in you as he reached for the back of your neck, squeezing slightly until you got the hint and tried to hold your head up. You pushed your hands into the mattress, unable to fully got on your knees with the position Jungkook had your legs in but your back was flexible. You fucked back into him while turning to look at him and being met with a wet kiss that had you whining. Your arm came around his neck from behind and he moved back, dragging you with him until his hands were pushing your hips back to sit on his lap, making you grind your ass on him.

“So close baby,” he warned, fucking you open on his thick member.

You couldn’t find words, only moans that tumbled out of your mouth, fucking him with eagerness you hadn’t felt in a long time until you were at your breaking point.

Jungkook didn’t give much warning after that, his hand fell toward your clit and rubbed your wet pussy while he bounced you on his dick and brought you to the edge. You couldn’t process the sudden pleasure and how you screamed his name before almost collapsing on the bed if it wasn’t for his hold. Like he said, he didn’t pull out when he came. He pushed you down his entire length until his orgasm hit and thick cum was spilling into the condom.

“Oh my god,” you sighed, trying to catch your breath as he let you go, inevitably falling face first into his bed. Jungkook was puffing out of breath, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead as he ripped the condom off and stared down at you. Without thinking, his hand came down on you ass, shimmying down once more and trying to get you on your knees so he could get back to work.

“No, I need a second,” You said with a small moan when he angled your ass up and his face a mere inch away from your used cunt.

“I’m just gonna clean you up from the inside,” he licked his lips hungrily, “Relax.”

And you did. He had you asleep in his arms before he knew it and all he could think about is how long it had been since he had sex that good, wondering what was on your mind and if it was him or not.

When it felt as though your body had finally relaxed to fall asleep, your actions sank into your bones jolting you awake. It was the witching hour when you checked the time on your phone, the blinds were closing out the moon and there was a heavy arm draped across your body that didn’t feel right.

Jungkook stirred in his sleep, nuzzling his hair into your side when you tried to sit up, “What are you doing?”

“I have to go,” You told him, not able to whisper as you looked down at him in disbelief. Did you really sleep with him? A stranger. Yes, you knew Jungkook to an extent but at the end of the day he was not your boyfriend, he was not your friend, he was still a stranger to you. You’ll jeopardize your relationship for him?

This wasn’t like you at all. You weren’t the type to cheat, never in your life did that ever cross your mind yet in a blink of an eye that’s what you’ve done. You can’t make any sort of excuse at all. It wasn’t a text or some light flirting. You slept with him, slept with someone who you were not in a relationship with. It was making you sick.

When Jungkook processed what you said, he was snapping himself awake, sitting up and reaching for you, “What are you talking about? Look at the time.”

“I know but I should go, I have to uh…” You struggled to think of a better reason without exposing you for the truth and began to grab your thrown clothes off the ground. It was a humiliating reminder of your actions. With a hitched breath you tried again, “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook said your name so calmly, “Relax, it’s fine. Just get back in be—“

You practically ran out the room. You couldn’t think to look back when he called your name out the front door and went straight to your car. The cold had seeped inside and the windshield was lightly frosted over making it hard to leave as quickly as you wanted to escape. You got the courage to check your cellphone and check your notifications. There were a few texts, DMs, and shares from your friend but only one text from your boyfriend.

minu: ig u didn’t want to come over?

minu: goodnight

It was sent an hour ago when you and Jungkook were… yeah.

You cheated. You cheated on a man you’ve been with for three years with someone you barely knew. There was no way to sugarcoat it [not that you could] and it made you sick to your stomach. You couldn’t beg for understanding because how? What reason did you have? That Jungkook was attractive? That he was nice to you and actually wanted to be around you? You don’t know him! You don’t know what kind of guy he is and clearly you don’t even care because if you did you wouldn’t have risked your relationship with him.

What the fuck was wrong with you? You needed to tell Minu right now.

The ring of the call echoed through the silent car as you pressed the phone to your ear, gnawing on your bottom lip. There was a big chance Minu was asleep but you had to say it now. You wouldn’t be able to face him any other time.

“Hello?”

“You’re still awake?” You asked with a small sniffle, sitting up in the driver's seat where Jungkook had once been taking you to his place.

“Yeah, we finished the tournament. Now I’m playing Minecraft,” Minu said, too focused on his game to catch the tone in your voice and how it quivered.

You didn’t say anything as the words caught in your throat. You had to tell him, you know that but he didn’t sound at all worried about what you could’ve possibly been doing. For all he knew you were at home still pissed off he canceled dinner and he would still be playing games.

You felt like crying.

Jungkook had to stop Bam from barking loudly when you stormed out and took even longer to find his own things. He ran after you in shoes with no socks and a zip-up sweater with no shirt underneath. His hair was a mess and he was half asleep but he wanted to go find you. It was cold, late and dangerous out for you. Why on Earth would you leave at this hour?

“I’m probably gonna go to sleep soon though,” Minu finally said.

“Yeah, me too,” You said back, slumping in the seat and closing your eyes. He didn’t care to know what you were doing and though that didn’t excuse why you didn’t tell him, it made you feel better. As twisted as that sounded. Minu was not the type to reach out to you first. He hadn’t been at all worried about where you were or who you were with.

It felt like forever before you were able to move again and the first thing you did was look back at Jungkook’s apartment. You nearly jumped as you watched him standing just outside your car looking dazed and confused. You gathered enough strength to roll the window down and looked at him.

“I just wanted to make sure you got to your car,” He said, not mentioning anything about how he clearly saw you on the phone with someone. He didn’t say anything about the way you suddenly jolted out of bed or the reason why.

He knew why.

“I’ve got to be up early,” Was all you could think to say and he chuckled. He couldn’t believe how you still avoided the mention of your boyfriend but he didn’t mind it.

“Okay,” Jungkook said with a small nod, “I’ll call you?”

No, you needed to tell him no and drive off but instead you just nodded in response. He watched you leave for the night and returned home feeling good compared to you.

In all honesty, after you had finished and were just laying in his arms he had a second of weakness where he let his guilty conscience set in. He thought about the guy you were seeing and how fucked up it was to have you in his bed but it was a short lived feeling. He realized he liked how you felt with him and how he could treat you better and all sympathy left when you fell asleep.

He didn’t care you were with some other guy, he’ll fix that.

Cloud 9.

He felt as though he’d been on cloud 9 the other night. That was the only way he can explain it and it’s all he was able to think over the weekend. Even when you ran off on him it didn’t stop him from feeling this way. He understood it would take time for you to come to terms with your new feelings and the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you any further.

On Saturday he went to the gym with Taehyung but you were nowhere to be seen.

On Sunday was his ‘off’ day and he spent it at home hating himself for never actually getting your phone number. How was he supposed to call you if he never got it? What an idiot.

Monday came and he had been brought down from his cloud of bliss when he didn’t see you first thing in the morning. He expected you to be around like you usually were but you weren’t and though part of him wanted to ask your friends why he decided not to overthink it. He went to work and hoped he’d see you later when he returned.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Namjoon said at one point. Jungkook had been smiling all day, being obnoxious to his hyung and doing everything in his power to remain feeling good. He kept telling himself that he’d run into you later and get everything sorted out.

“I’m in love,” Jungkook said dramatically, only half-joking, “I mean like… maybe too soon to tell but real close? I don’t know.”

Namjoon chuckled, “So it did work out with that girl? Taehyung was complaining to me for days about how rude you were. What happened? Did you guys go out again?”

“No, with the girl from the gym, Y/n,” Jungkook smiled as he leaned against the Ford Focus that Namjoon was tuning up, “We had dinner last week and it went really well.”

“I thought she had a boyfriend,” Namjoon looked up from under the hood.

Jungkook waved his hand as if shaking the thought away, making Namjoon sigh, “Don’t be that kind of guy.”

“Sh, just trust me okay?” Jungkook said as he pushed off the car, “I’m seeing her later.”

You practically crouched behind the front desk at work as you read over your schedule. You had one last client today and then you were free to bedrot like you’ve done for the last couple days. Thankfully your boyfriend didn’t care to reach out to you —he was too busy with his friends to notice something was off—and you were allowed to be alone with your thoughts.

Your guilty conscience was eating you from the inside but more so because you’ve realized what a terrible person you are. For some reason what happened with Jungkook had felt like the end of the world. Minu would somehow know immediately that another man touched you and do something about it. You weren’t sure what was worse.

Your boyfriend finding out about your infidelity immediately or going on with his usual act of ignoring you too much to notice you did something wrong.

The angel on your shoulder has been begging you to confess to someone but the devil whispered not to. If he hasn’t caught on… he never would. You can continue on like normal and just avoid Jungkook, focus on your boyfriend and become a good doting partner.

“Hey Tae, Jungkook,” Eunbi said in her usual chirpy manner and you felt like disappearing into the floor.

“Hey,” both guys said as they checked in and you could feel Jungkook’s eyes on you. You forced yourself to look at your planner and not up at him but he made it too hard.

“Y/n,” He said, sliding down the front desk till he was directly in front of you, “How are you?”

His question was harmless, he was just a regular who knew you by name. That’s how it appeared anyway but the look he gave you was different.

You gave him one of your best customer service smiles and stood up, “Great, Jungkook. You?”

You didn’t give him time to respond as you turned to Eunbi, “I’m going to go check on the saunas, tell me when my client is here.”

Taehyung looked between the two of you as Jungkook went to follow you. Eunbi barely had time to process what was going on when someone else came to check in and she had to shift her attention. The two went to the locker room where Taehyung finally asked, “What was that? You finally getting the courage?”

“Something like that,” Jungkook said with a shrug, shoving his bag in his locker as he switched shoes and put on a waist belt to work out in. Taehyung couldn’t help but smirk, “I’m still a little pissed you blew me off with those girls the other night but if it was to get lucky with Ms. Trainer, I’ll let it go. Did you? So she doesn’t have a man?”

“I’ll meet you for warm-ups, alright?” He left before Taehyung could respond and headed upstairs.

The sauna rooms were small and mostly empty so it wasn’t hard for him to find you cleaning one up for your next client. He knocked on the door lightly, waiting for you to turn and look at him, “So, I said I was going to call you and like an idiot, I never actually got your number.”

“Jungkook,” You stood straight, looking at him with unnecessary embarrassment, “Um, about the other night… it was a mistake.”

“Really?” He asked, taking a step closer to you, “I thought we really hit it off. I’ve been thinking about you and you don’t know how mad I was at myself that I couldn’t call you or see you until no—“

“I have a boyfriend.”

He stopped walking, standing just a couple inches away from you and it made you realize just how much bigger he was than you. It’s probably why he was able to manhandle you so easily in bed—snap out of it, Y/n.

You expected him to scoff and storm off annoyed or call you some mean names figuring you weren’t worth his time then but instead he laughed. He walked closer, “Is he gonna beat my ass now?”

“What?” Your throat went dry, stepping back when he reached out to touch you.

“I figured a girl like you wouldn’t be single so where is he?” Jungkook looked around for entertainment.

“You knew?”

“I had a feeling,” Jungkook said calmly and for some reason it made you want to relax too but you forced yourself to remain tense with him. He released a sigh, “Well? Where is he? Or have you not told him?”

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came to mind. Was he being serious? Why did it seem like he didn’t care? Maybe he really didn’t. Maybe you were just a one time thing and he couldn’t care less? If that was the case why was he even bothering with you right now?

“I haven’t told him,” You admitted, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I already fucked up and I can’t talk to you anymore.”

“Come on Y/n,” He reached for your hand and you dumbly let him take it, “I’m not dumb. I knew the second you ran out on me something was up but be honest right now. You wanted to spend the night with me, don’t call it a mistake.”

You shook your head in disbelief, “No, I know, but… Jungkook, let’s just forget about it. I’m sure it was nothing serious for you anyway, I’m the one that fucked up.”

“So go tell your boyfriend right now,” Jungkook pointed to the door of the sauna, “Because if you really felt guilty you wouldn’t be bothering to tell me how wrong it was. You’d be telling him.”

Fuck, he was right.

You tried not to pay attention to the way his thumb caressed your knuckles, pulling you into him as he said, “You can say how wrong it was all you want but you wanted to do it. You had all night to tell me you were in a relationship but you didn’t. I have feelings for you and you can’t say you don’t feel anything for me.”

“I don’t, I shouldn’t,” you ran your fingers through your hair anxiously, “This is fucked up.”

“But it happened already, it’s been days and you haven’t told him so why bother now?” Jungkook was speaking to you in his usual calm tone but his hold on your hand was firm, making sure you can’t let go until you were in his open arms. There was a single tear in your eye that he couldn’t help but kiss away and though you flinched at his touch, you didn’t pull back. He smiled softly and hugged you, “We’ll figure this out.”

The two of you didn’t have anything to figure out. You had things to figure out. What you needed to do was push Jungkook away—not give him your phone number so he can be there for you like he claimed.

He texted you that night and the night that followed too. It was hard to avoid him at the gym but he understood enough to not bother you there. That didn’t mean you couldn’t feel his eyes on you anytime you were near but you tried not to focus on it. You had to tell Minu if you wanted things to work out with him.

You’ll tell him tonight. You decided already.

Hoseok had made a comment today about how you’ve been off lately and if he noticed you’re sure Minu caught on too. That’s why after work, you went to visit him.

“Min?” You called him for him as you let yourself into his unlocked apartment holding bags of takeout to have dinner together.

You can hear his shouting from the living room followed by more and walked in to see him and his friends already eating.

“Babe,” Minu said with a mouthful of pizza, “Sit down, you're blocking the TV.”

“What’d you bring?” One of the guys asked, trying to open one of the bags you brought as all motivation to tell him tonight quickly left your body and was replaced with what felt like unrightful annoyance.

You called him earlier to ask if you can come over for dinner and he said yes. You’d told him you wanted to talk about something and he said he’d hear you out. Now you’re here and so are four other guys he calls his friends all trying to eat the food you brought and pretend you weren’t here.

“I'm getting another drink,” Minu said as he got up while the game paused and you followed, “Sorry, I forgot that I planned guys night at my place. What’d you want to tell me?”

“Well I wanted us to be alone,” You said over their loud banter from the living room, “You couldn’t cancel one night with them for your girlfriend?”

How were you supposed to tell him now?

Minu laughed softly, working around you to open the fridge and grab a soda can, “Besides what’s so important they can’t be here? Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

You scoffed, “No I’m not fucking pregnant, Minu. Jeez.”

“Then what is it?”

“Minu! Man hurry up!” One of them called out.

“I’m going!” Minu shouted back, “Come on.”

“I’m going home.”

“Suit yourself.”

You stormed out of the apartment angrily. Stupid, you were so fucking stupid and Minu was the worst. You made a mistake and wanted to tell him because it actually is a big deal and he blows you off, like he always does [!]. It made you want to scream. You cheated on him and he didn’t even care to know.

Once again you found silent comfort in your car as you sat alone deep in thought. You tried owning up to your mistakes but you couldn’t. It wasn’t the time. It made you feel so much worse to think about what Jungkook said.

Why bother telling him now?

Clearly Minu doesn’t care what you do, or at least that’s what you told yourself. You can break up with him and he probably won’t care. It would be for the better if you did but then who would you have? Jungkook? What if he really was just stringing you along as some sort of karma? Maybe the universe thought you were in the wrong being with a guy you didn’t love for three years and was trying to fuck your life up.

It would be the only explanation for why Jungkook knew when to call.

You looked down at your cellphone, his unsaved number on display as he called and despite telling yourself not to, you answered, “Hello?”

“I haven’t heard from you, I’ve even done my part and given you space when I see you, Y/n, it’s getting hard,” Jungkook said as he stood in his bedroom while Namjoon and Taehyun drank in the living room, petting Bam, “I want to see you again.”

“We can’t,” you tried to hide the sniffling you let out, “I have a boyfriend.”

You couldn’t see the way he rolled his eyes and sat straighter, “But you answered my call and I can tell in your voice something’s wrong. Are you home?”

“I’m about to be,” you lied, starting your car to get your attention off of him.

“Have you eaten?” He asked, standing up abruptly. You thought about the food you left at Minu’s and sighed. He picked up on it and couldn’t help but smile, “How about I come over and make you something? I told you I’d be here for you.”

But he can’t be. You can’t let him comfort you. You cheated on Minu with him for fucks sake.

As if your heart was speaking before your head could think it over, you were telling Jungkook that your text him your address and hung up.

Jungkook couldn’t contain the smile on his face as he went to the living room, “You guys can hang out here for as long as you want but I’ve got plans so I gotta go.”

“Where to?” Namjoon asked with furrowed brows but Taehyung answered instead, “We know where.”

“Make sure Bam is in his kennel before you guys go, alright?” Jungkook hurried to change, ignoring Namjoon’s look of judgement.

When he arrived you didn’t say anything as he looked around curiously. It was a small one bedroom apartment but it seemed to hold his interest well. He focused on everything he could from your kitchenware to the dying plants at the window or the bowl of pomegranates on your dining table and the yoga mats rolled up in the corner of your living room.

“Lucky for you, I’m a good cook,” Jungkook said as he went to your kitchen with the bag of groceries he picked up before stopping here. You watched him find his way around your apartment, not bothered at all by your circumstances tonight. He didn’t care at all if you were in a relationship or not.

“What are we doing?” You dumbly asked,’wondering if he’d tell you something about why he dealt with you.

Jungkook looked up with a quirked brow, “About to have dinner?“

He smiled when you rolled your eyes and waited for you to really ask what you wanted to know, “I mean you and I. I know I said you can come over but we both know that it’s wrong.”

His shoulders rose in a shrug, bringing out your cutting board and a kitchen knife, “It doesn’t feel wrong.”

You let out a huff, frustrated with yourself more than anything. Of course he wouldn’t think it’s wrong he’s not the one in a relationship. Still, shouldn’t he feel a little guilty?

“I don’t like how you try and act guilty and like it was all a mistake,” He told you honestly, making you look up, feeling taken back by his statement, “If you really felt as guilty as you’re acting you wouldn’t have let me in. You wouldn’t have answered my calls or been with me that night. Is it hard for you to get that you like me?”

You didn’t want what he said to be so brutal and honest but you needed to hear that. You were trying to sound so pitiful like you’re the sole victim here when you’re not. Sure, Minu treats you like shit but why don’t you just leave him? Why do you sneak around with Jungkook and then acting like you don’t want him around?

He finished making dinner and brought over two plates, sitting next to you silently eating and waiting for you to say something. He felt bad for putting you in a situation like this but if you didn’t want him… you would’ve never fallen for his advances. He clearly treats you so much better than your current boyfriend so why are you acting like it’s a burden to have him around?

“Where did you go earlier?” More specifically, where did you go after work?

“I was with Minu,” You answered, watching how his eyes stared you down for a second before he nodded his head, taking in what you said. Maybe Jungkook was only pretending to not care as much as he did. What kind of person wants someone that someone else already has and how do they not feel an ounce of betrayal or jealousy or possessiveness? You weren’t trying to instigate anything, you just wanted him to be more honest with himself too.

You’ve risked your relationship with a guy you barely know and you’re not even 100% sure about how he feels for you. Was Jungkook using you for entertainment or did he have feelings for you?

“Nice,” Jungkook had lost his appetite and sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest but his attempt to seem casual failed, “What’d you guys do?”

“I shouldn’t tell you,” You leaned against the table when he drew back and it made him eye you suspiciously.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he said, “So how’d you end up with me instead?”

“He has a tendency to prioritize his friends over me and tonight was no different.”

“So you haven’t told him?” He asked, “How long have you two been together?”

He gave you no time between questions, wanting to get to the point of it and it made your feelings of guilt return.

“Three years.”

“Well, if you loved him you’d leave him,” Jungkook said with a shrug that was so indifferent and unbothered that your mouth parted in surprise.

“I was going to tell him tonight, I had it all planned and then at the last minute he invited all his friends and how would I tell him then?” You said and he couldn’t help but smile. You explained yourself but you didn’t really care for what he was saying. He had half pointed out how you can’t possibly love your boyfriend while also telling you to dump him already. You didn’t reject either.

“So I’m your dirty secret then?” He asked in a playful tone, leaning forward again and mirroring the way you rested your chin in your palm and observed him. Even if you wanted to act like he didn’t get to you, he knows he did. You like him and he’s not backing down until he has you all to himself, “If that’s the case, will you let me spend the night?”

“Desperate,” you pointed at him and sighed, getting up to gather the fished and wash up, “Shameless and…”

“Can treat you better? I know, say what you want but I’m very self aware,” Jungkook ended your sentence and followed after you, “Just one movie then and I’ll leave, how about that?”

You granted him at least that and let him lay with you in your living room trying to find something to watch. Neither of you were interested in watching a movie but it was something you wouldn’t admit. You wanted Jungkook around even if you knew you shouldn’t.

“How’d you meet?” Jungkook asked, pulling your legs on his lap. A part of you wondered if he was going to ask you all kinds of questions tonight since it’s the first you’ve seen each other and been around long enough for the topic to be brought up. You’ve done a lot of avoiding and now there’s no way around it—which is good, right?

“Through a mutual friend. We were friends for a while before he asked me out,” You opened up to him so easily it drove you wild. Why were you so willing to be after telling yourself you wouldn’t be able to get too close to anyone aside from Minu?

“And you guys still don’t live together? It’s been three years,” he said, trying to read your expression when he ran a soothing hand along your leg, itching to reach for your waist and pull you onto his lap. He missed being this close.

“It’s complicated, clearly,” You said with a scoff, hiding your face behind your hands as you scooted to lay down.

“Clearly,” Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, “Come here.”

“Jungkook…” You looked at him but he was reaching for your arms to make you sit up. You let him drag you onto him.

“What?” He asked feigning naivety and doing such a poor job at it when his hands found your hips and positioned you to straddle his lap, “Don’t tell me it’s wrong.”

You won’t. It was obvious it was wrong and admitting that over again wouldn’t make you suddenly push him away and that made it all worse.

“Are you usually this persistent?”

“When there’s something I really want,” Jungkook said in a whisper now, lips brushing against your neck.

“This is such a bad idea,” You whispered back, tilting your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him anyway. He placed a soft kiss, “Shh, just stop thinking about it and kiss me, yeah?”

“That’s not good,” You whined, hand cupping his chin and making him look up to kiss you, “Fuck.”

He kissed you with a need you haven’t felt from anyone else in a while. His hands circled around your waist, taking their time traveling across your hips and settling comfortably on your butt. With a firm hold, he pressed your body into his more and you kissed him harder.

“I’m hungry,” He said between kisses, tongue peeking out lazy and he watched how your lips covered it in nasty kisses that had him guiding you right over where he needed you the most. His body reacted instantly to the thought of you and as embarrassing as it was to admit, he’s been turned on since you decided to wear those little black shorts you like to wear when you work out.

You smiled, pulling back with a tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, “We just ate.”

“Mm,” Jungkook hummed, head dropping with disappointment and you ran your fingers through his hair, unsure what he was thinking. His big hand began to roam along your butt, fingers hooking around where your hips met your thighs and felt the crease from your sitting position with tenderness. You looked down when he caressed your thighs, sliding his hands up to tease your pelvis while managing to avoid your heat. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t beginning to feel aroused. You knew what he was implying and though it excited you, you wanted something else.

You slid off his lap with your hands on his thighs, “How about I treat you to something this time?”

His face lit up instantly, smiling giddily, “I can work with that.”

You were in the wrong and you knew that but after a while it didn’t seem to bother you as much. Jungkook made you feel wanted and it made you weak to him. The obvious thing to do would be to dump Minu so you don’t keep betraying him but every time you thought about it you couldn’t bring yourself to actually do it.

You became one of those girls who cheats on their boyfriend and Jungkook was so readily available. It felt like you were using him too but he didn’t even care—or well it felt like he didn’t.

When you’d see him at work he’d keep things brief in front of everyone but you’d feel his eyes on you anytime he was around. He tried not to bother you all the time but would happily accept your calls everytime you rang for him. He was enabling your terrible behavior with a smile on his face and it was the damndest thing.

“You’re distracting me,” He said a few nights later when he passed you on the staircase. You hesitated a second, looking up at him as you headed down and your eyebrows raised, “How? I was with a client.”

If anything now that you’ve seen him, you’re the one left distracted. Sweat marked his hairline and his cheeks were rosy from whatever warmup he’s just done and he was breathing heavily, chest rising and lowering with each breath.

“Yeah and there’s mirrors all over,” Jungkook smirked when he had your attention, “I can get a good view of you wherever I’m at.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, annoyed but stupidly charmed and began to walk back down, “Don’t be a creep.”

“Can I see you tonight?” He asked in a lower voice, looking down both ends of the stairs to see if anyone was around.

“Maybe,” You told him playfully, “If I’m not busy.”

Before he left, he pushed his bottom lip out giving you a sad and dramatic pout and nodded his head. You rolled your eyes with a smile and headed to the front desk to clock out.

It’s not that you didn’t want to see him too but you had to be smart here. You can’t just spend all your time with Jungkook because that would raise questions. Besides, Ara and Eunbi were coming over to watch the latest episode of Single’s Inferno.

You had really thought Jungkook would be okay with not seeing you tonight but it appears that wasn’t really the case.

jungkook: not even for a little bit? :(

you: I have ppl over

jungkook: mmmmmmmmmm

jungkook: after?

You typed back ‘maybe’ and set your phone down, trying to ignore it so you could spend time with the girls. You wanted to enjoy some time by yourself and act happy and normal like everything should be.

When your friends left and you debated calling him or not, you received a call from your boyfriend.

“Y/n?” Someone said on the other end that had you furrowing your brows, “It’s Rowoon, I’m with Minu and we were having some drinks after work an—“

“Is that Y/n?” You could hear Minu ask before some rustling was heard and he was talking now, “Babe, what are you doing? Can you come pick me up?”

“No way you’re drunk, it’s a Tuesday,” You said with a sigh, happy you were alone when you got his call, “Where are you?”

So it was a good thing you never told Jungkook to come over. It just sucked that you spent the night getting scolded for telling your boyfriend not to drink so much and for not sleeping with him lately. It was a night wasted in arguments when you could’ve been with someone who wanted to be around you.

“Remember Hyejin?” Taehyung asked him randomly a couple nights later, “She started seeing someone, probably got tired waiting for your attention.”

Jungkook shrugged, “Good for her.”

“What are you doing tonight?” He asked him.

“I’m gonna see Y/n,” Jungkook told Taehyunf honestly as he packed his things into his sports bag, “We’re making dinner and watching a movie.”

It’s been just a few days since he last had seen you but to him it felt too long. Time goes by extremely slow when you’re not around and as much as he likes to act unaffected with your current situation [that’s how he’s started to view your relationship], its starting to get to him. He just needs things to speed up already.

“Look at you, someone’s handsome late-night call,” Taehyung teased, not caring much about his friend’s choices. He knew Jungkook was wrong for seeing someone in a relationship but that didn’t change his friendship with him. Jungkook isn’t the one in the relationship and Taehyung isn’t the one being lied to so what does it have to do with him?

“I prefer the term, ‘Evening call��� instead,” Jungkook said in a joking manner. The oldest released a scoff as he swung his backpack onto his shoulder and began walking out the locker room first, “No shame.”

Jungkook just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, following his friend out. He knew your schedule had been free for the evening and left home a while ago so he didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone else at the front desk.

“I really am shameless, aren’t I?” He asked once the two were outside, “Does that make me a terrible person?”

“It makes you a stupid one, what are you gonna do when she gets caught? You’re just here to ruin her relationship for fun?” Taehyung asked curiously.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jungkook told him, “Have you ever seen something that you knew you just had to have? Anything, anyone?“

“Aish, you’re crazy,” Taehyung said with a laugh, “Just be careful what you get yourself into.”

“Yes, hyung, I promise,” Jungkook said, smiling as he got into his black truck, “I’ve got a date to get ready for.”

Jungkook knew what he was doing was morally wrong and it was probably a shame to know he was that kind of guy but he really did not care. From the moment he’d seen you he knew he had to have you. It wasn’t just the way you looked, it was about your almost shy glances that would catch his attention. The way you’d carry yourself when talking to others and how you walked with a little sway in your hips. Knowing you had a boyfriend had simply been a bump in the road and nothing more to him.

He had begun plotting on you since he realized he’d get to see you so often and he was not a patient man. He wasn’t going to wait for you to suddenly be single so he can have his chance, he planned on taking it and that’s what he did.

On days where he’s actually lucky, he wakes up with you at his side. He skips his morning workout when you stay in with him and he can imagine what it’d be like to see you all the time. Just that alone made his morals slip away so easily—that’s how he likes to think of it. It makes answering his friend’s judgments easier than acting bothered by the way things actually were.

Of course he’d prefer to have you all the time instead of just when you’re available but that wasn’t an option at the moment. He’s waited for you to get past the guilt and hoped you’d come to your senses and get the courage to leave your piece of shit boyfriend. Yes, Jungkook is greedy, makes bad decisions when it comes to who he chooses to involve himself with but who can blame him?

Those late night conversations where you listen to whatever he tells you about himself and he does the same for you made him a lot more… mushy than he cared to admit. Past girlfriends were fun while they lasted but he can’t remember feeling this… fluttery for them. It just didn’t compare and that’s why it’s such a pity he had to share your attention.

“What about this weekend?” He asked with a hand in your hair, massaging your temples nearly bringing you to sleep.

“Can’t,” you answered in a sluggish tone, snuggling into his naked chest, “I’m going to something with Eunbi. She met a guy.”

“Mm,” Jungkook didn’t care but asked for your sake, “Really? Do you know him?“

“No, I guess he’s a little bit older,” You told him, “She told me his name but I forgot.”

“And that’s on Saturday? What about Sunday?” He tried again.

“You know Sunday’s are when I see Minu,” You released a sigh, sliding off his arm a little and feeling him pull you back again.

“But all you guys will do is stay in and eat leftover pizza or something,” Jungkook said with a hint of annoyance.

“I like pizza,” You smiled, sensing his light jealous tone that amused you more than it should. It was like willingly playing with fire. Dangling a match over dry leaves and waiting for it to catch. As far as you’ve known, Jungkook is a very tame guy but there’s this spark in his eyes that shows a mischievous side—like the kind that joked about your boyfriend fighting him.

“I can get us pizza,” Jungkook said with a roll of his eyes trying to get you to relax against him more, “Baby, if that’s all you’re with him for then goddamn, why are you still with him?”

“Jungkook,” You said with a whine, hand on his chest as you pushed off him, “Don’t ask me such difficult questions.”

“Don’t think too hard, I’m just saying, I’d be a much better time on a lazy Sunday,” Jungkook forced a smile, pulling himself up on the pillows a little more when you sat up facing him.

You placed a manicured finger on his toned stomach, “You’re bad for me.”

“Oh, am I?” He chuckled, arm behind his head against the headboard, “I should be saying that about you. You want me but you’re with him, how shameless.”

You covered your ears instantly, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to tune him out but he just smiled and sat up, “It’s true, no need for theatrics.”

“Shh,” You groaned, unable to help the smile, “You’ll make me realize I’m a terrible person and put a stop to this right now.”

“You think I’ll let you?” He reached for you, arms around your waist until you were leaning against his front, “It’s going to take a lot to get rid of me now. You’ve already made the mistake of getting in bed with me tonight, I might just keep you here until the weekend starts and ends. Then he’ll really wonder who you’re with all the time. Or maybe I’ll tell him myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh when he turned you over so your back hit the sheets and he hovered over you, throwing your bare legs around his waist, “Are you threatening me? Trying to use blackmail?”

“You think it’ll work?” He pressed his body into yours, feeling the way your figure fit against his so well. It was no wonder there was chemistry.

“What a terrible, awful guy to seduce someone in a relationship.”

“Mm,” Jungkook looked down at the curve of your lips and the softness in your cheeks with admiration. He nodded his head in agreement and felt your arms circle his neck anyway, “Try not to be so easily swooned.”

He waited to hear your annoyed scoff, laughing softly into your neck when he hugged you, pulling the sheets over both of your bodies, “Now go wash up because if I go with you we’re not leaving my apartment at all.”

He let you go with a displeased groan, hand touching down your back and watched you practically run to his bathroom and take some clothes off the dresser with you.

“Who is she seeing again?”

You looked at Minu with an irritated smile, trying to be happy about the fact he was joining you tonight. Despite how much Eunbi and Minu despise each other, she invited him too in hopes that he wouldn’t pick a fight with you about tonight.

Usually, when you and your boyfriend decide to go out with your friends you have a tendency to drift away from each other. He’d go with his friends and you’d go with yours. Very rarely did you two stick together but it seemed like tonight that was your only option.

“Jin,” You told him for the fourth time since you got to the packed bar, “He’s somewhere over there.”

He followed the lazy wave of your hand in the direction of Eunbi and stared off. Minu wasn’t usually shy or antisocial but of course he’s forced himself to tag along where he knows no one but you and now is pissed off about it.

“Let’s get one more drink and go home,” Minu said, making you glare up at him.

“I’m not leaving, we just got here,” You told him, “If you want to leave go ahead.”

“You don’t even know anyone here,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “You just want to get drunk. We can drink in my apartment, let’s go.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you tried to weigh out your options. If you leave, Eunbi might pop myget a little upset but she’ll get over it easily. She’s with her new man and is surely more worried about that. If you choose to stay, there’s a high chance you won’t hear the end of it. Minu won’t stop bitching until you leave and you’ll probably argue over something stupid. Ashamed to be defeated, you decided to compromise with him. “Fifteen more minutes and then we can leave.”

As surprising as it might seem, Jungkook had plans to spend his Saturday night with Bam couch rotting just at the thought that you’d be out having fun without him. Lately he’s realized he only has fun when he’s with you and when you’re not around he feels it more intensely.

He had no plans of stepping out of his apartment but when he got a call from one of his good friend’s asking what he was up to tonight, he just had to tag along. Seokjin wasn’t the type to go out anymore so it was a surprise to them all, especially announcing he was kind of seeing someone and when Jungkook asked for the name… well, it wasn’t hard for him to connect the dots.

You couldn’t remember the name of the guy Eunbi was seeing and it all worked out so easily. It’s times like this that Jungkook seriously thinks the universe wants something stronger to happen between you. If it didn’t, there’s no way you’d be connected this way too.

Admittedly, he arrived late because he went to pick up Namjoon but it didn’t seem like he’d missed anything more than a few rounds of drinks. He wasn’t here to drink anyway.

“So you know each other? I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask,” Jin asked him and Eunbi when she finally spotted them. Jungkook nodded with a polite smile, not sure what else he could do. He’s already losing hope when he couldn’t immediately see you right there next to her. Didn’t you come along just for her? Where were you?

“Y/n is here too! You know the trainer?” Eunbi had said to which he pretended to be surprised by the news and looked around, “She’s somewhere with her boyfriend. I’m sure she’ll come back around.”

Boyfriend? You brought your boyfriend and dint care to tell him? Maybe he’s being unreasonable considering he’s just the one you’re having an affair with but doesn’t he deserve at least a little knowledge? You’re usually more honest with him than the man you’ve been with for three years a so what’s your deal? Won’t you see Minu tomorrow? Why does he get to see you both Saturday and Sunday’s now?

“In the meantime, let’s drink,” Jin said to his group of friends, leading them toward the bar and Jungkook followed behind with Namjoon. He felt his eyes fall on him but he didn’t do anything, too stuck on why your boyfriend was here and what would happen when you see each other.

“So Y/n’s here too, just a coincidence, right?” Namjoon asked with a scowl, “I was wondering why you suddenly changed your mind about going out tonight.”

“Jin called and asked what I was doing, possibly seeing Y/n would just be a nice surprise,” Jungkook’s tone was as mischievous as the smile he forced on his face, “Come on hyung, I said I’d pay for the first round.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Namjoon said with a sigh, unable to hide the amusement of seeing how persistent Jungkook was. How… caught up he was with you. It was beginning to be entertaining despite if it was wrong or not.

Jungkook tried paying attention to his own friends but it didn’t take him long to find you on the other end of the bar. You stood next to a somewhat tall guy with a familiar face and his arm around your waist. You were too far for him to hear what the two of you were talking about to the group of guys you were now with but he could easily read your expression.

Even with a smile on your face it was obvious you didn’t care much about what any of them were talking about. Your boyfriend was the one doing most of the talking, happy and acting sweet with you which was the complete opposite of how you described him. There was a chance you were exaggerating how awful he was to Jungkook but he didn’t think that was likely. He can tell that whatever display of affection you were showing each other wasn’t real. There was no need for it to upset him but it did. When you’re with Jungkook he knows it's because you want to be. He never has to force you to smile or open up to him, you just do. Right now everything you do seems like an act and he’s not just saying that because he’s jealous.

“We might head to another bar soon, I don’t know I guess it depends how everyone is feeling. There’s a lot of us,” Jin said, looking around at the group that gathered. On one hand he had his own friends, Jungkook and Namjoon, Eunbi and her friends. It would be hard to have everyone talk so he had to bounce around. Right now he would like to take a break and talk with just Jungkook and Namjoon, “So what’s up with you guys?”

“Me, nothing much just working at the shop, how about you, Jungkook? Does Jin know you’re seeing someone?” Namjoon said with a smug expression that had Jungkook glaring at him. He just smirked, a laugh threatening to slip as he watched Jungkook think of a response.

“You’re dating someone? You dog, once you got back from the army you kept going on about not jumping into a relationship and look at you now. A few months out and you’ve already gotten a girl,” Jin teased, “Why didn’t you bring her out tonight?”

“I’m sure she’s somewhere,” Namjoon said with a clear throat making Jungkook nudge his arm. Jin looked at the two of them and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, I need a shot.”

“I’m gonna go with him, are you coming or … ?” Namjoon asked him, question dying on his tongue when he followed Jungkook’s line of sight. His tongue poked against his cheek trying not to tense his jaw but it was obvious he saw something he didn’t like.

You still haven't noticed Jungkook watching as you let Minu press a kiss to your lips. It didn’t even matter to him that you slightly pulled back, he was annoyed enough just by watching it happen. It must have been some parting kiss because you tugged Minu’s arm off your waist and began walking away. Jungkook didn’t think twice about going after you.

“Eunbi,” You had to shout over the loud music once you found your friend, “I’m going to the restroom.”

“Okay!” She shouted back, smiling giddily and drunk so you began to walk away when she tugged you back, “Oh! We might go somewhere else, I think Jin is asking his friends. Did you know Jungkook is here?!”

“Jungkook?” Your brows furrowed looking at her with a confused expression. Play it cool, you thought.

“Yeah, gym Jungkook. Apparently he’s friends with Jin,” Eunbi said looking around before she said, “Anyways, I’ll text you if we do go.”

“Okay… Minu might want to uh—“ You blinked in thought, looking around anxiously, “Tae-oh came and one of his other friends so he might want to stay.”

You need to make sure you don’t run into Jungkook. “I’ll be back.”

You weren’t too familiar with the club you were at tonight but that didn’t stop you going off on your own. Minu was busy with his friends and Eunbi was with Jin. Plus, you needed a moment to yourself so you can wrap your mind around what your friend just said.

Jungkook lost you for a second but found you again when you turned a corner. The hall light was a deep green that casted unnatural shadows where people should be. The music was muffled and there was security at the front of the hall but they didn’t seem to be paying attention too much. He gave them one last look to make sure they weren’t giving him to much focus and before he knew it, he was pushing the door for the restroom open.

You leaned against the stall door, biting your nail anxiously as you debated texting Jungkook or not. You wanted to know if he was really here.

“Y/n.”

Your heart sank down your chest, when he said, “It’s me.”

Something was telling you not to open the door. Thankfully this restroom was a maze to get to so it didn’t have much traffic because there’s no way he would’ve been able to just walk in. You shut your eyes in thought, hand reaching for the handle to unlock it and the second you did, he came in.

“What are you doing here?” You rushed to ask when he pushed you back into a stall, hands cupping your face as he didn’t think twice to press his lips to yours in a heated, well-awaited kiss. You ignored the moral conscience telling you to push him away—it wasn’t the right time or place to be doing anything like this but you couldn’t help it. Your arms circled around his neck, making him dip his head lower and angle to the side to deepen the kiss. Your back hit the stall wall making you squeal in surprise but the sound was muffled with his tongue.

“Wait,” You sighed, putting your hand on his chest to try and put space between you, “Koo-“

”Just a little more,” He whispered, lips trailing down toward your jaw, threatening to suck on the skin and create a love bite but this time you pushed him back with more force.

“How’d you know I was here?” You asked, wiping the smeared lip gloss off your lips while Jungkook just locked it off his own. His shoulders rose in a shrug, “Apparently we know the same people.”

He pretended like he hadn’t figured that out earlier and you didn’t tell him how Eunbi just let you know too. Still, you didn’t think he’d actually come looking for you. You don’t know if he’s seen Minu but you’d prefer if they don’t run into each other at all. Thankfully, Minu doesn’t know anything about Jungkook [why would he?], but you can't remember if Jungkook knows how to spot Minu.

“I’m here with—“ “I know,” Jungkook cut you off almost bitterly, looking down at you with a dark gaze that had you awfully aware of how small the stall was when there were two people in it. The music from outside was nearly turned out completely ad it felt like everyone else was on a different planet than you but you knew Minu would wonder where you were soon. If not him, his friends would ask him where you were. Just before you could tell him, you needed to go back out, there was a knock on the restroom door. It was a public place and if someone was looking to use it, they wouldn’t have knocked…

You bit your lip nervously, waiting to see if they’d knock again but this time they spoke, “Y/n?”

You looked at each other with mixed expressions as the truth hit you. Minu was the one trying to get you to come out. You pushed past Jungkook to get the door open but he wouldn’t budge, ‘Jungkook,” you huffed, getting him to move aside so you can leave but he was right behind you.

Your boyfriend knocked again, this time sounding more impatient and you turned to Jungkook, “Can I just text you once I’m gone?”

His brows furrowed, “What? Ju tell him righ—“ “Please,” You begged and with a sigh, he nodded his head. You gave yourself a quick look to make sure you didn’t look bad and immediately sighed when you spotted the red bruise Jungkook put on your neck, using your hair to cover it, you opened the door wide enough for you to slip out.

”What took you so long?” Minu asked, standing right at the door and trying to stare in but you tried blocking it.

“I was fixing my makeup,” You lied, trying to get him to walk away, “What’s up?”

”I heard you talking to someone,” He pointed at the closed door and you prayed Jungkook wouldn’t decide to come out now. “I was fixing my makeup,” You said once more but it was obvious Minu didn’t believe you. Usually he’s clueless about anything that has to deal with you so it was strange how adamant he was to stick around.

‘It still looks like shit,” He muttered under his breath, half tempted to swing the door open and see for himself. He wasn’t as dumb as you thought he was. You’ve been gone for a while and he swears he heard a guy’s voice just now. Plus, you were acting strangely, “Where’s your bag?”

Shit…

Jungkook stood with his ear pressed to the door and looked into the stall you once were. Thinking quickly he grabbed the mini bag just as Minu said, “Go get it.”

You squeezed your eyes shut with worry, bracing yourself to go back in while still making sure Jungkook wasn’t seen but your efforts were useless. Minu looked in far enough to watch a tattooed hand pass you your bag. Someone was hiding there.

Your breath caught in your throat when you went back out, noticing how close Minu was to you now and it told you everything you needed to know. He was onto you and the last thing you needed was him to storm in and confront Jungkook while all your friends are out there waiting. How stupid could you be? You should’ve never answered Jungkook when he stood outside.

“Let’s go,” His tone was sharp and unusual/ it was obvious he was mad but he was also too calm for your liking and that almost scared you more. Usually he doesn’t bite back from telling you how he feels. Yes, at times he can be too dismissive but when it comes to how he feels, he never holds back. That’s why it’s strange for him to not say anything.

