#And he just sat down where I was sitting and asked | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

damneddamsy · 3 days ago

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falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part v)

summary: Birthday dinners and blues, laughter over a crowded table—and Joel, caught between the past and something new.

a/n: are you ready for your prescribed serotonin boost :) are you reading to die :) are you ready to have your heart broken :) are you ready for pain :) if yes, it's here, and it's fucking good! can you spot where exactly I had a mental breakdown? virtual bear hugs for those who get it!

Joel had faced a lot of things in his life—clickers, raiders, shit ration food, the long, merciless stretch of empty roads—but this?

This might actually do him in.

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands braced on his knees, staring at the open boxes like they might bite. Three whole boxes. Packed full of baby clothes, soft and delicate, in shades too clean for a world like this—pale yellows, powder blues, faded pinks. Those colours didn't belong in this world anymore.

He exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his beard. It was just one of those things, one of those moments where life threw something at him he wasn’t built for anymore. Throwing a punch, taking a knife, breaking his nose—those, he could handle. But picking out a damn dress for a baby?

“This ain’t my thing, baby girl,” he muttered, glancing at Maya sprawled out beside him on the bed. She kicked her legs, fists flailing like she had strong opinions on the matter. The second he walked through the door, she’d lit up, beaming that wide, gummy grin at him like his very existence was the happiest thing in her tiny world.

Joel shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. You ain’t the one stuck pickin’ through all this.”

He waved a hand at the neatly folded mass of tiny expensive dresses, bloomers, and booties, smelling faintly of time and soap. They’d been Leela’s once. That part stuck with him—the fact that these had once clothed her, when she was no bigger than Maya.

His rugged fingers hovered over the fabric, hesitant. Everything was so soft, worn down in the best way—not ragged, but loved. Clothes, to him, had always been practical. Denim, leather, sturdy boots. He’d spent years in a world where softness didn’t last, where anything delicate got torn up, dirtied, or lost. And yet, here it was. Preserved. A little piece of the past, kept safe.

He picked up a tiny white dress with a lace collar, holding it to the light. “This fancy enough for a birthday dinner?” he asked, squinting at Maya. “Hm, looks like your mama's dress, doesn't it? Just missin' those... buttons.”

She just cooed, kicking harder, wiggling like she might crawl right out of the blanket. He set it down and picked up another, something in a buttery yellow with embroidered flowers. Lighter, easier.

“This one. Like a pretty sunflower.”

Maya squealed like she agreed, flailing her arms toward him. Obviously sick of laying there, wanting to be up here with him.

He snorted. “You got strong opinions on style, huh? Don’t take after me, then. I ain’t got a clue.”

And yet, here he was. Doing this. Going through the whole process because Leela had asked him—because it mattered to her. The realization settled in, quiet and solid. He was doing this because he cared. About Maya, sure. But about Leela, too. Enough to sit here, sifting through baby clothes like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He shook his head, picking up a tiny pair of bloomers and setting them aside with the yellow dress. “Guess that’ll do. Don’t want you upstaging your mama.”

Maya gurgled in agreement, and without thinking, Joel reached over, scratching a hand over her belly, feeling the warmth of her through the fabric of her onesie. Happy, just because he was here.

And he was only here because Leela had asked this of him. After all, she was downstairs, turning the kitchen into a goddamn laboratory. She’d been at it since morning, long before he even peeled himself off the pullout in his living room. The kitchen light had been on when he woke up, spilling a soft glow onto the snow outside, and through the open window, he caught glimpses of her—stirring, measuring, dicing and slicing with careful, mathematical precision.

At one point, she’d pulled out a scale. A scale. Like she was preparing for an experiment instead of a birthday dinner. Her own birthday dinner, that is. The one Maria had specifically asked her to butt out of because then it'd be pointless. Don't think Leela caught that part.

He’d spent his morning like that—half-awake, watching her move through the kitchen with the kind of focus that made his chest ache. Maya was strapped against her in a sling, her dozing head tucked beneath Leela’s chin, and her mother’s long braid trailed past her back, swaying with every movement. She barely stopped to sit down.

And Joel—still groggy, still warm from sleep—just lay there, watching.

Watching from the outside. Watching a life that wasn’t his, but could be.

Maybe, in some version of things, he’d be sitting at that damn marble island with her, sipping coffee, watching her openly instead of from behind the glass. Maybe he’d be close enough to tease her about overcomplicating her own birthday meal, close enough that she’d smile that shy smile, but lean into him anyway, chin up for an apology kiss.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to wonder what it would be like—because he’d already know.

He exhaled sharply, shaking the thought off. Right. First things first.