“Min—“ You tried to call for him but he was already a few steps ahead of you, wa;Kim out of the hall and back to the crowded bar. He barely gave you time to react when he took your hand in his and forced a smile on his face as he told his friends the two of you were calling it a night. He made some excuse about you drinking too much and when you tried looking for Eunbi, he didn’t let you go and dragged you to the car.

He refused to speak to you for the first couple minutes in the car, your leg bounced with anxiety and you bit your nails nervously waiting for him to speak up.

“I can’t believe you’d fucking embarrass me like that,” Was the first thing he said after five agonizing minutes in dead silence. “In front of my friends? In front of your friends? What were you thinking?”

So does he know? You can't exactly tell since he’s not yelling at you over it yet.

“I’m out here looking like an idiot trying to find you and you’re being a slut with another guy. Are you stupid? How am I gonna face my friends? I just don’t get why you’d do this to me. I treat you so well, I love you so much and you were willing to risk what we have for some random guy?” It took you a second to understand what he was mad about. Was it just that he caught you with someone? Was it that you did it somewhere where his friends were also? Did he feel like you weren't grateful for whatever imaginary things he’s done for you? He has a right to be upset but what reason was he going to use and why were his friends brought up into everything?

It was time for you to just be honest, or as much as he’d let you be anyway, “He’s not just some… I’m sorry, okay? I’m stupid and shameless and I know there’s not anything I can say right now to fix what I fucked up.”

All Minu could do in response is scoff and shake his head. He went back to not speaking to you and you decided it’d be better to just wait until he was ready. He’s being too calm but you rather have him like that than yelling in your face in a moving car. You were sur[rised when he still chose to take you back to his place like originally planned but you understood why. He probably wanted you to speak up now, “Minu…”

“No, Y/n, I can’t even look at you right now. Why would you do that to me? After three years, you just… you try and throw it all away, why? I don’t even care who that guy is, all I want to know is why you’d do that,” Minu said, finally being more open to talking but you can tell he was barely holding his anger at bay.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, following him toward his bedroom as he began to rip off his jacket.

“Yes you do so can you just be honest with me for once and say it,” Minusaid and that’s when you started to feel a little confused. You were always honest with him, if anything this was the first time you’ve ever lied to him but it’s obvious why. You wanted to see other people behind his back but still have him around. You even tried telling him immediately the first night but couldn't bring yourself to tell him after how he acted that night. When you asked to have dinner so you can try again, he brushed you off, so what did he mean ‘be honest for once’?

“I don’t know,” You said again, “I just… he’s not like you. I don’t have to beg him for attention or fight with him about every little thing.”

You knew it was the wrong thing to say after you said but it was too late to take it back. He heard you clearly and whipped back to look at you, “So it’s my fault then?”

Shaking your head no, you tried to deny it, “That’s not what I’m saying—“

He stood near his desk, arm swinging across the top until a sack of old books fell to the floor along with a picture of you he had on his laptop. You didn’t bother to jump as you get a sense of familiarity. This is the guy you knew, this was your boyfriend—the one who gets mad and starts throwing things. It’s been a while since you’ve last seen him like this but hats because you’ve been avoiding him. He shook his head in disbelief and said, “Well I’m sorry we fight Y/n, all couples do. I didn’t realize that wasn’t fucking normal. I’m sorry that I’m busy and can’t pay every second of attention that you deserve. You want a guy like that? He’s what you want? I can’t give you what you want so you go to the next person that does? I could’ve slept with someone else since you won’t have sex with me anymore. You should’ve let me know and then we both could’ve been assholes.”

You sat on his bed, ;eating him keep going because you couldn’t think of anything else to say. You didn’t want to fight for forgiveness or beg him to take you back because clearly.

Once he stopped pacing back and forth, you tried again to speak, “I’m not saying what I did was right but I think it’s crazy that suddenly you’re this perfect boyfriend that didn’t deserve anything bad but what you’re saying is not true. You seriously think things were good between us?”

Minu had the decency and awareness to shake his head, “No but I was trying. I’ve been trying, that’s why I came with you tonigh—“

You stood up, feeling your patience run thin as you looked at your boyfriend, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t sit here and talk in circles with you like we always do about who treats who worse and who puts in more effort than the other. Neither one of us have been good to each other but I’m taking full blame for betraying you, if you want to break—“

“Are you stupid? I don’t want to break up!” He yelled, “I want you to sound like you mean it when you apologize. What are you even thinking? You think that guy gives a fuck about you? You want to end it with me so you can go be with him?” Minu asked, standing directly in front of you now, pushing on your shoulder, “You seriously think he’s what you want? After everything we’ve been through? You’re so ungrateful.”

“Hello? You can’t hear me or something? I said, you’re ungrateful,” he pushed you one last time, “Now that you found something better you want to leave me behind? No.”

“No?” You looked at him with disbelief. He didn’t want to break up. Not to mention he thinks you’re ungrateful. He thinks he does so much for you and it’s actually insane. “I’m ungrateful? I literally do everything for you and have you ever even noticed?”

“Don’t start Y/n,” he shook his head, “Stop trying to turn this o—“

“I’m not!” You told him angrily, “I said I was sorry, I don’t know what else you want me to do! It happened, I fucked yo and you still want to be together. Why? Just so you can hold it against me and keep being the way you are?”

“The way I am? I’m so sick and tired of your bullshit. You think you’re so much better than me at everything. You hate my friends, you hate that I don’t make as much as you do. You hate me.”

You sighed, “I d-don’t hate you. I just… I can’t anymore, do you know how hard it is to be with someone you don’t… I don't know… you don’t feel the same for? A—and I did it all wrong, if I knew I felt this way I should’ve just ended it sooner—“

“With who? With me? Why? Why can’t we just work through it? Do you really want to start over with someone else?” He looked at you with hatred in his eyes and it pissed him off. This is not how it’s supposed to be between you two. You both knew early on you were together because it felt… well, no, it didn’t feel right… but it felt comfortable? You didn’t ask much of each other and never did anything to move forward but he thought it was alright. Sure, he might’ve gotten lazy at times but what did he do that was so wrong you’d try and find comfort in someone else?

“I don’t,” You admitted with a sigh, “But I don’t want to be with you anymore. Call me selfish, clearly I am but I don’t want to be with you and have you constantly remind me how I messed up. I don’t want to keep putting up with the same routine because to be honest… I’m tired too. I’m tired of feeling less important than everything else in your life, Min. Hell, on days I really wanted you around you were too busy playing Minecraft. How do you think that made me feel? Like I said, I’m not making excuses I just… I don’t want to keep pretending to be happy with you.”

Minu didn’t say anything and you wondered how much he actually bothered to listen to. You just wanted him to understand there was no going back to before. He wouldn’t be happy. “You walked in on me with someone else and you couldn’t think of anything worse than embarrassing yourself in front of your friends.”

He scoffed, not denying what you said but not agreeing. It wasn’t like that exactly; he doesn’t think. His friends knew you well, they knew your relationship well and sure they also knew you fought but Minu doesn’t pretend for them… he’s not insecure like that… It’s just, well, he wants them to think he’s in a happy relationship because it makes it look like he has his shit together. You were always perfect for making him look good so of course he didn’t want them to see him out of character. It took him a second to realize there were a few tears in your eyes and it disgusted him—something he could finally admit, “Stop crying. You fucked everything up.”

Fine. You’ll take it. If he wants to yell at you more and just let it all out you’ll let him as long as it all just stops. If there be a point where it stops and you can be done. Your silence annoyed him more than your crying did and he couldn’t look at you anymore. You wanted to be done with him, fine, he doesn’t care, “Get out then.”

Your best option would’ve been to call a cab and wait at the front of the building but the thought of being anywhere near him had you walking into the night with tears down your face.

Jungkook prepared for this, alright? He wasn’t just some crazy guy who thinks everything would work out just fine. He knew you being in a relationship made things hard but maybe he didn’t plan ahead enough. He was too impatient to wait and he got with you as fast as he could. It was that easy, so why is it now… now that your boyfriend knows about him… why haven’t you called him back?

It’s been days and you haven’t responded to his texts or calls. He just wants to make sure you’re fine so why won’t you talk to him? It was beginning to bother him a little.

“Namjoon told me about what happened the other night,” Taehyung said as they found a spot to park for the gym. A mischievous smile appeared on his face, “Was he better looking than you?”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend’s question. The guy was no competition at all so why are you bothering to ignore him instead? He can’t understand. Taehyung raised a curious brow as he watched his best friend just leave the truck without him. Sensitive topic, he wondered, following him into the gym.

“Is Y/n here?” Jungkook asked immediately. Hoseok was alone at the front for once and he didn’t care to get to know him at all. It’s been a few days since what happened over the weekend and hasn’t been able to see you. He has seen you at the gym but you’re out close enough or ever alone for him to approach you. It felt like you were avoiding him but why would you? What has he done wrong?

”I think she finished early today,” Hoseok said with a shrug. He’s been alone for a few hours now since Eunbi left with you and he’s got no clue what’s going on with you and Minu. Hosek’s gotten some of the story but not all of it. All he knows at the moment is that the two of you aren’t dating. Eunbi’s been trying to fish more out of you but he doesn’t know if she’s succeeded. It was a little strange that one of the regulars was asking for you. Jungkook doesn’t like one of your usual clients so why was he asking for you? Before Hoseok could even think to ask why, Jungkook as turning to his friend with a tense expression and stormed back out. Taehyung stood there confused, knowing exactly where Jungkook would go but kind of wishing he wouldn’t. He could’ve done more to keep him from leaving but was it worth it?

All the years he’s known Jungkook, he’s never kept himself from going after what he wants and he’s been more stuck on you more than anything at the moment. He doesn’t remember the last time he found him caught up on someone like this, or has gone as far as to ruin someone’s relationship but he’s done nothing aside from standing back and watching it all unfold.

You walked around the shop mindlessly, not looking at anything specific and barely listening to whatever comforting words Eunbi was trying to tell you. It didn’t work but you didn’t have the heart to tell her that.

“I mean, I feel like you both knew you were barely keeping the relationship going,” She tried saying. It didn’t help that you haven’t been fully honest with her either but at this point you don’t care. Yes, its being selfish but you didn’t end another person reminding you how shirt you are for messing with Jungkook. It didn’t help that he’s been trying to reach out to you and the smart idea would be to block him but you just can’t.its even worse toad it you miss him more than your now ex boyfriend.

“Are you going to try that on?” You asked, hoping to change the subject. She wanted you to come shopping with her so you wouldn’t lock yourself at home but right now you would prefer doing that instead. She looked down at the small pile of clothes in her hands and nodded, telling you she was going to the fitting room and left you alone to keep going through the racks. From your back pocket, you felt your phone vibrate and curiously you checked. When Jungkook’s name appeared on screen, you put your phone back away and tried to think about him. That was after the first ring, the second and third were harder to avoid.

“Hello?”

”Hey,” Jungkook let out a breath of fresh air once heard your voice on the other end, “I've been trying to call you…”

”I know, its been a weird lately few days,” You bit your lip in thought, looking toward the fitting room to see if Eunbi would be out soon, “Can I come over late? I think we should talk.”

Part of him wondered why your tone sounded off but he tried to remind himself what happened. Clearly you’re not with your boyfriend anymore and you need someone to talk to. Maybe you’ve realized he’s the only person you can open up to. A small smile adorned his features as he thought about seeing you. It hasn’t even been an entire week before he last saw you and it feels like its been forever. When he got home that evening, he didn’t bother telling Taehyung why he never went back and his friend never questioned it either. He waited around for you, cleaned his place, got dressed up for you and everything but when you knocked on his door, he nearly pulled you into his arms.

”I’ve got something in the oven, you haven’t eaten right?” He asked, letting you follow him inside trying to sound as relaxed as possible even when his heart was racing. You didn’t say anything, letting Bam run up to you to get a pet and you fed into it.

“I ate with Eunbi,” You told him honestly, “And I don’t think i'll stay long, to be honest.”

”Why?” He asked with a raised brow, “I thought you wanted to talk.”

you stood in his living room, still wearing your coat and holding your bag as if you were ready to leave any second and he didn’t like that. Were you planning on leaving already? You just got here, he’s barely had a chance to see you. You looked at him once he came back from the kitchen, turning off the oven since his dinner plans were cancelled and feeling annoyed by it. “What happened the other night..”

He let out a sigh, feeling a sense of deja vu to the time he found you in the saunas, “It’s fine.”

”It’s not, I’m serious this time,” You said, trying to sound firm but you knew Jungkook wouldn’t care. He’d find a way to disarm your hostility and get you in his arms again. Jungkook couldn’t help but scoff, “You haven’t ended it with him?”

“I did,” You said, “But obviously that doesn’t make everything alright. I still did something wrong and i hurt him—“

”And? You didn’t care when you and I were in bed together or when you would leave him to go see me,” Jungkook asked, stepping closer to you, “If he didn’t catch us when would you have told him? if you’re done with him i don’t get why you’re still playing hard to get.”

“You think I’m playing hard to get?” You asked, taken by surprise, “That’s crazy.”

“Well how else can you explain why you’re trying to push me away now?” He asked, getting closer and this time you backed away. With a small roll of your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest and too him, “Why do you think?”

“Because its not fun for you anymore? Did it finally hit you how wrong it was because we’ve been doing this for how long now? Stop acting surprised that shit didn’t end well, you were sleeping with a whole other man knowing you had a boyfriend. Plus he treated you like shit,” Jungkook felt the need to remind you and it was getting hard to ignore his condescending tone. You didn’t expect him to baby you or tell you you’ve done nothing wrong but it wasn’t entirely your fault. He’s the one who kept going after you even when he knew you were in a relationship.

When you didn’t respond, he looked down at you closely, “Are you guys going to try and get back together?”

“No.”

”But you want to?” He asked, pushing for a response you didn’t want to give him. At this point you didn’t think he deserved to know either. The only reason why you’re trying to end things with him is because its too hard to ignore how wrong it was for you to involve yourself with him in the first place.

“No, but i also don’t think that means I should be with you,” You finally confessed. He didn’t say anything for a minute, staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t read. Usually, when Minu got quiet in the middle of a disagreement that meant he was going to get more aggressive. It usually involves throwing something or hitting furniture but Jungkook wasn’t doing any of that. Maybe he realized you weren't worth the fight and it kind of hurt you but he would be right. You weren't worth fussing over anymore, you think.

Plus, how likely would a relationship with Jungkook work? The way it started was built on disloyalty, what did he expect? Sure, he probably felt used but what else can you do? Nothing you say could change if he felt that way.

“I should go,” You tried to say, ignoring the scoff he let out. It’s obvious he was mad which was strange considering you’ve never been in a situation where Jungkook has to be mad at you but that’s whats happening right now.

His jaw tense with irritation, watching as you looked toward the door, getting ready to leave. That was it for you apparently. You said what you had to say and now you’re done with him. You’re trying to throw him away and clean your hands of all wrongdoings. This entire time he kept telling himself that he was different, that you really would realize he’s better and not think twice about choosing him but that isn’t the case at all. You want to rid yourself of both of them and it didn’t sit right with him.

His body moved before he could think about it clearly and grabbed you by your wrist, making you jerk back to him. His nails sunk into the skin making you wince, trying to pull yourself free and it took him a moment to realize he was actually hurting you. He let go of you quickly, shaking his head as if trying to clear his head and put some space between you. You looked at him with shock, trying to soothe the pain, “I’ll call you?”

It was probably not the best thing to say but you dumbly said it. He did seem to relax when you said but you weren't sure if he fully believed you or not. Maybe he was just happy you weren't mad about the way he just grabbed you suddenly.

He felt frozen in place, even after you left. It was a new feeling for him, this sense of being thrown away.

To be honest, this is not how he expected things to turn out. Yes, he knew he was getting into a big mess if he went for you knowing you had a boyfriend but at the moment he didn’t care—he still didn’t. He just thought that once he’d have you, you’d see that you don’t need another guy to waste your time. He tried waiting patiently for you to break up with that guy and after a while maybe he couldn’t take it anymore.

It was seeing you at the bar with your so-called boyfriend pretending to be happy that pushed him over the edge. Why did he have to see you being kissed by someone else? He’s the one you run to at night so was he second to you? He knows your ex did you wrong many times but what about you? How good of a girlfriend were you when you were fucking Jungkook behind his back?

Since you’ve lost your boyfriend you want to pretend nothing ever happened with Jungkook and that really does annoy him. Did you push away so you can hopefully get Minu back? Is that what this is? He refuses to believe you’re done with him just cause. There has to be a reason and he doesn’t want to hear that it was a mistake. If it was a mistake it wouldn’t have gone on for so long.

Fuck, right now he sort of hates you. Is that bad? He swears he wants you, he loves you and wants you to only think about him but you’re so stupidly selfish. You knew how he felt about you and you used that against him in some way. He was your dirty secret and in the moment it was fine but now that he’s alone it pisses him off.

The smart thing to do would be to move on. If he just puts what happened with you aside then he can move on. Maybe he’ll find someone he feels for him the way he does for them. Maybe he’ll take some time to himself. Who knows, all he has to do is stop thinking about you but it was so damn hard.

All Jungkook wanted to do was talk to you but he wasn’t allowing himself to. It’s been a couple days since you showed up on his doorstep and it’s taking everything in him to not reach out to you. You said your piece the other night and he should just respect it. That’s what he keeps saying in his head every time he catches a glimpse of you at the gym or when his finger hovers over your contact in his phone.

At that point his friends caught on to the fact that this bothered him more than he could admit. Namjoon would catch him anxiously checking his phone at work or getting irritated much easier. Taehyung couldn’t hold a conversation anymore without Jungkook sounding bored. He wasn’t interested in anything and he looked tired all the time.

“Just one drink Kook,” Taehyung said as the two packed their things in the locker room.

“No thanks,” Jungkook slammed his locker shut, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out. Today you were at the front desk looking over something on one of the computers and it hurt him to know you wouldn’t look up at him once.

He didn’t bother acknowledging Eunbi when she said goodbye and Taehyung felt lowered after you without a word. As Jungkook’s friend, he feels the need to be on his side. Clearly he knew all along that Jungkook was messing around with you and that it was wrong but it’s not all Jungkook’s fault. It’s mainly yours, he thinks, and if anything he’s annoyed you have his friend worked up. He doesn’t care talking to you until Jungkook is over his shitty mood and this could all blow over.

“Is it just me or do they just not talk anymore?” Eunbi asked absentmindedly, leaning back against the counter as she stared after the two, “It’s weird, Jin said he’s good friends with them so you think they’d be nicer to me in case we run into each other, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed quietly, looking out the large windows of the gym front and watching them leave. You felt your chest tighten when you locked eyes with Jungkook, turning to look back at you and catching you staring. Eunbi narrowed her eyes as you shifted your head to look down, pretending to be focused on your schedule book. When she looked at Jungkook he was getting into his truck.

“So you still haven’t talked with Minu?” Eunbi asked curiously, “I mean good, I didn’t think the two of you would ever actually break up but clearly it needed to happen. You know what we need, a girls night out where you can just let loose and not worry about him getting mad at you.”

“I don’t think so,” You said with a smile. She frowned, glancing away in thought, “Honestly, I thought you’d be more relieved to be single but lately you’ve been so quiet about it. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,” You let out a sigh, “There’s not really anything to say. We’re not together anymore.”

“Hm,” Eunbi sounded dissatisfied but it’s all you could think of. The last thing you wanted was for your friends to be more involved in your clusterfuck of a life.

When you got home that night you had an odd sense of being watched. It wasn’t strong but uncomfortable at least. You couldn’t even explain it properly but it made you feel uneasy. It sort of opened your eyes to how vulnerable you’ve become. You got so used to Minu’s cold demeanor with you that nights alone weren’t a problem. Then Jungkook came along and every time he’d be at your side. Did you love him? Was it more than just you trying to find comfort in someone else? It was crazy to think you missed Jungkook more than the guy you dated for three years.

He thought about trying to talk to you but couldn’t bring himself to knock on your door. Instead he found himself calling Taehyung and taking him up on his offer earlier.

All he could think about though is how he could get you back. He worried you were still talking to your ex and that’s why you pushed him away. He wondered if you’d ever look at him again or if you’ll wait till his back is turned. You were still the only thing on his mind when he drank the feelings away.

“Alright, I gotta get going or I’m gonna be late.”

The shop was nearly empty when Namjoon decided to leave Jungkook to work alone tonight. He had plans and all Jungkook had for the night was crawling into bed and going to sleep. He cancelled his evening gym session with Taehyung in favor of working longer and avoiding you. He doesn’t want to but it’s for the best. You’re making it hard for him not to go find you. He wants to be patient and bide his time but how much longer will it take?

All he could think about as he worked alone past the sun setting was what you were doing. Who were you with? Who were you talking to or thinking about? Was he on your mind at all? You can't seriously avoid him for that much longer, right?

Some song played loudly through the speaker set aside, he nearly missed the sound of the doorbell chiming. Since business is extremely slow at this time of night, he usually just cleans up and tries to figure out what he has to do the next day. He didn’t at all expect anyone to make their way into the shop at this hour. The irony, however, of how things really worked. It took him a second to really notice who was standing in front of him with an impatient smile. “You’re open, right?”

“What can I do for you?” Jungkook stood at the desk in the lobby, looking at the guy with a blank expression. The guy got distracted by something on his phone so when he spoke next, he didn’t look up to talk. It gave Jungkook an opportunity to get a good look at him. It was the same face, same height he’s seen in pictures. His voice sounded the same from the phone calls and the other night. Was this really who thinks it is? No, there’s just no way this is a coincidence.

“An oil change,” He said plainly, pressing the phone to his ear and looking back at Jungkook.

“Alright,” his jaw tended created a small bulge in his cheek as he tried to ignore the guy’s tone, “Model and year?”

“Hey, you called? Sorry, I had to run errand after work,” The guy suddenly said on the phone and this time he couldn’t resist rolling his eyes.

Between whatever he said on the phone, he filled in Jungkook’s questions so that the paperwork could be filed.

“Sign your name and date and I’ll get started,” Jungkook told him, sliding the clipboard across the counter and watching him do as told.

“How long will it take?” He asked, Jungkook read the name he put and felt his breath hitch. Choi Minu.

“Half hour?” Jungkook looked up, gave him a polite smile and made his way out of the lobby so he can go to the garage and see what car was parked outside its door.

This piece of shit car lines up with the kind of guy who drives it. Muttered curse words slipped from his lips as he got to work. Would it be terrible of him to admit how much he hates the guy? Technically speaking, he never did anything to Jungkook. He is the one who put himself in a situation where he had to deal with Mimi’s type. The stuck up, shitty, insecure man who takes out his problems on his girlfriend—or at least that’s how Jungkook sees him. He was rude as fuck at the counter and he was rude that night he caught you. It sounds unreasonable to an extent sure, but Jungkook thinks he got what he deserved with you.

If he treated you better then Jungkook wouldn’t have had to step up.

He hated this guy. Hated him.

All these thoughts ran through his head as he laid under the car with a flashlight to his side trying to get the oil emptied out. His eyes wandered over other familiar mechanics and grimaced at the dust collected around everything. His wrench made a sound every time they touched metal and he wondered how often you were driven around in this car. You complained once about how Minu always asked to borrow your car so clearly you didn’t get in it as much. Plus, Jungkook’s truck was so spacious and you loved it when he drove you around, even said it yourself so he can’t imagine you being comfortable with Minu and the shit he had to offer you.

Curiously he looked to the wheels on either side of his head, an idea in his head that was half tempted to try if he was a little less… aware of what could happen. He’s never been the kind of guy to pull off such risks. Without meaning to, he tapped against the master cylinder and shook the thought away, trying to focus on the oil change.

“We’ve been having problems for a while but it’s not like us to not be together, yknow?” Minu said with a strained voice as he spoke on the phone still. Jungkook walked in, unnoticed, and pretended to ignore the conversation. In reality his heart was racing, wondering if he was hearing something about you.

“You know how Y/n gets, Rowoon, when she’s in her mood she doesn’t want anything talking to her. I promise we’re fine,” Minu walked toward the front desk, clueless to his surroundings, “How much?”

When he finally spoke to Jungkook, he was pulling his wallet out to pay. He told him the price and managed to say, “Cash only,” before he tried handing him a credit card.

Minu rolled his eyes and flipped the other of his wallet to grab cash, all while still on the phone, “Alright, imma let you go. Are we still on for Saturday? Yeah, see you then.”

With a sigh, Minu was relieved to see he had enough on him. Usually paying with a card isn’t a problem so it was strange that they only accepted cash but he didn’t question it. He just wants to go home and get on a game.

He extended his hand out with the money, looking at the mechanic finally before looking down at his hand when he took the cash. His body stiffened, “Nice tattoos. Where do you go?”

“A shop somewhere around here,” Jungkook with a shrug, rolling the sleeve of his shirt up, a small smirk stretching his lips as he watched Minu’s gaze harden.

Where could he have seen this exact pattern of tattoos? Surely they weren’t so common but they seemed so oddly familiar. Minu nodded his head, getting a better look at Jungkook. He’s never met him before but he swears he’s seen those tattoos somewhere before.

“You’re all set to go,” Jungkook said, clutching the clipboard with Minu’s forms to his abdomen, “Drive safe.”

Minu nodded, taking his keys and turning his back on him. As he passed by the communications board on the wall, he found a few business flyers and he couldn’t help but concentrate on a familiar business card. It was for a gym somewhat far from here and Minu knew then something was up. The gym you worked at wasn’t popular enough to be here and how it would get promo over here? He looked back at the mechanic who had the audacity to wave him goodbye, a real smile on his face as he watched him leave.

Once he was alone in the shop, his hands trembled with discomfort, hearing the engine come to life and Minu drove off without a care. Never in his life has he had to restrain himself from putting his hands on another. It was from how arrogant Minu was as and how confident he was that everything was going to be alright. That’s how he is, just think of how he pretended the two of you were wildly in love in front of his friends. How he refused to confront Jungkook the night it all happened. Jungkook had been just a door away yet Minu was a coward and took you home instead. The guy was a joke.

He grabbed his cellphone and went into his boss’s private office looking for a wired telephone. He pulled up your contact and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, it’s me—before you hang up, I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Jungkook rushed, “I know I only made things worse in your relationship and never really cared to know how you really felt. I have feelings for you and I don’t think they’ll go away that fast but if you never want to talk to me again I get it. I just had to hear you one last time.”

His words were rushed and almost incoherent but you were able to get the gist of what he was saying. Was this his goodbye though? He just apologized and told you he had feelings for you all while also making it seem like you’ll never speak to each other again. That’s what you wanted though, right? You wanted space from him, so why did it bother you that he was making it sound like he was done with you too?

“What are you doing right now?” You asked him curiously, trying not to think about everything he just said. You needed to hear him say this in person.

He looked around the empty shop, “At work but I’ll be off soon.”

“Can you come over?”

Just like that, his miserable mood after seeing your ex boyfriend at his work. He had been anxious to talk to you after Minu left and it brought a smile to his face knowing you wanted to see him. It’s stupid how weak he was for you. You push him away and he waits for you to pull him back in. You keep him a secret but crave his attention at the same time.

“Jungkook?” He heard your voice call his name from the front or the apartment. He took his shoes off and put them at the door, hanging his jacket where he usually does and headed down the familiar hallway.

“Sorry it took me a while, I had to close by myself tonight,” Jungkook cleared his throat, finding you in your bedroom, seemingly changed into casual clothes, “Did my call bother you?”

“Sort of,” you crossed your arms over your chest, closing yourself off from him when he got closer. Seeing you do that made him stop; looking down at you with a confused expression.

“I don’t get you,” You admitted, feeling his hands on your forearm, trying to get yourself to open up to him, “At first I thought you just wanted to mess around and that you didn’t actually care about me, yknow? Then when I told you I had a boyfriend you talked to me so… bluntly and tried to write it off like some sort of joke but then we spent more time together and I wanted it to work between us.”

He wanted to tell you that it was working between you but he had your arms open and was able to move closer. “I know I’m being unfair because I was the one in the wrong to begin with but I don’t like how you sounded on the phone—like you were done with me or something.”

His lips turned downward in a small pout, “I thought that’s what you wanted to hear. You were avoiding me and ignoring my calls, it hurt.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so dumb,” you tried to turn away from him but he held you closely, “I’m so fucked up, Jungkook and I don’t have anyone to talk to right now because all my friends think Minu and I broke up because he was the problem and not me and I’m not bold enough to tell them I cheated an—“

“Shh,” he tucked hair behind your ears, “Didn’t I say I would be here for you? You’re not dumb, we made a mistake.”

It was strange yet comforting to hear him say that after telling you over and over again how it was never a mistake. You let him hug you and even brought your arms around him too, relaxing into his hold.

“I’m sorry,” You said again, this time with your voice shaking and closing your eyes to stop you from crying. It’s your own fault you’re so close to spiraling out of control and you refuse to let anyone else know. Eunbi would look at you differently, Ara wouldn’t want you around anymore and Hoseok… well, who knows. You messed around with someone at your workplace and ruined your relationship all in one go. It’s a lot to face and Jungkook shouldn’t be comforting you because you’ve been very tense with him too but he seems to be the only one who ever makes you feel better.

“It’s the weekend, right? How about we just spend it together and we’ll do whatever you want baby,” Jungkook pulled away, “Yeah?”

Your brows furrowed, wondering why he wasn’t more upset with you after everything but you nodded your head. You’ve never spent a full weekend with him before and right now it’s all you want to do, “I want to see Bam.”

He smiled warmly, “Do you want to come to my place instead?”

Something about the way the light of the moon peeked through the blinds and how the arm around your waist held you possessively made waking up feel like deja vu. Of course at this point you’ve spent the night in Jungkook’s bed many times but it reminded you specifically of the first. How confused and shocked you were to see him asleep beside you. Once again, you've found yourself with him between dusk and dawn trying to figure out what you were doing.

You looked at the nightstand to your side and reached for your cell phone. The sleeping body next to yours seemed to move closer, trying to pull you back down and you tried to be quiet as you took your phone and looked at it.

“Baby, do you know what time it is?” Jungkook groaned in his sleep. It didn’t take him any time to adjust to being with you again and it was truly mind boggling to know that. It’s like he really was just waiting around for you to want him back.

“I know but I have to go to the bathroom,” You told him, shaking his arm off and getting out of bed. He didn’t question it when you locked yourself in the bathroom and finally paid attention to everything on your phone.

Six missed calls.

This many missed calls from an unknown number was alarming and you felt the need to figure out what was going on. It wasn barely three in the morning, what could have happened from now and the moment you got in bed with Jungkook?

“Y/n, it’s me Rowoon,” A guy said through the phone the second the call went through, “I’ve been trying to contact you all night.”

Your brows furrowed, why would Minu’s best friend be calling you?

“Look, I know you guys aren’t together right now but he needs you right now.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, whispering so Jungkook wouldn’t hear.

“I’m at the hospital, Mimi’s been in an accident,” Rowoon told you and you froze. What was he trying to say? Was Minu involved? “Minu’s in critical condition a nd I’ve been with his parents since we found out. I guess someone found him somewhere off the interstate when they saw his car was completely demolished. Everyone’s still trying to figure out what happened and it’s been hours, I’ve been trying to reach you—“

A light knock made you jump in surprise, remembering Jungkook was out waiting for you.

“Okay, give me a second, I’ll uh… which hospital?” You looked at your reflection in the mirror trying to take your hair.

“Y/n,” Jungkook knocked again, trying to get the door open, “It’s so late.”

“I have to go,” You swung the door open, surprised by how close he was and walked around him to start getting your things. Yes, this definitely felt similar to your first night with him.

“At this hour? No, come on I thought we were spending the day together,” Jungkook said, following after you in just a pair of sweats and not caring about it at all, “Where are you going?”

Do you tell him the truth? How would he react? Just last night you were talking things over with him and trying to see if this could work and now you’re leaving him for Minu. Of course there's a reason behind it but does Jungkook need to know? He watched you get dressed in yesterday’s clothes and scratched the back of his neck, confused.

“Can I tell you when I come back?” You asked, heading out of his bedroom with your things.

“You left your car at your place so don’t you have to tell me if I’m taking you somewhere?” He asked, tone even and calm.

Shit.

“I’ll get an Uber or something, let me figure out what’s going on before I bring you into this,” You told him, knowing what you said would only urge Jungkook to keep pressing you. He’s not the type to just let things go you’ve learned.

“Is this about Minu?” Jungkook asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “You’re done with him.”

A sigh left your lips, shaking your head, “It’s not like that, I am done with him bu—“

“Then why are you trying to bail on me for him right now?” Somehow and you’re not sure how it happened, but he was standing in front of the door keeping you from leaving. It didn’t feel intimidating but he was making it hard for you to just leave like you normally do, “He’s going to be fine.”

He said it somewhat bitterly, looking away from you for a second and you nearly missed the way his jaw clenched. His words comforted you for a short moment before you began to think it over.

Minu probably will be fine, he’s strong and has people supporting him. Even if you cheated that doesn’t mean you lost all feelings for the guy. He’ll always be part of you in some way, a reminder or a memory. He’s going to be fine, possibly, but what does Jungkook know? Did everyone around you hear the news before you could?

“How can you be so sure?” You asked, wanting to see how much he knew about the accident.

Jungkook smiled, relaxing his face as he ran his fingers through his hair, “I mean… you know… he’s a grown man and the two of you are over. What do you need to go see him for? He’ll be fine.”

“Jungkook, he was in an accident,” You finally said, hoping he’d just drop it and let you go.

He released a huff, irritated and barely holding it together as he pinched between his forehead, “And he’s still alive so why are you rushing out at this hour?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying, clearly the car accident wasn’t that bad if he’s still breathing,” His annoyed tone only became more noticeable when he got closer, hands suddenly holding your face, brushing hair back and trying to smile, “So relax and just stay with me like you promised, okay?”

You blinked in realization, trying to take a tentative step back but he kept you out where you were, “Car accident?”

“I heard a little of your phone call,” Jungkook said with a shrug but you were pushing him off. “I’m going to the hospital.”

“Y/n—“ The door slammed shut as you snuck away from his hands and he was grasping at air. With another sigh, he went to Bam’s bed, asking if he wanted to go on the balcony for air and acting like nothing happened.

You barely made it downstairs when your phone began buzzing to life with another phone call. You answered without question, “I’m on my way now, is there anything I should bring?”

“No, I just wanted to tell you what authorities are saying,” Rowoon said standing outside his best friend’s hospital room, “At first they thought he might’ve been drinking because it was late but tests came back negative. They had a mechanic check out the car just now and I guess something was wrong with his brakes.”

Minu’s brakes? He’s had problems with them before but you remember paying nearly a thousand dollars to fix it for him so what was wrong with them this time?

“Do you know where he went after work?”

“I remember calling him and he said he had some errands to run, he’d been talking about getting an oil change and going to pick up some parcels from the lockers but I don’t know if he did that last night,” Rowoon told you through the phone, “The lockers he usually goes to are south but I guess he was coming from the north side of the interstate when he wrecked. It was probably close to 10pm when it happened.”

You live north but Minu always lived further from you. What was he doing on the north side, getting an oil change? Wouldn’t whoever was working on the oil change notice his brake lines?

“Okay, uh, I’ll be there as soon as I can, I'm not home so I need to get some things, I’ll call you,” You cleared your throat, looking at Jungkook’s large truck and the familiar decal of the auto shop he worked at.

Before you knew it, you found yourself turning right back around and going back to Jungkook. You didn’t bother knocking as you let yourself in and found him relaxed in his living room, “What time did you get off work last night?”

“I thought you wanted to go see your piece of shit ex,” he couldn’t hide his annoyance even if he tried. The short minutes you were gone he’d managed to upset himself with the thought of you going to see Minu and how he possibly made it worse for himself. You’re worried about Minu, which is not what he wanted at all. He needs to stop acting so impulsively because it bites him in the ass. For all he knows, he could be pushing you back with your ex. Although annoyed, he couldn’t help but answer your question anyway, “You know what time I got off, I came over right after.”

When he called it was about 9:40pm, the shop is usually open until 10 since it’s one of the only places running so late some nights they’re busy and some nights they’re slow. There’s no way Minu would’ve found himself there, right?

Sure, he works late at the office sometimes and he waits till last minute to do things and if he’s in dire need of an oil change and can’t wait for the next day; there’s a chance he’ll go to whatever shop is open late but there’s no way.

When you talked on the phone with Jungkook he wasn’t doing anything, saying he was ready to close but the shop isn’t too far from the interstate going south and if Minu were to be going home from the shop, that’s about a forty minute drive. You had to be overthinking things.

A smile stretched across his face as he looked at you, “Change your mind and want me to drive?”

“Why’d you call me last night?” You asked suddenly and he felt the urge to laugh. Since you had left just moments ago he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep again and now you’re questioning him about the dumbest of things.

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” Jungkook answered without missing a beat, “You look freaked out, come here.”

“Jungkook, just tell me right now, did you run into Minu last night?” You asked. You weren’t trying to sound so accusative but you just had to know so you can have peace of mind. There’s just no way the man you had an affair with would do something to your former partner.

It’s so cliche, so vindictive, bizarre, shameless.

But then again Jungkook is nothing but — and he’s proven that to you since the moment he found out you were taken. You’ve been shameless with him but that doesn’t mean he’d go as far as to hurt someone? Sure, there’s been times you think he’s too intense or too caught up on you but he’s also such a playful flirt that it throws you off. Was there a side to Jungkook you didn’t know about? A side that hurts others and has no remorse? He’s always blunt which you know, but he’s been so abrasive about Minu. He practically told you to get over it because Minu’s alive but why’d he say it the way he did? Now that you’re thinking it over… he was sort of… apathetic. You’d think he’d have some sort of empathy.

This entire time Jungkook can see the wheels turning in your head. He hated keeping things from you but he can’t tell you everything. There’s things someone does for the person they care for that they just can’t say. He did this for you so you wouldn’t have to worry about Minu tryin to get in the middle of you two again so why are you looking at and questioning him so hard? The best thing he can do right now is keep his cool.

“I can’t remember,” He said, eyes locked with yours as if daring you to ask something else. Will you?

“They said there was a problem with his brakes which is kind of weird because I footed the bill a few months ago to have them fixed,” You told him, walking closer.

He just shrugged, “Whoever fixed them did a shitty job then I guess. Sorry you wasted your money on him.”

“You really didn’t see him? Apparently he was on this side of town an—“

“I don��t remember, fuck I thought you were done. Can we stop talking about him?” He stood up abruptly, arms on your waist and pulling you into him harshly, “I love you, you know that? I’ve never actually said that before but it feels right telling you.”

He waited to hear you say it back but you didn’t.

“You did something, didn’t you?” You gripped his forearms, feeling them tighten so you could pry him off you, “You’re acting weird and it’s weirding me out so just tell me it’s not a coincidence.”

“If I were to do anything it’s because I don’t want you to worry about anyone else anymore,” Jungkook said, locking his arms in place so you couldn’t move. He felt your struggle trying to get his arms off but he gets what’s going on. You’re acting strange and accusing him [of things he clearly did] but it doesn’t look like you’re interested in hearing him out. He doesn’t want to confine you and dim your spark like Minu did, but he wants you to relax and trust that he’ll fix things for you.

“Let me go,” You said, breathing hitching when he began to walk you back toward the living room, “I have to go.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You said that earlier and you still came back so why don’t you just stay?” He let you down into his couch, “Minu’s not going anywhere I’m sure so just stay with me. It’s kind of bothering me that you’re still giving him any attention.”

“It was you, you did something to him,” You tried getting back to but with no effort needed, he had you sitting again, this time with his hands on the back of the couch trapping you. Your hand pushed at his chest trying to find room around him to get yourself out but he gripped your hand roughly and yanked it over your head, “Look, I did you a favor. I was just thinking about you and what would be easier for us.”

Jungkook hovered over you, keeping you from moving and dug his knee in the space between your legs while his hands held yours over your head. His hair fell over his face now but it didn’t obscure his vision of you. You tried kicking your legs up but it did nothing and you felt like screaming with frustration.

“You could’ve gotten him killed,” You spat back feeling the urge to laugh bitterly, “And for what?”

“For you,” Jungkook leaned down so he was more eye level with you, “I remember the first time I’d seen you, you barely looked at me, y'know. I tried getting over it because, really, it wasn’t anything serious at all but then I started going to the gym more often and every time I’d see you I’d just… well, I thought you were pretty.”

“I knew you had a boyfriend before you even said anything,” He admitted watching your expression change to realization, “And I was a little nervous about pursuing you still but you made it so damn easy, Y/n.”

You looked away from him, disgusted with yourself and shook your head as if it’d change things, “You didn’t know anything about me.”

“So? I knew that I liked you and that you were with someone you didn’t care abo—“

“That’s not true!” You tried to argue, stiffening when he cupped your face with his hand. His touch suddenly felt cold and uncomfortable against your skin. You attempted to shake him off, “I actually loved Minu, I s-still do and I’m going to go see him and he’s going to take me back, I know he will because he’s said it and I’m never going to see you again because you’re a crazy stalker freak.”

A laugh sounded through the room and the fingers cupping your chin tightened around your jaw making you wince, “You can’t love someone you don’t even fucking like. Give me a break, Y/n I’ve had to listen to you for weeks tell me how you don’t like him, you can be mad at me all you want but that doesn’t change the fact that you don’t care about him. He’s in some hospital room fighting for his life, probably asking where the girl he’s loved for years is and you had a chance to go. I gave you a chance to walk out my door but what did you do? You came back, love.”

“Shut up,” you fought against his hold, feeling him get closer and closer to you and it was freaking you out. Just hours ago you welcomed his warmth and how he felt against you but right now it was making you sick to your stomach. He’s acting differently and he’s being strangely aggressive and telling you things you don’t want to hear and admitting things that are wrong. He’s done something to hurt someone you once held a lot of love for and he doesn’t care.

“Why? You don’t like the truth,” his forehead pressing into yours to keep you from looking away from him and he could practically feel the tear slip from your eye and into his skin, “You wasted three years with him just to not be by his side when he needs you the most.”

“You’re not letting me—“ A strangled whine left your lips as he forced his mouth into yours. You fought against his hold on your wrists, pushing back into the couch to get further away from him. Your refusal to kiss him back hurt him more than your fight against his grip did, “I told you I’d be there for you and figure it out so why are you being so mean to me right now? You weren’t supposed to care about what happens to him now. You hate him, I know you do so please stop pushing away from me.”

You blinked nervously, looking around him and searching his face for what he was thinking. His grip on your wrists was tight by the way his fingers trembled everytime he took a breath. He had you fully caged underneath him and there was no way for you to get him to ease up. You had to think. Of course you’ve never been in a situation like this and despite the many times Minu got aggressive he never did anything more than shove you away. He never made you feel restricted like this with nowhere to move. Part of you wanted to freeze up but then the other part of you wanted to run. Jungkook has always been sweet [right?], so why is he acting crazy?

He was becoming unpredictable and an unpredictable man is a scary one.

Jungkook felt your wrists go limp and you released a sigh, trying to keep yourself calm and it gave him an ounce of hope. Sure, he could’ve gone a better way about things to keep you from leaving but he had to be sure you didn’t leave. There was no point in continuing to pretend he didn’t know Minu or how he got hurt. He went too far, he knows, but it’s a little too late to regret that, right? If he lets you go you’ll leave him and who knows, probably tell authorities. It’s be hard to prove it was him unless you spoke up. It’ll be written off as an accident and Minu will be fine so there’s no need for you to go anywhere. It’s not like he put his hands on the guy… so what? You’ll come to realize it was so bad, right?

When you looked up at him he couldn’t find the disgust in your eyes from earlier and that made him happy. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, feeling the salt of your tears and checking to see how you’d react to him this time. You didn’t flinch away and he took it as a good sign. Unable to stop himself, he tried kissing you again. Your breath hitched, giving him a delayed response as you tried to kiss him back. Something was wrong with him deep inside and it made you want to be as far from him as you could. You didn’t want to kiss him but it’s been a lie you’ve told yourself since you met him. The truth is you like kissing Jungkook and being around him but he makes things too complicated for you.

His lips were soft, as usual, and the hand he had cupping your face was sliding toward your neck, disappearing into your hair and trying to get you to lean your head back so he can deepen the kiss. Just as he began to relax and melt against your touch, you bit.

Your teeth dug into his bottom lip, hooking onto the lip ring and pulling hard enough for him to jump back. The second he stumbled off you, you finished giving him a shove and sprinted toward the front door.

“Aish,” he held his hand to his lip, feeling liquid trickle onto his fingers. You nearly tore his lip off using his piercing and with an annoyed grunt, he spit out, looking down the open front door. You’re starting to piss him off.

You sprinted down the hall, feeling around the pockets in your gym shorts for your phone but felt nothing. Did it slip out when you were fighting for him? You refused to look back and see if he was coming after you or not so you ran down the stairs.

The sun wasn’t even out yet and most places around weren’t open yet. You needed to get ahold of someone, anyone. You were in little clothes with no identification on you and no way to pay for a cab fee. Did you seriously drop your phone? If you’re lucky, there’s some street vendor getting ready to start their morning or maybe someone walking their pet. It’s not completely dead.

“Excuse me,” You shouted from across the street, trying to get the attention of some old person walking toward the bus stop. You ran across the empty street and got her attention, “I’m sorry, c-can I borrow your phone? I lost mine and I need to make a call.”

She handed you an old model and stared at you confused as you tried to dial someone. The police would be the best thing but maybe you were more stupid than you thought. Something was stopping you from doing it. What if you were overreacting? What if this was all in your imagination or maybe you escalated the situation without knowing it?

“Did you cut your lip?” The woman asked, pointing at the blood trickling down your chin, “Have you been in an accident?”

You wiped off Jungkook’s blood and looked back to his building. What if you’re the one who gets in trouble? What if they say you attacked him? You can tell them that whatever happened to Minu was because of Jungkook but that’s only happened a few hours ago and they’re still trying to get him help. Jungkook was with you, it would take a while for them to believe it.

No, not the police. You should call Eunbi or Hobi, yes, that’s better. Your fingers froze over the buttons, shifting nervously as you tried to remember their numbers. Fuck, why can’t you think right now? You pushed the phone back into her hands, “I’m sorry.”

The woman called for you but you were walking away, shaking your head anxiously. It was cold and your brain was hurting. You’re trying to understand what is going on but it feels like you’re blanking. What did Jungkook do? What did you do?

Jungkook ran downstairs, he wore a black hoodie and ball cap and with a wound closure bandage on his lip. He fished his keys out of his pocket and checked the time, 4am.

It took him a while to clean up so there’s a chance you’re long gone but he’s going to find you. You just need to talk it out.

Across the street he found someone sitting at the bus stop and though his truck was just a few yards back, he headed in her direction. “Excuse me, ma’am, I was um… I was wondering if you’ve seen a woman around here?”

She looked at him strangely, eyes catching on his busted lip and he touched it insecurely, “You see, my girlfriend and I just got into a little bit of a disagreement and I’ll admit it’s my fault. I’ve upset her and she left really mad at me. I want to give her space but I at least want to make sure she’s alright. I mean look at the sky, the sun’s not even out yet.”

“You don’t have to tell me where she went but can you at least tell me if you saw someone get in a car or not? She was in shorts and a pink shirt, pretty face and she’s about this tall?” He proceeded to describe you.

“She didn’t get in a car,” Was all the woman said to him. For all she knew it could’ve very been a lover’s quarrel. Jungkook took what little information she gave him and ran back to his truck.

What hospital did Rowoon say again? How far was it? What street were you on? Why can’t you remember? Are you shutting down right now because you can’t. You can’t just let yourself forget everything. You stood at the end of a street trying to read the street sign, jumping when a car passed.

You weren’t crazy enough to ask a stranger for a ride at this point but would Jungkook just let you go? You had a heated argument just now and he’s already proven to be more unhinged than you thought. Maybe it’s best to stay off the main streets. You know this neighborhood well enough, surely you’ll pass by a street you recognize.

You know your bag sat on the couch most likely with your phone and you hated how stupid you were. Not only did you let him drive you to his place last night but you also left all your things when you fled.

Jungkook knew you couldn’t have gotten far without your things, especially if you were on foot so he drove down the streets slowly, looking around every shadow and alleyway. He hated that you were scared and out there. You should’ve just stayed with him. Why are you complicating things? Maybe he should ditch the truck and go on foot like you.

You did a 360 of the street you were on, okay, you can kind of tell where you’re at. What time was it? There was a sliver of orange in the sky, the sun wasn’t out yet but soon it would be. You turned down the corner, stopping abruptly as you stared ahead. You covered your eyes with your hands as the bright led headlights of a familiar black car stood before you.

“Are you lost?” Jungkook asked, stepping toward you cautiously, “You left all your things when you left in such a hurry, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You blinked, “What time is it?”

“A little past five in the morning, come here,” Jungkook called for you but you didn’t move, “Babe, if you want me to take you to go see him I will but please just come with me. You’re acting out of line, I mean look at me. You bit me.”

He pointed at his swollen, bandaged lip and took another step toward you, “Bam is scared and you’ve woken up all the neighbors I’m sure. I know you’re upset because someone you once cared for is hurt but you’re acting paranoid.”

“W-where are my things?” You asked, feeling his hand touch your side.

“At my place, come here, it’s cold,” He pulled you into him and winced at the feel of your trembling body against his. He tightened his arms around you, petting the back of your head and trying to lead you to his running truck.

“I need my things,” you mumbled, letting him help you into his truck And buckle you in. He smiled, kissing your hand gently, “I know, we’ll get them, okay? I told you I’m here for you so relax.”

You nodded your head but he could tell you weren’t fully listening. He locked your door as a precaution and quickly made it to his side. He knocked the hat and hood off his head and shook his hair free. His truck was tinted and hard to see through and the street was dark so he felt more at ease now that you weren’t out on it wandering around.

Honestly, he’s not ashamed to admit how surprisingly easy it was to get you back in his arms. He just needed to find a way to keep you here with him like hes been wanting this whole time.

E N D

::.

NO PART TWO

I got tired mid editing sorry

okok ik yall are probably mad at the ending but listen 😭im tired of damn fic 😔like I feel like realistically shit really would hit the fan so fast and that’s why I rushed the ending

I haven’t posted in five months and I had so much of this complete but the end I’m like ahhhhh

anyway I kno there’s going to be mega y/n haters but remember jk is crazy too 🤓

what do we think tho 🫣ngl I thought he was kinda hot but like such an asshole but also so sweet but also a manipulator

inbox is open for questions about the fic so ask about the characters it’s probs confusing

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @saweetspoiled @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @Sunnikthv @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @Watermelonjuice15 @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

@maryy1300 @annabtsangels @hyunjinswifeee @Bangtans-momma @butterymin @kaiparkerwifes @junggukjeonfreakinwife @tridha345 @ily4jknity @ivygguk @ryuzakiswife @futuristicenemychaos @honeybunnykoo @lesoleile @Eunhee-jk @Aindrila @cherrymoonlightt @parkinglot-nights @llallaaa @crooked-haven @Butterflykpop @sakuragongju @ackward-maknae @investedreader @junggukjeonfreakinwife

[also it’s not that I don’t want yall in my taglist I just quite literally have no room]

[pucksandpower]

Mastermind

Oscar Piastri x Bearman!Reader

Summary: all it takes is one glance for Oscar to realize that he will do anything and everything to make you his

Warnings: 18+ content, stalking, obsession, manipulation, baby-trapping, isolation, and possessiveness

Note: This was written in early August before Williams dropped Logan, so yeah … he’s still on the grid here 🫣

Oscar spots you from across the pit lane.

It’s quick — a glimpse through the crowd as someone shifts out of his line of sight. You’re laughing at something Ollie says, your head tilted back just enough for the sunlight to catch the highlights in your hair. The world goes blurry for a second, narrowing until the noise of the paddock fades into a dull hum. All he can see is you.

Oscar swallows hard. He feels his pulse spike, the rush of adrenaline making his skin buzz. This isn’t like him. He’s calm, composed — always. But now, everything is different.

You’re different.

Before he knows it, his feet are moving. He barely registers the McLaren orange on his sleeves, or the fact that he’s walking away from his garage. His mind is fixated. Ollie. That’s Ollie’s sister. But no — that’s not right. You’re not just anyone’s sister. No, you’re more than that.

Oscar adjusts his cap as he nears the Haas garage, forcing a relaxed smile. His heart races, but he tells himself he’s got this. Just be normal. Be charming.

“Ollie!” He calls out, raising his voice enough to draw both your attention. He claps a hand on the younger driver’s shoulder, giving it a friendly shake. “Little brother, you ready for another battle?”

Ollie laughs, glancing up at him with that wide grin of his. “Mate, you’re in for it this weekend. I’ve been practicing.”

“Practicing losing, maybe,” Oscar jokes, his eyes flickering quickly back to you. You’re watching the exchange with quiet amusement, arms crossed, your smile lingering just on the edge of your lips.

Oscar’s chest tightens.

“Who’s this?” He asks, pretending he doesn’t already know, doesn’t already feel that magnetic pull dragging him closer to you.

Ollie blinks, then his grin grows even wider. “Oh, right! Oscar, this is my sister. She’s visiting for the weekend.”

Oscar holds out his hand to you, his smile growing softer, warmer. “Oscar. Nice to meet you.”

You hesitate for a split second before your hand meets his, and he swears there’s something electric in that brief touch. It’s enough to send his mind spiraling.

He clears his throat. “So, Ollie’s your brother, huh? Guess that means you’re stuck rooting for Haas, then.” He flashes a crooked grin, playful but sharp.

You laugh, and it’s a sound that makes his head spin. “Someone’s got to support him.”

“Fair enough.” Oscar glances sideways at Ollie, who’s now distracted, talking to a mechanic. Perfect. He steps just a little closer to you, lowering his voice. “I’ve got to ask, do you have Instagram? You know, to keep up with the team rivalry.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused, but nod, reaching for your phone. “Sure. Let me-”

Oscar shakes his head, holding out his hand instead. “Here, I’ll do it. Faster that way.” He smiles again, all casual charm, and you hand over your phone without a second thought.

His fingers move quickly over the screen, but his mind is faster. In one fluid motion, he taps his own account to follow, sends himself your location tracking, then deletes the text before you even turn your head back toward Ollie. A small thrill rushes through him. It’s too easy.

While his thumb hovers over the block button for a split second, he hesitates. But then — click. One by one, he begins blocking every single driver from your Instagram. Leclerc, Norris, Sainz, Verstappen, Gasly — all of them.

Except Ollie, of course. Can’t make it obvious.

“Here you go.” He hands the phone back to you, his expression unreadable. “Followed myself. Now you can keep up with McLaren’s winning ways.”

You chuckle, glancing down at the screen. “Guess I’ll have to.”

Oscar’s smile grows just a little wider, though there’s something darker underneath it now. You have no idea what’s happening, and that’s what makes it so perfect.

He steps back, casually running a hand through his hair, eyes flickering between you and Ollie. “So, what’s the plan after the race? Celebrating Ollie’s big debut?”

“Maybe,” you say, glancing toward your brother. “Depends on how the weekend goes.”

Oscar chuckles, but his mind is already ten steps ahead. He imagines what it’ll be like — keeping track of you, knowing where you are, who you’re with. No more late-night chats with Charles, no more casual likes on Pierre’s posts. He’s cut all of that off. It’s just him now.

And Ollie, of course.

“You should come by the McLaren garage sometime,” Oscar suggests, as if it’s an afterthought. “See what winning looks like up close.”

Your laugh comes out again, soft and effortless. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” He nods, satisfied. He doesn’t need an answer now. He’s got time. After all, you’re already in his orbit, whether you realize it or not.

As Ollie turns back toward you, Oscar claps him on the back again, the easy smile never leaving his face. “Catch you on the track, little brother.”

Ollie grins. “Don’t get too confident.”

Oscar chuckles, throwing a quick glance your way before starting to walk back to his garage. His pulse is still racing, but it’s no longer out of nerves. It’s excitement. Anticipation.

He can already feel the control slipping into place. And the best part is, you’ll never even see it coming.

***

Oscar's phone buzzes. He’s been checking it religiously since the race ended — since he watched you leave the paddock, smiling and laughing with Ollie. His fingers swipe across the screen, and the familiar icon on the tracking app flashes.

You’re still in town.

He watches the blue dot settle into the shape of the mall on the outskirts of the city. Of course, you’re still here. His pulse quickens again, that familiar rush of adrenaline mixing with something darker, more possessive.

He taps Logan on the shoulder, dragging his friend’s attention away from whatever nonsense he’s scrolling through.

“We’re going out,” Oscar says, already walking toward the exit. He doesn’t wait for Logan to answer.

“Uh, out where?” Logan calls after him, jogging to catch up. “Oscar? What’s the rush?”

Oscar doesn’t answer. Not yet. He’s focused on the image in his mind — you, walking through the mall, maybe stopping at a coffee shop. You’re close. He’s so close.

They pull into the parking lot within minutes. Logan’s still shooting him confused glances, but Oscar keeps his face impassive. Calm. They walk into the mall, a hum of noise surrounding them, and Oscar checks his phone again, tracking your dot.

It moves.

He moves with it.

“Oscar, seriously, what are we doing here?” Logan asks, his voice edging on frustration now. “I didn’t sign up for some weird stalking mission.”

Oscar stops in front of a shop, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Logan huffs, but follows, as usual. “Whatever, man.”

Oscar keeps walking. He knows exactly where you are. The entrance to Victoria’s Secret looms in front of him, and Logan freezes at the door.

“Victoria’s Secret?” Logan groans, his face scrunching up like a kid. “Why are we in Victoria’s Secret?”

Oscar doesn’t even look at him. His eyes flick to his phone again, and then to the aisles in front of him. “You can go if you want.”

Logan huffs but follows, albeit reluctantly. “Dude, you don’t even have a girlfriend. What are we doing here?”

Oscar ignores the comment, eyes darting between shelves of lacy bras and bright pink displays. He’s searching. Your dot says you’re close. His heart races, a thrill creeping up his spine as he rounds the corner of an aisle.

And then-

He sees you.

You’re standing near the back of the store, holding up something light and silky, completely oblivious to the two drivers now lurking awkwardly nearby. Oscar’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he just watches. He feels like a predator lying in wait. Every part of him hums with anticipation.

Logan, on the other hand, is shifting nervously beside him. “I’m not sure I want to be seen in here, dude. This is weird.”

Oscar glances at him, impatience bubbling to the surface. “Stop being so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic?” Logan scoffs. “You’re the one dragging me into a lingerie store for … I don’t even know why!”

Before Logan can say anything else, Oscar turns a corner, deliberately walking right into your line of sight.

“Oh — Oscar?”

You blink in surprise, eyes widening as you spot him. Your hand drops the item you were holding, and your gaze flits between him and Logan, standing awkwardly behind him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Oscar says, his voice casual, but his mind is anything but. He takes a quick step closer to you, closing the gap. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You laugh, slightly nervous, shifting the bag on your shoulder. “Yeah, um, kind of unexpected to see you here too. Shopping for someone?”

Logan, still half-hidden behind Oscar, can’t resist muttering, “He doesn’t even have a girlfriend.”

Oscar shoots him a sharp look. “Logan was just leaving.”

You glance over at Logan, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, hi! I don’t think we’ve met before.”

Logan hesitates, shuffling his feet. “Yeah, hi. I’m Logan-”

“He’s leaving,” Oscar repeats, this time with more finality. His eyes cut back to Logan, who gives an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“Right. Sure,” Logan sighs, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I’ll see you later, Oscar.”

Oscar waits until Logan has fully disappeared from sight before turning his attention back to you. You’re watching him, slightly amused, though there’s a question in your eyes. He steps closer, not too close, but enough that he can smell the faint scent of your perfume.

“So,” he says, his voice smooth, “What brings you here? Shopping for yourself or someone else?”

You glance down at the items in your hands, then back at him, shrugging lightly. “Just browsing, really. Didn’t expect to bump into anyone I know.”

“Must be fate, then,” Oscar says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The words come out casually, but inside, there’s that same rush of possessiveness, the same pull that led him here.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Fate, huh? Or just a coincidence.”

Oscar tilts his head, considering you for a moment. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

There’s a beat of silence, your eyes lingering on him. You seem to be weighing something, but then you smile, shifting the bag on your shoulder. “Well, it’s good to see you, Oscar. I didn’t think I’d run into anyone after the race.”

Oscar’s smile tightens, though he keeps his tone light. “You sticking around long?”

“Not too long,” you reply, glancing briefly at your phone. “I’ve got to head back soon, but I’m just enjoying the day.”

Oscar’s fingers twitch at his side, resisting the urge to check his own phone, to confirm that you’re exactly where he wants you to be. Instead, he steps back, giving you just enough space to make it seem like he’s relaxed, like he’s not hanging on every word you say.

“Mind if I join you for a bit?” Oscar asks, his voice carefully casual. He doesn’t wait for an answer, stepping into the aisle next to you, pretending to look at the same display.

You seem caught off guard but not enough to refuse. “Sure, if you want.”

Oscar picks up a random item, pretending to examine it. He’s not really paying attention to what it is, though. His focus is entirely on you, on the way you move, the way you glance at your phone every now and then, the way your eyes occasionally flicker toward him.

“So,” you say after a moment, “You and Logan … shopping together?”

Oscar chuckles, shaking his head. “Not really. He’s just … along for the ride.”

You smile, nodding slowly. “Seems like he wasn’t thrilled about being in here.”

“Logan’s dramatic,” Oscar replies, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’ll get over it.”

There’s another pause, and Oscar feels the tension building again, the weight of your proximity pulling at him. He wants to ask you more — where you’re going next, when you’re leaving — but he knows he has to be careful. He can’t come off too strong. Not yet.

Instead, he lets the conversation drift naturally, keeps the tone light and friendly. But his mind never stops calculating, never stops tracking. Every time you glance at your phone, he feels a surge of satisfaction, knowing he has access to your every move.

He watches as you shift, clearly ready to leave. “I should probably get going,” you say, and Oscar’s pulse quickens. He doesn’t want this moment to end, but he nods, forcing a smile.

“Of course. I’ll see you around?”

You smile back, though there’s a touch of uncertainty in your eyes. “Yeah, sure. Maybe.”

Oscar watches as you walk away, his gaze lingering on your figure until you disappear from view. Only then does he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

He checks his phone again, and the tracking app shows your blue dot moving toward the exit. He smiles to himself, slipping the phone back into his pocket. You may be leaving now, but he’s not worried.

He knows where you’ll be.

***

Oscar doesn’t let the weeks slip by without checking your location. Even when Ollie tells him you’re swamped with studying, too busy with exams and papers, Oscar makes sure to stay in your orbit. He keeps an eye on your social media, scrolling through your updates whenever you’re too quiet. Ollie had said you’d be missing a few races, but that doesn’t stop Oscar from obsessively checking if you’ll change your mind.

When you finally show up again, Oscar knows he has to do something.

It’s a Sunday evening, post-race celebrations in full swing, and the paddock is buzzing with energy. The team has secured a decent result, and everyone’s heading out for drinks. Oscar doesn’t pay much attention to the others, though. His focus sharpens the moment you step back into the paddock. The sight of you stirs something inside him — a mixture of relief, desire, and that possessive need to keep you close.

He watches you laugh with Ollie, light and carefree, but something in him clenches tight. You’ve been gone too long. You’ve been out of reach.

Oscar walks over casually, making sure not to rush. He joins the group, slapping Ollie on the back. “Good race, mate.”

Ollie grins. “Thanks, man! Glad to see you’re joining us tonight.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Oscar replies, but his eyes are already sliding over to you. “Hey, Y/N. Long time no see.”

You turn to him, smiling. “Hey, Oscar. Yeah, it’s been a while.”

His heart beats a little faster at the sound of your voice, but he keeps his expression easy, friendly. “Missed the last few races. What, university got you too busy?”

You nod, rolling your eyes. “Exams. And assignments. It’s been brutal.”

“Well, glad you could finally escape,” Oscar says smoothly. “You deserve a drink after all that.”

You laugh. “Definitely. I’m ready to unwind.”

Oscar smiles, but it’s calculated. He’s been waiting for this, for a chance to get you alone, to push the boundaries without seeming too eager. Tonight, he thinks. Tonight is his opportunity.

The group spills out into the nearest bar, and Oscar stays close, keeping you within arm’s reach. He listens, joins in the laughter when necessary, but his mind is fixated on you. As the night wears on, he subtly makes sure your drink never stays empty.

“Here,” he says, handing you another cocktail as you chat with some of the other drivers. “Thought you might like this one.”

You accept it, smiling brightly. “Thanks, Oscar. You’re keeping track of me, huh?”

He laughs, playing it off. “Just making sure you’re having a good time.”

You sip the drink, and Oscar watches you closely. He keeps the drinks coming, letting the alcohol blur your edges, just enough to make you relaxed, to make you lean a little more into him. As the night stretches on, you’re laughing more freely, leaning against his shoulder as you talk.

At one point, Ollie comes over, ruffling your hair. “You alright, Y/N? You’re not overdoing it, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you giggle, waving him off. “Just having fun.”

Ollie frowns for a moment, glancing at Oscar. “Keep an eye on her, mate, will you? She hasn’t been out in a while.”

“Don’t worry,” Oscar says, giving Ollie a reassuring smile. “I’ve got her.”

Ollie nods and heads back to the others, leaving you and Oscar standing at the bar. You sway slightly on your feet, and Oscar catches you with an arm around your waist, steadying you.

“You good?" He asks, voice low, but there’s something possessive in the way his arm tightens around you.

“Yeah,” you mumble, blinking up at him. “Just … a little dizzy.”

He doesn’t let the moment slip. “Maybe we should get you back to the hotel. You’ve had a lot to drink.”

You nod, not protesting as he guides you toward the door, his arm still firmly around you. “Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea.”

The walk back to the hotel is a blur for you, but for Oscar, it’s calculated. Each step brings him closer to what he’s been waiting for, his mind racing as he holds you close. You’re pliant in his arms, leaning against him, trusting him to take care of you.

When they reach the hotel room, Oscar is careful. He leads you inside, gently sitting you down on the edge of the bed.

“Let’s get you more comfortable,” he says softly, pulling a t-shirt from his bag and a pair of boxers.

You nod weakly, eyes half-lidded as the alcohol takes its toll. Oscar’s movements are precise, steady. He helps you out of your clothes, taking his time to slip his t-shirt over your head, careful not to rush or seem out of place. It feels natural, almost routine in his mind.

You’re barely aware of what’s happening, muttering something incoherent as he finishes dressing you. Oscar tucks you into the bed, smoothing the blankets over you, his heart pounding in his chest. He stands there for a moment, just watching you, his mind buzzing with the sight of you in his clothes, in his bed.

It’s perfect. Exactly how he imagined.

He climbs into the bed beside you, careful not to disturb you too much. He slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close, his chest pressing against your back. You don’t stir much, just a soft sigh escaping your lips as you settle into his embrace.

Oscar lies there, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. This is what he’s wanted — this moment where you’re completely his, where no one else can interfere, where he has you all to himself.

You’re finally here, in his arms.

And he’s not going to let you go.

***

Oscar wakes up to the soft warmth of you pressed against him. The first thing he registers is how still the room is — just the sound of your steady breathing and the faint hum of the hotel’s air conditioning. His eyes flutter open, but he quickly closes them again, pretending to still be asleep.

This is perfect. His arm is wrapped around your waist, your body tucked neatly against his, your head resting near his shoulder. The morning light filters in softly through the curtains, casting a faint glow over the room, but Oscar doesn’t move. He lies there, completely still, savoring the moment. Every beat of his heart feels like a reminder that this is exactly where he wants to be, where you should be.

He shifts slightly, making it seem like he's just repositioning in his sleep. You stir, but you don’t pull away, and that gives him an almost dangerous thrill. He lets his arm hold you just a little tighter, the curve of your body fitting perfectly into his side. He could stay like this forever, if you’d let him.

He imagines what’ll happen when you wake up. How you’ll look at him, maybe embarrassed, maybe a little confused, but he’s already thought of everything. He’s been playing this scenario in his head since last night — how to ease your mind, how to make sure you stay close to him, how to keep you trusting him.

But then you move again, more consciously this time. Your breathing changes, and Oscar can feel you tense up against him. You’re waking up.

“Mm,” you murmur, your voice groggy and confused. “Where …”

Oscar keeps his breathing steady, pretending he’s still asleep as you shift, and then — then, you freeze.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, the panic in your voice immediate. You start pulling away from him, the bed shifting as you try to get out of his grasp. “Oh my God, where am I?”

Oscar lets out a soft, groggy sound, pretending to wake up. “Huh?" He blinks, feigning confusion as he rubs his eyes. “Y/N?”

You’re sitting up now, staring at him with wide eyes, clutching the blanket to your chest. “Oscar? What … What am I doing here?”

Oscar pushes himself up slowly, still acting as though he’s just now becoming aware of the situation. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay." He runs a hand through his hair, his expression carefully crafted into one of concern. “You’re freaking out. What’s wrong?”

You look around, panicked. “This … this isn’t my hotel room. And I’m not-” You glance down at the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing, his t-shirt, and your eyes widen even more. “I’m not in my clothes. Oscar, what happened?”

Oscar frowns, as if he’s just now realizing the gravity of the situation. “You don’t remember?”

You shake your head, clearly distressed. “No, I … I don’t. I remember we were out last night, and then-” You stop, staring at him, and Oscar can see the fear in your eyes. “Did we …”

Oscar immediately shakes his head, his voice gentle but firm. “No. No, nothing happened. I promise.”

You blink, as if trying to process his words. “Then why am I in your bed? And in your clothes?”

He lets out a soft sigh, as though this situation is just as confusing and frustrating for him. “You were really drunk last night. I didn’t want to leave you alone, and you kept insisting that I stay with you. You didn’t want to be in your room by yourself.”

You frown, clearly trying to remember. “I did?”

Oscar nods, his expression sincere. “Yeah. I tried to take you to your room, but you wouldn’t let me. You said you didn’t want to be alone, and you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Your shoulders relax just slightly, but the tension in the room doesn’t fade completely. “But … why am I wearing your clothes?”

He gives a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh, spilled your drink all over yourself at the bar. Your clothes were soaked. I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in them, so I gave you something of mine to wear. But that’s all it was, I swear.”

You stare at him for a long moment, still processing everything, but Oscar keeps his expression open, honest, as though he’s just as confused by your panic. He waits for you to respond, watching as the gears in your mind turn, trying to piece together what little you remember from last night.

“Nothing happened?" You ask again, your voice softer this time, more uncertain than accusatory.

“Nothing,” Oscar repeats, his tone steady. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I was just trying to make sure you were safe. I didn’t want anyone to take advantage of you.”

You let out a shaky breath, still looking a little dazed, but some of the panic fades from your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I’m sorry, I just … I was scared.”

Oscar reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture. “You don’t have to apologize. I get it. You woke up in a strange place, and it’s confusing. But I promise, I didn’t do anything. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You nod, though you still seem a bit unsure, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t remember a lot from last night.”

Oscar smiles softly, keeping his voice calm, comforting. “You were pretty out of it. But don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

You glance at him, and Oscar can see the relief starting to creep in, even if there’s still a shadow of doubt lingering in your eyes. He wants to erase that, to make sure you trust him fully. He’s been so careful, so calculated.

“Do you want me to get you some water?" He asks, trying to shift the mood. “Or coffee? Might help with the hangover.”

You shake your head. “No, I … I think I just need a minute.”

Oscar nods, watching as you slowly relax, leaning back against the headboard. The panic from earlier is fading, replaced by a quiet uncertainty, but at least you’re not freaking out anymore. That’s what matters.

“Take your time,” he says softly, lying back down but making sure to keep a little more distance this time, so you don’t feel overwhelmed. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You don’t say anything for a while, your eyes unfocused as you try to make sense of everything. Oscar waits patiently, his mind buzzing with satisfaction. Everything is going according to plan.

“I’m sorry if I was a mess last night,” you finally say, your voice quiet.

Oscar shakes his head. “Don’t be. We’ve all been there.”

You offer him a small, tentative smile, and for the first time since you woke up, Oscar feels like he’s back in control. You trust him again. You believe his story.

And that’s all he needs.

***

The morning sun is gentle, casting a soft glow over the city as Oscar walks beside you toward a quaint café. The quiet hum of the streets and the casual murmur of early-morning conversations float through the air. Oscar glances at you from the corner of his eye, making sure to keep his expression neutral, though inside he’s thrumming with satisfaction. You’re here. You’re with him.

When you reach the café, Oscar pulls the door open for you, letting you step inside first. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and pastries greets you as you both head toward a small table by the window.

“This place is cute,” you say, settling into your chair and giving Oscar a small smile.

“Yeah,” Oscar replies, sitting across from you. “I come here sometimes. It’s quiet.”

You nod, glancing down at the menu, though Oscar can tell you’re still a bit distracted. Probably still processing everything from this morning. He wonders if you’re thinking about how you woke up in his bed, wrapped in his clothes. He hopes you are.

A waiter comes by, and you both order — something light, an avocado toast for you, a croissant and tea for Oscar. Once the waiter leaves, there’s a comfortable silence that settles between you, but Oscar’s mind is already moving ahead, planning the next steps.

He keeps his expression casual, focusing on his tea when it arrives, but his mind is focused on how to bring up what he’s about to say. It has to seem natural, like it’s something he’s been hesitating to share, something that’s been weighing on him. He knows how to play this. He’s been thinking about it since last night.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “thank you again for looking after me last night. I feel like I owe you big time.”

Oscar looks up from his tea, giving you a small, modest smile. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, seriously,” you insist, shaking your head. “I feel like I should make it up to you somehow. I mean, after everything …”

He glances down at his cup, then back up at you, his expression carefully calculated — just a hint of hesitation, like he’s thinking about something he’s unsure of. He’s quiet for a beat too long, just enough to make you curious.

“What is it?" You ask, tilting your head slightly, a small frown forming on your face.

Oscar lets out a soft sigh, leaning back in his chair. “It’s nothing, really. I was just … thinking.”

“About?”

He pauses, pretending to mull over his words, then looks up at you with that same hesitant expression. “Well, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to grab dinner after the next race weekend. You know, just the two of us.”

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then you smile. “Oh, yeah, of course! I mean, that’s the least I can do after everything you did for me last night.”

Oscar feels a surge of satisfaction at your agreement, but he keeps his smile small, almost shy, as though he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. “You sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to or anything.”

You shake your head, laughing lightly. “No, I’d love to. Honestly, I think it’d be fun.”

Oscar nods, letting his smile widen just a bit more. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”

You go back to your food, but Oscar keeps watching you, waiting for the right moment. He knows you’ll push him if he stays quiet for long enough. And, right on cue, you glance back up at him, noticing the way he’s fidgeting slightly with his cup.

“Is there something else?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

Oscar’s face shifts into something more serious, and he looks down at his tea, his fingers tracing the rim of the cup. “I … don’t really know if I should say this.”

Your expression changes, concern flickering across your face. “What is it? You can tell me.”

He waits a beat, making it seem like he’s struggling with whether or not to share what’s on his mind. Then, finally, he sighs and leans forward slightly, lowering his voice.

“I overheard something last night,” he says slowly. “At the bar.”

You frown, your attention now fully on him. “What did you hear?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, acting like he’s debating whether or not to continue. Then, he glances around the café, as if checking to make sure no one is listening, before speaking again.

“I heard Lando and Carlos talking,” he says, keeping his voice low. “About … about you.”

Your eyes widen slightly in confusion. “Me? What were they saying?”

Oscar hesitates for just a moment longer, then continues, his tone carefully concerned. “They were talking about how they both wanted to … get with you. Like, in bed.”

Your face goes still, shock settling in as you stare at him, clearly not expecting that. “What?”

Oscar looks down at his cup again, pretending to be uncomfortable with the conversation, even though he’s reveling in your reaction. “Yeah. They were making some kind of bet about who could sleep with you first.”

Your shock turns into disbelief, your brow furrowing as you try to process what he’s telling you. “No. There’s no way. They wouldn’t …”

“I’m sorry,” Oscar says softly, giving you a sympathetic look. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but I heard it. They were laughing about it like it was a game.”

You sit back in your chair, shaking your head slowly. “That’s … I don’t even know what to say. I thought they were my friends.”

Oscar reaches across the table, placing his hand gently on yours. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I thought you deserved to know. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You’re silent for a moment, staring down at the table as you process everything. Oscar watches you closely, waiting for the gratitude to set in. He knows you’ll be thankful that he’s the one who told you, that he’s looking out for you.

Finally, you look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of shock and appreciation. “Thank you for telling me, Oscar. I can’t believe they would do something like that.”

He nods, keeping his expression serious. “I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of you. You deserve better than that.”

You squeeze his hand gently, your face softening. “I’m really glad you’re looking out for me.”

Oscar smiles, though he hides it behind his cup of tea, taking a sip to cover the smirk that threatens to break through. Everything is falling into place perfectly.

“Always,” he says softly, setting the cup down. “I’ve got your back.”

You smile at him again, a little more at ease now, but still clearly shaken by what he’s told you. Oscar can see the wheels turning in your mind, the doubt settling in about Lando and Carlos. He’s planted the seed, and now he just has to let it grow.

“Do you want to go for a walk after this?” Oscar suggests, leaning back in his chair. “Might help clear your head a bit.”

You nod, still looking a bit dazed. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Oscar stands up, tossing a few bills on the table to cover the check, then walks around to your side of the table, offering you his hand. You take it without hesitation, and Oscar feels a surge of satisfaction as your fingers intertwine with his.

As you both step out of the café and into the sunlight, Oscar keeps his grip on your hand firm, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. You trust him now, more than ever. And that’s exactly what he wants.

***

The restaurant is elegant but not over the top, with dim lighting that casts a warm glow across the white linen tablecloths. A single candle flickers in the center of the table, casting soft shadows on your face as you smile across at Oscar. He’s chosen the place carefully, making sure everything is just right — quiet, intimate, with a menu that he knows you’ll love.

Oscar watches you as you glance over the menu, your eyes lighting up at the descriptions of the dishes. He smiles to himself, pleased with how everything is going. He’s dressed carefully tonight — dark trousers, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to be casual but still neat, and his hair combed back, but not too perfectly. He wants to seem effortlessly handsome, like he didn’t try too hard, even though he spent nearly an hour making sure every detail was right.

“What do you think?” Oscar asks, nodding toward the menu. “Anything catching your eye?”

You glance up, your smile widening. “Everything looks amazing. I can’t decide.”

“Take your time,” Oscar says, leaning back in his chair, though his gaze never leaves you. “No rush.”

The waiter comes by, a young guy in his mid-twenties, wearing a crisp black shirt and slacks. He’s polite, offering you both water and asking if you’re ready to order. You ask a few questions about the menu, and Oscar notices the way the waiter’s eyes keep drifting to the neckline of your dress, his gaze lingering just a second too long. Oscar feels a flicker of irritation, but he pushes it down. It’s nothing. He’ll handle it.

You finally decide on a dish, and Oscar orders something simple, letting you take the lead. The waiter scribbles down your order, his eyes darting to you again as he gives a small smile, then he turns and walks away.

Oscar’s smile tightens, but he says nothing, keeping his focus on you. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight.”

You blush slightly, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “Me too. This place is lovely.”

Oscar leans forward slightly, his voice lowering. “I wanted it to be special for you.”

You look up at him, your eyes softening. “It is. You’re always so thoughtful, Oscar.”

He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. “I just want to make you happy.”

You smile again, and Oscar feels a rush of satisfaction. He’s got you right where he wants you — relaxed, comfortable, completely unaware of anything outside this moment.

The waiter returns with the drinks, and as he sets the glass in front of you, Oscar notices again the way his gaze drops to your dress. This time, there’s a hint of a smirk on the waiter’s lips, and Oscar feels the irritation flare up again, hotter this time.

Oscar keeps his face calm, though, his voice even as he thanks the waiter. But inside, he’s already planning. He knows he’ll have to deal with this, and soon. He won’t let anyone disrespect you, not even in the smallest way.

The conversation between you and Oscar flows easily, light and filled with laughter. He keeps his attention on you, listening intently as you talk about your week, sharing stories and little moments that make you smile. Oscar loves the way your eyes light up when you’re happy, the way your laugh makes him feel like everything is right in the world.

But every time the waiter returns to the table, Oscar feels that simmering irritation build again. The guy is too friendly, too familiar, and Oscar doesn’t miss the way the waiter’s gaze lingers on you, or the way he stands just a little too close when he pours your wine.

Oscar clenches his jaw, his hand tightening around his glass. He keeps his smile in place, but inside, he’s seething. He won’t let this go unchecked. Not tonight.

After dinner, when the waiter brings the check, Oscar immediately reaches for it, waving off your protests with a smile.

“Please, let me,” you say, reaching for your purse. “At least let me split it with you.”

Oscar shakes his head, already pulling out his card. “No way. This is my treat.”

You sigh but don’t push it, and Oscar smiles at you, his hand brushing yours as he takes the bill. “I wanted to do this for you.”

You smile back, your eyes warm with gratitude. “Thank you, Oscar. You’re too good to me.”

Oscar nods, his smile widening. “You deserve it.”

As the waiter returns to take the bill, Oscar’s expression doesn’t change, but his mind is already made up. He hands over the card, waiting for the transaction to go through. Once the waiter leaves, Oscar turns to you, his voice gentle.

“I’m just going to step out for a moment,” he says, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

You nod, still smiling. “Take your time.”

Oscar walks away from the table, his movements calm and unhurried, but as soon as he’s out of your sight, his pace quickens. He knows exactly where the waiter will be — by the order screen near the back, where the staff places their orders.

And just as he thought, the waiter is there, inputting another table’s order, completely unaware of Oscar’s approach. Oscar’s steps are silent as he moves closer, his eyes narrowing as he watches the waiter, who is oblivious to the danger behind him.

Without a word, Oscar reaches out, grabbing the back of the waiter’s shirt in a tight grip. The waiter barely has time to react before Oscar’s other hand clamps over his mouth, muffling the startled gasp.

Oscar pulls the waiter back, dragging him through a narrow corridor toward the back entrance of the restaurant. The waiter struggles, his hands trying to pry Oscar’s fingers away from his mouth, but Oscar is stronger, his grip unyielding.

When they reach the back door, Oscar shoves it open with his foot, dragging the waiter outside into the dimly lit alley. He slams the door shut behind them, the noise echoing in the empty space.

The waiter’s eyes are wide with fear as he looks at Oscar, who finally releases his hold on the guy’s mouth but keeps a firm grip on his shirt. The waiter tries to speak, but Oscar cuts him off, his voice low and menacing.

“Don’t even think about screaming,” Oscar warns, his eyes dark with anger. “You think I didn’t notice the way you were looking at her? The way you were acting? You’re going to regret that.”

The waiter stammers, trying to back away, but Oscar doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls the guy closer, his voice cold as he speaks.

“You’re never going to look at her again. You’re never going to speak to her again. Do you understand?”

The waiter nods frantically, his face pale. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Oscar doesn’t let him finish. He throws a punch, his fist connecting with the waiter’s jaw with a sickening crack. The waiter stumbles back, clutching his face, but Oscar doesn’t stop. He grabs the guy again, slamming him against the wall, his voice dangerously quiet.

“If I ever see you near her again, I’ll make sure you never see anything again. Got it?”

The waiter nods again, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “I-I got it, man. I’m sorry, I swear.”

Oscar finally releases him, watching as the waiter stumbles away, his hand still pressed to his bleeding mouth. Oscar’s breathing is heavy, but his anger is starting to subside. He’s done what he needed to do. The guy won’t bother you again.

Oscar takes a moment to calm himself, running a hand through his hair to smooth it back into place. He glances down at his hands, noticing the small splatter of blood on his knuckles and quickly wipes it off on the side of his trousers. He checks his reflection in the small mirror beside the door, making sure there’s no sign of the confrontation.

Once he’s satisfied that he looks as composed as he did before, Oscar heads back inside the restaurant. He makes a quick stop in the bathroom, washing his hands and straightening his shirt, then takes a deep breath before walking back to your table.

When he returns, you’re sitting exactly where he left you, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

“Everything okay?" You ask, your voice light and teasing. “You were gone for a while.”

Oscar smiles, sitting back down across from you. “Yeah, just ran into someone I knew. Took a bit longer than I expected.”

You nod, completely unaware of what just happened, and Oscar feels that familiar satisfaction settle in his chest. You’re safe, and he’s taken care of the problem.

“Ready to head out?” Oscar asks, his tone easy and relaxed.

You nod, standing up as Oscar comes around to your side, offering his arm. You take it with a smile, and Oscar leads you out of the restaurant, the cool night air greeting you as you step outside.

As you walk down the street together, Oscar keeps his pace slow, his arm securely around yours. You’re talking about something — maybe the meal, maybe your plans for the next day — but Oscar is only half-listening. His mind is still on what just happened, on the thrill of taking control, of making sure no one can touch what’s his.

And as you laugh softly at something you’ve said, leaning into him, Oscar knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way. To keep you by his side, safe and completely unaware of what he’s willing to do for you.

Oscar guides you to the car, his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he opens the door for you. You smile up at him, grateful, oblivious to the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. As you settle into the passenger seat, Oscar walks around the front of the car, allowing himself a moment of quiet satisfaction.

Everything is going according to plan. He’s made sure of it.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Oscar glances over at you. You’re still smiling, talking about how great the dinner was, how you can’t wait to do this again. And Oscar nods, his smile never faltering.

“We should,” he says smoothly, his hand resting on the gear shift. “Maybe next time, somewhere even nicer.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tonight was perfect.”

Oscar’s smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something darker in his eyes. He knows it was perfect because he made it that way — because he made sure nothing, and no one, could interfere with what he wants. With what he’s claimed.

As the car moves down the quiet streets, you lean back in your seat, your head resting against the window, a soft, contented sigh escaping your lips. Oscar keeps his eyes on the road, but every so often, he glances over at you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening just slightly.

You trust him completely now. You have no idea what he’s done, what he’s capable of. And Oscar intends to keep it that way.

For now, all that matters is that you’re his.

***

Oscar leans against the wall of the Haas garage, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you. The noise of the paddock fades into the background, and all he sees is you — on the floor, cross-legged, playing with the mechanic’s baby. The baby giggles as you wiggle your fingers in front of him, making soft cooing sounds. It’s an innocent moment, but to Oscar, it’s something far more profound. Something perfect.

He’s never seen you like this before, not with a baby, and the sight of it stirs something deep inside him. You look so at ease, so natural, as if holding a child was second nature to you. Oscar’s chest tightens, and his fingers curl into the fabric of his race suit.

The way you smile at the baby, the softness in your eyes, it’s like a revelation to him. You’re not just beautiful, not just charming or intelligent — you’re maternal. You would be the most incredible mother. His children’s mother.