He crouched down, dragging Maya closer to him over the bed, the buttery yellow dress draped over his arm. “Alright, darlin'. Let’s get this over with,” he murmured, slipping her tiny arms through the sleeves. She surprisingly went along with it without a fuss, blinking up at him, her round face curious, watching him.

Joel worked quickly, big fingers clumsy against the delicate buttons, careful not to tug too hard. “Y’know, you make this real easy,” he said to her, smoothing the fabric over her legs. “Your ma ever tell you that? Some little shits scream their heads off over this kinda thing.”

Maya just cooed, trying to catch her toes, like she knew she was being praised.

He snorted, lacing up her brown booties—useless, yet so adorable. “Don’t let it go to your head. You're still trouble.”

With a final adjustment, he lifted her, tucking her against his chest. She fit there like she always did, perfect and warm, her breath puffing against his throat. The second she was settled, her legs kicked in delight, hands curling into the collar of his shirt—habit, just like always.

Joel huffed, pressing a steadying palm against her back. “Beautiful girl,” he whispered, rocking slightly, just enough to keep her from getting squirmy. “Yeah, you are.”

Maya gurgled in response, gripping tighter, like she had any real strength to keep him there. Like she thought she needed to.

Joel didn’t move for a second, standing there, one hand spanning nearly the whole of her back, feeling the tiny rise and fall of her breaths against him. He arched his head to brush a kiss at her ear and turned toward the door.

Then he noticed it. The humungous closet doors were open.

It wasn’t like him to pry, but something about Leela always pulled at his curiosity. He glanced at Maya, as if seeking permission—she only pushed her lips into a pout—so he stepped inside.

Due to lack of better words in his dazed head: it was a rich woman’s closet. Joel had worked on plenty of houses back in the day, done high-end custom storage, and seen his fair share of luxury—but he’d never been around long enough to see it lived in.

Drawers lined one wall, sleek and built into the cabinetry. Rows of dresses, coats, scarves, bags, and belts filled another. Shoes—so many shoes—lined the shelves, some still wrapped in plastic, some broken in just enough to show which ones were loved. In the centre, a long glass table gleamed under the dim light, scattered with jewellery. Diamonds, rubies, and jade sat in their cases like they belonged behind some jeweller’s counter instead of lying out like an afterthought.

Maya made a soft, curious sound, leaning forward in fascination. Joel caught her before she could squirm right out of his arms. "Woah, kiddo."

His attention snagged on the dress draped over the table, carefully selected from the clutter.

Black. Velvet. Long-sleeved. Nothing flashy. No lace, no frills, no shimmer. Just smooth, short, heavy fabric, dark as ink, the kind that’d cling in all the right places. Understated, sure—but that only made it worse.

Joel swallowed, jaw tightening. Christ, that can't be it, can it?

But Leela didn’t dress up much. Hell, he was used to seeing her in practical things—thick holey sweaters, clean jeans, and overstretched socks. Even the night dresses she wore were simple, easy. Unbearably cute.

But this? This was intentional. This was her putting thought into it, picking something that would fit her like a fucking glove. Black so stark against her skin, those big eyes, her legs. And Joel—he needed to stop thinking about that immediately.

He shifted Maya in his arms, clearing his throat like that’d help steady him. She was still staring, as if equally entranced, her small hands flexing toward the diamonds glinting under the glass table. He sighed, pressing a kiss to her temple as he stepped back.

“Don’t even, sweetheart,” he muttered. “I ain't raisin’ no flashy tastes in you.”

She gurgled in protest, kicking her feet, and Joel took that as his cue to get the hell out of there.

Now mind you, the past two weeks had been a state of grace.

He didn’t know what else to call it—what else to call the way he found himself here more often than not, the way it felt more natural by the day. He wasn’t just some frequent visitor anymore or a guest, or that guy who'd come around to hover with his tools. If he wasn’t on patrol, he was here with them. Even after patrol, he still ended up on their porch, dropping his rifle and pack by the door before stepping inside like it was just a given.

Hell, it kind of was. A little 'honey, I'm home' moment, if he really brooded on it.

Breakfast. Dinner. Sometimes all three meals, if time allowed. And they’d sit together on the kitchen stools, him and Leela, Maya on either of their laps, silent but companionable, sharing the space like it had been carved out for them alone. They didn't talk about much, sometimes Joel would hit her with a 'back-in-the-day' spiel, or Leela would inform him what happened in her workshop, though most of it went over his head. He liked to listen hard when she spoke, especially when she gave so little. And each morning to come, each evening in leave, Joel would feel it—that want, quiet but persistent, tugging at him, already pulling him into the next day.

Even Leela was eating again. Not much, but enough. It relieved him that she hadn't entirely given up on herself. He noticed the way she still picked at her food sometimes, however delicious it was, pushing it around more than eating it, and he never said a word. Just let her be, let her do what she could. He’d take what he could get.

There were moments, though—times when she got stuck in her own head as if phantom hands had reached out, clawed in and dragged her back to whatever had put her here in the first place. He’d see it clearest when she nursed Maya, like something about it sent her spiralling inward, caught in something he couldn’t see. But he could pull her back to him. He quickly learned how.

“Hey.” His voice was always low, careful, like he was trying not to spook a horse. And then a distraction, a lifeline. “How about I get us a cut of lamb again tomorrow? Y’know, those meatballs you made last week?”

Her eyes would clear, focusing again. “Yeah. Koftas.” And that smile would come alive, trademarked in his name. “Did you like them?”

“Too much. Hits the spot.”

It helped that Leela was a stupidly good cook. It wasn’t about the skill or the recipes—though she sure as hell knew her way around those—it was the way she did it. The way she measured things down to the last goddamn granule, cut with a precision that could’ve put surgeons to shame. She had a scale drawn onto her chopping board, and every damn herb on her windowsill was labelled like she was running a test kitchen instead of a home. He thought about it sometimes and had to bite back a smile.

"Is there anything you can't do?" he'd asked her once while stuffing his face with generously salted roast potatoes he'd passionately complimented. "I dunno, deadlift three thousand kilos? Roofing? Fix a busted engine? I bet that's nothin' to you."

She'd laughed, aimlessly twirling her fork in her hands. "Hmm... I'm quite inartistic. I can't strum a guitar as well as you. I can't sing or dance either."

"I'll give you five days until you're a pro guitarist," he challenged playfully.

She tilted her head. “I don’t know, Joel. Now that I think about it, I might be a lost cause.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit. You learned how to do everything else, didn’t you?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Not everything. You make me sound like some superhero.”

Joel stabbed another potato with his fork. “Nah, I bet you’d pick it up fast.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” He chewed, swallowed. “You got the... hands for it.”

Leela looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers like she could see what he meant. She had the prettiest fingers, long, soft, wide nails that would've graced those fancy designs once upon a time, and pale nerves coiling over lean bone. Jesus, he really was losing it.

“You say that like you’ve given it some thought,” she mumbled.

Joel just shrugged, lying through his teeth. “Not that much thought.”

Her mouth quirked, but she didn’t push. Just filled his cup with more water. “I still don’t think I could do it.”

“Why?”

She tapped the prongs of her fork against her plate. “I don’t know. I guess… it’d feel too good. And then I’d have to wonder why I spent so many years not doing it.”

Joel watched her, the way her fingers fidgeted, the way her eyes had gone elsewhere. He thought about telling her that was the whole damn point. That just because you hadn’t done something before didn’t mean you didn’t deserve to now.

Instead, he just said, “Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

She met his eyes, and after a second, she nodded. “Yes. I do.”

And the way she stated it—gentle, effortless, like it was unmistakable—had Joel suddenly very interested in his plate again.

Then there was little Maya. His ray of sunshine. Growing like a wildflower, changing in ways he barely had time to keep up with. And he was there to see it. More than that—he was there for it.

Like that day, sprawled on the living room carpet beside her, lying flat on his back while Leela worked at the blackboard nearby, mumbling numbers under her breath at miles per hour, the scratch of chalk entwined with the dusty warble of Merle Haggard on the record player. Just another quiet moment, another stretch of time folded in between everything else.

Until Maya grabbed at his hand.

Her fingers curled tight, her little voice rising in breathy coos, calling for his attention. And then—just like that, way too ahead of schedule—she twisted, flipped herself over onto her front, and grinned at him like she’d just conquered the goddamn world. All that, in scarcely three months. The kid's going to be a genius just like her mama.

“Shit!” Joel breathed, pushing up on one elbow. “Daggum, girl. C'mere. That was really good, baby, real nice. You're just perfect, aren't you?”

She grinned wider, pleased with herself, kicking her legs against the carpet. He lifted her right off and plunged her in the air, pulling out a happy squeal. He brought her all the way down to push three deep kisses into her bunched cheeks.

Leela turned, brows raised, eyes flicking between them.

“Finally rolled over, she's been trying for weeks,” he told Leela, laughing, out of breath.

“Oh,” she mouthed. “Rolled over?”