His gaze sharpens, thoughts racing. He imagines you with a child of your own, your smile directed at a little one with your eyes, maybe his nose, or your soft laugh. The image is so vivid it nearly knocks the air from his lungs.

“Oscar?” Logan’s voice cuts through his thoughts, but Oscar doesn’t move. He barely registers his friend’s voice at all. His entire focus is still locked on you.

Logan follows his line of sight, sees you playing with the baby, and gives Oscar a nudge. “Dude, you look like you’re in a trance. She’s just playing with a baby.”

Oscar glances at him, annoyed. “You don’t understand,” he mutters, brushing Logan off.

Logan chuckles, shaking his head. “Right, because you’re planning your future family now?”

Oscar doesn’t respond, his jaw clenching. He doesn’t need Logan’s sarcastic comments, not when he’s this close to figuring out the next step. Logan might think he’s being funny, but he has no idea how serious Oscar is.

You’re laughing now, and Oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound. It’s soft, melodic, like music in his ears. He pushes off the wall, slowly making his way over to you, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of him.

When you notice him approaching, your face lights up, and you wave him over, holding the baby’s hand and waving it in his direction. “Oscar, look! Isn’t he adorable?”

Oscar forces a smile, trying to keep his composure. “Yeah, he’s cute.”

But inside, his thoughts are racing. He wants this — you with a baby. He wants it all. The perfect little family. And now, he knows what he has to do.

He crouches down next to you, his knee brushing against yours as he watches you interact with the baby. For a moment, he lets himself imagine what it would be like if this were your life together. The three of you, the baby on your lap, the two of you sharing quiet, intimate moments like this.

“You’re really good with him,” Oscar says softly, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You smile, shrugging modestly. “I’ve always loved kids.”

Oscar’s mind whirs at that, his grip on the baby’s toy tightening slightly. Of course, you love kids. You’d be the perfect mother. It’s meant to be.

The baby’s mother, the mechanic’s wife, calls for her child, and you gently pass him over, giving him one last little pat on the back. As the baby is carried away, you let out a soft sigh, as if you’re reluctant to part with him.

Oscar takes this moment, leaning in just a little closer. “I was thinking …” he begins, his tone casual but carefully measured. “Summer break is coming up soon.”

You turn to him, eyes bright with curiosity. “Yeah?”

Oscar’s heart pounds in his chest. He needs to do this right, to make it seem like it’s just an innocent suggestion, a sweet idea. “What if we spent it together?" He pauses, gauging your reaction before adding, “In Australia. You’ve never been, right?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a smile slowly spreading across your face. “Australia? Really?”

Oscar nods, trying to seem nonchalant, though inside, he’s anything but. “Yeah. I thought it’d be fun. You could meet my family, see where I grew up. We could spend some time away from all … this." He gestures vaguely to the chaotic paddock around you both.

You bite your lip, clearly considering it. “That sounds amazing, but … I don’t want to intrude.”

Oscar shakes his head quickly, his hand lightly brushing yours. “You wouldn’t be intruding. I want you to come. It’d be good for us to … you know, spend some real time together.”

You smile again, softer this time, and Oscar knows he’s got you. “Well, if you’re sure …” you say teasingly, “I’d love to.”

Oscar’s stomach flips with triumph, but he keeps his expression calm. “Great. I’ll book everything.”

As you turn back to watch the baby being carried away, Oscar’s mind races ahead. This is the next step. Australia, away from everyone else, where he can have you all to himself. Where you can start to see what he already knows — that you’re meant to be together.

It’s perfect. The perfect plan, the perfect timing. And now, with you agreeing to spend the summer with him, he’s that much closer to making his vision of your future a reality.

He leans back slightly, his eyes still fixed on you, his thoughts dark and consuming. Soon, everything will fall into place. Soon, you’ll be his in every way that matters.

“Can’t wait for the summer,” you say softly, more to yourself than to him, but Oscar hears it loud and clear.

Neither can he.

***

The villa Oscar books for the two of you is perfect, nestled quietly in the Australian countryside, far from any distractions. When he pulls up the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires, a satisfied smile creeps onto his face. It’s isolated but cozy, with a large deck that overlooks the rolling hills and eucalyptus trees. The soft hum of cicadas fills the warm air. It’s idyllic, exactly how he planned it.

"Wow, Oscar, this place is gorgeous," you say as you step out of the car, your voice laced with awe as you take in the view.

Oscar watches you, the way your eyes light up, how the sun catches your hair. He’s made sure everything is flawless for you. He nods, placing a hand on your back as he leads you toward the entrance. “I thought it’d be nice to get away from everything for a bit. Just the two of us.”

You smile back at him, clearly touched. “It’s perfect. I can’t believe you planned all this.”

Inside, the villa is just as stunning. Open spaces, large windows, and soft, neutral tones. The light pours in, casting everything in a warm glow. You wander through the space, touching the countertops, trailing your fingers over the smooth wood of the dining table. Oscar stands back for a moment, watching you, his mind already working through the next phase of his plan.

You head toward the bedroom, your suitcase rolling behind you, and Oscar follows. The room is simple but elegant, with a large bed draped in white linen, soft and inviting. As you start unpacking, Oscar moves toward the bathroom, scanning the space. It’s spotless, the sink gleaming under the lights, and there’s a large bathtub near the window with a view of the surrounding hills.

You join him a moment later, setting your toiletry bag on the counter. “I’m going to hang up my clothes,” you say, smiling before walking back toward the bedroom.

Oscar watches you go, the soft sound of your footsteps fading as you head down the hall. He lingers for a moment, standing by the bathroom counter. His gaze shifts to your toiletry bag, eyes narrowing as he sees a small white case tucked inside.

Your birth control pills.

His chest tightens. He wasn’t sure how he’d handle this part of the plan, but seeing them now, sitting right there in the open, brings a wave of certainty over him. This is his opportunity.

He reaches out, fingers brushing the plastic case. Slowly, carefully, he lifts it out of the bag, opening it to reveal the small circular array of pills. His mind races. The thought of you — of having you, completely — pulses through him like an electric current. He knows what he needs to do now.

With a glance over his shoulder to make sure you’re still in the other room, Oscar pulls out his phone. He quickly searches online, tapping through a few sites until he finds exactly what he’s looking for: placebo pills. They look identical to your birth control, but they won’t do anything. His fingers hover over the screen for a moment before he places the order, ensuring express delivery to the villa.

Satisfied, he slides your pill case back into the drawer, just as you return, holding up a shirt on a hanger. “What do you think? Dinner tonight, maybe?”

Oscar turns to you, his face the picture of calm, though inside his heart races with excitement. He smiles, closing the distance between you with a slow step. “Sounds perfect,” he says, his voice smooth and easy. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

You roll your eyes playfully, hanging up the shirt in your closet. “We’ve just arrived, Oscar. Don’t start flattering me already.”

He chuckles, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching you organize your clothes. “Can’t help it.”

You don’t notice anything amiss, your attention fully on arranging your wardrobe, humming softly to yourself. Oscar stays silent, observing, letting the moment stretch out. He feels the weight of the decision he’s made pressing against his chest, but there’s no doubt in his mind. This is the next step. It’s necessary.

As you finish, you turn to him, smiling as if the whole world is right, as if you’re in the safest, most perfect place possible. “What’s the plan for today?" You ask, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Oscar takes a seat beside you, his arm draping over your shoulder casually. “We could explore a little, go for a walk. Or,” he pauses, gauging your reaction, “we could just stay in, relax. I thought we could take some time to enjoy this place.”

Your smile widens, and you lean into his touch. “I think staying in sounds nice. We have all the time in the world to explore, right?”

His heart flutters at that, the way you’re already so comfortable with the idea of just being with him, no distractions, no one else. He tightens his grip around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“Exactly,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “Just the two of us.”

The rest of the day is quiet, peaceful. You spend time lounging on the deck, sipping wine as you both talk about everything and nothing. It feels natural, easy, like you’ve always been meant to share this space together. But all the while, Oscar’s mind never strays from the thought of those pills in the bathroom drawer. He feels like he’s already set the wheels in motion, that soon enough, you’ll be his in every possible way.

That night, after dinner, you slip away to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Oscar lies back on the mattress, listening to the sound of water running, imagining you in there, preparing for another quiet night together. When you return, you crawl into bed next to him, curling up at his side.

Oscar wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, the warmth of your body against his. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring goodnight. But even as your breathing evens out and you drift to sleep, his mind remains sharp, clear.

In a few days, when the pills arrive, he’ll make the switch. He knows it’ll be seamless — you’ll never suspect a thing. And soon, everything will be exactly as he’s imagined it.

As you sleep peacefully beside him, Oscar stares up at the ceiling, his hand resting lightly on your hip, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

He’s already won half the battle.

Now, all that’s left is for you to realize that you were always meant to be his.

***

The days leading up to the switch are torturous for Oscar. Every moment you spend together is perfect, but the anticipation gnaws at him. He’s careful not to show it, though. He keeps his composure, never letting his eagerness slip through the mask of calm he wears so well.

The placebos arrive in an unmarked package, just as discreet as he had hoped. It’s delivered while you’re out on a walk through the woods that surround the villa, and Oscar snatches it up from the front porch the moment he hears the delivery truck pull away. He tears it open, heart pounding as he examines the pills inside. They’re identical to the ones in your birth control case — down to the last detail.

Perfect.

Oscar wastes no time. He takes the package to the bathroom and carefully opens the drawer where you keep your toiletries. Your pill case sits innocuously at the back, just as you left it. His hands are steady as he opens it, methodically replacing each of the active pills with the placebos. When he’s done, he closes the case, tucking it back into the drawer with everything in its place. He steps back, his reflection in the mirror looking back at him with a calm satisfaction.

This is it.

When you return from your walk, flushed from the exertion and the crisp air, Oscar greets you with a warm smile. “How was it?" He asks, brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead.

“Beautiful,” you reply, eyes bright. “I found this little trail that leads down to a stream. We should go there together tomorrow.”

“Definitely,” Oscar agrees, his hand resting on the small of your back as you head inside. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it here.”

“Of course,” you say, leaning into him as you head to the bedroom to change out of your walking clothes. “It’s perfect.”

Oscar follows you, watching as you strip off your jacket and fold it neatly over the chair. You’re so trusting, so unaware of the plans he’s laid out so carefully. He feels a surge of affection for you, so strong it almost makes him dizzy. You’re his now — completely and utterly his.

The days pass slowly, agonizingly so, as Oscar waits for the right moment. He’s patient, though, ensuring that everything goes according to plan. He doesn’t want to rush this — it has to be perfect.

Finally, when he’s sure your body has flushed out the effects of the real pills, Oscar makes his move.

It’s a quiet evening. The two of you have had dinner on the deck, the sun setting in a blaze of color over the hills. Now, you’re inside, the warmth of the fire in the living room wrapping around you both as you sit on the couch. You’re leaning against Oscar, your head resting on his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

“I’m so glad we’re here,” you murmur, your voice sleepy and content. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

Oscar presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand gently stroking your arm. “We don’t have to think about that yet. We’ve got plenty of time.”

You smile, closing your eyes as you nestle closer to him. “I know.”

He waits until you’re almost drifting off before he shifts, turning slightly so he can look down at you. “Come to bed,” he says softly, his voice low and coaxing.

You nod, letting him guide you to the bedroom. The atmosphere is thick with unspoken anticipation, and Oscar’s pulse quickens as he watches you undress, slipping into the nightshirt you keep at the villa. You’re unaware of the intensity of his gaze, too caught up in your own sleepy haze.

Oscar follows suit, stripping down to his boxers before joining you in bed. The sheets are cool against his skin, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He reaches for you, pulling you close, his hands sliding over your hips, your waist.

You respond to his touch, a soft murmur escaping your lips as he presses his lips to your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone. There’s something different about the way he touches you tonight — more deliberate, more possessive. But you don’t question it, you trust him completely.

Oscar’s heart races as he continues, his hands exploring every inch of you, his lips following the path they trace. When he finally enters you, it’s with a sense of completion, like he’s claimed something that was always meant to be his. He moves slowly at first, savoring the moment, letting the reality of it sink in.

He watches your face, the way your eyes flutter closed, your lips parting as you breathe out his name. It’s intoxicating, seeing you like this, knowing that he’s the only one who’s ever seen you this way, and soon, he’ll be the only one to ever see you carrying his child.

The thought pushes him over the edge, and he starts to move faster, more urgently, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you. The intensity of it makes you gasp, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you.

“Oscar,” you moan, your voice shaky with pleasure.

He groans in response, leaning down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss. He can’t get enough of you, can’t hold back the possessiveness that wells up inside him. He knows he’s on the edge of losing control, but he doesn’t care. This is what he’s wanted for so long, and now that it’s finally happening, he won’t let anything ruin it.

When you reach your climax, Oscar follows shortly after, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he lets go. For a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you, the sound of your breathing the only thing that matters.

Afterward, as you lie beneath him, your chest rising and falling with the effort of catching your breath, Oscar places a soft kiss on your lips, then another on your neck. His hand trails down your stomach, lingering there, his fingers brushing over your skin with a possessive gentleness.

He moves lower, his lips following the path of his hand until he reaches your stomach. There, he presses a lingering kiss to the soft skin, his heart pounding in his chest.

He pictures it — your stomach rounding, growing with the child he knows will come. It’s only a matter of time now. He’s ensured it.

“You’re going to be the most amazing mother,” he whispers against your skin, his voice barely audible, but filled with a deep certainty.

You don’t hear him, your body already drifting into the blissful haze of sleep. But Oscar stays there for a moment longer, his lips pressed to your stomach, a satisfied smile curving his lips.

He slides back up beside you, pulling you into his arms, your head resting on his chest. As you sleep peacefully against him, Oscar’s mind races with thoughts of the future. A future where you’re his in every way. Where you carry his child, where you’re bound to him forever.

And now, that future is within reach.

Oscar tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his heart pounding with a mixture of possessiveness and triumph.

It’s all falling into place.

Everything is perfect.

***

Oscar watches you with keen eyes, every small movement, every shift in your expression. He’s noticed it for a few days now — the way you’ve seemed off. Tired. Nauseous. He’s careful not to say anything too soon, not to make you suspicious, but inside, he knows what’s happening.

He’s known this moment was coming.

It’s Saturday morning at the track, and the rest of the team is bustling around, preparing for qualifying. But you’re sitting on a bench just outside the Haas garage, head in your hands, looking pale. Oscar walks over, his face the perfect picture of concern.

“You okay?" He asks softly, crouching down beside you.

You look up at him, your skin a little clammy, eyes filled with discomfort. “I don’t know. I feel … really off. I’ve been sick a few times this morning.”

Oscar frowns, tilting his head like he’s puzzled, but inside, he’s practically buzzing with excitement. “You’ve been sick? Maybe we should get you checked out, just in case.”

You wave him off, trying to be nonchalant about it. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I probably ate something weird.”

Oscar shakes his head. “No way. You’ve been feeling off for days now." He stands up, offering his hand to you. “Come on, let’s go to the track physician. Better safe than sorry.”

You hesitate, but Oscar’s insistence wins out. With a sigh, you take his hand, letting him guide you across the paddock toward the medical facility. He walks with purpose, every step bringing him closer to what he’s been waiting for — the confirmation of what he already knows.

The doctor on duty takes you both into a small examination room, where you explain your symptoms. Oscar stands beside you the entire time, holding your hand, his face a mask of supportive concern.

“We’ll need to take a blood sample,” the doctor says after you’ve described everything. “Just to rule out a few things.”

Oscar squeezes your hand as you nod, clearly exhausted. “It’ll be quick,” he murmurs, his voice soothing, though his mind is racing. This is it.

The blood test doesn’t take long, and the doctor steps out of the room to analyze the results. You sit back on the exam table, shoulders slumped, looking more tired than ever. Oscar watches you, his heart racing, anticipation curling in his chest.

When the doctor finally returns, holding a clipboard with the results, Oscar straightens, his expression carefully composed.

“Well,” the doctor begins, glancing between the two of you, “the results came back, and … it looks like you’re pregnant.”

There’s a beat of silence.

You stare at the doctor, completely shocked, the color draining from your face. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant,” the doctor repeats gently. “The hormone levels are consistent with early pregnancy.”

Oscar does everything he can to keep his face from breaking into a smile. He squeezes your hand a little tighter, playing the role of the supportive boyfriend. “Pregnant?" He echoes, making sure his voice sounds as surprised as yours.

You’re still staring at the doctor in disbelief. “But … that can’t be right. We’ve only been together a few months. I’ve been on the pill.”

The doctor gives you a sympathetic look. “No birth control is one hundred percent effective. It can happen.”

You sit back, stunned, your hand instinctively going to your stomach. “I-I can’t believe this.”

Oscar pulls you into his side, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers, his voice gentle and calm. “We’ll figure this out.”

But you’re shaking your head, your voice rising with panic. “Oscar, we’ve only been together for a few months. I don’t even know if … if I’m ready for this.”

Oscar feels a flicker of annoyance at your hesitation, but he quickly buries it. He can’t push too hard yet. Instead, he plays the role of the comforting partner, holding you tightly as you freak out. “I get it,” he says softly. “This is a lot to take in. But we don’t have to make any decisions right now.”

Your eyes are wide and frantic as you look up at him. “I’m not sure if I can do this. I don’t even know if I want to keep the baby.”

Oscar’s stomach twists at your words, but his face remains calm, his hand still gently stroking your back. “Hey, don’t say that yet,” he murmurs. “Let’s just take a breath, okay? You’re overwhelmed right now, and that’s normal. But we’ll figure this out together. I’m here with you, no matter what.”

You look up at him, your face filled with uncertainty. “But, Oscar … this changes everything. I’m not ready to be a mom.”

Oscar gives you a soft, understanding smile, though inside he’s desperate to steer this conversation in the right direction. “I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. But I promise you, we can handle this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Your breath hitches as you look at him, conflicted. “I just … I didn’t expect this. We’ve barely been together long enough to-”

“To plan something like this, I know,” Oscar finishes for you, his voice gentle. “But things happen, and sometimes life surprises us. And, if I’m being honest … I think you’d be an amazing mom.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “You really think that?”

Oscar nods, his expression sincere. “I do. You’re kind, you’re caring, and you have so much love to give. I’ve seen the way you are with Ollie, and even with the team. You’re a natural caretaker.”

You bite your lip, clearly wavering. “But, Oscar … what if I’m not ready?”

Oscar tilts his head, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “No one’s ever really ready. But I know you, and I know that if you decide to keep this baby, you’ll be incredible. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’ll figure it out together.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to him, his words hitting you in all the right places. Oscar can see that you’re close to giving in, so he presses on, his voice steady and reassuring.

“I know it’s scary, but think about it. We could be a family. A real family. And I want that with you more than anything.”

You look down at your hands, silent for a moment, your mind clearly racing. Oscar watches you closely, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows this is the turning point.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, glancing up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I … I don’t know, Oscar. I need time to think.”

Oscar nods, giving you a soft, understanding smile. “Of course. Take all the time you need. But just know that whatever you decide, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod slowly, wiping your eyes. “Thank you. I just … I don’t know what to do.”

Oscar pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, his heart swelling with satisfaction. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispers into your hair. “I promise, everything’s going to be okay.”

As he holds you, Oscar’s mind races, already planning the next steps. He’s not worried. He knows that, in the end, he’ll convince you. You’ll keep the baby, and everything will fall into place just as he intended.

For now, he’ll play the role of the supportive boyfriend, the one who’s always by your side, helping you through the uncertainty. But inside, he’s already won. You’re pregnant, and soon enough, you’ll realize that keeping the baby is the only option.

Oscar holds you a little tighter, hiding the small, satisfied smile that threatens to break through. Everything is going according to plan.

***

Oscar has always been patient. He’s learned that rushing things can cause cracks, slip-ups, room for doubt to creep in. And now, more than ever, he needs you to trust him, to believe that he’s on your side. The next few days are critical, and he knows it.

You’ve been quieter since finding out about the pregnancy. The nervous energy that used to make you light up around the paddock has been replaced with uncertainty. Oscar notices how you touch your stomach absentmindedly when you think no one’s looking, like you’re still trying to wrap your head around the reality growing inside you.

But Oscar sees this for what it is: a fragile moment where you’re caught between indecision and the life he’s planned for you both. He just needs to tip the scales, to show you that there’s only one real choice. And he has the perfect opportunity in mind.

It’s the Thursday before race day, and the paddock is bustling with the usual pre-race chaos — engineers, media personnel, drivers darting between garages. His PR officer, Helen, has brought her baby girl to the paddock today. Oscar has seen her cooing at the mechanics, her little girl bundled in pink, giggling at all the attention. It’s perfect.

Oscar knows you well enough to understand how much you adore babies, how your heart melts when you see them. He watches you now, standing with Ollie near the Haas garage, glancing over at Helen and the baby every few minutes. Your face softens just a little when you hear the baby laugh. This is his moment.

Oscar approaches, casual but calculated, making sure his timing is perfect. He greets Ollie with a quick nod before turning his attention to you, his expression warm but with an undertone of concern.

“You okay?" He asks softly, as though the question has been bubbling beneath the surface for days.

You glance at him, clearly caught off guard by his directness. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just … still thinking about everything.”

Oscar nods, as if he’s been expecting that answer. “I know it’s a lot to process. But you don’t have to do it alone, remember?”

You smile faintly, grateful for his support but still unsure. “I know. I just — I don’t know what the right thing to do is.”

Oscar’s eyes flicker toward Helen and her baby, who’s now being bounced on the hip of one of the mechanics. He lowers his voice, leaning a little closer to you. “Maybe it would help to talk to someone who’s been through it?”

You follow his gaze, and Oscar can almost see the gears turning in your mind. Helen has always been someone you admired — successful, balanced, managing motherhood while working in the high-stakes world of Formula 1. Oscar knows exactly what he’s doing.

You hesitate, but then nod. “Yeah … maybe.”

Oscar smiles softly. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand gently, leading you toward Helen. “It might help.”

As you approach, Helen looks up, her face lighting up when she sees you both. “Hey, guys! How’s it going?”

Oscar is quick to respond, his voice easy and natural. “We’re good. Actually, we were just talking and thought maybe you could give some advice.”

Helen shifts the baby on her hip, curious. “Oh? What about?”

You glance at Oscar nervously, but he squeezes your hand, silently encouraging you. You take a deep breath, then speak. “I, uh … I just found out I’m pregnant.”

Helen’s face softens immediately, her maternal instincts kicking in. “Oh my God, congratulations! That’s amazing news.”

You give a weak smile, still overwhelmed. “Thanks. I’m just … I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

Oscar watches as Helen’s expression shifts, empathy in her eyes. “I totally get it,” she says, adjusting the baby in her arms. “I felt the same way when I found out I was pregnant. It’s a huge change, and it can be scary. But honestly? It’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.”

You blink, processing her words, while Oscar fights to keep the smile from creeping onto his face. Helen’s doing exactly what he hoped she would.

“You really think so?" You ask, your voice soft, tentative.

Helen nods firmly. “Absolutely. I mean, yeah, there are tough days, but … when you look at them, when they smile at you, everything just clicks. It’s like … it doesn’t matter if you felt unprepared or scared before. Once they’re here, they become your whole world, and you can’t imagine life without them.”

Oscar’s heart races as he watches you absorb every word. He knows Helen’s words are planting seeds, shifting your perspective, just like he planned.

You glance at the baby, who’s now chewing on her fist, babbling happily in Helen’s arms. A small smile tugs at your lips, the first genuine one Oscar’s seen in days.

“She’s beautiful,” you whisper, almost to yourself.

Helen grins, brushing a hand over the baby’s soft curls. “Thank you. And you’ll have your own little one soon enough. Trust me, it’s the best thing in the world.”

Oscar feels a surge of triumph. Helen’s done the heavy lifting, nudging you closer to the decision he’s wanted all along. But he knows he needs to seal the deal, to make sure you’re not left with any lingering doubts.

As Helen’s attention shifts back to the baby, Oscar leans in toward you, his voice low and intimate. “You’d be such a great mom,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours.

You look at him, your eyes still filled with uncertainty, but there’s something else there now — hope. “You really think so?”

Oscar nods, his expression earnest. “I do. I know it’s scary, but … you have so much love to give. And we’ll do it together. You won’t have to do it alone.”

You take a deep breath, and Oscar can tell that you’re on the edge, teetering between fear and the future he’s painting for you both.

Helen’s baby lets out a little giggle, and you glance down at her, your smile widening just a bit. “She’s so happy,” you say softly.

Helen beams, rocking her baby gently. “She is. And yours will be too.”

Oscar can see it now, the way you’re starting to picture it in your mind. The future he’s carefully crafted. You, holding your own baby, happy, content, and completely his.

He tightens his grip on your hand, his voice barely above a whisper. “We can have that. A family. If you want it.”

You close your eyes for a moment, taking it all in, before finally nodding. “Maybe … maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Oscar’s heart soars. This is it. You’re giving in.

Helen smiles warmly at you both. “You’re going to be amazing parents.”

Oscar squeezes your hand one last time, his voice soft and filled with promise. “We’ll make this work. I promise.”

You look at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s do it.”

Oscar leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his heart racing with satisfaction. He’s won. The future he’s dreamed of is now within reach. You’re keeping the baby, and everything is falling into place.

As you stand there, watching Helen and her baby, Oscar’s mind is already racing with plans. He’ll make sure everything is perfect for you, for the baby. He’ll protect what’s his, no matter what.

For now, though, he lets himself savor the victory, pulling you closer to him as you both watch the baby in Helen’s arms. His plan is working. You’re his, and soon, you’ll be tied to him forever.

And there’s nothing anyone can do to change that.

***

Oscar has been preparing for this moment for weeks, rehearsing the conversation in his mind over and over. He knows Ollie is protective of you — he’d have to be, considering the nature of the F1 paddock and all the people who swarm around it. Telling him that his older sister is pregnant, and not just pregnant but with Oscar’s child, needs to be handled delicately.

The three of you are sitting in a private corner of the hotel lounge, post-race celebrations buzzing in the background. You’re perched nervously on the edge of your seat, fidgeting with your hands, while Oscar sits beside you, his arm draped protectively around the back of your chair. Ollie is across from you both, tapping his fingers on the table, clearly sensing that something is off.

Oscar shoots you a glance, his expression gentle but encouraging. This is the moment you’ve both been preparing for, but he knows how nervous you are. He watches as you take a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak.

“Ollie,” you begin, your voice shaky. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

Ollie’s fingers stop tapping, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leans in. “What is it? You’re acting weird.”

Oscar watches you hesitate, your eyes flickering between him and Ollie, before you finally blurt it out. “I’m pregnant.”

Ollie blinks, his expression blank for a moment as the words sink in. Then, like a storm rolling in, his face darkens. He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he glares at Oscar.

“What the hell, Oscar?” Ollie’s voice is low, sharp, and full of anger. “You got her pregnant? Are you kidding me?”

Oscar stays calm, his expression composed as he raises his hands in a gesture of peace. He expected this reaction. Ollie’s protective streak runs deep, especially when it comes to you. But Oscar knows how to diffuse the situation.

“Take a breath, Ollie,” Oscar says, his voice steady, almost soothing. “I know you’re upset, but we didn’t plan this.”

“Upset?” Ollie repeats, incredulous. “You put my sister in a position like this! She’s not ready for this, she’s still in school, she-” He stops, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to control his temper.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, looking down at your hands, and Oscar squeezes your shoulder lightly, as if to remind you that he’s got this. He turns his attention back to Ollie, making sure to keep his voice calm and measured.

“Ollie, listen,” Oscar starts, “this wasn’t something we expected, but we’re dealing with it together. I love her. We’re going to make this work.”

Ollie shakes his head, pacing in front of the table now, his hands clenched into fists. “You love her? That’s supposed to make this okay? You barely even know each other, and now she’s pregnant!”

Oscar watches him carefully, knowing that pushing too hard could make things worse. Instead, he opts for a different angle. “Ollie, I get it. I understand why you’re upset. But think about this for a second. You’re going to be an uncle.”

That makes Ollie stop in his tracks. His eyes widen, the anger momentarily fading as the weight of that reality hits him. “An uncle?”

Oscar nods, taking the opportunity to soften the conversation. “Yeah. You’ll be an uncle. This baby is going to have an amazing family. You’re part of that.”

You finally look up, your voice soft but steady as you speak. “I know this isn’t what any of us expected, Ollie. But Oscar’s been really supportive. We’re figuring it out.”

Ollie glances at you, his expression conflicted. The anger is still there, but it’s mixed with something else now — worry, concern. He drops into the chair again, rubbing his hands over his face.

“And you’re sure this is what you want?" He asks, his voice quieter now, directed at you.

You nod, though the uncertainty is still clear in your eyes. “I … I think so. I don’t know what the future looks like, but I know I want to try.”

Ollie sighs, leaning back in his chair, his eyes flicking between you and Oscar. “This is insane.”

Oscar leans forward, his voice firm but gentle. “I know it’s a lot, but we’ll handle it together. You don’t have to worry about her, Ollie. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”

Ollie shoots him a hard look, the protectiveness still lingering. “You’d better.”

Oscar knows this is the best he’s going to get right now. He doesn’t push further, letting the conversation settle as Ollie processes the news. He can sense that Ollie’s anger is starting to fade, replaced by concern and the inevitable acceptance of what’s happening.

After a long silence, Ollie exhales heavily and looks back at you. “I just … I don’t want you to regret this. You’ve got so much going for you, and I don’t want anything holding you back.”

Oscar watches as you reach across the table, placing your hand on Ollie’s arm. “I know. And I don’t want to give up on anything. But I’ll make it work. I have to.”

Ollie’s jaw tightens, and he glances at Oscar before nodding slowly. “Alright. But if he screws up, I’m coming after him.”

Oscar can’t help but smile, though he keeps it in check. “Fair enough.”

The tension in the air starts to lift, though it’s clear that Ollie still isn’t entirely on board. But Oscar knows he’s planted the right seeds. Ollie will come around eventually, once the idea of being an uncle starts to sink in.

As the conversation shifts back to less intense topics, Oscar keeps an arm around you, quietly basking in the victory. He’s one step closer to securing the future he’s been carefully crafting, and no amount of Ollie’s protective nature is going to stand in his way.

Later, as you and Oscar leave the lounge, you let out a long breath, clearly relieved. “That went better than I expected,” you say, glancing up at him.

Oscar smirks, pulling you closer. “Told you it would be fine.”

You smile softly, leaning into his side. “Thanks for being so calm. I don’t think I could’ve handled that without you.”

Oscar presses a kiss to the top of your head, his heart racing with satisfaction. “I’ll always be here for you.”

As you walk together through the hotel lobby, Oscar’s mind is already moving to the next step. Ollie might have accepted the situation for now, but Oscar knows he’ll have to be vigilant. There’s always the risk of someone getting too close, of people questioning the choices you’re making.

But Oscar’s in control. He always has been.

And soon, the world will see the perfect life he’s building for you both.

You and him. And the baby.

Everything is going according to plan.

***

Oscar steps out of the McLaren motorhome, adjusting the collar of his team polo as he scans the paddock. The sun is out in full force today, casting a bright glare across the asphalt, and the usual buzz of race day preparations hums in the air. But none of that holds Oscar’s attention for long, because across the way, standing near the Haas garage, is you.

And standing too close to you — way too close — is Charles.

Oscar’s eyes narrow as he watches the scene unfold. You’re smiling, one hand resting protectively on your belly — his baby growing inside you — and Charles is standing right in front of you, one hand outstretched and resting on the curve of your stomach.

Oscar’s stomach turns. His grip on the phone in his hand tightens, knuckles whitening as a sharp wave of possessiveness surges through him. He has to stop himself from marching over there and ripping Charles’ hand off you, from doing something that will draw attention — something that will make everyone realize exactly what Oscar is capable of.

Instead, he breathes deeply, trying to keep his expression neutral. He has to remind himself that he’s in public. Eyes are everywhere. The cameras, the fans, the team members — all watching, all waiting for something interesting to happen.

He forces himself to move, walking toward you and Charles with a calm, measured pace. His heart pounds in his chest, though, each step building the tension in his body. He focuses on keeping his breathing steady, on not letting the mask slip.

When he’s close enough, he hears Charles chuckling. “Look at that — he’s going to be a strong one, huh?” Charles says, his voice too cheerful, too familiar for Oscar’s liking. He’s looking down at your belly like he’s allowed to touch, allowed to share in this intimate moment.

Oscar feels his blood boiling. He doesn’t get to touch you. He doesn’t get to touch either of you. But Oscar keeps his smile in place, just another teammate stopping by for a chat.

“Hey, mate,” Oscar greets, his voice smooth and even, though it takes every ounce of self-control not to shove Charles away from you. “What’s going on here?”

You smile up at him, that soft, radiant smile that’s been a constant source of comfort for him since you found out about the pregnancy. You’re glowing, your hand gently covering Charles’ as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

“Oscar!" You say, your voice light and warm. “Charles was just saying hi to the little one.”

Oscar steps closer, closing the distance between you and him, subtly edging Charles out of the space between you. He places his arm around your waist, pulling you gently but possessively toward him. “Yeah, I see that,” he says, keeping his tone casual, though his eyes flick to Charles, warning him without words.

Charles, ever oblivious, laughs and steps back, giving Oscar a friendly clap on the shoulder. “She’s going to be a great mom,” Charles says, oblivious to the dark thoughts simmering beneath Oscar’s surface. “It’s crazy how fast time’s flown, huh?”

Oscar’s smile feels forced, tight. “Yeah. Crazy.”

You glance between the two men, clearly sensing the tension but not fully understanding it. “Oscar, everything okay?" You ask, concern flickering in your eyes.

He turns to you, softening his expression, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah, of course. Just checking on you.” His hand moves to your belly, where Charles’ had been moments before, as if to reclaim what’s his. The small life growing inside you is his — yours and his alone.

“Little one’s been kicking up a storm today,” you say with a grin, your excitement spilling over. “I think he’s excited for the race.”

Oscar can’t help but smile at that, but it’s a thin veil over the possessive rage still bubbling inside him. He doesn’t want anyone else touching you, touching *his* baby — especially not Charles Leclerc. But he can’t show that. Not here. Not now.

Charles, still blissfully unaware of the dark cloud brewing in Oscar’s chest, gives you a nod and a charming smile. “I should get going — need to check in with the team. But hey, take care, yeah? If you need anything, just let me know.”

Oscar tightens his grip on your waist, resisting the urge to tell Charles where he can shove his offer. Instead, he keeps his smile in place, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes as he watches Charles walk away. “Will do, mate,” he calls after him, his voice cold despite the smile still painted on his face.

Once Charles is out of earshot, Oscar turns to you, his hand still resting on your belly. He can feel the tiny kicks against his palm, and for a moment, the tension eases, his possessiveness giving way to something deeper — something almost tender.

“I didn’t like that,” he says quietly, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You tilt your head, confused. “Didn’t like what?”

“Charles touching you like that,” he admits, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your stomach. “It’s … it’s personal. It’s us, you know? It’s our baby.”

You give him a soft smile, clearly not understanding the full weight of what he’s saying. “Oscar, he was just being friendly. He’s excited for us.”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, but he forces himself to relax. You don’t get it. You don’t see what he sees. “I know. I just … I don’t want anyone else touching you like that. It doesn’t feel right.”

You laugh lightly, brushing it off as if it’s nothing. “You’re being silly. I think it’s sweet that people care.”

Oscar doesn’t push the point further, but inside, the possessiveness flares again. It’s not sweet. It’s not okay. No one else should be touching you or the baby. That’s his job. Only his.

“Just … humor me, okay?” Oscar says, pulling you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m protective. That’s all.”

You smile up at him, leaning into his embrace. “Okay, I’ll humor you.”

Oscar holds you close, his mind spinning with a hundred different thoughts. He can’t stop thinking about Charles’ hand on your belly, about how wrong it felt to see someone else so close to what’s his. He knows it’s irrational, knows he’s being possessive — but he can’t help it. You and the baby are his world now, and the thought of anyone else being a part of that world fills him with a dark, burning need to protect.

Later, as the day winds down and you’re resting in his arms in the McLaren motorhome, Oscar watches you sleep, his hand resting gently on your belly. He can feel the occasional flutter of movement beneath his palm, and for a brief moment, the possessiveness fades, replaced by something softer.

But it doesn’t last. His mind drifts back to Charles, to the way he’d smiled at you, the way he’d touched you so casually. He knows it was innocent, knows that Charles doesn’t mean any harm — but that doesn’t matter. Oscar can’t shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong, that someone is going to come between him and the perfect life he’s building.

And Oscar won’t let that happen.

He’ll protect you, protect the baby — at all costs. Even if that means keeping everyone else at arm’s length. Even if that means doing things you’ll never know about.

As he presses another kiss to your belly, Oscar makes a silent promise to himself: nothing and no one will ever come between him, you, and the life he’s built for you.

No matter what it takes.

***

Oscar lounges on the sofa of the McLaren motorhome, glancing at you as you sit across from him, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone. Your belly has grown even more prominent, the bump of his baby pushing against the soft fabric of your dress. It’s been months now since you found out, and you’ve settled into the rhythm of being an expecting mother. But Oscar’s mind has been churning with a new idea, a plan that’s taken root and refuses to let go.

He watches you with a calculated calmness, waiting for the right moment to broach the subject. He knows it won’t be easy — you’re close to your family, to Ollie, to the life you’ve built in England. But that’s exactly the problem. Too many people are around you, too many influences that could pull you away from him, from the control he’s worked so hard to establish.

He clears his throat, catching your attention.

“You know,” he begins casually, leaning back in his seat, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. Where we’re going to live once the baby’s here.”

You glance up at him, eyebrows raised in mild curiosity. “Yeah? I figured we’d stay in England. It’s where my family is, after all.”

Oscar offers you a soft, understanding smile. He knows that’s what you think — what you *want*. But he also knows how to twist things to get what he wants.

“I get that,” he says, his voice soothing, almost coaxing. “But … have you thought about Australia?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Australia?”

“Yeah.” Oscar shifts in his seat, turning his body more toward you, his expression serious yet gentle. “I mean, it’s where I grew up. It’s a beautiful place, and I’ve been thinking … maybe it’d be the best place for us to raise the baby.”

You blink, clearly caught off guard. “Oscar, Australia’s … it’s literally halfway around the world. My family’s in England, Ollie’s in England. It would be so far from everyone.”

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your hesitation falter. “I know, I know. But think about it, yeah? It’s quieter there. Less scrutiny. The media’s insane in Europe, especially around Formula 1. I don’t want our child growing up under that spotlight. In Australia, we can give them a normal life, a childhood without all that pressure.”

Oscar knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s playing the long game, planting seeds of doubt about staying in Europe. You’ve always been a private person, and he’s using that to his advantage, framing it as a way to protect your future family from the public eye.

You hesitate, biting your lip as you consider his words. “I mean, I get that, but … it’s still so far. I don’t know if I’m ready to leave everything behind.”

Oscar’s expression softens, and he reaches out to take your hand, his thumb stroking over your knuckles in a comforting gesture. “I’m not asking you to leave everything behind. We’ll visit England, see your family whenever you want. But living in Australia, it’d be different. Safer. More private. You’d love it there. The beaches, the space … you wouldn’t have to worry about paparazzi or people prying into our lives. We could be … just us.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in, knowing you’ll start to picture it — the idyllic life he’s painting for you. Away from the madness of the racing world, away from anyone who might interfere.

You’re quiet for a moment, your gaze dropping to your growing belly, your free hand resting protectively over it. Oscar knows what you’re thinking — that you want what’s best for the baby. That’s the key to this, the hook he needs to sink deeper.

“And think about how amazing it’ll be for the baby,” Oscar continues, his voice low and persuasive. “Growing up near the ocean, in a place where they can run around, be free … It’s the kind of childhood I had, and I’d want that for them. Don’t you?”

You look up at him again, and he can see the conflict in your eyes. You want to say no — you want to stay in England, close to your family — but he’s making it so hard for you to argue. He’s painting Australia as this perfect haven, a paradise for your future child.

“I don’t know, Oscar …” you murmur, still uncertain.

Oscar tightens his grip on your hand slightly, leaning closer. “We’ll make new memories, new traditions. You’ll have me, and I’ll have you. We’ll build a life together there. You know I’d never let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you and the baby no matter where we are.”

He watches as your resolve begins to waver. He’s close now — so close to getting exactly what he wants. He just needs to push a little further, to make you believe that this is what’s best for both of you.

“I understand it’s a big decision,” Oscar says softly, his tone almost pleading now, though it’s all part of the act. “But this is about our future, about what’s best for our family. I know you’re worried about being far from everyone, but you’ll have me. I’ll always be there for you, every step of the way. And we can still visit whenever you want.”

You sigh, looking down again, your mind clearly racing with everything he’s said. Oscar waits, letting the silence stretch, knowing that you’re weighing your options. He can almost see the gears turning in your head, the way his words are slowly but surely pulling you toward the decision he’s been pushing for all along.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally say, your voice quiet.

Oscar suppresses the smile that threatens to break across his face. He doesn’t want to seem too eager, doesn’t want to tip his hand just yet. Instead, he nods, giving you a gentle, understanding look.

“That’s all I ask,” he says softly, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. “I just want what’s best for us.”

Later that night, as you sleep beside him, Oscar lies awake, staring at the ceiling with a satisfied smirk on his face. He knows it won’t take much longer. You’re already halfway convinced — soon, you’ll be fully on board with the idea. Once you start picturing the life he’s promised you, the isolation won’t feel like isolation at all. It’ll feel like safety.

He imagines it now — just the two of you and the baby, tucked away in some quiet corner of Australia. No one else around to interfere, no family to pull you away from him. It’ll be perfect. You’ll be his, completely and utterly his, with no one else to cloud your judgment.

Oscar’s hand moves to your belly as you sleep, gently resting there as he feels the faintest kick from the baby inside. His baby. The life he’s created with you.

You won’t be able to say no for much longer. He’s made sure of that.

As the days go on, Oscar continues to drop little comments here and there, always steering the conversation back to Australia, to how perfect it’ll be for the baby. He shows you pictures of the beaches, talks about the schools, the parks, the quiet suburbs where you could raise a family. Each time, you seem to soften a little more, the hesitation in your eyes fading.

It doesn’t take long before you’re the one bringing it up.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you admit one evening as you sit together in your shared apartment. “About Australia. Maybe … maybe it could be a good idea after all.”

Oscar hides his smile behind a sip of tea, nodding as if he’s only just considering the idea himself. “I’m glad you’re open to it. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay? No rush. But I really think it’s the best choice for our family.”

You nod, your hand resting on your belly as you stare out the window, lost in thought. Oscar watches you closely, his mind already racing ahead to the future he’s carefully crafted.

Soon, he thinks. Soon, you’ll be in Australia, far away from anyone who might interfere. And then you’ll be his — completely and utterly his.

Just the way he’s always wanted.

***

Oscar watches as you grip the edges of the hospital bed, your face contorted in pain, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. He stands at your side, holding your hand in his, gently rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Every contraction seems to hit harder, your body tensing with each one. But despite your discomfort, despite the way you call out for your mother between sharp breaths, Oscar keeps his expression calm. He’s been preparing for this moment for months, knowing exactly how he wants it to unfold.

“No one but me,” he had told the hospital staff when they asked for the permitted visitors list. “Just me. She’ll be fine with just me.”

And here you are, just as he’d planned — alone with him. No family, no distractions, no one to pull your attention away. Oscar had made sure of it. He knows you’re vulnerable right now, and that’s exactly how he needs you to be.