“Oughta get a picture or somethin’,” he muttered, still looking at Maya, pride swelling in his chest in a way he hadn’t expected. He ran a hand over her downy-soft hair. “It’s a milestone. Turnin’ point, as I say.” The pun slipped out before he could stop it, and he cursed Ellie in his head.

Leela just blinked at him. Like it hadn’t even occurred to her. And maybe it hadn’t. Because, later that night, without a word, she passed him a little silver digital camera and said he spent more time with Maya than she did.

Joel had caught her elbow before she could walk away. His voice came out quieter than he meant it to as he told her, “You’re doin’ a great job at being her mom. It's not just me here.”

It didn’t help, not the way he expected to. She just nodded, scooped up Maya, and left the room.

That was the thing about Leela.

She didn’t believe it. She didn’t think she was in a position to care for another person. Like she was still caught somewhere in between—stuck in the space between whatever hell had given her Maya and the life she was trying to build around her.

She didn’t even have to say it. Joel saw it.

He saw it in the way she tried. The way she forced herself to be soft, forced herself to hold Maya just right, forced herself to soothe her, talk to her, to touch her like it was second nature instead of something she had to teach herself from scratch. It was in the way she hesitated when Maya reached for her like she wasn’t sure she deserved to be needed. It was in the way she lingered outside the nursery door some nights, just standing there, like she was working up the nerve to go inside.

It wasn’t easy for her. But she tried. Joel marvelled at that, her patience despite whatever tormented her. And yeah, progress was slow, but it was there.

Joel’s boots scuffed against the freshly washed mat at the foot of the stairs—he’d done that himself, thanks for fuckin’ noticing—as he made his way to the kitchen. Leela was crouched in front of the oven, arms wrapped around her shins, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

He leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “Somethin’ wrong, or you just real interested in watchin’ bread bake?”

He barely had time to brace himself before the scent hit him—sweet and sugary, with a crispness that wasn’t quite like bread or cake, something lighter, airier.

Leela still didn’t look up. Whatever was in that oven had its hooks in her.

Joel pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer, bending just enough to peer in. White. Puffy. Looked like a cloud. “The fuck is that?”

“Pavlova.” Her voice was muffled against her knees.

He squinted at it. “Uh-huh. The fuck is that?”

She exhaled, shifting just enough to glance at him. “For Eton mess.”

Joel lifted a brow. “You just sayin’ words at me now, smartass?”

She huffed a quiet laugh, but there was something in her posture—the way she kept her nose tucked between her knees, fingers lightly gripping her calves. She was nervous.

“It’s meringue,” she admitted lowly, like she didn’t want to say it too loud in case that made it collapse in the oven. “It’s delicate. Needs to set just right.”

Joel straightened, rubbing at his jaw. “So it’s just sugar?”

Her mouth twitched the closest thing to a smile she could manage while preoccupied. “And egg whites.”

“Ah, so fancy sugar.”

“Trust me, you'll love it.”

He snorted, ready to argue—but then Maya leaned in against his chest, watching them with big, curious eyes, her tiny hands reaching for the oven knobs. She was getting handsier every day.

Leela finally turned, and for the first time, she really saw Maya, and took her in—the tiny white dress, the soft embroidery, the way her dark eyes blinked down at her with nothing but unfiltered, open-mouthed joy. No fear. No hesitation. Just love for her mama, plain and easy.

And just like that, Leela’s whole face softened. Melted, almost.

“Oh, Maya,” she breathed, reaching for her. “You look so pretty. Aw, my sweetheart.”

She scooped the baby out of his arms without a second thought, cradling her close, and tucking her against her shoulder. Her fingers ran through the fine baby hair at the nape of Maya’s neck, gentle, reverent, like she was trying to memorize her.

Then, before Joel even knew what was happening, she leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Maya’s forehead.

Not him. Oh, never him. But he felt it anyway. It relaxed in his chest, warm and unwanted, curling into the space he’d been trying real damn hard to keep empty. Like a ghost of something he wasn’t allowed to want.

He forced himself to look away, exhaling through his nose, adjusting his stance like that might shake the feeling off. It didn’t. Because the truth was—he’d thought about it. Too much. Too often.

The way she tilted her chin when she looked at him, how her mouth softened when she spoke to Maya, the bare curve of her throat when she laughed—all of it had lodged itself in his head, taken up space like it belonged there. And the worst of it?

He’d imagined it. His own mouth against hers. Slow and deep, catching the breath between her words, pulling that softness into him, feeling the curve of her spine, the softness of her hair twisted into his fingers.

And it was fucking ridiculous. But it didn’t stop him from thinking about it. Didn’t stop the way his gaze snagged on the spot where her lips had just been, where his had been too—because yeah, he’d kissed that exact place on Maya’s cheek before. More than once.