Your grip tightens around his hand as another contraction hits, and you let out a soft, pained sob. “I need … I need my mum,” you whimper, your voice broken by the intensity of the pain.

Oscar leans in closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his tone soothing and soft. “Shh, love, I’m here. I’ll take care of you. You don’t need anyone else, okay? Just focus on me.”

You look up at him with tear-filled eyes, your breathing ragged, but you nod, too exhausted to argue. Another contraction rolls through you, and your body tenses again, your grip on Oscar’s hand becoming almost crushing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Oscar coos, running his fingers through your hair to calm you. “I’m right here. Just keep breathing, yeah?”

But you don’t want him. In your pain, your instincts scream for your mother, your family, someone familiar, someone who can offer the kind of comfort Oscar can’t. You cry out again, calling for your mum between sobs, but Oscar remains firm.

“They’ll be here soon,” he lies, keeping his voice steady and reassuring. “They’re probably just waiting outside. You’re doing amazing, love.”

He knows they aren’t waiting outside. In fact, they’d been turned away hours ago, when they tried to come into the hospital. The nurse had explained there was no one on the visitor list, and hospital policy couldn’t allow them in without prior approval.

Oscar had made sure of that.

He tightens his grip on your hand just enough to remind you he’s there, that he’s the one you need right now. You’re too distracted by the pain to notice the way his eyes flash with quiet satisfaction as he watches you, completely dependent on him.

Time drags on, the hours blurring together in a haze of contractions, pain, and soft words of comfort from Oscar. Every time you cry out for someone else, he’s there, gently pulling you back to him, reminding you that he’s all you need.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the moment arrives. The doctors and nurses rush into the room, preparing for the delivery. Oscar moves to your side, his heart pounding with anticipation. You’re so close now, so close to giving him exactly what he’s been waiting for.

The baby — a boy, as the ultrasound had shown — arrives with a loud, piercing cry. The doctors place him in Oscar’s arms for a brief moment before they clean him up, and Oscar’s eyes widen with awe as he looks down at the small, wriggling form in his hands. This is it. His son. His family.

You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open as the nurse finally places the baby — Marcus, as you’d both agreed to name him — into your arms. You look down at him, your face softening despite the exhaustion, tears of relief and overwhelming love in your eyes.

But it doesn’t take long before you glance around the room again, your expression shifting to one of confusion and worry. “Where’s my family?" You ask, your voice weak and hoarse. “Why aren’t they here?”

Oscar’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his expression neutral. He had hoped you’d be too exhausted to ask questions, but it seems he underestimated your attachment to your family. He can’t have that right now — not when everything is so perfect.

“They’ll be here soon,” he lies again, reaching out to stroke your hair. “It’s probably just a mix-up with the hospital staff. I’ll check with the nurse, okay? You rest.”

You nod, your eyelids drooping as the exhaustion takes over. Oscar leaves the room briefly, finding a nurse at the front desk.

“Can you check if her family tried to visit?" He asks, feigning concern. “She’s worried they haven’t come yet.”

The nurse looks at the computer and frowns. “Actually, her family did come earlier, but they were turned away. No one was on the permitted visitors list.”

Oscar fakes a look of surprise, widening his eyes just enough to make it convincing. “That’s strange. I thought I gave you their names. Must’ve been a system error. Can we fix that now?”

The nurse nods, typing a few things into the system. “I’ll add them to the list. They should be able to visit soon.”

Oscar thanks the nurse before heading back to your room. You’re still holding Marcus, staring down at him with a soft, tired smile. Oscar watches you for a moment, taking in the sight of you holding his child, and a surge of possessiveness rushes through him. You and Marcus are his now — completely his.

“Everything okay?" You ask when you notice him standing there.

Oscar nods, putting on his best apologetic expression. “It seems like there was a mix-up. The hospital must’ve forgotten to put your family on the list, but it’s fixed now. They’ll be able to visit soon.”

You look relieved, though still exhausted, and you nod, your focus shifting back to Marcus. “I just … I really wanted them here,” you say softly, tears forming in your eyes again.

Oscar moves to your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know, love. But I’m here, and so is Marcus. That’s all that matters right now, yeah? We’re a family.”

He can see the conflict in your eyes, the tug between wanting your family’s presence and the reality of the situation. But Oscar is there, steady, calm, always the one you can rely on. He knows you’ll lean on him because right now, you need him more than anything.

The hours pass, and the nurses eventually let your family in to visit. Your mother rushes to your side, tears streaming down her face as she embraces you and gazes down at Marcus. Ollie lingers at the door, his expression a mix of concern and relief. He approaches slowly, giving Oscar a stiff nod before focusing on you and the baby.

Oscar watches the scene play out, but there’s no sense of relief or joy for him. Not like you or your family feel. Instead, a simmering frustration bubbles beneath his calm exterior. This moment was supposed to be his. He’s worked so hard to keep everyone else at bay, to make sure he’s the only one you rely on.

But he knows this is just a temporary interruption. Soon enough, your family will leave, and it will be just the three of you again — just the way he’s planned it. And when that happens, Oscar will make sure to remind you of just how much you need him, how much you depend on him. You and Marcus are his now, and he won’t let anyone else get in the way.

For now, though, he smiles politely at your mother and nods at Ollie’s stiff greeting, playing the part of the loving partner. But deep down, he knows this is only the beginning. You’re tied to him forever now, and there’s no escaping that fact.

He’ll make sure of it

***

Oscar stands at the foot of the hospital bed, watching you cradle Marcus in your arms. It’s the first time you’ve breastfed him, and he can see the amazement in your eyes as you watch him latch on. The room is quiet, a soft hum of hospital equipment in the background, but all Oscar can focus on is the scene before him — so intimate, so perfectly aligned with what he’s envisioned for the two of you.

You look up at him, a gentle smile on your lips, and Oscar’s heart swells. This is exactly how he imagined it: you, completely absorbed in the role of a mother, with Marcus depending on you for everything. He’s been planning this moment for months, knowing that once Marcus arrived, you’d be even more vulnerable, even more open to the suggestions he’d plant.

Oscar moves closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on Marcus. “He’s perfect,” he says softly, reaching out to stroke Marcus’s tiny head. “You’re perfect.”

You glance up at him, your smile widening as you adjust Marcus in your arms. “I can’t believe he’s ours,” you whisper, your voice filled with awe. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Oscar nods, his heart racing as he senses the timing is right. The maternal glow on your face, the way you look at Marcus with such pure love — it’s the perfect moment to begin planting the seeds of his next plan. He needs you to be fully committed, fully dependent on him, and the best way to do that is to convince you to give up the last bit of independence you have left.

“You know,” Oscar begins, his tone gentle and thoughtful, “watching you with him, seeing how natural you are, it makes me think …”

You look up at him, curious. “Think what?”

Oscar hesitates, making sure to choose his words carefully. He wants to come off as caring and considerate, not pushy. “It makes me think that maybe … maybe you should consider focusing on being a mother full-time, at least for a while.”

He watches your reaction closely, sees the brief flicker of uncertainty in your eyes as you absorb his words. You’ve always been committed to your studies, passionate about your career path. But Oscar knows the pull of motherhood is strong, and with Marcus here, he’s certain he can sway you.

“I don’t know, Oscar …” you start, your voice trailing off as you look down at Marcus again. “I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. I still want to finish my degree, get my career started …”

Oscar nods, feigning understanding, but he can sense that you’re already starting to waver. “I get that, love. I really do. But think about it — Marcus needs you. Being a mother is a full-time job, and you’re so amazing at it already. Why not give yourself the chance to focus on that? At least for the first few years.”

He sees the conflict in your eyes, the way you’re torn between your love for Marcus and your commitment to your studies. Oscar leans in, taking your free hand in his, squeezing it gently. “You don’t have to decide right now. But I just want you to know that I’m here to support you, whatever you choose. And if you decide that being there for Marcus is what you want, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re taken care of.”

You bite your lip, your eyes drifting back to Marcus, who’s still contentedly nursing. “But what about my degree? My career? I don’t want to give up on everything I’ve worked for …”

Oscar nods again, his expression soft and understanding. “You wouldn’t be giving it up. You’d just be … putting it on hold for a bit. You can always go back to it later, when Marcus is older. Right now, he needs you. And I think you’ll find that being with him, watching him grow, it’ll be just as fulfilling — if not more — than anything else.”

You’re silent for a moment, your gaze focused on Marcus, who’s now dozing off in your arms. Oscar watches as your resolve begins to weaken, the reality of motherhood settling in. He knows how to play this — how to make you feel like it’s your decision, even though he’s guiding you every step of the way.

“I don’t know,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just … so much to think about.”

Oscar leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Take your time. But just know that whatever you decide, I’ll be here to support you. And I think … I think you’ll make an amazing stay-at-home mum. Marcus is so lucky to have you.”

You smile softly, your eyes still on Marcus, and Oscar knows he’s almost there. The idea is planted, and now all he needs to do is nurture it, give you just the right amount of encouragement until you convince yourself it’s the best decision.

Over the next few days, Oscar continues to drop subtle hints, making sure to praise your natural instincts as a mother, emphasizing how important it is for Marcus to have you around full-time. He brings up stories of children who thrive when their mothers are present in their early years, subtly playing on your fears of missing out on crucial moments in Marcus’s life.

Each time you hesitate or express doubt about putting your studies on hold, Oscar is there with a reassuring word, a gentle touch, always reminding you that you’re making the best choice for your family. He paints a picture of a perfect life — just the three of you, with you at home taking care of Marcus, while he provides for you both. He makes it sound so easy, so right.

And slowly, you start to come around to the idea. Oscar can see the change in you, the way you begin to talk about your studies less and less, focusing instead on Marcus and his needs. You start to picture the life Oscar is suggesting, and with each passing day, you grow more comfortable with the idea.

Finally, one evening as you’re both sitting on the couch, Marcus asleep in his bassinet nearby, you turn to Oscar with a sigh. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you begin, your voice thoughtful. “And … maybe you’re right. Maybe it would be best if I took a break from school, at least for now. Marcus needs me, and I don’t want to miss out on anything.”

Oscar’s heart leaps with satisfaction, but he keeps his expression neutral, nodding as if he’s simply supporting your decision. “I think that’s a great idea, love. You’re doing what’s best for Marcus, and that’s what matters most.”

You smile, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders now that the decision is made. “I’ll talk to the university tomorrow, let them know I’m taking a leave of absence. It’ll just be for a little while, until Marcus is older.”

Oscar nods, but he knows that by the time Marcus is older, he’ll have found new ways to keep you at home, new ways to ensure you remain dependent on him. For now, though, he’s content with the victory. You’re his, and now, more than ever, he’s succeeded in making sure that you and Marcus are firmly under his control.

As the days turn into weeks, you settle into your new routine, fully embracing your role as a stay-at-home mother. Oscar continues to play the part of the supportive partner, always there to help, always there to encourage you, but deep down, he knows he’s won. You’ve given up your independence, your dreams, all for him and Marcus.

And as you sit in the nursery, rocking Marcus to sleep, Oscar watches you from the doorway, a smile playing on his lips. Everything is falling into place, just as he planned. You’re exactly where he wants you — where you belong.

***

Oscar’s thumb traces the smooth, cold metal of the new lock on the front door, his lips curving into a satisfied smile. The locksmith had come earlier that day, installing the deadbolt exactly as Oscar had instructed — one lock that could be opened from the inside and out, and another that could only be controlled from outside the house. The installation was quick, professional, no questions asked.

Perfect. Just what he needed to ensure everything stays the way it’s supposed to.

Oscar takes a step back, admiring his handiwork. He can already hear the faint cry of Marcus from the nursery, but he doesn’t rush. Instead, he takes his time, testing the locks one more time, ensuring they click smoothly into place, unyielding and firm. He turns the key in the new deadbolt, hearing the satisfying clunk as it slides home, securing the door.

He had been thinking about this for weeks, ever since Marcus’s birth — how to make sure you both were safe, how to keep the outside world from intruding on the life he’s so carefully constructed. The isolation of the villa was good, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to know that when he left, you and Marcus wouldn’t — couldn’t — go anywhere without him. This was his way of protecting what was his.

He turns around and sees you standing in the hallway, Marcus cradled against your chest. There’s a slight frown on your face, your eyes moving from the front door to Oscar, confusion etched in your features.

“Oscar,” you start, your voice tinged with concern, “why did you change the locks? The old ones were fine.”

Oscar smiles, the kind of smile meant to reassure you, to make you feel silly for even asking. He steps closer, reaching out to gently brush his fingers along Marcus’s tiny head, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of his son.

“It’s just a precaution, love,” he says smoothly, his voice soft, as if it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. “You know how I am — I just want to make sure you and Marcus are safe.”

You shift Marcus in your arms, still frowning. “But the old locks were fine, Oscar. We’ve never had any problems with them. This feels … excessive.”

Oscar’s smile doesn’t falter. He’s prepared for this, already has his response ready. He lets out a soft chuckle, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s not excessive, it’s just being cautious. With everything that’s going on in the world, I want to make sure that nothing can get to you two while I’m not here. You know how much you and Marcus mean to me.”

You bite your lip, still uncertain, but you nod, seeming to accept his explanation. But then, as Oscar expects, you ask the question he’s been waiting for.

“Okay … but can I have a key? Just in case?”

Oscar’s smile tightens just a fraction, but he quickly recovers, shaking his head as if it’s a silly request. “You don’t need one, love. You never leave the house without me anyway, and I don’t want you to have to carry around another useless thing for no reason. I’ll always be here to lock and unlock the door for you. Besides, you have Marcus to worry about — you don’t need to stress about something like this.”

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you’re weighing his words, trying to decide if he’s being reasonable or if there’s something more to it. Oscar’s heart races, just a little, as he watches you deliberate. He knows he needs to tread carefully, to not push too hard, too fast. He’s been so meticulous about everything so far, and he can’t afford to slip up now.

Finally, you sigh, the tension in your shoulders relaxing as you nod. “Okay … I guess that makes sense. It’s just … it feels strange, not having a key to my own house.”

Oscar leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips, his hand resting gently on Marcus’s back. “It’s our home, love. And I’m just doing everything I can to keep it safe. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nod again, more firmly this time, and Oscar feels the knot in his chest loosen. He’s won this round, just like he knew he would. You’re so easy to convince when he plays his cards right, when he makes it seem like everything he does is for you, for Marcus. And in a way, it is — just not in the way you think.

Over the next few days, Oscar watches you closely, noting how you seem to adjust to the new locks without much fuss. You don’t ask for a key again, and Oscar doesn’t bring it up either, content to let the matter settle. He continues to be the perfect partner, the doting father, always there to unlock the door for you, to lock it behind you when you come home. You don’t even notice the second lock, the one that only he can control.

Oscar feels a deep sense of satisfaction every time he turns the key in the lock, knowing that he’s the only one with that power. It’s a small thing, but it gives him the control he craves. With you and Marcus safely inside, he knows that nothing can touch you — no one can take you away from him.

It’s a few weeks later when you finally bring it up again. You’re sitting on the couch, Marcus asleep in his crib, and Oscar is reading through some emails on his phone. You’ve been quiet all evening, and Oscar notices the way you keep glancing at the front door, a thoughtful expression on your face.

“Oscar,” you say after a while, your voice soft but firm. “Can we talk about the locks again?”

Oscar looks up from his phone, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course, love. What’s on your mind?”

You shift in your seat, tucking your legs under you. “I’ve been thinking … I know you want to keep us safe, and I appreciate that, but … I don’t like not having a key. It makes me feel … trapped.”

Oscar’s heart skips a beat, but he keeps his face calm, collected. “Trapped? Love, you’re not trapped. You’re safe. There’s a difference.”

You shake your head, your brows furrowing. “I know, but it just … it feels wrong, Oscar. What if something happens? What if I need to get out, and you’re not here? I don’t want to be completely dependent on you to leave the house.”

Oscar sighs, setting his phone down and turning to face you fully. He knows he needs to tread carefully here, to make sure you don’t start questioning things too much. “Love, nothing’s going to happen. You’re not trapped. You can leave anytime you want, with me. I’m just trying to protect you and Marcus. Isn’t that what you want?”

You frown, clearly torn, and Oscar leans in, taking your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I know it feels strange, but it’s for the best. Trust me, okay? I wouldn’t do anything that wasn’t in your best interest.”

He sees the conflict in your eyes, the way you’re struggling to accept his explanation, but he knows how to handle this. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again. He needs to keep you close, to make sure you don’t start thinking too much about the things he’s done, the things he’s planning.

Finally, you sigh, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay, Oscar. I trust you. I just … I don’t want to feel like I’m a prisoner in my own home.”

Oscar’s heart races as he pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re not a prisoner, love. You’re safe. And that’s all that matters.”

You nod against his chest, but Oscar can feel the tension in your body, the way you’re still uneasy. He knows he needs to be careful, to make sure you don’t start questioning things too much. But for now, you’ve accepted his explanation, and that’s enough.

As you settle back on the couch, Oscar’s mind is already working, planning his next move. He knows he can’t afford to slip up, can’t afford to let you see the cracks in his facade. Everything has to be perfect, controlled. And with the new locks in place, he’s one step closer to making sure you and Marcus are his forever.

The days pass, and Oscar continues to play the role of the perfect partner, the devoted father. He’s always there to open the door for you, to lock it behind you, to reassure you that everything he’s doing is for your safety. You stop bringing up the locks, and Oscar can see that you’ve resigned yourself to the situation, accepting it as just another quirk of his overprotective nature.

And that’s exactly what he wants. To make you believe that everything he does is out of love, out of concern for your well-being. To make sure you never question the real reason behind his actions.

One evening, as you’re getting ready for bed, Oscar watches you from the doorway, his heart swelling with satisfaction. You’ve fallen into the routine he’s set for you, the life he’s created. You don’t even notice the subtle ways he’s tightening his control, the way he’s slowly but surely cutting you off from the outside world.

You’re his. And with each passing day, Oscar feels more confident in his ability to keep you that way.

As you climb into bed, Oscar follows, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You sigh, content, and Oscar can’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Everything is falling into place just as he’s planned.

You’ve become so accustomed to his presence, so dependent on him, that the thought of challenging him barely crosses your mind anymore. It’s exactly what he wanted — what he needed. To have you close, to keep you safe, to make sure no one could take you away from him.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Goodnight, Oscar,” you murmur, your voice soft and sleepy.

As you drift off, Oscar remains awake, staring up at the ceiling, his mind already working through the next steps. He knows he needs to maintain this control, to keep reinforcing the life he’s built for you both. The locks, the isolation, the little things that keep you tethered to him — they’re all part of the plan. A plan that’s working perfectly.

He watches you sleep, his hand resting on your stomach where Marcus used to be, now flat and smooth once again. The house is quiet, peaceful, just the way he likes it. Everything is in order.

And it will stay that way, Oscar vows to himself. He’ll make sure of it. Because you and Marcus are his. And nothing — no one — will ever come between you.

As the night wears on, Oscar finally closes his eyes, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. He’s won. And tomorrow, he’ll wake up and do it all over again, ensuring that every day you’re reminded of just how much you need him. How much you love him.

Because that’s what he’s always wanted: to have you, to keep you, to make sure you’re his forever.

And in this house, behind these locked doors, he knows that’s exactly what you’ll be.

***

Oscar’s been planning this moment for weeks, every detail carefully mapped out in his mind. The proposal has to be perfect, not too over-the-top, but intimate, something that will make you feel loved and cherished. He needs to make sure you say yes — though, in his heart, he already knows what your answer will be.

It’s a quiet evening, the kind you’ve come to expect from your life with Oscar. Marcus is finally asleep after a long day, and you’re sitting on the couch, your legs curled up underneath you, reading a book. Oscar watches you from the kitchen, leaning against the counter, a glass of wine in his hand. You look peaceful, content, and it fills him with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

He walks over to you, setting his glass down on the coffee table before sitting beside you. You look up, smiling, and he returns it, but there’s something more in his eyes tonight — an intensity that you’ve seen before, though it’s hard to place exactly when.

“What’s on your mind?" You ask, setting your book aside.

Oscar takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You,” he says simply, his voice soft but firm.

You tilt your head slightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Me? What about me?”

He shifts closer, his free hand moving to cup your cheek, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, his tone low, “about how lucky I am to have you in my life. How much you mean to me, to Marcus. And how I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your breath catches, your eyes widening slightly as his words sink in. He watches the realization dawn on you, and it only fuels his resolve.

“Oscar …” you start, but he gently presses a finger to your lips, silencing you.

“Let me finish,” he says, and you nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box, and your eyes flicker to it, widening even more. He watches your reaction closely, gauging every emotion that flits across your face.

“I want to make sure that you know just how much I love you,” he continues, opening the box to reveal a simple yet elegant diamond ring. “I want to give you my name, to make you mine in every possible way.”

Your eyes are locked on the ring, your hand trembling slightly in his grasp. “Oscar, I-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Oscar slips off the couch and onto one knee in front of you, holding the ring up to you, his eyes filled with a sincerity that makes your heart ache.

“Will you marry me?" He asks, his voice steady, though inside, his heart is racing.

For a moment, there’s silence — a heartbeat of hesitation that Oscar hadn’t anticipated. But then, your eyes meet his, and he sees the answer in them before you even say the words.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, Oscar, I’ll marry you.”

The smile that breaks across his face is one of triumph, of victory. He slips the ring onto your finger, the diamond catching the light, sparkling as brightly as the tears in your eyes. Oscar rises to his feet, pulling you into his arms, holding you close, feeling the way your body fits perfectly against his.

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair, his hands trailing down your back, memorizing every curve, every inch of you.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice choked with emotion, your arms tightening around him.

Oscar pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have spilled over. He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss, one that seals the promise you’ve just made to each other.

As he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, Oscar can’t help but imagine the future he’s been dreaming of — the future he’s been working toward all this time. A wedding, a family, a life together that no one can touch or take away from him.

He envisions you walking down the aisle, your dress flowing around you like a dream, your hand resting protectively over a small bump. His second child. Another piece of him that will forever bind you to him. The thought sends a thrill through him, and he can’t wait to set the next part of his plan in motion.

But for now, he’s content to hold you close, to bask in the glow of your acceptance, your trust, your love. Because soon, you’ll be his in every way that matters, and nothing will ever come between you again.

As you settle back into the couch, your head resting on his shoulder, Oscar’s mind races with possibilities, with the steps he’ll take to ensure that this future — his future with you — will be everything he’s ever dreamed of. He places a hand over your stomach, just imagining the bump that will soo. grow there again, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

He can almost see it now — the two of you, standing at the altar, and when you look at him, you’ll have that same loving expression you’re wearing right now. But there will be more — something deeper, something that binds you together in a way that no one can break.

And when you say “I do,” Oscar knows that it will be forever.

Because he’s planned it that way.

And Oscar always gets what he wants.

[justblades]

❝ THE GENERALS' COCKSLEEVE ! ❞

ᝰ. JIYAN x afab! reader x GESHU LIN

๋ᝰ. IN WHICH geshu lin tries to heal your hurt heart as you thought it was a one sided love with jiyan

ᝰ. SMUT, 18+ ONLY. double vaginal penetration, threesome, possessive! geshu lin, WC: 4.2k

a confidential expedition was sought in order to study the occurrences in the battle beneath the crescent. as there was no concrete evidence that recounts the whole of what transpired way back then, it was then decided the magistrate to take precautionary steps to delve deeper into the event.

as soon as the decision has been made, jiyan reaches out for you to talk in private. a secluded room freed from disturbances and lurking ears, a solemn look dances in his golden gaze. "the magistrate ordered for us to study the geographic location when the first retroact rain befell." he states as he shuffles the letter back to the envelope that he received from jinhsi.

a wax seal of ivory color engrained with the sentinel jué's design adorns the surface, jiyan's fingers trail the edges. you purse your lips tightly, reluctance slightly rising from your façade of composure. a tale as old as time, the jinzhou residents knew very well the story of the battle of the crescent.

what dawns in your perturbed mind was the former general behind it, the one deemed as the hero, the savior of all eventually leads the lives of the many to meaningless sacrifices. just the mere stories of those who witnessed general geshu's might would suffice to reinforce the thought on anyone that he was strong, mighty, that those onyx flames of his seared and tore through his countless enemies.

you're just as curious as the person next door. being jiyan's one of the few trusted rangers, you nodded, giving consent to the mission. the two of you will then embark on the journey once the sun rays peek through the bed of stars and the darkness.

it will pass . . . and so, the daybreak arises.

coming vis-à-vis with the general upon the agreed time to meet, the two of you swiftly weave through the vast forest, eliminating any possible tacet discord that might hinder your exploration progress with swift and haste. "we're nearing the norfall barrens now, be careful." jiyan reminds you as he treads forward, the broadblade hoisted at hand to prepare for any case of danger to come.

"yes, general." you reply as you manage to scan your surroundings carefully. as the ground beneath your feet starts to feel different the farther you walked and the olden structures welcome your vision with a faint light, the general looks back at you to confirm his observation. nodding in agreement, a sharp, gelid wind blows within, jiyan's teal locks ripple along the muted breeze.

"the magistrate ordered for us to not stay here for too long, as there's a possibility we might encounter larger waves of tacet discords." he pauses for a short while. "however, if we do not split up and make haste, we might lose the frequencies left behind the battle that might lead to  potential clues. given that we're both resonators, we're capable of diluting the echoes residing within the field."

he stops in his tracks, explaining the pros and cons of the decision to take. naturally, he's gearing towards the advice of jinhsi, as it is true that staying longer in this place will expose the two of you in greater danger. but a part of him doesn't want to split up from you, worrying he'll lose a trustworthy, competent figure in the midst of this expedition.

having known the general for quite some time, you've come to understand patches of his personality as if it were the back of your hand. you'd notice in the slightest change of his facial expressions, even more so in his tone lacing his words. no matter how miniscule the shift is, you'll always be able to know. "fret not, general. i assume you know me well as i know you." you simply state, flashing a small reassuring smile to subside the doubt gnawing at his bones.

jiyan nods slightly in exchange. "understood. i'll contact you via your terminal once i'm finished with exploring the half of the land and you'll do the same with yours. if you come into trouble, just ring me up, i'll come to your aid quickly." you reach for the gourd behind you, double checking if its functions are working in pristine condition.

after enough preparation, the two of you then separated ways with no goal other than to stay alive, rush to the aid of your companion in any hint of trouble and lastly, to pick up clues that draw back to the event. you make your way to the west of the norfall barrens, focusing on your senses to ensure that the exploration would go smoothly.

darkness envelops the whole land, dark embers of faded crimson continually drift from one place to another. among the lingering eerie noises resonating in the field, a distinct voice surfaces - "so it is you."

goosebumps ride on your skin as you prepare into stance and hoist your weapon, eyebrows furrowed as sobriety exudes from your body. when all of a sudden, a towering presence appears behind your back, and as you take a swift turn to face your supposedly opponent and strike them down in a single swing, black and indigo violet flames set the barren lands ablaze, kindling with the littlest movements from the broadblade the person does.

you take a step back, a suffocating heat engulfs everything, the oxygen left in your lungs thinning. struggling to catch your breath, you ball your fists and cough repetitively - the scale of this power is far too destructive.

"still holding out? impressive. no wonder he picked you."

once you finally manage to stabilize your breathing, you enhance your physical body with your forte, bracing impact once the person finally engages with you head on. within a blink of an eye, strands of long, grayish white hair comes to sight, and a pair of honey golden eyes lock gazes with yours.

he closes in with immense speed as the two of you exchange blows left and right. the male grits his teeth as the corner of his lips twitch upwards, "commend yourself for being able to withstand a fraction of my flames."

a gut feeling kicks in, that the danger you were watching out for - was finally settling. you instantly reach for the gourd as an attempt to reach jiyan on the other end, but no avail, the mysterious figure was faster than you. he approaches from above, swinging once more, clashing with your sword as his broadblade defeats yours. he successfully unarms you and manages to immobilize you with makeshift of bindings to keep you still. your back crashes flat on the dry land, a sharp pang of pain striking on your torso.

met with utter loss, he draws closer to you. he reaches his bandaged hand to your face, "could it be . . ." and your consciousness gradually fades away. "general geshu lin?"

rousing from a shortlived slumber, you jolt awake as your eyes peel open, your movements feel minimized. you examine the surroundings, and then yourself - a special restraint encages the both of your wrists together, seemingly one that is made of advanced technology especially catered to confine resonators. you knew from one look that it'd be useless to try and break free and you no longer bothered trying. instead, you opted for any possible methods to escape.

"general jiyan would not be able to come to your aid today, unfortunately." there it was again, the hoarse voice that resounds to your ears like a nightmare fuel. you flinch as you see him within your line of vision once more, confusion washes over yourself, at a loss for words in response to what he said.

"general, why?" was all you could verbalize amidst the worry pulling back your tongue. you bite your lip and could not help but think about jiyan, who put faith in your capabilities only for you to end up like this. "you're asking the wrong question." he says and kneels lower to your level, driving you to a corner as birch walls meet your back.

it was a small cabin from no one knows where that he resided in, necessary supplies and equipment arranged in a chronological manner displayed on the shelves. a dim light illuminated the vicinity, it flickers in opposition to geshu's strong gaze. "i know you have an unrequited love for the general - but you know as much as any midnight ranger that love is not a priority in jiyan's life."

his words struck like sharp lightning aiming to your heart, crushing it whole into smithereens of pain as your world flips upside down. questions come whirring in your mind, such as: why does he know? how does he know? what benefit does this fact bring to him?

unfortunately, his claim was true. being by the general's side for several years, you've seen him be vulnerable, reliable, and resolute regarding whatever trouble may come in his way. his bravery to withstand the lurking unknown sparked your faded flame inside your heart. jiyan became the beacon of light in your muddled world, as the two of you brave through the obstacles with joint forces, in every long night.

the sorrow he faced that you shared with him - it was halved. the joys he witnessed that you shared with him - it was doubled.

"come, be my companion instead. let us eliminate together the darkness at bay." geshu proposes and inches closer to you, his masculine features coming into full view. this time, you could see him better this time, only now noticing details you haven't before. a small mark adorns his face under his left eye and a diagonal scar carves his sultry lips.

he looks at you solemnly, you could feel the proximity between the two of you increase, until he finally presses his lips onto yours gently. shock courses in your veins - the general's tongue makes way inside your mouth, lapping your taste as it twirls with yours, performing a tantalizing rhythm to which mewls were elicited from the drowning pleasure.

you try to retort in opposition to his actions, but your protest was silenced as his right arm snakes its way up to your torso, tearing the fabric of your clothing with little effort. he nestles your nipple within the warm palm of his hand, his calloused fingertips fiddle on the very hard bud.

after making a concoction of your salivas mixed together, geshu breaks the kiss, leaving a trail that connects your lips to his.  "i-i can't abandon general jiyan from a petty reason. i did not uphold my duty all this time just so my feelings were to be reciprocated."

his aureate irises fixate on your features, "and you're loyal too. sorry, but i won't be as gentle as jiyan is to you." geshu crashes his lips on yours once more, this time, a burning carnal desire exudes from his aura, hands now exploring your body, removing the remaining worn out clothing as your tits spring free, nipples erect as glacial winds caress your skin. "so? have you two engaged in such an encounter before?" he manages to query in between heated kisses.

a muffled "no" reverberates and geshu immediately understands. a smirk creeps up to his face and pulls away, an idea slipping into his mind as he now buries his face in the crook of your neck. he asserts dominance as the general flicks his tongue all over the shell of your ear, proceeding to give the whole part slow, sloppy licks, as well as biting on the lobe to determine which you'd like more.

as if you were melting, you felt like putty in his touches as he continues to toy with your breasts. he savors your skin down to the sweet spot on your neck, putting pressure once he sucks on the part, leaving lust filled bruises. taking turns from licking, biting, and sucking, he finally gets his fill as his erection grows bigger and harder to restrain within.

a thought crosses your mind as his bulge brushes on your clothed region, maybe it isn't that bad, accepting general geshu lin's proposal, that is.

geshu shifts positions, he lays on his back as he makes you straddle his pelvis. "cat bit your tongue? i suppose i have to let your body do the talking from here on." heat rushes to your cheeks, embarrassment dawning as you, ironically, grind your lower region against his bulge, creating friction to ease the lust brewing in your lower stomach.

the confinements of the both of your clothing felt impeding to the satisfaction the both of you are chasing. no longer spending time to be rational, you let your emotions guide your next course of action - you strip down his black pants alongside his undergarment, revealing his girthy cock itching for action.

it was adorned by the most prominent blueish veins, it continually twitches, as well as very warm in contrariety to the chilly, tranquil atmosphere encompassing the two of you. you gather spit from the back of your cheeks, redirecting it past your lips, creating leeway for it to trickle down geshu's throbbing dick.

with heavy lidded eyes and blind guess if the accuracy was right, your drool drips down from the head of his cock down to the shaft, cloudy hues gracing it. you slowly wrap your hands around his length, carelessly curling your fingers as you stroke it up and down, starting slowly yet sloppily.

geshu's body tenses from the foreign sensation, his legs trembling and arms jerking. he shuts his eyes, indulging in the feeling as you continue pumping him, granting you low growls of pleasure from the male. meanwhile you remain straddling him, higher levels of libido rushing to your bloodstream as you pick up the pacing. "t-that's it—" geshu verbalizes with a faint voice.

he gets along with your momentum, thrusting his hips upwards in accordance to your rhythm. as he was nearing his release the faster it dragged on, he rises only to flip your frail body around, pinning you down against the floorboards. geshu's chest rises and falls continuously, panting heavily as he feels his release draw back, much to his wish. you've never felt so small and helpless before.

you could pick up every detail of his body language, yet heeded no mind for the embarrassment that was previously gushing in your system. your mind starts to feel dizzy yet carefree, as if like you've drifted far away from reality and only cared about nothing other than satiating your hunger for carnal desire. once geshu's breathing stabilizes, he presses your lips against yours again, relishing every drop of your saliva.

it was becoming messy, but still, the two of you continued like animals in heat. he bites on your lower lip and sucks on the part up to no end, granting him winces of pain mixed with pleasure altogether. a deep chuckle resounds, "quite daring for you to enjoy that."

"no matter, i'll proceed as i please now." he continues and sweeps aside your soaked panties, revealing a heavenly view for him to revel in - white liquids seep out of your slit, a certain pungent scent wafts into his nostrils. "your scent is everywhere." the general states as a matter of fact.

uncertain if that was to be taken in a positive connotation, he wraps his hand around his dick and slaps it against your folds lightly, tapping the very head on your clit. the littlest touches send you spiraling into bliss, a strong yearning growing within. "put it in." you whisper with a weak voice. geshu looks at you, surprised, even more so once you add, "please."

your melting expressions have long been engraved in his mind, as he guides his tip to your slit, the door of his cabin busts open, a strong force sends it flying to the other side of the wall. geshu lin lets out a hoarse laugh, "ah, look who's here!" almost as if he was rejoicing, he repositions the two of your bodies, now holding you up as you sat on his dick.

your sight becomes hazy from all the foreplay ensuing, weakening senses coming back as you saw the familiar hues of teal within your bleary vision. jiyan stands across from your lust-lost bodies, eyes enlarging into two full moons as shock was painted upon his masculine features.

he hoists up his broadblade once more, threatening geshu to let go of your naked body. "general jiyan, if you would not treat such a competent figure like her right, then let me do it in your stead . . . as i am confident that i can treat her better."

rivalry rose from the two males, "that is no way to treat someone." jiyan's words cut through the thick tension sharply, while geshu's brows knit. "you say that, but have you paid attention to the face she's making?" just as he finishes his question, he pushes your body against his cock, thrusting into your cunt with no forewarnings. the intrusion makes a lewd, sloppy noise, accompanied by your moan unintentionally slipping.

a surprising warmth expands through your insides, stretching your velvet walls apart as they mold around the shape of the general's cock. you throw your head back in immense pleasure as he fills you up, mind almost threatening to go blank. "if you want to take her back, prove that she'd want you to reclaim her away from my grasp."

"if not . . . i'm afraid this will be the last time you'll be able to set your eyes on her."

jiyan has always been a rational person, one of the many qualities that renounce him to be truly befitting a title of a general. yet, as he sees you get lost among the sea of pleasure geshu lin has been drowning you in, a sense of ache thrums his heart against his ribcage. with slow steps he took, he's now merely inches apart from you.

geshu continues to hold you up and still, while jiyan leaves a chaste kiss on your cheek first and foremost: a sight that the former general would rather not have seen at all, contributing to his annoyance. while you remained there, incapable of taking action as if you're merely just existing. with little mustered strength, you manage to wrap you arms around jiyan's neck as you loll him into a deep kiss.

a deep kiss capable of delivering human emotions through an intimate action, "general. . ." your voice was faint, yet he understood your intentions. he shuts his eyes and let his emotions take control, immediately fondling your exposed chest as the icy tips of his golden armor fiddle your perked up buds. a moan escapes, followed by even more as the light haired general thrusts in and out of you with great force, the tip of his dick kissing your very womb. "g-general!" you yelp in an attempt to cry for mercy, yet you were only met with more brazenness.

"now you sound like you're yearning for two inside your tight hole." geshu says, frustration lacing his tone as he clicks his tongue afterwards.

jiyan's breathing becomes staggered, letting himself loose as he licks your boobs with his wet tongue, poking its tip on your erect nipples. your body flinches, its sensitivity building up while you remain a moaning mess. even you, yourself lost track of which general you were pleading to for, all you want is to drift afloat into the euphoric seventh heaven, with no other worries in mind but having your thirst quenched.

"will it fit . . ?" he asks as he casts you a look of concern, eyes fixing particularly on your lips that have been stained by three salivas all in all. jiyan unbuckles the dyad belt adorning his waist, letting everything come undone while geshu continues to pump in and out of you, his strong hands grip the plush of your thighs rather tight.

you could hear his mewls from behind, yet your attention was taken by jiyan who's currently stroking himself at the view in front of him. he sheepishly watches you get your cunt pistoned by the former general, his aching erection protruding from the fine fabric of his boxers. " . . . put it in too, general."

the two of them, simultaneously, had their jaws fall agape in shock upon hearing such yearning words come out of your mouth. with a sense of responsibility burning within jiyan, he strips himself naked at this point in time - ready to heed your request. his hands glide all the way down to your inner thighs, his dominant hand's fingers brush back and forth on your dewed folds. he anchors his attention on your pussy alone, at how it flutters every time geshu's cock pounds you in and out.

his patience starts to wear thin, the same could be said for you. with watery eyes and melting expressions, you call for him once more. "please." you mumble, but was eventually silenced as geshu turns you to him and initiates an open mouthed kiss. the teal haired general ached twice as much for more pleasure as he finally spreads your lower lips open, making more space for his dick to go in.

the head of his cock kisses the outermost part of your walls yet you were already squirming. numbness strikes through your legs and quiver, but geshu lin stabilizes them with his one arm hooked on the both of your thighs. he shoots jiyan a frustrated glare, one that seemingly felt that spoke words of "what are you waiting for?"

with slow motions, he finally inserts himself into you, the shaft of his cock comes into contact along with geshu's. jiyan's eyes dared to fall, a titillating feeling wallowing his dick whole. "so tight." he manages to utter in between his hardly stifled, ragged breathing, evident that this feeling was overwhelming.

it was getting overstimulating within each passing minute, with two, fat, big cocks buried inside of you, warming and accompanying your velvet walls as one of them itches to move - geshu's tip crooks inside and rubs on your sweet, textured spot, rewarding the generals your strings of satisfaction. "ah— i'm cumming!"

perhaps it was too late when you said it, but geshu pulls out, giving jiyan a chance to fully savor your slutty hole. "i'll make use of your mouth for now." he flips you around, making you stand on all fours with your ass perked upwards, giving jiyan a full view of your aching cunt.

you shake your hips in desperation, wriggling around just to feel his tip come into contact with your slicked walls again. all the while you coil your digits around geshu's cock, starting off with the head by kitty licks on its little slit. the white haired general loses composure and restraint, hands finding themselves cupping the frame of your face, urging for you to go deeper. as obedient as you became once lust runs in your system, you finally lap all his length up, and at the same time, jiyan rams into you, continuing where he left off earlier.

more sloppy sounds emit from the intercourse as slurping and licking accompanied geshu's dick. sweat begins to trickle all the way down all of your bodies, both the generals' luscious hair becomes disheveled, they ramp their movements by a notch as jiyan performs such impactful thrusts, ramming with his balls deep in and as for geshu, he fills your mouth with his dick alone - both aiming to chase the familiar feeling of release.

jiyan's pacing transitions into a faster one, hands gripping your waist hardly that'll certainly leave a burning sensation on your skin later on. meanwhile geshu lin, he bucks his hips forward, the tip of his cock kissing the very back of your throat. tears then begin to well up in your eyes, burning your irises as your gag reflex was getting harder and harder to tame.

"swallow it."

"i'll shoot it inside."

the both of them says in unison, and finally, strings of their sticky cum sprawl all over your body's insides: one in your womb and another in your throat. the two generals took some time to let these events sink in their desire filled minds, dicks still not softening any time soon.

jiyan looks at your naked back, the supple skin of yours makes him want to do more; eventually succumbing to the temptation. he wraps his arms around your chest and pulls you to a tight embrace, chin rests on your shoulder blade. you heavily pant, the back of your head now laid on the plane of his chest. the two of you then look over to geshu lin, whose facial expressions say that he's in no way satisfied. reading the ambience of the atmosphere, a gut feeling kicks in and tells you that jiyan feels the same.

geshu lin closes in, kissing away the drool escaping past the margins of your soft, sultry lips. jiyan then does the same, softly nibbling on your shoulder, making you elicit a short whimper.

"now, tell us. which one of us do you prefer?"

[miedei]

the bau come over to dinner at you and roommate!spencer's apartment and make some observations <3 (aka spencer is sososo used to receiving love from you and they can't wrap their heads around it)

drabbles mlist | roommate!spence fic

The BAU team knows Spencer Reid. They know him to be brilliant, sweet, and kind. They also know him to be excessively clumsy, like a puppy unaware of it's now-long limbs.

They see him flounder in the office, in various police departments. They see him knock over chairs, mugs, stacks of paperwork.

They see it so often, that this sight in front of them is truly alien.

Spencer is moving through the kitchen with practised ease. His hands move without his eyes following them, grabbing and organising little jars on the counter. And, of course, he weaves his way around you, as if his body was crafted to work alongside yours.

Emily and JJ sit on the well-worn sofa, each half-heartedly holding up a conversation as they stare unabashedly through the open kitchen door. Their eyes track him as he passes behind you to get to the sink, softly brushing his hand over your back to let you know that he's there. They watch him handle plump tomatoes with care, washing them under the water with deft fingers as he rambles to you.

It's a strange feeling, to watch him so comfortable. To have never seen him in such a state. The two of them love Spencer, and they know he loves them, but this is something they've never experienced with him. They lock eyes, exchanging small smiles as they settle in to watch further.

Hotch and Derek are arguably the members on the team who have worked the closest with Spencer. From the day Gideon recruited him for the team, they've worked case after case with the younger man. Although they are so close, they've never been able to spend much time at his home, usually opting to gather at Rossi's.

It's a shock to finally see inside his apartment, and see this.

The two stand on the balcony, leaning against the railing as they take in the room beyond the french doors. Spencer has now floated to the cabinets in the living room, calling out softly to you as he attempts to locate the dish you're looking for.

"Is it the flat one we got last weekend? The one with the Delft Blue artwork?"

"No, the one next to it! Same size, but different— Oh, that's it! Thanks, Spence."

They observe as you appear in the doorway, delighted smile spreading over your face as you're presented with said dish. You turn back into the kitchen after planting a peck to Spencer's cheek.

The two profilers watch intently, expecting a flush to creep up Spencer's face any second, but— nothing. He barely acts as if anything is out of sorts.

They look on incredulously as Spencer doesn't cease his chattering, now delving into the history of Delft Blue pottery as he wanders back into the kitchen after you.

The endearing sight of Spencer in his home clues them in. This is his element, here in this apartment, with you. The disconcerting actions don't deter them. Instead, they also wander into the kitchen, playing at getting refills as an excuse to glimpse more.

Penelope is seated across from Spencer, Rossi across from you. The small dining table is barely big enough to fit the eight of you, but no one seems to mind. The surface is overflowing with plates, a seemingly random mish-mash of dishes laid out in front of them.

A record is playing softly, a rendition of Hungarian Dance No.5 melding in with the conversations that float around the room.

Both David and Penelope were just in a heated debate about the taste of scotch (she insists it's disgusting, despite allowing him to refill her glass every time), but their attention has been snagged elsewhere, and neither seem to be in the mood to look away.

Across the table, two heads huddle in closely. Spencer is angled towards you, his hands coming out to grasp your cutlery, and repositioning them repeatedly around your plate.

"...and if you place your knife horizontally, then your fork with the tines pointing to the top of the plate and the base of the knife, that means you don't want to engage in the conversation. A Victorian noble would never say it out loud, so they signalled instead."

Spencer is leaning into you without a care in the world, his entire body focused solely on his demonstration. He bends at the neck, bringing his face closer to yours as he shifts the cutlery again.

Rossi can't help but elbow Penelope, gesturing to your face when she looks at him questioningly.

Your eyes flicker from the plate to Spencer's eyes, wholly captivated by his words and movements. The lack of space between the two of you doesn't seem to register, or you don't care about it. Instead, you're listening carefully, interjecting with soft questions as he cycles through multiple iterations of cutlery placement.

The two of them can't seem to tear their eyes away from the domestic little scene. You are comfortable, not bothered by anything as the pair of you reside in your little bubble.

Penelope can't help but grip Rossi's arm when you reach a hand to brush a lock of hair away from Spencer's eyes, but he doesn't miss a beat. The sight in front of them is evidently commonplace, unremarkable to either of you.

It's run of the mill, comfortable and intimate. But not for a pair of roommates. Something else.

[bgwlsmahf25]

For Keeps

Pairing: Natasha x female reader

Warnings: reader gets upset; touch of angst; fluffy ending

a/n: just something small, a little angsty, a little fluffy! :)

Rolling over with a sleepy sigh, you reached out instinctively, then sighed again as you took in the sight of the empty space next to you. Natasha was still away on a mission but would be back later that day and you couldn’t wait to see her.

There were a few hours for you to kill before her return. Propping yourself upright, you groaned at the sight of the messy room and chaos around you. Clothes and papers were strewn across the floor, books half-open on your desk, with an abandoned highlighter next to them, its lid missing, and a towel hanging precariously off the back of your bathroom door. Natasha was the tidy one – always keeping you in check with apparent minimal effort – but when she was gone, it was like order left with her.

Still waking up, you reached towards your beside table for your engagement ring. The one that Natasha had slipped happily onto your finger just a couple of months ago. You still felt the butterflies every time you thought about the proposal – how she’d perfectly surprised you by getting down on one knee. How she’d asked you to be her wife.

But your hand only met wood and scattered clutter. You frowned, confused.

You patted the surface again, more frantically this time, pushing aside your phone, several lip balms, a mug from two nights ago – no ring. It was a large, oval diamond, set into a gold band with two smaller gems either side of it – and you adored it. A twinge of panic bloomed in your chest.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you whispered, already half-falling out of bed as you dropped to your knees. You shoved aside clothes, books, a pair of Natasha’s old socks, tearing through the mess on the floor, under the bed, under the dresser. It had to be here. You always took it off and left it right there before going to sleep.

Or had you?

Your chest tightened. You thought you’d left it on the nightstand. But maybe you hadn’t. Maybe you'd been distracted. You’d gone swimming yesterday with some of the team – did you take it off in the locker room? Did it fall off in the water?

Hopping around the room on one leg, you quickly pulled your clothes on and tore out of your room, heading for the pool. The compound was silent – most of the team were at a conference or away on missions. Thankfully, the world was silent from any major threats and the Avengers were being drafted in to help with SHIELD initiatives across the globe.

You checked every locker, every bench in the changing rooms, scanning for any glint of gold. Nothing. Swallowing your nerves, you kicked off your clothes and dove into the pool, wincing at the chill of the unheated water. Tony had recently installed a new system that heated the pool – it was extremely costly but he declared it was worth it, muttering something about ‘team morale,’ though you had no idea what he meant by that.

Taking a deep breath, you swam laps underwater, eyes stinging as you searched every inch of the tiled floor, fingers scraping along the bottom in vain.

No ring.

You surfaced with a gasp, blinking away frustrated tears. Your breaths came quick and shallow as you raced through all the possible locations of where it could be. Had it slipped off while you were drying your hands? Fallen behind your dresser? You were usually so careful with it. With a brief twinge of guilt, you wished you’d asked Natasha to keep the box it came in, regretting throwing it out. It would have kept the ring safe, and you wouldn’t have lost track of it so easily.

Dragging yourself out of the water, you slowly redressed and headed back upstairs, heart pounding, tears refusing to fall. It had to be in your room. It had to be somewhere, you thought bitterly. You couldn’t bear to imagine what Natasha would think. What if she believed you didn’t care? What if she – you cut yourself off sharply. No. Don’t go there. Not yet.

But the knots in your stomach only tightened.

A sudden stroke of inspiration came to you. Pulling off your damp garments, you changed into jeans and a hoodie, then pulled on the old biking boots that Natasha had given you. You’d recently re-visited the spot where she’d proposed because it made you feel close to her. Maybe the ring had fallen off there. It was a long shot, but you were willing to try anything.

Grabbing Natasha’s motorcycle helmet and your keys, you raced out the door.

***

The compound was quieter than usual when Natasha returned.

Too quiet.

She’d expected to find you hovering by the hangar doors like you always did when she came home – often barefoot, often yawning, pretending not to have been anxiously refreshing the flight tracker. But today, the corridor outside her room was still, the only sound her own footsteps as she made her way toward your shared space.

Her brow furrowed the moment she opened the door. Her kit bag hit the floor with a dull thud.

The mess hit her first—your side of the room had exploded into chaos. Clothes everywhere, drawers half-open, the bed completely unmade. It looked like a war zone. Not the normal lazy clutter you left when you were missing her, but frantic. Rushed. Desperate.

Something was wrong.

She stepped carefully inside, scanning the floor, the overturned laundry basket, the faint trail of damp footprints leading in from the hallway. There was a pile of damp clothing in the bathroom, dropped haphazardly in the shower tray. She recognised one of her old hoodies which you always wore when she was away. Her stomach twisted with a creeping sense of unease.

“Honey?” she called out softly. No answer.

Her eyes moved to the bedside table – yours, specifically. She glanced at the scattered items on it, then at the bare space where your engagement ring always sat while you slept.

Empty.

That wasn’t unusual – you’d normally be up at this hour, but given the circumstances and the explosion of mess and clutter in your room, Natasha knew that something was off.

Her chest tightened.

She crouched beside the table, fingertips brushing along the floor. Nothing at first. Then – something. A glint. Just barely catching the light.

Natasha reached further, her knuckles grazing the wall as her fingers finally closed around cool metal.

She pulled her hand back slowly.

There it was.

The ring.

Her ring.

The one she'd chosen so carefully. Oval diamond, gold band, the tiny side stones meant to represent your birthstone and hers. It sat in her palm like it had never been lost – like it had been waiting.

Natasha stared at it for a long moment, her jaw tightening. She wasn’t angry, not really. But the thought of you spiralling over this, tearing apart the room in a panic and then vanishing – without so much as a text – made her heart ache. She turned the ring over in her fingers once, then slipped it into her pocket.

She needed to find you.

And when she did, she’d remind you that she didn’t propose because of a ring.

She proposed because she wanted you. All of you – chaos, clutter, and everything in between.

Glancing around the room for a clue to your location, she noticed the absence of her motorcycle helmet at the same time that she heard the familiar roar of her bike outside. Confused and slightly worried, she left the room.

***

You pulled the helmet off, your hair a mess, your eyes red from crying. The ring wasn’t where you hoped it would have been, and you’d broken down crying at the very spot that Natasha proposed. Slipping your keys into your pocket, you leant against her bike, shoulders slumped, exhausted with the pressure of finding it before her return. Your eyes flicked to the landing pad and your heart lurched as you spotted the quinjet.

Natasha was home. And she was probably looking for you.

The shift of a footfall to your left made your head jerk upwards, noticing Natasha moving slowly out of the doorway and towards where you were standing.

“Where have you been?” she asked. Her voice was low – tight – but not angry. Just... tired. Worried. “I came home to an empty hangar and an empty bed. The room looks like a war zone. What’s going on?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Looked down at your feet. “I – I…” You were out of excuses and didn’t know what to say to her to explain the chaos you’d left behind you.

She took a step toward you. “Are you avoiding me?”

You nodded, throat thick.

“Why?” She took another step.

You swallowed hard, blinking fast. “I – I lost the ring.”

She stilled.

Your voice cracked as the words spilled out. “I took it off last night before bed, and this morning it was just... gone. I tore the room apart. I checked the pool. The changing rooms. The laundry room. Everything. And I couldn’t find it. And I thought – thought that…” Your breath hitched. “I thought you’d be mad. That you’d think I didn’t care, or that I wasn’t ready. That I didn’t deserve it.”

You felt your shoulders shaking and wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly so small under her gaze. “I know it was stupid, I just – I panicked, Nat. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Silence.

Then, she stepped closer.

“I’m not mad because you lost a ring,” she said softly. “I’m mad because you were hurting. And you didn’t come to me.”

You looked up at her, lips trembling. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Natasha’s expression flickered, something vulnerable crossing her face. “You think I proposed because of a ring?” she asked, gently. “I proposed because I want to marry you. Not the version of you who always has it together. Not the tidy one. You. The messy, sleepy, stubborn, overly dramatic you that I fell in love with.”

You gave a shaky laugh, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything at first.

Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out something small and shining.

Your breath caught.

“Looking for this?” she asked.

You stared.

The ring sat in her palm like a little miracle.

“I found it behind your bedside table,” she said. “Rolled just out of sight. Probably when you put your phone down last night.”

You blinked, stunned. “You – how?”

“I’ve lived with you long enough to know where things usually disappear to.” She gave a soft smile. “And I know when you’re running.”

You laughed again – a disbelieving chuckle. “You found it.”

“I did.” She paused. “But you’re still the best thing I’ve ever found.”

Your heart twisted.

Then she held out her hand.

“Are you ready?”

You blinked. “For what?”

She tucked the ring safely in an inside pocket, then picked up the second motorcycle helmet that you hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying. “I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Where?”

She just smirked. “You’ll see.”

And in that moment, you knew. She wasn’t just giving the ring back. She was going to ask you again.

***

The sea was roaring its slow, unhurried dance when Natasha pulled up by the viewpoint. You could see people heading out for the last surf of the day. They looked like specks against the vastness of the ocean.

Natasha kicked the stand into place and stepped off the bike, holding out her hand to help you dismount. You wrapped your fingers through hers and carefully swung your leg over and out, feeling shaky despite being on solid ground. This time two months ago, you had no idea what was about to happen. Now, it was different, but your body was still swarming with butterflies.

Slowly, she reached out and unbuckled your helmet, pulling it off and staring at you with an intense gaze that made you blush and turn your face away. She smirked knowingly and pulled her own helmet off, running a hand through her short red hair. She’d cut it again recently and you loved how fearless she looked.

“You really didn’t have to bring me all the way out here again…” you quipped, unsure whether you and Natasha were okay after the tumultuous, emotional day you’d just had.

She looked evenly at you. “Yes, I did,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small smile. “The first time I asked you to marry me, I caught you completely off guard. You were in shock for like… three hours.”

“I wasn’t in shock,” you mused, leaning on the railing and staring at the setting sun. “I was processing. There’s a difference,” you added, turning to look at her.

“Hmm.” Natasha chuckled softly, remembering. “I distinctly remember you saying, “Are you serious?” about four times before you then said yes.”

You bit your lip to prevent a wide smile from spreading across your face. “That was because I couldn’t believe you actually wanted to marry me.”

“I still do,” Natasha said softly, “even more so now. Come on, honey,” she added, reaching out and taking your hand gently in hers. “It’s me.”

You slowly turned to face her fully, winding your fingers through hers and looking down at your joined hands, almost in disbelief. When you glanced up, Natasha was holding the ring between you. No grand gesture this time – just quiet certainty.

“You still manage to catch me off guard,” you whispered, your voice thick and tears prickling at your eyes.

Natasha smiled. “You thought losing this meant you’d lose me.”

“It felt like I didn’t deserve to wear it anymore,” you admitted, scuffing the ground with the toe of your boot and chewing at your lip nervously.

Natasha let go of your hand and reached out, gently tilting your chin up so that you were looking at her. There was something unreadable in her gaze, but the level of vulnerability she was showing you took your breath away. This was your Natasha – no walls, no barriers.

“You don’t wear this ring because you’re perfect,” she said quietly. “You wear it because you’re mine. I want every version of you, honey – messy, anxious, loud, soft. I didn’t choose you because you’d never lose things. I chose you because I never want to lose you.” She gently took your left hand in hers. “So, let me ask you again. No panic, no pressure. It’s just us. Will you marry me?”

You stared at her, tears flowing, heart thumping and nodded furiously. “Yes. Of course, yes. It’s always a yes, Nat.”

With a broad smile, Natasha slipped the ring onto your finger again – slowly but surely, placing it back where it belonged. You sighed in relief at the comfortable weight on your finger. It felt like a missing jigsaw piece had just slotted back into place.

Natasha pulled you into a hug, pressing her forehead to yours and planting a soft kiss on your lips. You tucked your head into the crook of her neck and stared out at the surfers beneath the sunset, holding your hand out to stare happily at the ring on your finger. Natasha ran her finger over it, before slotting her hand into yours, your fingers winding comfortably through hers.

“I’m never taking it off again,” you murmured.

“Good,” your fiancée said, kissing your cheek. “But even if you do… I’ll still find you.”

[iydiamartinx]

THIS MEANS WAR IX

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 2.3k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: I hope I got everyone who asked to be added to the taglist. if possible, if you want to be added, can you let me know in the most recent chapter? that way I don't have to scour through all the previous chapter comments, I'm worried I'll miss or forget to add you 🩵

RACE TRACK

You were having the time of your life.

The last thing you expected when Jason texted you about a second date was to end up behind the wheel of a vintage muscle car, roaring around a private race track like you were in Fast and Furious: Gotham Drift.

Yet here you were—hands gripping the steering wheel, wind whipping through your hair, tires screeching against hot pavement.

And the best part?

You were driving.

“You know, my brother used to love cars,” you babbled, voice rising over the thunder of the engine. “We used to sneak out to the track at night and watch others race. He swore he’d be a professional driver one day.”

Jason’s ears perked up at the mention of your brother.

It was subtle, the way his posture shifted—just a slight tilt of his head, a flicker of interest in his eyes. He kept his expression relaxed, but inside, his mind sharpened,

He leaned in, ever so slightly, hoping you’d keep going. Hoping you’d slip something. A name. A location. A breadcrumb he could follow.

But instead, you let out a wild cheer, head thrown back in exhilaration as the car hit the straightaway.

“This is amazing!” you shouted, laughter bursting from your chest, raw and unfiltered, as the engine snarled like a beast beneath the hood. The tires screeched against the asphalt, and wind tore through the open windows, stealing your words and replacing them with pure adrenaline.

Beside you, Jason barked out a laugh—half amused, half alarmed—but his eyes kept flicking toward the speedometer.

You were a very good driver.

You were also going very fast.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he called over the roar of the engine, “but are you trying to kill us on our second date?”

You grinned, wild and unrepentant, shooting him a quick glance. “Is that fear in your voice?”

Jason scoffed, but the way his hand clenched the door handle said otherwise.

“In your dreams,” he shot back, though his voice pitched a little higher as you took the next corner without so much as tapping the brakes.

You let out a delighted laugh and downshifted with an aggressive flick of your wrist, sending the car into a perfect curve along the bend. The tires screamed. Jason did not—but it was a close thing.

“God, you’re insane,” he muttered, but there was unmistakable admiration in his tone.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you teased, eyes gleaming as the straightaway opened up ahead. “Think I can hit 120?”

“Absolutely not—”

But you were already gunning it.

The engine howled, the track blurred, and Jason’s curses were lost to the wind. You were flying now, a streak of black and chrome cutting across the asphalt.

As you were having the time of your life something in the rearview mirror caught Jason’s attention. His eyes narrowed and subtly he angled the side mirror, just enough to catch the glint of something, cutting through the sky behind them.

A small, black silhouette trailing in their wake, a Bat drone.

Dick.

Jason’s jaw ticked, just once as he glanced back and subtly raised his middle finger at the camera.

BAT CAVE

Dick, who had been leaning over Barbara’s shoulder watching the live feed, blinked in disbelief. “Did he just give our bird the bird?”

Barbara didn’t even look up, her jaw working steadily as she lazily chewed her gum. She casually tapped a few keys, zooming in on the grainy screen. “Yep.”

There was a beat. Then her chewing slowed.

“Wait… what’s he doing?”

Both of them leaned in, eyes narrowing as Jason shifted in his seat. The camera caught the subtle movement—his arm reaching behind the passenger seat, fingers curling around something just out of view. Then, without warning, Jason twisted toward the drone in one fluid, practiced motion.

And the screen blinked to static.

Barbara whipped around in her chair, eyes wide. “He just shot my drone! That was a custom build!”

Dick took a small step back, hands raised as if she were about to launch something sharp at his head. “Okay—okay, I didn’t think he’d see it!”

Stephanie smirked. With a few keystrokes, she brought up the final frame before the drone feed cut to black—Jason caught mid-motion, his face half-lit by sunlight and locked in a cocky smirk, one hand proudly raised with his middle finger aimed directly at the lens.

She grinned. “This would make a killer profile picture. The ladies will go crazy for it.”

“Stephanie!”

“What was that?!” you exclaimed, twisting slightly to glance over your shoulder at the sudden pop that echoed behind you.

“Eyes on the road!” Jason yelped, one hand flying out instinctively to steady the wheel as you started to turn. “What was what? That was just the… exhaust. Yeah. Backfire.”

You squinted at him. “Sounded more like a gunshot or explosion.”

He winced, then plastered on a smile far too fast to be innocent. “Performance vehicle. Loud pipes. Very normal.”

You didn’t look convinced, but before you could press further, the track opened up again into a long, gorgeous straightaway—and Jason seized his moment.

“Alright, speed demon,” he said, leaning close with a glint in his eye, voice low and tempting, “think you can beat your last time down this stretch?”

Your attention snapped back to the track, the corner of your mouth lifting. “Is that a challenge?”

He shrugged, smug. “Unless you’re scared.”

“Oh, you are so going to eat those words.”

The car shot forward once more, tires screaming as you floored it, laughter spilling past your lips. Jason leaned back, grinning as the wind whipped around him—less concerned now that you were distracted, and more impressed than ever at your driving skills.

He’d have to apologize to Barbara later.

Probably.

Maybe.

Barbara was already turning to glare at Dick. “I’m going to strangle him.” She crossed her arms, jaw tight. “And you’re not off the hook either, Romeo. That drone wasn’t cheap.”

Dick winced. “We’ll pay for it.”

Barbara narrowed her eyes. “You two better.”

He held up his hands in surrender, then turned quickly—perhaps wisely—to Stephanie, who was back to lounging at the nearby console, one leg hooked over the arm of the chair, scrolling through a tablet.

“What do you have for me?” he asked.

Stephanie didn’t miss a beat. “She likes red wine and has a secret sweet tooth—keeps chocolate-covered almonds in her bedside drawer.”

Dick arched a brow.

“She’s not subtle about it,” Steph added, shrugging. “Lavender bath salts. Her Spotify history is a surprising mix of everything, but she primarily listens to indie rock, electronic house, and top 40 hits. Gotta say… not what I expected from a scientist like her. I would’ve clocked her for some Beethoven, maybe a little Philip Glass if she was feeling edgy.”

Barbara raised a brow. “You hacked her Spotify? How is that even relevant to the Joker case?”

“Hey, I’m just covering all my bases,” Steph shot Dick a knowing wink, “and I temporarily borrowed access,” Steph corrected. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Dick waved a hand. “Keep going.”

“And that painting you noticed hanging in her apartment?” Steph tilted her head with a grin. “Gustav Klimt. The Kiss, limited reproduction. She’s an art lover—deep dives into symbolism, expressionism, romanticism.”

Dick leaned back, brows drawing together thoughtfully. “Huh.” Then he paused looking to Stephanie.  “You got all that since yesterday?”

Steph looked up, smug. “Please. I got all of this in one hour”

ART GALLERY

You were still buzzing from your date with Jason—adrenaline thrumming through your veins, your hair windswept, your cheeks sore from smiling. You had barely made it home and kicked off your shoes, when your phone buzzed again.

Another missed call. You ignored it.

Instead, your attention drifted to the text that had just come in.

Dick:

Got any plans tonight?

You bit your lip, heart skipping. Two dates in one day should’ve been too much. Should’ve felt like whiplash. But somehow, with him, you couldn’t say no.

Which was how you ended up here—standing in a dimly lit private gallery, surrounded by warm golden frames and soft overhead spotlights.  It was just the two of you. No crowds. No noise. Just the art and him.

You turned to Dick with wide eyes. “How did you even do this?”

He flashed you that signature smile, that you’ve come to associate to him— warm and utterly charming. “I have my ways,” he said casually, hands in his pockets as he led you deeper into the exhibit. “And finally, we get to the main piece.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze landed on the painting in front of you. “Is that—? No. Is this what I think it is?”

You both spoke the artist’s name at the same time, voices overlapping in perfect harmony. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes, both of you frozen in mutual shock.

“He’s my favourite artist,” Dick said, voice softer now, almost reverent.

Your lips parted. “He’s my favourite artist. Are these the originals?”

He nodded, clearly pleased. “Yeah. You recognize this one? The Harpist, 1895?”

“Yes!” you gasped, stepping closer, instinctively leaning in to examine the texture, the detail, the brushwork. “The lines, the composition...”

“Pre-Secession movement,” Dick said smoothly, strolling beside you like a seasoned curator. In a van parked discreetly outside, Barbara’s voice crackled in his earpiece.

“Now say: ‘Look at the tension between two and three dimensionality.’”

Dick echoed obediently, “Do you see the tension between two and three dimensionality? It’s… incredible.”

You turned to him, laughing in disbelief. “How do you know this?!”

He just grinned and pivoted smoothly, guiding you to the next painting.

“This is one of my favourites,” he said.

Your breath caught. 

“Undine, 1902.”

“Undine, 1902,” Dick repeated a heartbeat later.

You stepped closer to the canvas, your voice dropping to a hush. “Gorgeous,” you murmured. “Dick, this is amazing.”

“Innovation became Intrinsic…”

“…to Degas and other modernists,” he continued reciting Barbara’s information. “You can see the influence of art nouveau in the curvature and thematic flow.”

You turned to look at him, eyes wide with something between shock and admiration. “You really know your stuff.”

Dick smiled faintly, hands clasped behind his back in his best art-patron pose. “You know,” he added, “he was a strong advocate in the finger painting movement.”

Silence.

You blinked.

He blinked.

“…What?” you said, your brow furrowing.

Dick froze. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again. “I—uh…”

BAT CAVE

Unknown to Dick, it was no longer Barbara coaching him. Jason and Tim sat hunched over a custom console, cackling at the fact they managed to hack into Barbara’s comms.

Tim leaned back with a satisfied smirk, spinning slightly in his chair. “Told you I could get into her comms.”

Jason grinned, shushing him as he leaned forward with a glint in his eye, dragging the mic close to his mouth. He pressed the button and, with the voice of Barbara Gordon—courtesy of a little audio sorcery—he purred, “Sometimes, he would finger his paintings…”

“…to get closer to them.”

Dick squinted slightly, doing his best not to react outwardly even as his stomach dropped. What the hell was Barbara saying?

“He… um…” He cleared his throat. “He used his… he…”

You tilted your head, confused by the sudden hesitation.

Dick forced a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. “The intimacy with the canvas. To finger a painting—”

Your eyes widened. His did too.

“—To paint,” he corrected quickly, voice rising in pitch as he panicked, “using hands. With his hands.”

There was a pause. A beat of silence where your expression teetered between bemusement and concern.

“Sometimes he would use mud and sticks,” came Barbara’s voice again—or what sounded like Barbara’s voice.

Your brows furrowed. “He did?” You squinted at the painting in front of you, genuinely puzzled. “I don’t remember reading that.”

Dick winced internally, already praying to every art god in existence that you wouldn’t fact-check this later.

“And if he couldn’t find a stick…”

“And if he couldn’t find a stick…” 

“…He would use his dick.”

“…He would use his di—” The word stopped dead in his throat as his brain finally processed it.

Your head snapped toward him so fast it was a miracle your neck didn’t cramp. You stared at him, eyes wide, searching his face.

Dick cleared his throat, his fingers twitching as he reached up to scratch behind his ear—only it wasn’t a scratch. With one swift, practiced motion, he tore the earpiece out and tucked it into his pocket, all without breaking stride.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice a touch hoarse, “I think that’s enough talking.”

He gestured toward a tall, sheet-covered frame near the far end of the gallery. “Let’s let the paintings speak for themselves.”

Curiosity flickered across your face, but before you could ask anything, he reached up and pulled the linen sheet down in one smooth motion.

The fabric fell away—and time seemed to stop.

Framed in delicate gold leaf and soft lighting stood Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss. The gilded masterpiece shimmered beneath the spotlights, rich with warmth and intimacy, every curve and contour singing with emotion and longing.

You took a breath—but it hitched, catching in your throat. “Oh my god…” you whispered. “This is amazing. It’s so beautiful… just… just incredible.”

You stepped closer and without thinking, your arms slipped around Dick’s, your head coming to rest gently against his shoulder.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Barely even breathed.

“Yeah,” he murmured finally, barely audible over the hum of the room. “It is…”

But his eyes weren’t on the painting.

They were on you.

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[niwaart]

Secret of the Shadows

(Y/N Constantine x Batfam)

-part1..

It was just another night in Gotham—dark, restless, and thick with the promise of trouble.

Oracle’s voice crackled through the comms, sharp with urgency. “Bats, we’ve got a situation. Armed mercenaries just snatched a group of civilians, demanding ransom. No IDs yet, but they’re moving fast.”

Batman’s jaw tightened. “Track their route. We need a location.”

The Batcomputer whirred, but before Oracle could narrow it down, Red Robin spoke up. “I’ve got it. Abandoned warehouse near the docks—southside. Camera feed caught suspicious movement.”

Nightwing shot him a glance. “That was fast.”

Red Robin shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

Batman didn’t question it...not yet. Civilians came first.

The team moved in. The fight was brutal—gunfire, shouts, the desperate cries of hostages. They subdued the mercenaries one by one, but the last thug had a child in his grip, a gun pressed to their temple.

“Back off!” the man snarled. “Or I swear I’ll—”

A loud CRASH cut him off. A chair from the second floor slammed into him, knocking him out cold. The child stumbled free, and the vigilantes looked up, just in time to see a young man dusting off his hands, his binds clearly cut.

“Nice throw,” Red Robin muttered under his breath.

Y/N smirked, then he looked at Red Robin for a long time, then winked at him.

Red Robin barely suppressed a grin.

As the team secured the scene, Red Hood lingered, his helmet tilted toward Red Robin. Then, toward Y/N.

Something wasn’t right.

Back in the Batcave, Batman reviewed the footage.

“Red Robin,” he said, voice low. “How did you locate that warehouse so quickly?”

Tim didn’t flinch. “Like I said—cameras.”

Oracle frowned. “I hadn’t even pulled up that feed yet.”

A beat of silence.

Nightwing crossed his arms. “Okay, spill. What aren’t you telling us?”

Before Tim could answer, Red Hood leaned against the console. “Oh, I’ll tell you what’s up. Red Robin’s got a source.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “What source?”

Tim exhaled. “Fine. It’s my roommate.”

“Your roommate?” Dick repeated, incredulous.

“Yeah. He’s… observant.”

Jason snorted. “Observant? That guy in the warehouse? The one who mysteriously got free and took out a guy with a chair? That’s your ‘roommate’?”

Bruce’s voice was steel. “Who is he?”

Tim hesitated... but not because he didn’t know. Because he did.

“His name’s Y/N,” he said carefully. “And before you ask... no, he’s not in the system.”

Batman’s glare darkened. “Why not?”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck. “Because he… particular about privacy.”

Jason scoffed. “What, is he some kinda spy?”

“Worse,” Tim muttered. “He’s John Constantine’s kid.”

Silence...

“What.”Batman’s voice was dangerously calm.

Dick blinked. “Wait. The John Constantine? The guy who—"

“—makes deals with demons and pisses off every magical being in existence? Yeah. That one.” Tim sighed. “And before you freak out, Y/N’s not like him... Mostly.”

Bruce’s fingers clenched. “You’ve been hiding this. Why?”

“Because Y/N asked me to,” Tim admitted. “And because Y/N’s helped me out more times than I can count. He’s not a threat.”

Jason crossed his arms. “Then why’s he sneaking around Gotham?”

“Because someone has to keep an eye on the magical side of this city,” a new voice drawled from the shadows.

Everyone turned.

Y/N leaned against the Batcave entrance, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. “And let’s be real... Bats sucks at magic.”

Bruce’s eye twitched.

Y/N strolled forward, hands in his pockets, completely unfazed by the fact that he’d just walked into the Batcave uninvited.

“So,” he said, glancing around. “this is Batman's secret cave? Cozy.”

Batman stepped forward, looming. “How did you get in here?”

Y/N grinned. “The magician does not reveal his secrets.”

“Y/N,” Tim warned.

“Fine, fine.” Y/N rolled his eyes. “I hitched a ride on Red Robin’s bike. Magic cloaking. Easy.”

Jason looked at Tim. “You let him?”

Tim shrugged. “He was gonna follow me anyway.”

Bruce’s patience was thinning. “Constantine’s son.”

Y/N mock-bowed. “The one and only.”

“Why are you in Gotham?”

“School. Rooming with Tim. Avoiding my dad’s endless messes.” Y/N smirked. “And, y’know, keeping demons from eating people in the alleys. The usual.”

Dick frowned. “Wait—you’ve been handling magical threats alone?”

“Not alone,” Y/N corrected, nodding at Tim. “Birdbrain here helps. When he’s not busy being obsessive over cases.”

Tim elbowed him. “Rude.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is a security risk.”

“Oh, relax,” Y/N said, waving a hand. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just keeping the balance.”

Jason studied him. “You’re way too chill about this.”

“Eh. You get used to weird when your dad’s Constantine.”

Bruce exhaled sharply. “You’re staying off the radar. No more interference in Gotham’s affairs.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Or what? You’ll bench me?” He snorted. “Please. You need me. Gotham’s magical underbelly’s been stirring lately. Big players moving in.”

Tim nodded. “He’s right. We’ve been tracking—”

Bruce cut him off. “We’ll discuss this later.”

Y/N smirked. “Sure thing, Boss Bat.”

Jason choked back a laugh.

Dick sighed. “This is gonna be fun.”

In Gotham Rooftops – Later That Night

Batman’s cape snapped behind him as he landed heavily on a gargoyle, glaring down at the figure lounging on the adjacent rooftop.

Y/N, legs dangling over the edge, tossed a glowing blue flame between his fingers like a coin. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you’d given up."

Batman’s voice was pure gravel. "You’re interfering."

"Interfering?" Y/N gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Me? I’m just enjoying Gotham’s lovely skyline. smog pollution really brings out the city’s charm."

Batman’s eye twitched. "Leave."

"Make me."

"..........."

"This isn’t a game."

"Never said it was." Y/N smirked. "But here’s the thing... you’re saving the city, but you’re not its mayor. So if you want me to leave, you’ll have to get permission, Boss Bat."

Batman’s jaw clenched so hard Tim, listening through the comms, winced in sympathy.

Batcave – 10 Minutes Earlier

Dick Grayson leaned back in the Batcomputer chair, spinning lazily. "Okay, but seriously... how have we never heard of Constantine having a kid?"

Jason, polishing a gun, snorted. "Probably because the bastard forgot he had one."

Dick tilted his head. "Or… hid him?"

Damian, sharpening a knife, scoffed. "Tt. As if Constantine could be competent enough for that."

Oracle’s voice chimed in. "Actually, according to my very limited files, Y/N’s existence was scrubbed. Professionally. Like, League of Shadows level."

Jason whistled. "Damn. Daddy issues and a secret identity? Kid’s got layers."

Tim, typing furiously on a tablet, didn’t look up. "He’s also right here on comms, you know."

"Aw, you guys do care!" Y/N’s voice dripped with amusement.

Dick grinned. "So, Y/N... magic, huh? Can you, like, turn people into frogs?"

"Only if they really annoy me."

Jason smirked. "So… can you do that to B?"

"Oh, absolutely... but then who’d pay for my tuition?"

Tim choked on his coffee.

Damian rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous. We’re discussing magic as if it’s some parlour trick—"

"Magic," Y/N corrected.

"I said what I said."

Back on the Rooftop.....

Batman had had it.

"You’re not trained."

Y/N rolled his eyes. "I grew up with John Constantine. You think Gotham’s scary? Try watching your dad drink with a demon before breakfast ."

"You’re reckless."

"Tell me about it."

Batman’s patience was gone. "If you get in my way—"

"—you’ll what? Ground me?" Y/N grinned. "Face it, Bats—you can’t kick me out just because I exist here. Unless I break a law, you’ve got nothing."

A long, long silence.

"...Fine." Batman turned sharply. "But if I see you near a case—"

"Yeah, yeah, you’ll grumble at me. Noted."

Batman vanished into the shadows.

Y/N smirked. "He so hates me."

"He so does," Tim agreed through the comm, laughing.

In Jason's safehouse.....

Jason tossed Y/N a beer. "So. Constantine."

Y/N caught it, snapping the cap off with magic. "Yep."

Dick leaned forward. "Is it true he sold his soul twice?"

"Three times, actually. Third one was for a really good kebab."

Damian, arms crossed. "Tt. Liar."

"Ask him yourself." Y/N took a sip. "He’ll absolutely deny it, which is how you know it’s true."

Dick, quietly: "…Do you like him?"

Y/N paused. "He’s my dad. It’s… complicated."

Jason snorted. "Ain’t it always."

Tim flopped onto the couch beside Y/N. "Okay, but real question—can you actually turn people into frogs?"

Y/N’s grin was wicked. "Wanna find out, Replacement?"

Dick immediately grabbed a notepad. "I volunteer Jason—"

"HELL NO—"

Laughter echoed through the safehouse.

Somewhere, in the shadows, Batman has a big scowl on his face.

[nottslove]

ON CAMERA

Pairing: hacker!theo x spy!reader 1.1k words Summary: theo nott, professional, wanted hacker, has been keeping a close eye on you, the spy hired to track him down. little do you know, the more you search, the harder the search grows— mainly because theo knows you're looking for him. after following a lead blindly, you somehow land in danger and theo, who has been watching you, calls the cops to pull you out of your risky situation. as a thank you, he expects a little show...

Warnings: 18+, smut under the cut, voyeurism, somewhat stalking, exploitation, semi-public, dirty talk, cursing, not for minors.

WATCHING you had become an obsession. That was almost all he did, day and night.

Every room, every corner of your house was monitored. At first, he tried to convince himself he was doing it because it was his job. But when he began to skip sleeping to watch you sleep, he realized it ran much deeper than just that.

You, of course, were clueless about the whole ordeal. You performed your routine as you normally did, without ever suspecting that you were being hacked, watched.

You woke up early, trained in your private training room, practiced firing shots, worked out in your personal indoor gym, went for a swim, then ate and used your computer to follow up on your latest mission.

You were supposed to find one of the most wanted hackers in the country, whose identity was a complete secret, and you were positive you had a name, and perhaps a location.

Theo was watching, a smirk plastered across his lips as you searched for him. But he was too good.

His identity had remained a secret for a long time, and would continue to remain so until he decided otherwise.

"Oh, pretty girl, you'll never find me," he crooned, a soft chuckle spilling past his lips as every link you clicked took you to a dead end.

Frustrated beyond measure, you finally decided to search a dating website for something, anything.

And then, you found someone whose profile matched the one you were looking for.

"Bingo—" you whispered victoriously, staring at the profile of a young man in his early twenties.

"Hate to break it to you, Princess, but that's not me," Theo murmured to himself, lighting a cigarette as he watched you through one of the little screens around him, zooming in on your low-cut top. "Cute top though... Nice rack you got over there..."

Your laptop screen was duplicated across his as you created your own profile for an online dating site, after you came across your suspect on the website.

He was there, reading all those messages you sent, all the flirting between you and your suspect, his blood boiling with every picture you kept attaching to keep this man interested.

And then, you agreed to meet this suspect of yours. You hadn't bothered with a wire, you were confident you could handle him on your own— with two knives strapped to one thigh and a gun strapped to the other underneath your satin minidress.

Little did you know, Theo had already bugged your phone, already gotten your every movement displayed all over his screen.

He tracked you entering the restaurant, he tracked you waiting there for hours... then, he noticed you taking the shortcut back home, walking through the park... but when he noticed you moving towards an abandoned alley on the map across his display, he instantly called the cops and gave them your exact location.

Turns out, you were wrong. Your suspect was just another suspect, and the real guy you were hunting was still out there.

This guy just turned out to be some nasty creep who faked his profile to prey on young women.

You didn't know how the cops knew your exact location, or how they found out, but whatever it was, you were grateful because the cops had arrived before the creep could hurt a single hair on your head.

And when you reached home, you entered the shower first thing, trying to relax a little, before you fell asleep, unaware that Theo had zoomed into your bedroom, so that it now covered his entire screen.

"I deserve a thank you for that, don't I, pretty?" he remarked, even though he was well aware you couldn't hear him at all, zooming in on your figure, who had just come out of the shower and was now wrapped in a tiny towel that barely covered you. "After all, I did save that pretty little ass of yours back there... Gonna give me a little show?"

As if you had heard his words, you picked out a pair of satin shorts and a matching camisole, placing it on the bed as you pranced around your room in your tiny towel.

You were unaware of his watchful gaze, observing you, unaware he was so fucking hard underneath his joggers, his ringed fingers resting on his waistband as he watched you with bated breath, his eyes dark, jealous of every tiny, water droplet that clung to your sacred skin.

After you dried your hair, you took off your towel and let it slide to the floor while you got changed.

Unfortunately for Theo, your back was towards the camera. A groan slipped past his lips when he realized he wouldn't be able to see those pretty tits of yours.

Fortunately for him, he would have a nice picture of your ass.

And when he zoomed in to your plump rear, he nearly came in his pants.

He could feel his precum stain his new boxers, a loud groan leaving his lips as he slid his joggers down, taking out his cock and fisting it, spreading the precum down the length.

He gives it a few pumps, just imagining what it would be like to bend you over the bed and fuck you from behind, pull your hair back into a ponytail and manhandle you the way he wants, because he knows you can take it.

He closes his eyes, groans spilling past his lips as he begins jerking his cock in his hand, his eyes opening when he hears a small grunt of frustration from his screen— your pajama top fell when you were about to put it on.

As you bend over, you give Theo the most beautiful view of your ass, his eyes glued to the screen as he jerks off.

"Fuck—" he hisses, pumping his hand up and down his shaft, quickening his pace as he approaches his climax. "Such a cute fuckin' ass..."

Right before you slide your shorts on, he takes a screenshot, then closes his eyes, grunts of pleasure leaving him.

His cock throbs and pulses in his hand, his rings adding a delicious friction as he slides his hand faster, not even bothering to conceal his moans.

He gasps your name as he finally climaxes, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, his lower abs clenching with the surge of pleasure that flooded through him, the thick, sticky liquid now sliding down his screen, across the screenshot of your pretty, little ass.

Not even bothering to clean his mess up, his eyes flicker over to his other screen, where you're scrolling through your phone, tucked under the sheets of your bed, completely oblivious to it all.

His head slams against his table.

"Fuck— I'm screwed..."

not proofread, wrote this in such a hurry. lmk if i missed anything.

tags: @the-sylver-dragon, @clairesblouse

profile; nav;

©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

[corameiwrites]

𖦹 i want somebody to want pt. 2 𖦹

pair: jason todd x gn!reader

plot: faced with the knowledge that there is someone out there for him, jason todds life is thrown in a whirlwind

wc: 3.8k

authors note: i'm thinking about making the reader in this series an artist. the issue: i can't decide whether their focus is visual art, music, writing, or some performing art. I would appreciate any input you have on this, as it'll probably be mentioned in the next part of this series!

pt. 1

The first time Jason Todd saw you, he swore his heart stopped beating again. 

Since that drunken night out at the bar, Jason had begun to look for you everywhere. He went out as a civilian more, began accepting offers to grab a coffee or go hangout somewhere. His siblings, of course, had taken advantage of this fact. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but everywhere he looked, he always tried to catch a glimpse of you. The photos Tim had found online of you were ingrained in his brain. When he closed his eyes, his subconscious was no longer filled with all the dreadful things he’d done and experienced. Your smile—the same one he now searched for in crowds—replaced every aspect of his mind. 

Jason had opted for a hoodie layered underneath his leather jacket that day. Damian was bundled up as well, donning a rather janky scarf that Dick had made for him during his crochet phase. Aware of his brother's newfound interest in going out in public, Damian asked Jason if he would take him to a park to gather materials needed for his science class diorama. Agreeing, Jason had picked him up from school and walked with him through the better parts of Gotham to one of the only clean and functioning parks, which just so happened to be near the University area.

“Odd location of park, Todd.”

“Shut it, Wayne.”

Despite the various offers from his family to track you down or learn more about you, Jason had strictly told them not to, beyond looking up your social media and what was public. Even then, he had hesitated when Tim found your accounts. He didn’t want to learn every little thing about you before you had even met—it felt intrusive. He didn’t want his vigilante family stalking you; crashing into your apartment or kidnapping you to meet him, as Damian had lovingly suggested. He wanted what was between you two to be natural, to happen in its own time.

Damian was crouched beside a bush, gathering twigs and little rocks while Jason stood beside him, surveying the park out of habit. Despite the sun's rays shining down, the chill in the breeze had every kid playing on the playground bundled up, and the occasional couple holding hands, walking a little closer to retain some heat. Thankfully, Damian had no interest in looking for materials anywhere near the rowdy playground, so they opted to walk around the wide field, staying on the somewhat scenic walking trail. 

In the middle of the grassy field, about 30 people were gathered around a picnic table where an older man sat. He had kept his eye on the group for a while now, and had deducted that it was a class of sorts. The people listening to the man speak looked to be around his age, and all of them had bags. Some stood while many sat on the grass in front of the man. 

“Jason, the bag please.” Damian's arm shot up towards Jason, gesturing to the grocery bag halfway full of rocks and twigs. Handing it to him, Jason watched in amusement as Damian inspected two rocks meticulously, carefully placing one of them into the bag and tossing the other behind him carelessly. 

“Hey, look before you throw those things.”

 Damian's response was another smaller rock thrown at his brother's chest. Jason scoffed, crossing his arms as he turned back to the field, observing the class. 