That was different, though. Right? Had to be.

His hands flexed at his sides, restless, needing something to do. He settled on the island, finally taking in what was right in front of him.

And, Jesus. Five trays. At least.

Stacked and spread out across the counter, gleaming under the low kitchen lights. There was no rhyme or reason to it—roast lamb chops, some kind of stewed eggplant, rice flecked with peanuts and saffron, a whole mess of things he didn’t recognize.

Still, she was gonna lose her goddamn mind. Not because Leela had transcended her at her own game—but because she’d cooked her own birthday dinner. Like she didn’t know how to sit still, even for that, or that she couldn’t let people do for her the way she did for them.

Joel shook his head, dragging a hand down his beard. One of those things. Something about Leela that made sense and didn’t, all at once.

“I’m going to go get dressed before Maria gets here,” she said, finally pulling his attention back to her.

Then, casually, like it was nothing, like it didn’t send something tight curling in his gut, she added, “I laid something out for you, too. If you'd like to wear something nice.”

And then she was gone, disappearing down the foyer, leaving Joel standing there, staring after her like an idiot. Like a man in deeper than he had any right to be.

Joel had thought long and hard about what to get Leela for her thirtieth, and it had damn near driven him mad.

He wasn’t good at gifts. He wasn’t good at a lot of things, really—at knowing what people wanted, at knowing how to give without feeling like he was handing over pieces of himself. It felt impossible.

What the hell do you give someone who already has everything—even in the goddamn apocalypse?

Leela didn’t need anything. She had a home, one of the nicer, better-built ones, passed down to her like an heirloom. She had clothes, ones she patched up herself, sewn with delicate little stitches. She had music, kept safe on a high shelf, and books stacked in neat piles by the fireplace. She had cars, she had diamonds just sitting up there in a closet, and she even had her own plants thriving.

She had all that and more. So, yeah. He’d considered it all. Clothes. Music. Books. Lights. Pictures. A cat, even. Something that meant something. Significant.

And then, out on patrol, he’d found it.

A cherry tree. Growing wild, untamed, tucked between dense brush and the gnarled twist of maple roots. Dark fruit hanging low, the weight of them bending the branches, like they were waiting for him.

At first, he’d strolled right past it. Just a tree. Just cherries.

And then he’d stopped, brows furrowed. He’d remembered the way she wove them into her life. The careful little cherry embroideries, the tiny red-painted symbols on her sugar and salt tubs, the delicate pattern etched everywhere.

She loved them. Enough to keep them close. Enough to mark them as hers. And so, like a damn fool, he’d kneeled and plucked them.

In a few hours, he'd picked the whole thicket clean. He’d stuffed them into his jacket pockets, let them fill the space in his backpack, red staining the fabric, fingers sticky and sweet with their juice.

It had felt right at the time. He'd felt so proud of himself. She was going to love the shit out of this.

Now, standing by the front door, having Tommy and Maria say that they'd managed to acquire a goddamn Polaroid camera for her—yellowed with age, probably out of photo paper but still lasting—Joel felt like a massive fucking idiot.

At least their gift had value. At least it wasn’t perishable. But, she already has a digital camera, his conscience reasoned with him. Sure, but especially to her, it was the thought that counted. She wouldn't be out here, letting Joel borrow cashmere sweaters and luxury denim on the fly.

And then Ellie had showed off her gift—another layer of shit over his confidence—a handmade journal, stitched together with patience and effort, thick pages bound in soft, timeworn leather. Thoughtful. Meaningful. Her best friend, Dina, definitely had a hand in this. Ellie didn't have the patience to craft something this considerate.

And Joel was the one to talk—well, Joel had a box of cherries. Fucking cherries. Cherries he’d spent hours picking, his fingers raw, his back aching for two days straight. Cherries he’d plucked in pairs, stems still intact, trying to mimic the little embroidered ones she stitched into her life. He’d thought he was being thoughtful. Now, how the fuck was he supposed to compete with journals and cameras?

So he did what any man with an ounce of self-preservation would do.

He pretended they didn’t exist. Let them sit out on the little porch shelf where he’d left them, where he figured he’d grab them when the time was right. Except now, the time wasn’t right. Never will be. And he’d just let them sit there forever, let the cold creep into them, let them wrinkle and rot and become another thing he never got around to.

Better to just let everyone think he was a callous, inconsiderate bastard than actually admit he’d put his heart into something. Easier that way.

As Maria and Ellie jogged upstairs, loud and chattering, off to greet the birthday girl and Maya, Joel made his way into the kitchen—only to get cornered by Tommy’s knowing look. That damn eyebrow, he got that from their dad.

Joel ignored him. Busied himself with laying foil over that one lonely tray, the rhythm of his hands methodical, grounding. It wasn’t until Tommy leaned against the counter, arms folded, voice low and amused, that he finally spoke.

“I knew you hated sappy shit, big brother, but this is a new low.”

Joel exhaled slowly, flattening the foil more aggressively than necessary. “Not now, Tommy.”

“Not now,” Tommy mimicked in a baritone, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You couldn’t even get her somethin’ small? The girl was ready to let you move in, for cryin' out loud.”

Joel didn’t answer.

“Hell, Maya, at least?”

That one stung. He didn’t know why. And somehow, the thought of that bothered him more than the idea of disappointing Leela. Maybe because he could take being an asshole to her. Could brush it off, let her think he was callous, numb. That was easy, safe.

But Maya? She was just a baby. His little girl. This tiny thing with nothing in the world except her mother, who carried all the pain and all the worry, while Joel sat on his hands and pretended like he wasn’t thinking about them more than he should.

He pressed down on the foil harder, smoothing out creases that weren’t there. He could feel Tommy watching him, expectant, waiting.

“Right,” Tommy sighed, knowing what to expect. “I’m gonna go drain the lizard.”

He scowled, finally looking up. “That's some real dignified talk. Better tone it down at dinner.”

His brother just grinned with a playful salute, disappearing down the hall.

Joel stomped his way into the dining room, fists stuffed into his pockets. Not because he knew what the hell he was even looking for, but because he had to move. The ache in his chest was getting to be too much, and if he sat with it any longer, he might actually have to acknowledge it.

Leela had transformed the shit out of this dining room, and Joel took it all in. Candles flickered across the table, their golden light pooling over the wood, catching on the edges of intricate ceramic plates, and warming the dark corners of the room. The food that Leela had slaved away to make was spread out, lavish, rich, the kind of meal that had no business existing in a world that had already ended. As if this little town, this home, was untouched by the decay beyond its walls.

The blackened, humungous yard outside those slightly gaumed French windows—he ought to get around to that this week—was paved with a clean sheet of snow, and it was clear what lay under it. A manifold garden of some sort, from the cursive-letter markers sticking out from the ice. And a pond, maybe.

It was all so soft. Painstaking. Conscious. Like everything Leela touched.

A sudden thrum of light, breathless, girlish laughter echoed from upstairs, Ellie's the most rambunctious of the lot, obviously having fun with that new camera.

“Maya, smile...” Then later, “Ha-ha, she's got no fuckin' teeth!”

It flushed a small smile of his own at the sound. He hadn’t heard that kind of laughter in years. Not since Sarah. Not since the days when she and her friends had holed up in her room, voices tumbling through the walls, their shrill giggles slipping into his evenings, melding with his exhaustion, belonging there, like a part of his house itself.

Back then, he’d barely noticed it. In fact, he'd wanted them to shut the hell up so he could focus on paperwork. He’d never thought to savour it. And now? Now it pressed against the deepest crevices in him, brittle and aching, something he couldn’t touch without it breaking apart in his hands. It still hurt like hell.

And then, as dinner time neared, the big room filled out—oh, Joel hadn't meant to look. Hadn’t meant to let his eyes linger that way. Fuck, he forgot how Leela was going to be tonight.

No. He dragged his eyes from her, yet the image remained seared into his head.

But there she was, standing at the far end of the room, completely different and exactly the same.

That velvet dress—Jesus Christ, he needed air.

He’d known it’d be trouble the second he saw it. It fit too well, soft in places he shouldn’t be noticing, snug over her hips, floating around her legs bare, smooth, unfairly right there. Her usual braid was pulled back tight, but a few strands had already come loose, slipping against her cheek, catching at her collarbone, and softening her face. A thin strand of pearls nestled at her neck—simple, understated. Like she was one of those lunching ladies in country clubs, lugging their crocodile leather bags, and clutching their pearls. Fucking adorable now that it registered, she was probably dressed like what she'd seen her mother wear back then.

And in another life, a girl like her would’ve walked right past a man like him. Would’ve mistaken him for a valet. Would’ve never even looked at him. He should be thanking his stars that the world went to shit and brought him her.

Joel clenched his jaw, forced his gaze away, and focused on the room instead. Maya, the real star of the show, was being passed off between the rest like a pack of smokes, her little chubby arms reaching, everyone cooing, fussing over her pretty, new dress.

Everywhere except. Leela...