It seemed to be ending, as the people began to stand up and walk away, some by themselves, others in groups. Through the rush of everyone standing, he saw—

You. 

Holy fucking shit. You were here. 

Even from far away, he could see laughter bubbling out of your mouth as you wiped grass off yourself, talking to a friend of yours. You were radiant; and call it cliche, but to him you were shining brighter than the sun. Thankfully, you were slow to pack up, so he watched, totally captivated by you as you talked with your friends in a small group around the professor. 

Seeing you like this was surreal to Jason. The way you smiled at something someone said, how you looked around at the scenery around you, the way you existed and interacted with people—it was surreal. 

Until now, you had only existed in the wonders of his mind at night and as a static photo in his phone. Yet here you were, existing in your own world that hadn’t yet collided with his. You had no idea that in less than seven months, you would find his name on your arm. 

Jason felt nauseous. Even from this far away, you outmatched everything his mind had come up with from the photos. An overwhelming sense of dread slowly crawled its way up his throat. He couldn’t pinpoint where it came from or what he was feeling exactly, but all he knew was that he wasn’t okay. His mouth was dry, and his eyes were slightly more watery. Despite this, he couldn’t look away. If seeing you from this far away had that effect on him, he didn’t know what he would do when he actually met you, face to face. A little sadly, he watched as you picked up your bag, waving to your professor and friends as you walked away. His eyes never left your retreating figure, and the muscles in his calves twitched to follow. 

“Ahki,” the tug on Jason's pants reminded him why he was here in the first place, who he was, where he was, and that he wasn’t alone. “Am I allowed to put this in the diorama?” 

Hesitantly (and with much effort), Jason tore his gaze from your distant figure, looking down to the caterpillar in Damians hand. He sighed, shaking his head and turning back to where his heart had disappeared to. 

“No, leave it be Damian.”

Later, further down the line on a cozy night in, he would inquire why your class had been outdoors that day. You would tell him the heater in your classroom was broken, causing the room to feel like the insides of a toaster oven. Your professor could only shed so many layers before he decided to go on a field trip to a local park for class where it was much cooler. The students had been enthusiastic about it, and ultimately, paid more attention to what their professor was lecturing. 

You, being the way that you are, would apologize for not noticing him further away on the trail. Scoffing at that, he would pull you tighter against him on the couch. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” he’d say softly, placing a delicate kiss on your temple. “I was a wreck when I saw you anyways. Probably would have thrown up if you came up to talk to me.” 

“Well, I was a wreck when I first talked to you too.”

“At Sifted?”

“No, not the coffee shop,” you would snuggle further into him, closing your eyes as a hum of contentment rumbled through Jason's chest. “When I was walking home from the studio.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♡  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

The first time Jason Todd interacted with you, it was behind the mask. He had added your general area to his patrol route, despite the low crime rates. If he were being completely honest, it was a much needed respite from crime alley. It allowed him to calm down before going somewhere to rest, simply watching as students walked home from their late night classes, or drunkenly hopped from bar to bar. Occasionally, he would beat up some bastards from following students home, save a couple places from robberies, crack down on some drug deals—the typical stuff. 

It was nearing five in the morning when he arrived at your apartment. He typically started out his patrol here on the roof of the building, surveying the area (and resisting the urge to jump down onto your third floor fire escape) before expanding outward towards the more crime ridden and shadowy parts of the area. 

The streets were eerily vacant this time of night. The only noises were the occasional far off gunshot, the sounds of cars backfiring, and distant yells of drunk frat kids at the bars a couple blocks over. These sounds had all become familiar to Gotham residents, and sitting atop some random buildings jagged rooftop, Jason closed his eyes, allowing his bruised and scar ridden body to relax for a minute. 

A far off cry for help snapped his eyes open. 

Alert, his head whipped around, trying to determine which direction the cry had come from. 

Another yell, and he was running across rooftops. 

Grappling down onto a balcony, he spotted the struggle between two people on the side of the street. One of them ran out of the darkness, towards the streetlight and Jason felt his heart stop yet again. 

It was you. 

You, and some asshole attempting to do god knows what. 

Instantly he jumped down from the balcony, running to the man who had his eyes set on you. He was attempting to say something, probably some threat meant to scare you into submission, but it never left his throat. 

The Red Hood grabbed the man's ragged clothing, yanking him back. He came tumbling backwards, a curse escaping his mouth. 

Jason swung, his fist colliding with the man's chin. The sharp clack of teeth hitting teeth was painful to hear, let alone watch as the man was hurled to the hard pavement from the punch. 

The man groaned loudly, yelling curses. Jason stalked over to the man, lifting him up by the shirt before giving him another painful punch to his temple. The man wasn’t knocked out, per say, but now he was incapable of forming a coherent sentence or moving his limbs in a precise manner. 

Squatting, Red Hood rummaged through his belt for tactical wire. He turned his head, helmet looking at your shocked figure. At some point, probably when he had uppercut the guy, you had sunk to the floor, leaning against the light pole. 

You stared wide eyed at the scene, gaze flickering from the man to Red Hood. He simply turned his head, flipping the man onto his stomach and tying his hands together behind his back. His head pounded from the adrenaline, from the fact that you had been in danger. 

He stood, walking towards you. From this height, you looked like a frightened alley cat, curled up on itself. Slowly, he stuck his hand out. 

Your gaze flickered from the gloved hand to the helmet, hesitantly placing your hand atop his. Jason's heart soared. 

In the most careful manner, Jason helped to pull you up off the cold cement, standing back on your feet. His hand never let go of yours, and you slowly pulled it back, fixing your attire. 

“Thank you…” your voice was shaky, and this close, Jason saw the way you trembled slightly. If you weren’t here, he would have killed the guy squirming on the sidewalk a few feet away. 

Despite the obvious tremor in your voice, Jason's throat had closed up at finally, finally hearing your voice. The deep, soul-clutching feeling from when he saw you at the park a couple weeks ago slowly made its second appearance in his gut, and the temperature inside his helmet seemed to increase. Turning his head, he saw a bag discarded on the ground, the same one you had with you on that cold day at the park. 

Walking over to the bag, he got down on one knee and picked up all the things that fell out of it. 

Chapstick, two pens, a wallet with a very familiar government ID, some coins, and….a tiny plastic dinosaur? 

Jason smiled, putting it back inside your bag before standing once more, bringing the bag back over to you. Your eyes hadn’t left him, and your hand had grabbed your bag with much less hesitance than before. You thanked him yet again, fumbling with your clothing and keychains. Jason watched, and noted how your breathing continued to come rather fast, your jaw beginning to tremble. 

He didn’t want you to feel threatened, didn’t want you to ever feel whatever you were feeling right now. Your gaze flickered to the semi-unconscious man on the pavement. Jason could tell how scared you still were, despite the attacker being tied up and incapacitated behind him. His mind raced to help you without coming off as odd or threatening. He couldn’t offer you a hug, who would want to hug Red Hood? The famed murderer and crime lord turned vigilante, turned Batman Associate. Not exactly the most comforting person. Despite this, his arms ached to hold you, to wrap his frame around yours and guard you from the rest of the world. 

All Jason wanted was to protect you. 

“Were you walking home?” When he spoke, he tried his damn best to sound less intimidating through the helmet modulator. Your head lifted to look at him, or rather the mask. You nod slowly. 

“I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”

“You don’t have to, you’ve already done enough—”

“I want to.” His voice left no room for negotiation, and somehow, you knew this wasn’t a battle you would win. A small smile crept its way onto your face, and you nodded, muttering a small okay. 

You began to walk. 

Jason followed. 

He always would. 

It had only been a few silent minutes by the time your apartment building loomed before you. You turned back towards Red Hood, awkwardly thanking him once more, getting a nod in response before entering the building. 

From a rooftop, Jason watched as the lights in your living room turned on. Turning with the final knowledge that you were safely home, he made his way back towards the man he left binded up on the sidewalk. 

Despite his own doubts and insecurities, he reminded himself you were his for a reason. You were the one person who could comfort him the most, help him in his darkest times, and love him despite all the wrongs he's done, rough edges and all. And regardless of what his brain told him, he could do the same for you. Tonight was proof of that. The universe, despite it’s wild and fucked up ways, had given him the gift of you. You two were made for each other—you’re his soulmate. 

As he landed down on the sidewalk, the man turned his head, eyes widening at the return of Red Hood. He blabbered, begging for mercy as Jason loomed over him. 

The bastard was going to regret ever attempting to hurt you. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♡  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

The first time you met Jason Todd was an accident. 

In the last year or so of moving to Gotham, you had made it a habit to leave your overpriced apartment every couple days to work/study in the cozy coffee shop—Sifted—a block away. You had settled into a routine of going there after class, in the mornings, and whenever you needed air from your cramped apartment. Quickly, you had made yourself a regular. 

You began to notice other regulars as well; a mother with her two toddlers who would be there for lunch every Tuesday and Thursday, back on Sundays with the father. A group of teenagers who would come in every morning before walking to school, and an older man who seemed to constantly be stressed out who ordered a comically large plain black coffee. 

The quaint little Cafe was a hidden gem in Gotham, hidden away from the crime and ugly side of the city. Everywhere you looked inside the place was aesthetically pleasing, with a plethora of plants, as well as a small free library and games for kids. The seating was diverse as well, with tables of different heights and shapes, comfy chairs, and plush couches/cushions for the kid area. 

Simply put, it fulfilled all your aesthetic coffee shop dreams. 

As of late, you had noticed the recurring presence of a handsome guy, about your age, brunette with good style, who was absolutely shredded. You had first seen him a couple weeks ago in the afternoon when you sat down at your usual corner table to get some work done. He sat across the shop in a leather chair, facing your direction. On the little side table, he had a steaming beverage—either tea or coffee you guessed—and a book in hand. 

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde. 

To say that you were a little attracted to him would be an understatement. He had sporadically been showing up to the coffee shop since then (always with a book), and you had been lucky enough to be there at the same time he was. Once, while waiting in line to order, you had watched through the front glass windows as a red motorcycle pulled up to the shop, the rider parking and taking off their helmet.

 Of course, Mr. Bookworm rode a motorcycle. After gaining this new bit of information on him, your mind went wild with fantasies and dreams of being swept away off your feet, taken to ride somewhere at top speeds through Gotham streets. 

Your brain told you that this was a stupid hallway crush—there was zero chance of getting with him. And yet, the countless times you had caught his eye, or exchanged a quick smile with him while leaving or entering made you think otherwise, because maybe, just maybe he was curious about you too. 

Today, you were a mess. You had attempted to pull an all-nighter working on a project for one of your classes, but had fallen asleep on the rug in your living room. You woke up around noon feeling more tired than you were before falling asleep, and your stomach was rumbling and aching for food. You were more than disappointed to see you forgot to go shopping for basic snacks and things to eat that didn’t require cooking or more than two dishes. 

You had opted to stop by Sifted, the coffee shop on your way to class to pick up a sandwich and coffee to help energize you before rushing to your 1 PM class. When you approached the cafe, your heart skipped a beat to see a certain red motorcycle parked outside. 

Entering, you were a little shocked to see your guy sitting with another man (also shredded) with a small gray dog in his lap. His eyes flickered to you as you entered, and you smiled at him before rushing to the counter and ordering your much needed coffee. Rather than sit down, you stood by the counter where they placed all the drinks, opening your phone and aimlessly scrolling. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t eyeing the two men in your peripheral vision. 

The soft music playing over the speakers, combined with the typical clamor from the kitchen and baristas muffled their conversation. After five or so minutes of scrolling and stealing glances, the barista placed two drinks down on the counter. 

Taking one of the cardboard cups into your hand, you quickly thanked the barista before turning. On your way out, you passed the guy on his way to the counter. An intrusive thought about the height difference between you two filled you with shame, and you quickened your way to the door. 

Once outside, you threw away the receipt in a trashcan, bringing your coffee in its to-go cup to your lips. 

What went down your throat was not coffee. This was not what you ordered. 

Swallowing, you brought the cup up higher, inspecting the writing in bold marker on the side—

Hot Chocolate - Jason

No way. 

No fucking way, you had just stolen someone elses drink. 

It wasn’t just anyone either. It was the guy of your dreams, who you now knew to be named Jason. Jason, who rode a red motorcycle, read at a coffee shop for an hour almost every day, while drinking Hot Chocolate of all things.

Sighing, you turn back around, walking into the cozy shop once more. Instantly, you make eye contact with the guy Jason, who is standing in front of his friend, or whoever he was here with, drink held high to inspect it. Your drink. 

Sheepishly, you make your way over to him, apologizing. “Hi, I am so sorry, you’re Jason, right? I just grabbed a drink without looking even though I probably should have and I accidentally took yours and already took a sip of it, so can I buy you another drink if you want? I’m sorry again…” 

The lack of proper sleep seemed to be getting to you, and you only realized when you were done how you had rambled to him. You heard a chuckle, and glanced behind Jason to his friend who was smiling, looking down at the dog in his lap. 

“It’s no big deal,” Jason responded, looking down at you. He took a sip of his your drink. “Do you always get this? It’s good.”

A little taken aback by his friendly demeanor, you allow yourself to smile more freely. He wasn’t mad, which meant he probably didn’t hate you, which also meant that you still had a slim chance with this guy. 

“Sometimes I do.” You tell him your name, pointing to the cup where it was written. He introduces himself too, despite the fact you already know. 

“I’ve uh, noticed you around here a lot.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you swear he knew what he was doing. 

“Yeah, me too. Not me, obviously. You–I’ve noticed you too.” Seriously, you need to work on how well you respond in high-stress situations. He smiles in response, nodding. It’s an awkward interaction, really, but not in an unbearable way. It’s almost sweet, how neither of you can hold eye contact for too long before looking down or fidgeting in some way. 

The conversation lulls there before you see a clock and realize you have fifteen minutes to make it to your class on time. 

“Well I uh, I have to go but it was nice to meet you.” You take a step backwards, wanting to run away and stay there talking to him at the same time. His lips draw tight into a line and he nods. “And sorry again for stealing your drink.” 

“It’s really alright. Have a good day.” 

“You too!” With that awkward end, you turn and basically run towards the door, exiting the shop and quickly walking down the sidewalk, away from Jason, Hot Chocolate in hand. Even with embarrassment flaming through your body, you can’t help the wide grin from settling onto your face. 

He had noticed you. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♡  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

You had noticed him. 

The thought alone made him giddy, and as he replayed the entire interaction, he couldn’t help his heart from thumping wildly in his ribcage. 

You had talked to him. You apologized to him, said his name. 

Slowly, he sat back down in his usual leather chair, starstruck. Next to him, Dick laughed as he watched his brother. 

“If this is how you're acting after one small interaction, I think you’re in trouble.”

“Shut up, Dick.” 

Haley barked softly, wagging her tail.

[tipsywithintent]

⋆ ★ You Never Call Me.⋆ ★

✩ Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship

✩ Word count: 1170

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Living with your boyfriend came with some non-negotiables. With Kiyoomi, that list was… detailed.

No outside shoes past the entryway. Shower first if you’ve been in a crowd. And parties - well, those were a you thing. Not a him thing. Ever.

He never stopped you from going. Never guilted you or made you feel bad about enjoying yourself. But when things got wild, and you drank a little too much or needed a ride home, you knew better than to call him.

He hated crowds. Hated drunk strangers brushing up against him. Hated touching things that smelled like beer and regret.

So, you always called your best friend instead. It was easier - for both of you. At least, that’s what you thought.

Until one night, everything shifted.

⸻

Your phone died somewhere around midnight, just after you’d spilled half a cocktail on yourself and started getting dizzy from the lights. Your friend was late, and the sidewalk was cold beneath you as you sat curled near the curb, trying to hum a song that wouldn’t stick in your head.

When headlights pulled up, you didn’t expect to see his car. And when the driver’s door opened, and Sakusa stepped out in a hoodie and mask, you thought for a second you might be hallucinating.

“…Kiyoomi?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. “You didn’t call. You always call them."

“I - phone died…”

“I figured. So I called your friend. They didn’t know where you were. I tracked your location from the app you forgot you shared with me.” His voice was calm, almost too calm. “Get in the car.”

You stood - wobbled, really - and he took a half step forward, then stopped himself. His hands hovered, like he wanted to catch you but couldn’t quite bring himself to touch you yet.

Once you were seated, seatbelt buckled by your own slow hands, he started the engine. You could see how tightly he gripped the steering wheel.

⸻

At home, Sakusa didn’t say much. He helped you inside, let you lean on the hallway wall instead of him, and guided you toward the bathroom.

There was water waiting. Aspirin. A damp towel that he passed to you with the sleeve of his hoodie shielding his hand. Still no words.

When you stumbled into bed in one of his spare shirts, he gently laid a second blanket over you. His movements were careful - almost clinical - but there was something tender beneath the way he tucked it around your shoulders.

And then he sat on the edge of the bed, mask off, curls slightly messy from stress. “Sleep,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk later.”

⸻

You woke to a hangover and a full pitcher of water by your bedside. Sakusa was already in the kitchen, hair tied up, wiping down the counter even though it was already spotless.

You padded in on bare feet, clutching the sleeves of his oversized shirt. “…Hey.”

He glanced at you, then looked back down at the counter. “Morning. Feeling like death?”

“Little bit.”

“Aspirin’s still by the sink.”

You took it in silence, trying to read him. His shoulders were tense.

When you finally sat across from him, the quiet stretched thin between you.

And then, he said it.

“You always call them.”

Not angry. Not cold. Just… hurt.

You blinked. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t think I’d come get you.”

“I know you hate parties. The people, the smells. I didn’t want to drag you into that.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he said, voice tight now. “You think I care more about being annoyed than knowing you’re safe?”

You shrank a little under the weight of it. “…No.”

“I sat here last night thinking about where you could be. Wondering if someone had taken advantage of how drunk you were. I don’t care if I hate parties, or touching people, or standing in line to get to you. I care about you.”

You stared at him, eyes wide, chest twisting.

He looked down at the table, like he regretted snapping. Then, in a quieter voice: “You didn’t even give me the chance.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t think it would matter.”

“It matters.”

He stood slowly, walked over to where you were sitting, and rested a hand on your head - tentative, soft, but real. His fingers brushed your hair, then your cheek.

“You can always call me,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “I’ll come. Every time.”

Your throat tightened. “Even if I smell like club air and regret?”

He sighed and smiled - actually smiled, just a little. “I’ll disinfect everything later.”

And then, carefully, like it was nothing - and everything - he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-Four

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, autistic breakdown on page, racing accidents (Las Vegas 2023), domestic fluff, slight (?) cliffhanger

Notes — Another longggg one! Hope you love it.

2023 (Las Vegas)

It was one of those overcast afternoons where the sky couldn’t decide if it wanted to rain or not. The light through the huge windows was grey and flat, and the air inside the rented house-slash-shoot-location had that odd, sterile warmth that came from too many camera batteries and ring lights and people trying to look casual for content.

The house itself was the kind of place you couldn’t quite imagine anyone actually living in — all clean lines, brushed steel, and exposed concrete. There were too many stairs. Too many echoey corners. And absolutely no soft lighting. It had been chosen for aesthetics, not comfort.

Amelia sat curled in the corner of the oversized leather sofa, knees tucked under her, one hand gripping her iPad, the other fidgeting absently with the drawstring of a hoodie that had somehow ended up in her lap. She hadn’t asked for it. Someone had draped it over her when she sat down, and now it was hers, apparently. That was fine. She liked the weight of it.

Her focus, however, was fixed entirely on her screen. The Vegas GP loomed ahead — a race full of unknowns, simulations stacked high with red flags and conditional parameters that changed every time she blinked. The track was new, the surface barely tested, the layout odd and inconsistent. Every variable gave her brain another reason to loop. And loop. And loop.

She was halfway through calculating braking loads based on preliminary corner speeds when Lando wandered past, all soft socks and too-long limbs, dragging one arm into a puffer jacket he wasn’t really planning to zip. He slowed when he saw her, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You gonna wear that for a photo?” He asked, nodding at the hoodie.

Amelia didn’t look up. “No.”

He paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “You sure? You’d look cute.”

She blinked once, then met his eyes. “I’m not in the mood for cute. I’m calculating brake performance for a track we have literally never raced on before. There are so many variables. I’m stressed.”

Across the room, Max Fewtrell barked a laugh, his voice echoing faintly as he adjusted a light stand. “That’s the most Amelia sentence I’ve ever heard. Like, ever.”

Pietra, seated on the floor nearby in flared jeans and a cloud-soft crewneck, turned toward Amelia with a gentle smile. She had a scrunchie looped around her wrist and two bracelets Amelia had given her after a layover in Japan. “You can do both,” Pietra said warmly. “Be cute and stressed.”

Amelia looked at her, expression softening around the eyes. “Honestly, I just want to stay sat down.”

“Okay,” Pietra said, and leaned sideways to gently press her shoulder against Amelia’s. “Then we’ll sit. Together.”

Amelia didn’t say thank you. But she didn’t move away, either.

Lando reappeared a moment later with a bottle of water in one hand and a small protein bar in the other. He plopped onto the armrest beside her, knees brushing hers. His eyes flicked to the hoodie.

“You know that one’s technically mine.”

“I don’t care,” Amelia said without looking up.

He grinned. “I figured.” He nudged her ankle gently with his socked foot. “Still think it’d look better on you anyway.”

“That’s not difficult,” she replied, tugging the cuff of the hoodie over her hand. Then, after a pause, she added flatly, “That was a joke.”

Max dropped into a nearby chair, flinging one leg over the side with practiced drama. “Just one picture of you, Amelia? Come on, people would love it. Bit of behind-the-scenes. The fans adore when you’re in anything.”

Amelia didn’t even blink. “No thank you.”

Lando snorted into his water bottle. Pietra let out a warm laugh. “Stop bothering her, Max. Lando does enough of that.”

“Oi,” Lando said, mock-affronted. “Leave me out of this.”

“You’re both bothering me,” Amelia replied, perfectly even. “I’m trying to work. I already hate the Vegas track.”

He turned his full attention to her now, brows lifting. “Why? We haven’t even been yet.”

“Because it’s new!” she burst out, sharper than she meant to. The volume bounced off the walls. She winced immediately, ducking her head into her shoulder. Her voice dropped low, controlled. “Because it’s new and we haven’t raced it before and that means no past data to lean on. That means sim work based on theoretical grip levels. That means error margins get wider. And that means I have to prepare twice as hard with half as much certainty.”

There was a pause.

“...Fair enough,” Lando said gently.

“I hate guessing,” she mumbled.

“No one likes guessing,” Pietra offered.

Amelia gave a small nod. “I like control. I like knowing.”

Max opened his mouth like he was about to tease her, then caught the subtle tension in her shoulders and wisely shut it again.

Lando tapped the top of her tablet lightly with one finger. “Well. You’ll figure it out, baby. You always do.”

She glanced up at him. “Because it’s my job.”

“And because you’re brilliant.”

She didn’t respond, but the corner of her mouth ticked upward.

“Are you wearing that to dinner later?” Pietra asked, gesturing to the hoodie.

Amelia looked down at it, then back at her. “Yes. I don’t want to change. I’m comfortable.”

Pietra smiled. “Good. I’ll wear mine too. We’ll match.”

“Accidentally?”

“Deliberately.”

Amelia considered that. “Okay. But only if we sit near the window.”

Pietra beamed. “Done.”

Lando looked between them, then leaned back on his hands. “You’ve replaced me.”

Amelia didn’t even blink. “I only want to kiss you.”

He made a thoughtful face. “Alright. I’ll allow it.”

Max rolled his eyes. “You’re both so weird.”

“I’m autistic,” Amelia said plainly.

“You’re the weird one,” Pietra added to Max.

“Rude,” Max said.

Lando grinned. “You’re still in love with us.”

“Terrible.”

Outside, the sky finally made up its mind — light rain pattering against the windows in slow, scattered streaks.

Inside, Amelia tucked the hoodie tighter around her, legs still folded, checklist still glowing on the iPad in her lap. Her head leaned lightly against Pietra’s shoulder now, and Lando’s hand rested on her shin — grounding, present, always within reach.

They’d survive Vegas. They would.

Amelia exhaled through her nose. “I need a backup plan for the Sector 2 hairpin.”

“You’ll come up with one,” Lando said, completely sure.

And she would.

Because she always did.

—

The sim suite smelled faintly of coffee and carpet glue.

It was making Amelia feel violently ill.

It was well past nine in the evening, and the McLaren Technology Centre was mostly dark — lights dimmed, staff dispersed, and only the low hum of servers and quiet keystrokes from the strategy team still working in the next room. On the main screen, a full layout of the Las Vegas circuit was overlaid with predictive data. Telemetry lines in orange and blue flickered in real time, charting Oscar’s run.

Inside the sim rig, Oscar exhaled sharply and let the steering wheel go slack as the run ended.

“Turn ten still feels off,” he said, voice crackling slightly through the headset. “Rear snaps too easily on downshift. It’s like— I don’t know. It just unloads.”

Amelia stood beside the sim rig, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t look at Oscar as she replied. She was looking at the data instead. “We’re too aggressive with the engine braking into the apex,” she said. “You’re already on a mid-bite diff setting. I can pull back the torque map slightly — see if we can stabilise it.”

Oscar lifted his visor and blinked into the low lighting. “We tried that earlier though.”

“That was with a higher track temp sim,” one of the strategy engineers chimed in from his desk.

Amelia nodded. “This time we’re modelling it colder. Night session, cooler surface, lower grip. It’s a different profile now.”

Oscar gave her a skeptical look. “You think it’ll make the difference?”

“I don’t know,” she said flatly. “We run tests. And I wait for the results.”

He frowned at her. “You’re stressed.”

“I’m not stressed,” Amelia replied. “I’m tired. And annoyed. This track is stupid.”

The strategist behind her snorted into his water bottle. “That’s the technical term, is it?”

“Yes,” she said, deadpan. “Stupid.”

Oscar raised a hand in surrender. “Okay, okay. No argument from me.”

Amelia stepped forward and typed something into the control console. “I’ll load the next setup with the revised map and a minor front wing tweak. You’ll run sectors two and three only.”

Oscar nodded, settling back into the seat. “Short run. Got it.”

“Not just short,” Amelia added. “Precision. I want minimal steering corrections. No overcommitting. If we’re going to adjust setup for the race, I need to see your clean line.”

Behind her, Lando’s voice chimed in from the doorway, “someone’s feeling bossy tonight.”

Amelia didn’t turn around. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m just here to observe,” Lando said, stepping in with a smoothie and a faint smirk. “Oscar’s face is funny when he gets told off for oversteering.”

Oscar flipped him off without lifting his head.

Amelia keyed in the updated run. “I don’t care what his face does. I care about what the car does.”

Lando walked over, watching the screen over her shoulder. “What’s the target delta?”

“Half a second gain from his last run if the balance correction holds.”

Lando let out a low whistle. “Ambitious.”

“It’s not,” Amelia replied. “It’s necessary.”

There was a pause.

“You doing okay, baby?” He asked, a bit more gently now.

“I will be fine,” she said. “After Vegas is over and no one asks me to model tyre deg on untested tarmac again.”

Oscar cleared his throat from the rig. “Not to interrupt, but—uh—ready when you are.”

“Go ahead,” Amelia said, refocusing instantly. “Cold tyres, revised torque, short sector two and three run. Confirm.”

“Confirmed,” Oscar replied.

The sim kicked back into life. Virtual Vegas, all garish lights and overblown spectacle, unfurled across the screen. Oscar’s car dove into sector two with smoother transitions, noticeably fewer corrections in the corners.

“Better,” Amelia muttered, half to herself.

Oscar’s voice came through again. “Still doesn’t feel natural, but it’s drivable now.”

“We don’t need natural,” she said. “We need consistency.”

Oscar snorted. “You should get that put on a mug.”

“I did,” Lando added from behind her. Sarcastically. “It’s in our kitchen. Pink ceramic. Very cute.”

Amelia didn’t respond to that. She was too busy watching the data smooth out. Torque delivery flattened. Brake pressure stayed linear. The car made it through turn ten without any hint of snap.

Finally, she let out a breath. “Alright. That’s something we can build on.”

Oscar coasted to a stop in the sim. “You going to sleep tonight?”

“No,” Amelia said plainly. “I’m going to write a full report for Andrea and then run sector modelling for Sunday. Maybe tomorrow I’ll sleep.”

Lando moved closer, brushing his hand against hers lightly. “You’ll sleep. I’ll make sure of it.”

Amelia didn’t argue, but she didn’t confirm either.

Instead, she turned back to the engineers. “We’ll do a full load run tomorrow, weather sim in two parts. I’ll rework the wing config tonight.”

Oscar pulled off his gloves. “Do we ever do anything the easy way?”

“No,” Amelia said simply. “But if we want to win, we’re going to have to do it the hard way.”

Lando smiled at that. “Now that should go on a mug.”

—

The Woking flat was dark except for the glow of Amelia’s laptop screen and the soft blue hue of the night bleeding in through the curtains.

Lando had been asleep for the last hour. Or at least, he’d been pretending to be—chest rising slow and steady under the covers, one arm thrown across the pillow she’d vacated earlier. He hadn’t moved, even when she’d shifted to the desk by the window and started typing furiously with only a desk lamp and the stars for company.

She’d barely noticed how stiff her back had become. Her legs were tucked beneath her again, one sock half-rolled, posture twisted into something unnatural. Her fingers moved with focused speed, mapping Oscar’s sector performance against a projected tyre wear curve.

“Amelia,” Lando said, voice rough from sleep but still gentle. “Baby. Come back to bed.”

She didn’t look up. “I’m almost done.”

“You’ve been almost done for forty minutes.”

“That’s because I keep finding new things to optimise,” she replied, tapping a key with just a little too much force. “The grip model’s still off in sector three. I think the sim is overcompensating for the surface temp. If Oscar brakes, he’s going to overshoot.”

Lando sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. “You know you’re going to fix it all tomorrow anyway, right? It doesn’t all need to happen tonight.”

“It does,” she said immediately. “It does, because it’s unpredictable, and if I don’t account for everything now, I’ll be scrambling when I’m supposed to be thinking clearly. And I hate scrambling.”

He rolled out of bed with a sleepy grunt and crossed the room to her, quiet and barefoot on the plush carpet. When he reached her, he leaned against the edge of the desk, arms folded, watching her for a long moment. Not judging. Just… taking her in.

“You’re spiralling,” he said simply.

“No, I’m working.”

“Amelia.”

That one word, soft and firm and Lando-shaped, made her pause.

She didn’t meet his eyes, but her hands stilled over the keyboard. Her mouth was set in a thin line. Tired. Frustrated.

“I don’t know how to switch it off,” she admitted, barely above a whisper. “Not when I know I haven’t solved the problem.”

“I know,” he said, and gently reached to brush a lock of hair from her cheek. “But right now the problem is that you’re running on fumes, and if you don’t rest, you’re not going to solve anything.”

“But—”

“You’ll still be brilliant in the morning. I promise.”

She swallowed, jaw tense. “I hate how much I care. I hate that it makes me feel—” She clenched one hand into a fist. “Like I’m chasing something I can never quite catch. Because there’s always something else to fix.”

“I know,” Lando said again. “But you’re allowed to rest without fixing everything first. That doesn’t make you less good at your job. It just makes you human, yeah?”

Amelia looked at him finally. Her eyes were glassy, but not tearful. Just full — with pressure, with effort, with the weight of wanting to be the best and feeling like she had to prove it constantly.

He reached down and took her hand in his.

“Come to bed,” he said gently. “I’ll lie awake with you if your brain won’t shut up. We can talk about strategy, or nothing at all. But I want you with me.”

Amelia hesitated. Then closed her laptop with a soft click.

“Okay,” she said, voice a little hollow from the sudden shift in momentum. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Lando squeezed her hand and led her back toward the bed. She climbed in beside him, limbs slow and uncertain, like she wasn’t sure how to be still. He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“You’re allowed to rest,” he whispered. “You’re allowed to exist outside of your job.”

She let out a long, shaky breath. “I know.”

“Say it like you believe it.”

“I’m allowed to rest,” she repeated, curling into him. “Even if I haven’t fixed everything.”

He smiled against her skin. “Good girl.”

Amelia relaxed by inches, not all at once, never that, but her breath began to slow, her hands stopped fidgeting, and the tension in her shoulders faded as his warmth soaked into her.

It was enough.

—

Amelia stirred slowly, the weight of Lando’s arm still draped across her waist, his breathing deep and even behind her.

Her brain came online before her eyes opened. The first thought was always a race.

Telemetry. Overnight sim data. Updated Vegas surface temps. Sector three.

She kept her eyes shut. Just for a moment longer.

Her hand reached, automatically, half-blind, toward the bedside table. She found her phone and lit the screen — brightness low, eyes squinting. There was a new email flagged from McLaren strategy. An attachment from the sim team. A message from Oscar. Just a quick one.

Brake marker change in T11? Feel like it’s off. Can we run it again?

Her thumb hovered over the reply button.

Then a low, sleepy voice rumbled behind her ear. “If you answer that, I’m going to bite you.”

She stilled.

Lando’s voice was rough with sleep, his face still half buried in her hair, but his grip on her waist tightened just slightly — enough to ground her, enough to keep her in the moment.

“I wasn’t going to answer,” she said softly. “I was just checking—”

“You were doing the exact thing we talked about,” he said, not unkindly. “Waking up and not even giving yourself ten minutes to take care of yourself before you start thinking about everyone else.”

She blinked. Her screen dimmed and went black. She let the phone fall gently back onto the bed.

Lando pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. “Thank you.”

“I really wasn’t going to do anything,” she murmured again, not sure why she was defending it. “I just needed to know what’s going on. So I could stop thinking about it.”

“I get that.” He kissed the back of her neck this time, a little firmer. “But I also know you. One look turns into an hour of work. You don’t know how to stop unless someone physically pins you down.”

She rolled onto her back to look at him. His hair was flattened on one side. His eyes were sleepy but open now, watching her like she was something fragile he was determined not to drop.

“I just don’t want to miss something important,” she said. “Vegas is proving to be a nightmare.”

“We’ll be fine. You’ll be better than fine.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I can guarantee that if you burn yourself out now, you won’t be able to fix the problems when they actually matter.”

Her lips twisted into something half-smile, half-grimace. “That’s annoying because it’s true.”

“Mm.” He nuzzled her hairline. “I like you when you’re being all smart-pants Amelia,” Lando said, pulling her closer again. “But I like it better when you’re well-rested.”

She sighed and let herself relax, her head falling against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat — steady and calm — the opposite of her usual thrum of anxious energy.

He tapped her hip. “Tell you what. You stay here, in bed, with me for fifteen more minutes. Then I’ll get up and bring you your laptop, your iPad, three highlighters and whatever else you need. Deal?”

She closed her eyes. Thought about saying no. Thought about Vegas. Then she nodded.

“Deal.”

Lando smiled against her temple. “My girl.”

—

Las Vegas

Amelia found herself blinking too fast at the way the skyline shimmered. There was no charm, there was only overstimulation. Neon screamed from every building; engines echoed off concrete; something in the air smelled like fried sugar.

Her stomach turned.

As they moved through the paddock, she turned sharply to her dad, who was walking beside her, and asked, "Can I do a track walk later? I need to see the surface in person. Kerb structure, cambers. The sim doesn’t replicate the actual feel, not at night."

Zak gave her a careful look, then a sigh that told her the answer before he said it. “Honey… I’m sorry. They’re limiting access this weekend. Safety regulations, plus a logistical headache with all the road closures. Sorry, kiddo."

She stopped walking entirely. “What do you mean? That’s ridiculous. My understanding of this track is directly tied to driver performance.”

“I know that,” Zak said, placating. “But it’s out of my hands. FIA’s ruling.”

Amelia blinked. Hard. Her jaw set. Her brain scrambled to make the logic work — and couldn’t. The denial didn’t make sense from a safety standpoint or a performance one, and worse, it was illogical and personal.

She threw both hands out in disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now? What kind of regulatory framework tells the people making car decisions that they can’t assess the track in person?”

Zak ran a hand down his face. “I know. Believe me, I tried. I even—”

“No, this is absurd,” Amelia went on, ignoring the curious glances of passing engineers and team staff. “I’m being told to rely on visual models and telemetry estimates on a track that doesn’t exist on any previous calendar. Dad.”

That word slipped out sharp and unimpressed.

Zak winced. “You’re mad at the wrong person.”

Amelia exhaled through her nose and folded her arms. “I’m mad at everyone.”

Lando, a few steps ahead, doubled back when he realised she wasn’t beside him anymore. “Everything okay?”

“She’s not allowed to walk the track,” Zak supplied.

Lando’s brows rose. “Why not?”

“Ask the FIA,” Amelia muttered, rocking slightly on her heels, clearly overstimulated and trying not to explode about it.

Lando gave a low whistle, stepping up beside her. “That’s proper stupid.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said, voice clipped.

Lando’s hand slid to the small of her back. Just the lightest pressure. She leaned into it instinctively, grounding herself.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured. “You’ve been simulating this track for two months. You probably know it better than anyone else already.”

Amelia didn’t answer right away. She looked out at the chaos of the strip behind the paddock fencing, then back at the rows of garages, the closed doors, the high fences. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

Zak, softer now, said, “Hey. Don’t give this the power to make you wobble, alright? You’ve got this!”

Her face didn’t soften, but her posture did, just slightly. She nodded, tight and short.

Then, “If Oscar crashes because I misjudge Turn 12 apex grip, I’m going to email the FIA and tell them to eat gravel.”

Lando grinned. “There she is. My beautiful, terrifying wife.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” He leaned in to kiss the side of her head and whispered, “Now stop worrying so much.”

—

The media room was lit like a game show. Two stools, a camera crew, a backdrop with the McLaren logo, and a table of whiteboards and markers.

Oscar looked mildly bored. Lando looked amused. Amelia looked like she’s been forced to be there (she had).

A social media coordinator beamed behind the camera. “Okay, welcome to a special edition of 'Who Knows Her Best!'  We’ve got our race engineer Amelia here, and joining us are her driver, Oscar Piastri—”

Oscar gave an awkward little wave.

“—and her husband, Lando Norris!”

Lando winked at the camera.

Amelia stared dead ahead. “You have ten minutes. I have things to do.”

“Great! First question—What’s Amelia’s favourite food?”

Lando started writing instantly.

Oscar hesitated. “Does coffee count?”

Amelia frowned. “No. You don’t chew coffee.”

He groaned and scrawled something anyway.

“Alright—reveal!”

Lando flipped his board: Marco’s Italian Marinara Pizza Oscar’s board: …Toast?

Amelia pursed her lips. “Lando’s right.”

Oscar muttered, “She eats toast every morning.”

“I eat it because it's efficient, not because it brings me joy,” she replied.

Next question.

“Okay—what’s Amelia’s biggest pet peeve?”

Oscar didn’t hesitate.

Lando paused and narrowed his eyes. “Only one?”

They flipped.

Oscar: Inefficiency Lando: People breathing loudly near her

Amelia blinked. “Both are right. I can’t put one above the other.”

Lando smirked. “So I get half a point?”

“We didn’t agree on half points.” She huffed.

Oscar stifled a laugh.

The coordinator laughed nervously. “Alright! Final question: What’s her idea of a perfect day off?”

The boys scribbled.

Reveal:

Oscar: A quiet room, iPad fully charged, noise-canceling headphones Lando: No phones. No noise. Me, her, somewhere nobody can find us.

Amelia looked at both answers, then spoke flatly.

“Oscar’s is my ideal race-weekend. Lando’s is correct for a non-race-weekend.”

Lando grinned. “Boom.”

Oscar sighed. “I should’ve said that.”

“You were just guessing.” She shrugged.

The social media manager clapped. “Well! Looks like… Lando wins!"

Amelia stood. “Great. I’m going back to run a qualifying simulation now.”

She left frame without saying goodbye.

Oscar and Lando both laughed as the camera faded to the McLaren logo.

—

The McLaren garage buzzed with the low hum of machinery and murmured radio checks. Engineers moved with purpose, but Amelia sat on the edge of Oscar’s workstation, unusually still, arms folded tightly across her chest.

Oscar was halfway into his race suit, glancing at her between sips from his bottle.

“You’re staring at me,” he said, trying to make it light.

“I’m thinking,” she replied flatly.

He waited. She didn’t elaborate.

A beat passed.

Then, in that clipped, low tone of hers, “Track’s colder than ideal. Grip will suck the first stint. You’ll want to push, but don’t chase the feeling if it’s not there. Let it come to you.”

He nodded, tightening his gloves. “Copy.”

“Stay out of traffic, especially Sector 2. If someone impedes you, don’t get emotional about it. Just report and reset.”

Oscar studied her. “You okay?”

“I’m briefing you.”

“…Right.”

She unfolded her arms slowly, like the motion took effort. Her jaw was tense. The usual snap in her delivery was duller, like she was wading through fog and didn’t want to show it.

“You don’t need to prove anything to anyone today,” she said finally, without meeting his eyes. “Not to me. Not to the paddock. Just get the data. Clean session. That’s the win.”

Oscar hesitated. “You sure you’re alright?”

She finally looked at him. Her expression didn’t shift, but there was something behind her eyes—tired, maybe. Not physically. He couldn’t tell.

“Focus on your job, Oscar.”

A long pause.

“Alright,” he said softly. “Let’s do it, then.”

He turned to leave for the car, but her hand briefly touched his forearm.

It was the first time she’d done that all season.

“You’ve got this,” she said.

And then she was gone; disappearing behind a headset and a screen, shutting the world out with precision.

Oscar didn’t say anything.

But when he climbed into the car and pulled his belts tight, his shoulders were a little squarer. His breathing calmer.

—

The TV feed cut to chaos. Red flag. Marshals sprinted onto the track. Carlos’s Ferrari was being craned away. Oscar hadn’t even managed to leave the garage yet.

Amelia stood at the pit wall, arms crossed, headset still on. She hadn’t blinked in fifteen seconds.

Her dad appeared behind her, phone in hand, expression a blend of irritation and corporate damage control.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Drain cover came loose,” she said flatly. “Sainz drove over it at 320. Floor’s completely destroyed.”

Zak frowned. “Seriously?”

“Yes. The cover wasn’t welded properly. Obvious risk. They didn’t check.”

He looked at the monitor. “Are we running Oscar?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She turned her head slowly toward him. “Because there’s a hole in the track.”

Zak didn’t respond.

She continued. “Sending a car out now is negligent. I already told Race Control we won’t participate until they give a structural inspection report. I won’t risk Oscar’s chassis because someone forgot a torque wrench.”

Zak sighed. “Okay.”

Behind them, mechanics hovered awkwardly, unsure whether to continue prep or stand down. Amelia tapped her headset.

“FP1 is over,” she said, voice clipped. “Go back to base. Check Lando’s floor and cooling ducts for debris. Full diagnostic.”

Oscar walked up, half-suited, helmet under his arm. “What’s going on?”

She looked at him. “You’re not going out. Drain cover came off. Session’s red-flagged.”

“That’s it?”

“It could’ve killed someone,” she said. “So yes. That’s it.”

He blinked. “Right.”

She turned to walk back toward her workstation.

Zak called after her. “Don’t be angry!”

She stopped. Looked over her shoulder. “I’m not. Anger won’t fix the track.” Then, after a beat, she said, “But I think someone should be fired.”

And she walked off to find her husband.

—

The lights along the Strip hadn’t dimmed, but everything else had gone strangely quiet.