She had drifted toward the bar cart at the edge of the room, breaking out the good stuff. He glimpsed the label—vintage Pinot Noir, knotty French scramble and expensive as hell. Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that somehow, without even thinking, he’d ended up standing beside her.

And when she looked up—she smiled at him. Small, a little shy, the kind of smile that said she was nervous for no reason at all.

“Hi, Joel.” Her hand smoothed down her stomach as if flattening that cute little belly bulge, fixing something that didn’t need fixing. “Do I look okay?” she murmured, hesitant. “Is it too much? It is, isn't it?”

Too much? For him, fuck yes. Fine? Fine wasn’t even in the same goddamn ballpark.

So, he opened his mouth. Closed it. Nothing.

“No.” A beat. “You…”

Nothing again. He was drawing a blank. The words dried up before they even had the chance to form, like dust in his mouth.

It wasn’t like he was trying to be poetic about it, but there was nothing in his head that felt close to good enough. No simple word, no half-mumbled compliment that could measure up to her tonight.

Leela stood in front of him, shifting slightly, looking down, constantly pressing her palm over her stomach like she was suddenly self-conscious. She was always incredible. She always knew her way around things. That wasn’t news.

But tonight, she just...—his jaw tightened. He wasn’t even gonna let himself finish that thought. His throat worked as he opened his mouth again, ready to force something out, anything—

“God, this smells fucking delicious!” Ellie’s voice tore through the moment, shattering it.

Leela startled slightly, before blinking, exhaling a soft laugh, and looking away. And just like that, the moment was gone.

The next thing he knew, everyone had settled in, chairs scraping against the wood, good wine flowing, voices overlapping, the liquor kicking in, laughter beginning. The candlelight flickered against the dishes, the soft golden glow catching on deep greens, bright reds, and the spread of food that looked like something out of a damn painting.

Joel wasn’t even sure where to start, but Ellie had no such problem. She was going to town, her plate stacked high, fork stabbing into rice and lamb and eggplant, making a goddamn mess of herself.

Maya sat in her lap, eyes wide, fists curled into her mouth, watching every movement with a sort of blank curiosity, like she was studying some unknown species.

Joel almost smirked. Baby girl had better instincts than most.

Meanwhile, Maria was not having it. She sat back in her chair, arms folded, watching Leela with something sharp in her gaze.

“Why would you cook your own birthday dinner? I told you to let me handle it.”

Leela shrugged, reaching for Joel’s plate once more. He barely had time to grab his plate back before she was scooping more roast potatoes onto it. Christ. At this rate, she was gonna have him fattened up like a prize hog by the end of the night.

“I had to say thanks to all of you somehow,” Leela murmured, matter-of-fact like it truly was that simple. Like, it wasn’t the most Leela thing in the world. “For everything you did for Maya and me. Thank you.”

Maria sighed, shaking her head, but before she could say anything, Tommy beat her to it.

“Honey, there’s no thanks between family. You just take it and be happy about it.” His laugh was muffled by a sip of his wine.

Leela, in the middle of reaching for another serving spoon, paused. And Joel saw it—the way she responded. It was subtle. Not a gasp, not anything dramatic, but something small. The way her lips parted, just slightly, like she wasn’t sure if she should smile like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to. He let his own smile grace his face as he did.

Before he could think on it too much, he caught movement from the corner of his eye—Leela, still standing, still serving, still doing everything but eating.

Joel set down his glass with purpose.

“Sit down.” His voice was low, and firm, leaving no room for argument as he grabbed the spoon from her hand and dropped it onto a tray. “Eat. They're grown-ups, they can serve themselves.”

Leela sighed and sat. Finally. “Okay.”

Joel didn’t give her much choice, pressing the chair in behind her knees, setting her plate in front of her like it was law. He caught the flicker of hesitation, the way she lingered as if she had something else to do, something else to fix. But there was nothing left. The food was hot, everyone was fed, and she was out of excuses.

He scooped a little of everything onto her plate, careful not to overdo it, careful to leave out the eggplant. He didn’t know when he’d learned that about her, just that he had. And she didn’t object, just picked at what landed in front of her, moving the food around with her fork. She didn’t eat right away, not really.

Maria, Tommy, Ellie, and Joel had a rhythm. They talked over each other, ribbed each other, passed stories back and forth like well-worn cards, easy and unthinking. They'd raised a toast to the birthday girl, Maya's new dress, this astonishing dinner, Joel smiling for once—it felt… safe. Loud, but not in a way that grated. Just lived-in.

He wasn’t sure what she thought of all this. Maybe it was too much, too loud, too different from what she was used to.