It was well past midnight. The garage, usually crackling with anticipation before a session, felt more like a waiting room. Too many people moving too carefully, voices lowered like something had been interrupted. Amelia stood at the pit wall, headset already pinching slightly against her temple, her fingers motionless over the trackpad. Waiting.

She hadn’t said much in the last hour. Not out of some dramatic mood, she just didn’t feel like filling the air with worthless commentary.

When the green light finally blinked on at the end of the pit lane, there wasn’t relief. Just exasperation.

She keyed her mic, steady. “Box out. Let’s see how everything feels.”

Oscar responded immediately. “Copy.”

The car pulled away, the hum of the engine disappearing into the neon distance. She stared after it a beat too long.

They hadn’t run in FP1. None of the planned setup work mattered anymore, this was just about salvaging time, collecting data.

But now, every drain cover was now a threat. Just another thing to add to her list of concerns.

Amelia’s eyes flicked to the screen, watching Oscar’s telemetry as if she could will the suspension to stay intact through every straight.

Two chairs down, her dad made some offhand joke about this being “the most expensive late-night go-kart session ever,” and she smiled with half her face, but didn’t turn.

The data streamed in. Amelia’s brain parsed it automatically, throttle traces, brake pressures, steering angles, but the usual focus wasn’t clicking the same way tonight. She pressed the mic button. “Feeling okay with the grip?” She asked.

“Better than expected,” Oscar replied. “Still a bit green, but manageable.”

“Copy that. Let’s try Mode 7 next lap.”

A beat passed.

“You alright?”

She blinked. The question had come in over a private channel. Just him. “Yeah,” she said. “Just having to watch everything twice. Sorry if I sound a bit distracted.”

She didn’t add that the neon lights were starting to feel like they were flickering behind her eyes, or that the pressure in her chest hadn’t really gone away since the FP1 red flag. Or that the silence before the sessions had settled into her bones in a way that didn’t feel temporary.

But none of that mattered. Not tonight. He had 90 minutes, and they had to make every single one of them count.

She shuffled on her hair, opened the sector comparison window, and let out a quiet breath. “Let’s go hunting, ducky.”

—

Amelia sat on the edge of a low bench, her headset off, fingers tapping absently on the worn fabric of her skirt. Oscar slid next to her, helmet still under one arm, face flushed from the heat of the track.

“You did well out there,” she told him.

Oscar smiled, the kind that barely touched his eyes. “You sure? It felt like I was half driving with one eye on every drain cover.”

She let out a soft, humourless chuckle. “Yeah, well, that’s what we get for racing on a casino parking lot.”

He glanced at her, watching for the flicker of something beneath her calm. “You okay?”

Her eyes caught his. “I’m fine. Just... processing. You know how it is.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. If you need to step back or—”

“No.” She shook her head, almost imperceptibly. “No. I’m fine.”

Oscar leaned back, exhaling through his nose. “Roll on tomorrow, eh?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Tomorrow.”

—

Oscar and Lando stood by the side of the track, away from the chatter and TV cameras, sharing a rare moment of quiet.

“She’s different,” Oscar said, voice low, like sharing a secret. “Not in a bad way. Just... more quiet, more serious. Even when she talks, it’s like she’s somewhere else.”

Lando nodded, eyes scanning the pit lane as if he could spot the cause in the distance. “Yeah. Noticed. You think she’s pushing herself too hard?”

Oscar shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll keep an eye on her. Don’t want to be that guy who notices too late.”

“Good call,” Lando said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll try to get it out of her tonight, but I appreciate it.”

Oscar smiled, half relieved. “Anytime, mate.”

—

The lobby’s glare hit Amelia like a punch, each flicker of neon and burst of laughter hammering against the fragile calm she’d been clinging to all weekend. Every unfamiliar voice seemed to multiply, overlapping into a chaotic storm behind her eyes. Her skin prickled, nerves sparking in every inch of her body. She tried to focus on the steady rhythm of her own breath, but it felt shallow, too fast.

The weekend had been a relentless tide of changes — the new track layout, unexpected strategies, the flood of questions from media she barely had energy to endure. Everyone expected her to be sharp, ready, unflappable. But inside, her mind was scrambling to process it all, the sensory overload making everything worse.

She could feel the walls closing in, the pressure building behind her ribcage, tightening like a vice.

Just breathe. But the breath didn’t come easy. Her hands clenched at her sides, fingers trembling.

She tried to steady herself, a practiced smile pressed onto her face for the reception staff, for Lando, for Oscar. But it was too much. Too loud. Too unpredictable.

The floodgate broke.

Her vision blurred, chest tightening until it felt like the air itself was betraying her. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want anyone to see this unraveling — but she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Lando’s voice cut through the haze — soft, patient, familiar.

“Hey, baby. Let’s go over here.”

His touch was a lifeline, grounding her in the chaos. She stumbled toward him, every shaky breath breaking as the raw exhaustion spilled out.

She wanted to explain, to scream ‘this isn’t weakness!’ but the words caught in her throat.

Lando didn’t say a thing. He just reached out, firm and steady, pressing his hand gently but insistently into the small of her back. A solid, grounding pressure that said, I’m here. I’ve got you.

She leaned into it, breath ragged, heart racing, muscles trembling. His warmth was steady beneath her — an anchor.

Her hands found his arms, clinging like an octopus, desperate for the hold that would stop the spinning. She didn’t have the words to ask for help, but the silent understanding in his touch was enough.

Without a word, Lando lifted her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing at all, cradling her close against his chest.

The noise of the lobby faded into background white noise as he carried her through it, the solid rhythm of his steps matching the slow crawl of her ragged breathing.

They moved past the glare of the lights, past the curious eyes, straight back to the safety of their room — where she could finally just be.

—

The shower ran hot, steam swirling thick and heavy in the small bathroom. Amelia sat on the cold tile floor, knees drawn up, fingers tightening around her stim toy, the familiar texture a welcome relief. The water hammered down, relentless and fierce and perfect.

Behind the fogged glass, Lando crouched, silent and steady. His presence wasn’t words or pressure, just steady warmth, a solid anchor in the swirling storm she couldn’t always control. His hand rested lightly on the tub’s edge, close enough that if she reached out, she’d find him there.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. His calm, wordless support let her unravel at her own pace, gave her permission to sink low and find the fragments of herself again. The tight coil inside loosened, breath slowing, muscles softening.

When she finally reached out, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and exhaled a slow, quiet breath.

—

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Amelia lay on her side, knees tucked in, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it might swallow her whole. The bed creaked softly as Lando shifted beside her.

After a long pause, his hand found hers in the dark. “You doing alright, baby?” He asked, voice low but steady.

She hesitated before answering. “No. Not really. Today was... too much. Like everything was spinning, but I was stuck in place.”

Lando squeezed her fingers gently, patient. “You’ve been on edge since we landed.”

A small nod, tight with tension. “Since the plane, yeah. I felt sick the entire flight. And then here—everything just kept coming at me. Noise, people, changes. I thought I could handle it, but it kept building.”

He kept his hand in hers, steady and warm. “Nobody had enjoyed the weekend so far, baby. I promise you, you’re not alone there.”

Amelia finally turned her head to look at him, eyes searching. “I don’t want to sound weak. Or like I’m complaining.”

Lando shook his head, a soft smile breaking through. “You’re the last person that anyone would think was weak.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little, a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding escaping in a quiet sigh. “I’ve just felt physically sick with nerves since we left England. It’s like the whole weekend’s hanging over me, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Hey,” he said gently, fingers fluttering over her cheek and eyelids, “We’ll get through it together. We handle tomorrow, then we handle race day, and then we get to go home.”

She gave a small, wry smile. “I might lose it completely if it wasn’t for you.”

Lando chuckled softly. “Wouldn’t let that happen, would I?”

They stayed like that for a while, fingers entwined, silence wrapping around them like a shield.

“I hate feeling like I’m not in control.”

“I know, baby. And I’m sorry I can’t take that feeling away.”

She blinked back the hint of tears, voice softer now. “Thanks for being here.”

He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “Always.”

—

The morning light spilled gently through the curtains, softening the edges of the hotel room. Amelia was curled up in bed, the duvet pulled just below her chin. Lando balanced a tray with two plates of eggs, toast, and steaming coffee, trying not to spill as he settled it on the bedside table.

Oscar sat on the edge of the bed, knees tucked under him, already half-entwined in the quiet comfort of the morning. This wasn’t their first breakfast like this; the three of them, an unspoken little routine born out of long weekends and unpredictable schedules.

Lando grinned as he handed Amelia her coffee. “Here you go. Not too sweet, I promise.”

She gave a small, tired smile, reaching out to take it. “Better than last time.”

Oscar, perched close by, reached for a piece of toast and grinned back at her. “Glad I don’t like coffee. I’m just here for the food.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow, sipping. “You remind me of a stray cat sometimes.”

Oscar laughed, warm and easy. “I weirdly don’t mind that comparison.”

Lando shot Amelia a fond look across the bed.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Oscar asked, munching thoughtfully.

Lando shrugged, “Take it slow. FP3 later and then Quali, obviously, but nothing crazy this morning.”

Amelia leaned back into the pillows, her voice quiet but steady. “I might go and buy some Epsom salts. Write some strategy notes in the bath.”

Oscar nodded, eyes kind. “Sounds relaxing”

She glanced at Lando, who gave her a small, encouraging smile. “Hope so,” she said simply.

Oscar reached out and ruffled Lando’s hair. “Christ, mate. You could do with a haircut.”

Lando scoffed, showing him away. “Fuck off. Says you, mister swoop.”

Amelia pursed her lips and hid her smile behind her mug.

—

The gift shop was a small, cluttered oasis of weirdness and nostalgia tucked inside the hotel lobby. Amelia was scanning the shelves with practiced efficiency, eyes locked on the little jars of bath salts.

Lando and Oscar were already browsing the second aisle.

Lando held up a neon cowboy hat. “Mate, how can you say no to this?”

Oscar was inspecting a glittery, oversized keychain shaped like a slot machine. “It’s got lights and sounds. Look.” He pressed a button and the keychain erupted with flashing colours and a cacophony of jingles. “Jackpot! I’m rich.”

Amelia sighed, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “Guys, don’t start. I just want some bath stuff.”

Oscar grinned, undeterred. “But we’re just doing cultural research.”

Lando plopped the cowboy hat on his head sideways and attempted a drawl. “Y’all ready for the rodeo?”

Amelia gave him a flat look. “Great look, husband.”

Oscar laughed and reached for a novelty plastic cactus, pretending it was a microphone. “Welcome to the Las Vegas Gift Show! I’m your host, Cactus Carl.”

Lando, clearly in his element, grabbed a toy rattlesnake and slithered it along the floor toward Amelia’s feet. “Don’t step on the snake! It’s venomous.”

Amelia stepped back, raising an eyebrow, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Right. Venomous and ridiculous.”

Finally, she found what she was looking for; a small, unassuming jar of lavender bath salts with a label promising relaxation. She grabbed it, turning to the boys.

“Alright, I’m done.”

Lando tilted his hat back and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Mission accomplished.”

Oscar picked up another keychain. “Hey, look at this one! It’s a limited edition.”

Amelia sighed tiredly.

—

Less than an hour later, the hotel bathroom was filled with the soft scent of lavender from the bath salts Amelia had chosen. The water was just the right temperature, warm enough to ease the tension knotted deep in her shoulders but not scalding. She sank down slowly, letting the heat seep in, her fingers tracing the ripples on the surface.

Outside the bathroom door, Lando and Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the wall with laptops balanced on their knees. Their voices were low, careful not to break the fragile calm Amelia was clinging to.

“So, the long straight,” Oscar said quietly. “Telemetry showed some unusual brake pressure spikes on your last run.” He said to Lando.

Lando nodded, flicking through the data. “Yeah, I noticed that too. Maybe the surface temperature was throwing off the balance?”

Amelia sighed, eyes closed. “Probably. Felt off the whole session.” She added, only having to speak a little louder than usual to be heard through the ajar door.

Oscar glanced toward the door. “You want us to try something different for FP3?”

She let her fingers trail in the water, thoughtful. “Maybe adjust front brake bias… just a bit.”

Lando nodded. “I’ll write it down.”

There was a pause, the only sound the gentle dripping from the faucet. Amelia opened her eyes a crack. “Thanks for this.”

Oscar grinned. “You asked for company and telemetry. We deliver.”

Lando chuckled. “Yeah, we’ve got nowhere better to be, baby.”

She let herself smile, a quiet warmth spreading beyond the bathwater. In this little bubble of steam and soft voices, the chaos felt a little less relentless.

—

FP3 was more than just practice—it was a chance to claw back control after yesterday’s chaos, and Amelia was feeling the weight of it.

Oscar was in the car, revving the engine, while her headset buzzed with team chatter. The track was unforgiving today, hotter, more demanding, but Amelia’s eyes stayed locked on the timing screen. She flicked through sector times, braking points, tire temps—all the little details she’d been obsessing over for days.

Her gut still fluttered, nerves stubborn beneath the surface, but she pushed it aside. This wasn’t the place for doubts. She spoke into the comms, “brake bias -0.3 for the next run. Watch rear temps.”

Her radio crackled, Oscar’s voice clipped but focused. “Got it. Feels different already.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Keep the feedback coming.”

A few laps later, she caught a subtle improvement in the data—sector two times shaving off milliseconds. Not perfect, but progress. The day wasn’t going to beat her.

By the end of FP3, the sun was blazing, sweat damp on her brow. Amelia’s mind was a swirl of analysis, but beneath it all was something steadier—quiet confidence, the kind that comes after pushing through the noise.

When Oscar pulled into the pits, she let herself exhale. One step closer.

—

Qualifying came in the blink of an eye and Amelia’s eyes were glued to the screen, every pixel of telemetry, every split second on the sector times drilled into her mind.

Oscar’s car cut through the track, precise and aggressive, pushing the limits. Amelia’s fingers tapped lightly on the desk—not from nerves, but calculation, running through every variable in her head. She caught the slight twitch in the rear suspension, the tiny loss of rear grip in sector two. Adjustments would be needed. Not a disaster, but enough to make a difference.

Will was nearby, watching too, but Amelia barely noticed him.

Oscar crossed the line, a clean lap, but not quite the best. Amelia’s brow furrowed. “Sector three’s where he’s losing time. Let’s tweak the brake bias for the final run.”

Will leaned over, quiet but warm. “You think he’s got it?”

She didn’t look away from the screen. “I don't know. He needs the car to behave like it’s supposed to.”

The final moments stretched taut, then Oscar’s second run flashed up. Faster, cleaner. Still not enough to get out of Q1. Her jaw clenched. 

Fuck. 

—

[Twitter Feed – #protectamelia]

@/f1fanatic123:

just saw that vid of amelia having a full autistic meltdown in the hotel lobby in vegas last night… why don’t you weirdos shut the hell up and disappear into a hole and leave the fucking girl alone omfg

@/raceengineerlvr:

people spreading that clip with zero context? big yikes. amelia is freaking brilliant and deserves respect. stop the ableism.

@/landosupportr:

if anyone can handle this insane pressure it’s amelia. lando’s lucky af to have her, and honestly? so are we. back off.

@/keepitrealf1: autistic, blunt, iconic. amelia’s meltdown is just her being human—get over your toxic asses.

@/f1momlife: as a parent to a neurodivergent kiddo, this blatant ableism online is disgusting. show some empathy. #protectamelia

@/oscarp443:

oscar’s team isn’t complete without amelia. her meltdown shows how much she cares. toxic ‘fans’ need to check themselves

@/nocapf1:

y’all acting like sharing a meltdown is funny or weak. nahhhhhhhh, that’s ableism 101. have some respect or just stay offline ????

@/disabledandproud:

this is EXACTLY why autistic ppl get unfair hate. stop weaponising someone’s mental health moments for clicks. grow up.

@/f1_truthteller:

seeing the clips blow up and ppl twisting it into jokes? pure ableist nonsense. end of.

—

[Instagram – McLaren Official Story]

Video clip of Amelia working intently in the garage, captioned:

"Focused, fierce, and the backbone of the papaya team."

—

[Reddit – r/formula1]

Post Title:

“Can we talk about the video of Amelia Norris? The backlash is unreal and uncalled for.”

Top comment:

“It’s easy to forget these people are human. Amelia’s dedication is clear, and the meltdown just shows how much she gives. This fandom can be toxic. Let’s be better.”

—

Amelia sat rigid, fingers barely twitching on the edge of the conference table. The room felt too bright, too loud—like a spotlight had been slammed onto her without warning. She watched her dad pace. His voice was steady but tight, every word laced with frustration.

“How did we let this happen? The video should’ve been reported immediately.”

She caught Lando’s fists clenching behind her, his jaw set hard. He wasn’t shouting—he didn’t need to. The anger radiated off him like heat, a shield she wanted to lean into.

Oscar was quieter than usual, but his eyes, sharp and steady, burned with the same quiet fury.

They all thought they were defending her.

But inside Amelia, it felt like a thousand static whispers; people’s opinions buzzing at the edge of her brain, overwhelming and unrelenting. She wasn’t weak. She was tired. The energy it took to smile, to explain, to pretend like none of this was a breach of her life felt like a lead weight pressing down on her chest.

The PR team rambled about damage control and messaging, but Amelia barely heard them. Her thoughts slipped away from the room, spinning cold and sharp.

She looked up, met her dads expectant gaze.

Her voice was flat, stripped of any theatrics. “Yeah, it sucked having it put out there. But I’m not going to make a scene about it. I can handle it.”

They waited, as if that was supposed to be reassuring. She knew what they wanted: a show of vulnerability, maybe some anger.

Instead, she smiled inwardly.

She pulled her phone out, thumb hovering. Then, with a quiet kind of defiance, she pulled up a new tweet.

Autism affects 1 in 36 people. Awareness beats stigma.

Also, I married Lando Norris and you didn’t. Suck it.

[Link to autism awareness resource]

She hit send.

Lando’s laugh was the first sound to break the tension. Her dad let out a short, grudging chuckle. Oscar’s eyes flickered with something like pride.

—

[DTS Outtake Clip]

Will Buxton

“Yeah, so… that clip of Amelia, it really went viral, didn’t it? I’m sure she must have thought her weekend couldn’t get any tougher after that moment. But then Sunday came…”

—

Amelia caught Lando just before he stepped into the car. The hum of the track buzzed behind them, but for a beat, it was just them.

She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Good luck. Be safe. Drive fast.”

He smiled, eyes bright with that fierce fire she loved. “Always, baby.”

She turned and headed to the pit wall, heart steady but fierce — ready.

—

The roar of the crowd swallowed the pre-race tension whole as the lights blinked out, one by one. Oscar launched perfectly—an instinct honed from endless hours tracking telemetry and analysing every millisecond. He surged forward, slicing through the tight corners of the Las Vegas street circuit with brutal precision.

Amelia’s eyes locked on the screens, her fingers dancing over the buttons and dials at the pit wall. Every lap was a heartbeat, every split time a breath held. She was the calm centre for Oscar’s storm.

“Sector one clean, good pace,” she told him over the radio, voice even but focused.

“Copy. Tires feeling good,” came Oscar’s crisp reply.

She allowed herself a brief, tiny exhale. This was what she lived for, the rhythm of the race, the flow of strategy, the challenge.

But then, amid the relentless thrum of engines and tires gripping asphalt, the radio sparked. A sudden crackle, then Lando’s voice—strained, quick.

“Car’s sliding—shit—oh fucking—”

The pit wall fell silent except for the crackling radio. Amelia’s chest tightened. The word ‘crash’ hovered unspoken but undeniable in the space between sounds.

Her fingers froze. Her eyes darted to the live feed on the screen; Lando’s McLaren spinning wildly, slamming into the barriers.

Time fractured.

The noise dimmed, the crowd’s roar now a distant wave crashing against the edges of her mind.

“Lando’s out,” the comms guy said quietly beside her. “Full safety car. Medical car dispatched.”

She blinked rapidly, trying to swallow the sudden lump forming in her throat. Breathe. Focus.

She had to focus.

Oscar was still out there, still racing.

She shook her head slightly as if clearing fog. “Oscar, you’re clear. Keep the pace, watch brake temps—”

“I’m ok.” Lando reported, but his voice was tight — like he’d been winded.

Amelia’s voice cracked, and she hated herself for it. Hated how much it betrayed her insides.

Oscar’s voice came steady, but she could hear the surprise, the tension. “Shit. That was Lando?”

“Yeah,” she said before she could stop herself. “He’s… he’s climbing out of the car. He’s okay.”

She stole a glance at the live feed showing Lando being helped out, walking with a medic, shaking his head like he was fine. But she knew—knew the physical toll, the adrenaline masking the pain, the shock that would hit later.

She frantically grabbed for her golf ball — she always kept it beneath the monitors, and squeezed it. Grounding herself.

“Focus on the race, ducky. I’m here. We’ve got this.”

Oscar’s voice softened, “You sure?”

She swallowed hard again. “I’m sure.”

Every lap was a razor’s edge now. Amelia ran through data, strategic calls, tire management; but her mind kept drifting back to that crash, to Lando’s face on the screen, the unspoken “what if.”

The pit lane buzzed, the crew working, the team breathing with her through Oscar’s race, but she was somewhere else too.

She bit back a dry sob and pressed on. “Sector two clean. Let’s push on the next lap. You can get Sainz.”

Oscar’s voice returned with renewed fire. “Copy. Let’s make it count.”

She nodded, though no one could see.

And yet.

There was the ache.

The race carried on, unforgiving.

—

The monitor in front of her flickered with telemetry, lap times, sector splits—Oscar’s heartbeat in digital form. She had to be here. Had to be present.

Her fingers danced a quiet rhythm on the edge of the pit-wall console—a practiced stim to keep the rising panic locked behind a steel door in her mind. The world had already cracked around her today.

“Sector three’s slower by two tenths, watch the tyre temps,” she said, voice clipped, tight. Her gaze never left the screen, even as the chaos inside her threatened to seep out. The noise outside, the shouted team radio chatter, the flashing pit boards, it all blurred into one sharp focus: Oscar.

The world had been unpredictable all weekend. The unexpected video circulating. The judgment from people who didn’t know. Lando spinning out and hitting the wall. But here, in this moment, Amelia was the engineer, the strategist. The calm in the storm.

She clenched the golf ball in her palm, fingers twisting the soft silicone shapes until the ridges bit into her skin just enough to bring her back. The tears she hadn’t let herself shed yet pooled behind her eyes, but she swallowed them down. Not now. Not now.

Her radio crackled to life, “Oscar, focus on exit at turn seven, keep it smooth; tyres need managing.”

And then, after what felt like a lifetime of silence, she sensed him before she saw him. A warmth settling over her. Lando, standing just behind her, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. No words.

His arms wound around her waist and he squeezed. Tight and warm and perfect.

The sharp edge of panic softened in that quiet pressure. It was like a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding for hours finally escaped. The knot in her chest loosened.

She kept her eyes on the screen, voice steady but softer now, “Push on the next lap, Oscar. You’ve got this.”

The relief didn’t break her focus. Instead, it sharpened it, gave her the strength to keep Oscar moving forward through the pack.

But just for one brief moment, the whole world faded away, leaving just the hum of the race, the steady pulse of the monitor, and the quiet heartbeat pressing against her back.

—

Amelia sat at the small kitchen table, absently stirring her coffee, her mind half on the morning briefing notes she’d reviewed earlier.

She wasn’t in the mood to think much, really. Too many things buzzing in her head—the weekend, the viral video fallout, the constant undercurrent of stress that never quite left her.

Then, for no particular reason, her hand drifted to her phone, and she opened the calendar app. That’s when it hit her. 

The date she’d been quietly expecting had come and gone.

No sign.

A slow, quiet realisation settled in her gut. She hadn’t missed a period in years. 

She blinked, staring at the screen. No big dramatic wave of panic. No sudden flood of excitement either. Just… a plain, blunt acknowledgment.

Oh.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself quietly, voice flat but certain. “Should probably tell Lando.”

She stood and walked to the living room, pulling out her phone again.

iMessage ��� 13:03pm

Amelia (Wifey 4 lifey)

My period is 3 weeks late.

--

She slid the phone onto the table, fingers lingering on the edge for a moment. Missing a period wasn’t a crisis, just a mildly inconvenient fact.

She glanced out the window at the bustling street below. Monaco was doing its usual thing, people rushing, cars honking, life barreling forward.

Amelia took another sip of coffee and muttered under her breath, “Well, that’s new.”

Then, with all the casual decisiveness of someone deciding what to have for lunch, she shoved the thought aside and got back to work.

NEXT CHAPTER

[moonstruckme]

Omg please please please waterpark day with James? 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 I just know he would be so goofy like a little kid. You standing at the edge of the wave pool with a bunch of moms, and they’re like “which ones yours?” And you have to be like “oh the grown man over there.” 😂😂

Thank you so much, gorgeous! Hope you’re having a good day 💖💖💖

Thank you for requesting angel! Hope you're having a good day too :)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 603 words

You can feel the heat of the pavement seeping up through your towel. It warms your bum and the bottoms of your legs, sweat pooling underneath your knees. You fantasize about popsicles and ice cold drinks. 

Nearby, a few women sitting on towels not unlike yours seem to be making friends. 

“Keeping up with sunscreen is such a nightmare,” one says. 

Another hums commiseratingly. “They don’t want to get out of the water to reapply, and then I can hardly keep them out long enough to let it dry before they’re running back in.” 

“I always tell mine we won’t stop for ice cream on the way home if they’re not patient,” says a third. She catches you listening and smiles at you. “There has to be some ultimatum, right?” 

The first woman laughs. “I think there’d be a mutiny if we passed that by on our way out of here.” 

“Yeah,” you shrug, “we always end up stopping, too.” 

There’s laughter and sheepish agreement. “Which one is yours?” one of the women asks you. 

“Oh, um…” You try to locate your boyfriend in the teeming pool below. You’ve lost track of him, but he’s not hard to find. A shape larger than all the rest comes bobbing up on the other end of a wave, hair flicking water in all directions. Brawny shoulders rise above the surface as James stands to his full height. The water comes hardly to his chest, whereas plenty of the kids around him are chin-deep or having to kick their feet to stay afloat. 

You let yourself trail off as he grins at you, starting toward the edge of the wave pool. 

“You look warm,” he says, forgoing the ladder on the side of the pool in favor of lifting himself out. You watch a nearby lifeguard have a brief internal debate over whether it’s within her duties to reprimand an adult man for this before deciding to move past it. James sets a knee on the concrete, streaming water as he straightens and comes over to you. “You should come in.” 

You shade your eyes to look up at him, ignoring the women around you now pointedly averting theirs. “I saw a plaster floating around in there earlier,” you say. 

James makes a face as he sits down next to you. You decide not to complain about him getting your towel wet when he begins scrubbing his wet hands up and down your legs, cooling them. “One plaster in all that? What’re the odds you’ll see it again, lovely?” 

You hum, smiling despite yourself. “I think I’m good, thanks.” 

“Fine, fair enough.” James smiles back like he just can’t help himself. He gives your thigh a loving squeeze. “How about we do the Plummet again instead?” 

“Oh, Jamie…” You cast a glance in the direction of the park’s largest water slide. “The line is always so long.” 

“Worth the wait, though.” He kisses your shoulder enticingly. “And it’ll help you cool off.” 

You lower your voice. “I was hoping we could go get ice cream soon. That would cool me off, too.” 

James makes a pensive tsking sound in the corner of his mouth. “How about one more time on the Plummet, and then we can go get your ice cream?” 

“Okay,” you agree readily, standing to begin folding your towel. “Let me just get my things together first.” 

“Yes! Thank you.” James hugs you from behind while you fold, planting a smacking kiss on your cheek. “This is why you’re perfect for me, angel.” 

You roll your eyes, feigning reluctance. As if it’s any sacrifice.

[acid-ixx]

I really want to know how dick crashes out can you give us maybe snipits( I mean whole ass paragraphs so I can reread them when I hyper fixate on your series again) please pookie?

— masterlist !

i don't want to spoil as much anymore since i'm releasing chapter six soon enough, but here's a comprehensive list of all the instances dick has tried to, but ultimately failed at hiding his not-so suble crash out towards everybody for the latest chapter.

1. he throws his phone across the room, then he is so close to throwing one of bruce's batarangs on the screen because the family realizes your lack of social media presence.

2. he also threatens to electrocute jason with his escrima sticks once he gets his hands on him because the second oldest refuses to confess the full detail of what happened.

3. him and bruce have a near screaming match and had to be held back by the scuff of his suit by cass and alfred's scolding in the background. he also insults the hell out of the bat like there's no tomorrow and brings up his absence on the day of your arrival in the manor like he didn't just leave you alone afterwards.

4. his phone is oddly alive after violently kissing the walls, he tries to call you again, seethes, then he settles for tracking down your location through your sim card.

5. he threatens bruce at like every second, it's kinda funny.

6. they find out where jason currently is (near your apartment as stated in chapter five) and dick almost takes it as a sign to ditch everything right now just to find you himself and drag you out just to confront you too.

7. he nearly cries in frustration and had to be on time out because he wasn't in the right mindset to properly assess what's currently going on. all that mattered to him was seeing you since he couldn't muster a clear imagery of his baby bird.

8. literally every single mention of him in chapter 6 is just him tweaking and becoming more feral because of guilt and also obsession— every moment of him is just him being so irritated yet so down in the dumps because of how badly he'd treated you and how much he wants to make it up to you.

oh, and damian is a different kind of crash out though. he's also as intense of dick but no more spoilers, just a few more days and a few more editing and it'll soon be out.

[babydoll372]

well, lemme stop that not getting requests thing

could you bless us with more stalker!wanda? msybe a second part of what you already have, or with something else, because i‘m literally feral for stalker wanda 😔✋ like down bad

maybe for something new, stalker!wanda is something like ingrid from ingrid goes west, if you know that? like she stalks r through insta and is desperate to become close to her, starts acting similar to r so r will like her and ends up becoming r‘s best friend and then something more?

Creeper Pt.2

Pairings: stalker!wanda x reader

Word count: 1612

Warnings: smut, shy!wanda, stalking, photography without permission, implied kidnapping, roleplaying, cunnilingus, fingering, implied further smut, mentions of strap ons, obsessive!Wanda, slight jealousy, public sex, begging, praise kink, dom!r, sub!wanda, talks of cnc, social media stalking

Kinda combined these two requests tgth so I hope you like :) thank you for my first actual request

Wanda scrolled through each photo you had posted in the last hour, you must still be at the party. You have to be. And in your beautiful black dress, she saw a glimpse of in the back of one of your posts 6 months ago hanging up, now she could envision it on your body. She snuck into the party and quickly grabbed a red solo cup, acting as if it was full but really it was empty, the only thing she wanted to taste tonight was you, and she’d be damned if she let alcohol get in the way.

She scoured the area, refreshing your page every few seconds until she spotted you in a corner talking to two women and one male, making her instantly shrink. Now that she was facing you, she didn’t know how she would be able to react or talk to you. She danced the cup around in her hand and would occasionally grab her phone to sneak photos of you. But when you said your farewell to the three others and walked towards the kitchen, the room she was in, she felt her body envelope with hope. She cleared her throat and turned in a different direction, acting as if she hadn’t been watching you and knew everything about you.

“Excuse me?” She quickly turned to look at the source of the voice - you. She gulped nervously and stood taller, trying to hold herself confidently.

“H-hey, you look beautiful…”

“Thank you. Uh, you’re-“

“I’m Wanda,” She outstretched her hand for you to shake and you slowly reached up to take it, raising a brow as you did.

“Hello, Wanda. You’re in the way of the beer, you mind moving?” Her eyes widened and she had never moved so quickly, her gaze staring you down as you popped open the bottle and took a sip, glancing over at her as she quickly averted.

“You have a staring problem?”

“Wha- no! No, no, I- I don’t, ma’am..” Dumbass. This is a college party and she just called you ma’am. A stranger, well, to you she was a stranger, just called you ma’am. You smirked and leaned on the countertop.

“Wanda, huh? Where are you from?”

“Oh, I live around here..b-but I lived in Sokovia until I was 9!” You nodded slowly, stepping an inch closer to hear her better over the deafening music in the room beside you.

“Sokovia? Fancy…what brought you to Westview?” You took a sip of your beer once you finished speaking and she watched the way your sharp jaw shined just right under the LED lights embarking the house, your throat swallowing the liquid easing down your throat as if it was nothing.

“Well, my parents wanted better for me and my brother…” She couldn’t form an answer with your alluring appearance, and the hint of your perfume over the smell of beer and sweat lurking the house. She tried to keep the conversation going but eventually, you got bored and moved on, but she wasn’t going to end it there. No, she couldn’t leave this behind, she couldn’t ruin her one chance. So when you left the house that night she followed with a distance, already knowing your house location and how to get there, so tracking you was easy. She eventually quickened her pace and hid against an alleyway wall, peeking her head over once to see you turning the corner in her direction. She grinned nervously to herself, knowing this was what she had to do. If you weren’t willing to give yourself freely then she’d have to take you. When she heard your heels connecting with the concrete at a much closer distance, she reached out and yanked your body into her arms, holding you against the wall and shushing you with a hand over your mouth. Your eyes were wide as you wiggled violently in her arms, trying desperately to escape.

“Shh, shh, please don’t do that…please, I’ve worked so hard to get to this point, I need you to not fight me on this.” She pleaded, smiling softly at you once you slowly calmed down, tears streaming down your cheeks. She gently removed her hand from your mouth once you shook your head to her question, she asked if you’d scream if she removed her hand. You knew there was no one in sight, no one to save you, at least.

“You look so pretty when you cry…did you know that? I bet you didn’t, but that’s okay, Y/N.”

“H-how do you know my name…?” You never once shared your own personal information with her at the party, you only asked and she shared. She giggled and shrugged.

“I know everything about you…I love you.” She pressed a kiss to your lips after a moment of silence and you smiled into it, kissing back until she pulled away. “Was that good…?”

“Oh, you did so good, baby…I didn’t realize how hot roleplaying could be until you grabbed me like that.” She blushed under the city light and quickly took out her phone.

“I took photos of you like you asked. I- I also took them on my camera when you were at home getting ready.” Her white and shiny teeth were made visible as she smiled to herself, knowing you’d be proud of her for following what you asked her to do. Wanda had never roleplayed, the thought never even crossed her mind until you suggested it as you were riding the strap you forced on her one day in your bedroom, and she could only blabber out agreements to the deal so that she could cum, imagining it was inside of you and that the strap was her cock. She thought it’d be embarrassing, awkward even, but she proved herself wrong when she let herself embrace the psychotic character that was really just her deep down. She ‘pretended’ to be your stalker, which you forced her to do as an ounce of humiliation, considering she had already stalked you beforehand. She then had to take photos of you, just like she always did before, and you wouldn’t get to know when she was doing it. And if you caught her, it’d be a punishment. The rest was fair game for her, she was allowed to play it out however she wanted, and you just had to accept it willingly, which you did.

“Mm, I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. C'mon, lean against the wall and take those pants off, let me show you how proud I am.” Her eyes widened as she looked around, and despite the empty streets, she still clutched her crotch anxiously.

“Are you sure no one will walk by? W-what if there’s a cop-“

“Stop being a baby, weren’t you just the one about to kidnap me? Where’d that Wanda go, huh? Now get against the wall and let me eat you out, pretty girl.” She shyly nodded and unbuttoned her trousers, lowering them and her underwear to her upper thighs in case she had to pull them up in a hurry at some point.

“Mm, look at that pretty pussy…did tonight get you this wet? Yeah? Tell me your favorite part.” She was about to speak until she felt your lips wrap around her clit and you moaned loudly, clearly in exaggeration. She threw her head back, not caring for the slight pain that was caused by the bricks behind her as she brought her hand to your head.

“M-my favorite- fuck! Part was w-when I grabbed you and- and pushed you against this wall- mm!” Your tongue lapped against her pulsing bud as you glanced up at her with dopey eyes, and she whimpered eagerly. You pulled back for a second and spit on your fingers, rubbing them along her hole that clenched around nothing.

“You twisted little girl- it turns you on when I’m helpless and defenseless against you?” You cooed out as your fingers entered her and were quick to pull out to the base of your fingertips, only to return, creating a steady motion. Your lips returned, lapping up her juices before bringing them to her clit as an unneeded lubricant.

“Y-yes, ma’am…oh, I- I think I’m close-“

“No, no, no, not yet, Wanda…good girls wait for my permission.” She whined, her legs shaking already as your digits continued to pump furiously inside of her, making her stomach clench tightly and reveal a delicately crafted sculpture of a six-pack. It wasn’t too noticeable, but it was enough to make you moan under your breath.

“Please, I- I’ve been a good girl for you t-today, a really good girl!” You giggled, pulling away from her cunt and having a string of her juices follow you. Your chin was already soaked and she hadn’t even finished yet.

“Tell me how much you love me.”

“I love you so- so fucking much!”

“Tell me how badly you need me, baby.”

“I-… mph! I need you more than anything!”

“Tell me how obsessed you are with me.”

“I’m so obsessed- I love you s-so much, I- I can’t get over you, I need you! Please! Please let me cum!”

“…Cum for me, Wanda.” She didn’t waste another moment, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her juices trailed down your fingers, your mouth instantly finding home once more on her pussy to lap up her release. She whimpered in clear overstimulation and you chuckled against her, slowly pulling away as she held onto you tightly, instantly missing the full feeling of your fingers.

“Once we get to my house we are fucking all night, baby girl.”

[witherby]

WOAAH!!

Flight of Fancy reached 330+ notes!

ive never seen a request of mine blow up!!!!

—🦈

You have good ideas! And because the first part reached the reblog threshold, here's:

Flight of Fancy, pt. 2

Damian x Winged!Reader

Masterlist is Here!

"This is deep, and was made with a plain-edge blade. Whoever did this to you was trying to hurt you much worse than this."

Damian looks your wound over meticulously as you sit on a chair in the cave's medical bay. "What happened?"

You shrug your good shoulder, examining the space around you with clear intrigue. The Bat Cave was incredibly interesting, with all its different sections and complicated layout. You itched to explore it in its entirety. Maybe Damian would let you when he finished patching you up.

"I wanted to be free. The men who captured me did not approve."

Damian hums. He uses a pair of surgical scissors to cut off the sleeve of your robe to further expose the injury in your shoulder, and you let him do it without fuss. He grabs a wet cloth to clean the blood away and see it all better.

"Why did they capture you in the first place?"

You frown. Your wings, which are currently tucked against your back, flex and flutter briefly. You resist the urge to pluck at your feathers.

"They hunted me down," you explain, "and took me from my home. Said they needed me for what I can do."

Damian picks up a needle and thread to begin sewing the cut closed. You don't object when he warns you of what he's about to do or flinch when he starts.

"And what can you do?" He asks.

You don't respond. Damian sees your jaw clench, eyes darting towards where you know one of the exits to be.

"Alright," he says, "that's fair. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"You are not angry with me?" You ask.

"No. We're practically strangers," he says, tying off the stitchwork and snipping off the excess thread. He grabs a roll of bandages to cover it, and you hold your arm out to give him better access. "Telling me what abilities you possess might lead to exploitation on your part. The safest move is to keep sensitive information close to your chest. I don't even know your name. I'm not angry, I'm impressed."

"Impressed indeed."

Both you and Damian look in the direction of the medical bay's entrance and find Bruce at the door, geared up in his Batman suit. To his credit, he doesn't look as mad as the boy expected.

"I'll need a word with you when you're finished, Robin."

"Of course," Damian replies. He secures your bandage and pulls away. You drop your arm. "Will you be alright alone for a few minutes?"

"I will."

Damian excuses himself, closing the door to the bay and facing his father.

"You're going to tell me off for compromising the cave, and potentially our identities," he says immediately, "and that's fair. However, I informed Red Robin ahead of time so he could hide any documentation, and the Batmobile took a scrambled route here, so they have no way of being able to track the location of the cave once they leave it. They know nothing, and they've seen nothing that can implicate any of us."

"That's not what I'm concerned about," Bruce says. "I'm wondering why you've brought them to begin with. The victims we help in the field don't come back to the cave, ever. That's the part of the protocol I need to know why you broke."

"They're a metahuman, father," Damian says, "and all of Gotham knows your rule. Where else was I supposed to bring a wounded trafficking victim if a human hospital would've turned them away the second they spotted huge wings and golden blood?"

"To the metahuman outpost on the edge of the city limits—"

"— which was being scouted and surrounded by Luthor's henchmen at the time of retrieval."

Bruce purses his lips. "You could have radioed a Leaguer to take them somewhere else."

"It's three-thirty in the morning. Half of them are asleep and won't wake up for a non-emergency summons, and the rest are either off-world, can't get here for immediate extraction, or they're busy protecting their own sectors." Damian crosses his arms and scowls at his dad. "I'm not one of your brainless coworkers incapable of any critical thought. I'm your Robin, and I know what I'm doing. This was the safest and most logical action to take for now."

Bruce sighs. He rests a palm on his hip and nods begrudgingly.

"I understand your reasoning," he says. "In the future, I'm going to update our metahuman contingencies to account for lack of recovery points. For now, you're in charge of keeping an eye on them until morning. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Good." Bruce turns away and heads for a different section of the cave. "I'll contact Superman and try to coordinate a retrieval. If he's indisposed, someone will take your place and keep watch until we can safely get them to the outpost."

Damian doesn't reply. He watches him disappear down the corridor, then reenters the medbay to find you missing from your chair.

"...hello?" He frowns, glancing around. There's only one way in and out of there, so he's not sure how you vanished. "Are you hiding?"

"No," you say. Damian looks up to find you perched on the edge of the fluorescent lighting. He has to squint to see you properly.

Your wings are out, flexing and adjusting to help you keep your balance on the light fixture. You look down at Damian with a small smile.

"I can hear many winged creatures in the adjacent rooms. There are none in here, though. I looked."

"Bats," Damian clarifies for you. "They're not allowed in this section because it has to stay well-sanitized. Bats have a tendency to carry disease."

"Is that why the bat-man could not speak with you in here?" You ask. Damian almost snorts.

"No, he's a human. He just dresses like...it's...it makes sense," Damian says, somehow embarrassed by your innocent curiosity. "His moniker is Batman. He's not a real bat. Just like my moniker is Robin, but I'm not a real bird."

You tip your body over until you fall from the light. Damian instinctively extends his arms to catch you, alarmed, but your wings flare out to their full length and help you coast gently to the floor again.

"May I go see them?" You ask. "The real bats?"

"If you promise not to touch them, yes."

You pout, bottom lip jutting out slightly, but don't argue. Damian automatically thinks back on how plush your lips felt against his and looks away.

"Do you have any other injuries that need treated before we leave this room?" He asks.

"I do not," you reply, reaching for the buttons on the front of your robe, popping them open one by one. "If you must examine me..."

Damian physically turns his whole body away from you, wishing his domino mask covered more than just his eyes so he could hide the redness of his cheeks. "No I don't! That's fine, you can keep your clothes on!"

You tilt your head, but don't ask about his flustered behavior. Instead, you reach past him for the door and turn the knob, stepping into the corridor.

"Don't leave the cave," Damian says, walking after you. "It's imperative that you stay here. You're not a prisoner, but this is the safest move for you right now."

"I will not leave," you promise. You look upward as you go, scanning for signs of any bats hanging out on the ceiling. When you find a cluster of them, you spread your wings again.

Hesitating, you glance at Damian over your shoulder.

"Project Angel," you tell him. "That is what they called me, in the laboratory. It's not my real name. You may use the... moniker of Angel."

Damian watches you push off of the ground, soaring into the air with a dizzying speed to admire the animals up above.

"Angel," he whispers, watching your graceful movements with unabashed awe. "Fitting."