Especially when Tommy, halfway through a sip of whiskey, nearly choked and gawked at her. "Wait, wait—back up. You didn't know turnin’ thirty was a big deal?"

Leela blinked, clearly lost. "Why would it be? It’s just… a number."

Tommy clutched his chest like she’d stabbed him. "Oh, Jesus. Joel, tell her. Tell her what happens when you turn thirty."

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing at her, smirking. "Your knees start makin’ noises you ain’t never heard before. The hangovers last three to five business days. And suddenly—" he jabbed a finger at Tommy, "—this clown starts talkin’ about cholesterol like it’s the Grim Reaper."

Tommy pointed back at him, indignant. "It is the Grim Reaper! You think I like checkin’ my blood pressure for fun?"

Leela stared between them, unimpressed. "So, you’re telling me turning thirty means getting old and miserable?"

Joel shrugged. "Pretty much."

Tommy raised his glass. "Welcome to the club, darlin’. It’s all downhill from here."

Leela huffed a small laugh, shaking her head, but Joel could feel her eyes on him. Not in an obvious way—Leela wasn’t like that. But he could tell. The way she always tucked herself into the background, listening instead of talking, watching instead of stepping in.

Like she was still trying to figure out how all of this worked. How they worked. And Ellie, for one, was having the time of her life.

She jabbed a finger at Joel, like she was about to make some grand accusation. "I swear, it’s like clockwork! Dude’s got, like, five phrases in rotation. Seriously, he's some old Western cowboy stuck in a fucking time loop. It’s insane."

Joel exhaled sharply, already tired. “The hell are you talkin’ about, girl?”

Maria smirked, leaning in like she knew exactly where this was going. “Go on, let’s hear it.”

“That one didn't count. You ready? Okay, let's go.” Ellie straightened in her chair, cleared her throat dramatically, and then—“‘Ain’t my first rodeo.’”

Tommy barked a laugh. Maria made a face that said, damn, that was actually a good one. Joel just shook his head, but he didn’t argue.

Ellie pushed on with that wicked smirk. “‘Coulda told you that one.’”

That got Maria and Tommy good, they were already in fits. Joel sighed, reaching for his glass. Meanwhile, Leela pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

“See? See?” Ellie counted on her fingers, riding the high. “‘You ain't gonna like the answer.’ Huh, Tommy?”

Tommy wiped at his mouth, shoulders shaking. “Shit.”

Joel took a drink, resisting the urge to bang his head against the table. That one was sadly dead on.

Joel scoffed, shaking his head, but Tommy only leaned forward, grinning wide. “Oh, oh, what about ‘Never said I was a good man’?”

Ellie, inspired, went for the kill. “Right, yes! And my personal favourite, ‘Shit’s fucked,’ obviously.”

That one did it.

Maria actually turned away, full-on wheezing hard. Tommy clapped a hand on the table, throwing his head back to roar out a laugh.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, reaching for his whiskey. “Table’s turned against me.”

He flicked his gaze to Leela, watching her reaction—like maybe if she thought it was funny, it would be worth the humiliation.

She met his eyes over the rim of her glass, her expression unreadable for a beat, then—slowly, her lips curved. She took a sip of her water like she was trying to hide it, but he caught the way her eyes softened, the way she tucked her chin slightly, almost sheepish.

Leela finally spoke, her voice a soft, amused murmur. “I think they just know you too well, Joel. It's nice.”

Joel paused mid-sip, watching her as she turned back to her plate, finally taking a bite.

It was a simple thing, but the words sat with him. It wasn’t just that they were teasing him. It was the fact that she was here, part of it, taking it in, letting herself be in this moment. He realized then—that Leela had spent so much time holding herself apart, hovering at the edges of things, always wary. Not tonight.

Joel exhaled, shaking his head like he wasn’t entertained, even though the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Whole lotta talk for a bunch of ingrates,” he muttered. “Maybe I oughta keep my words to myself. See how y’all fare without my wisdom.”

“Your wisdom? Are you fucking kidding?” Maria scoffed, still wiping at her eyes. “Joel, the day we take life advice from you—”

“Will be the day the world actually ends,” Tommy finished, reaching for his drink. “Again.”

Ellie snorted, still looking way too pleased with herself. “Go on, old man. Say something profound.”

Joel didn’t dignify that with an answer, just took another sip of whiskey, glancing at Maya on Ellie's lap. That same warmth ravaged him for a moment.

But when he looked to his side again, his eyes found Leela. She wasn’t laughing like the rest of them—not outright. No sharp, teasing glances, no knee-slapping or head-shaking.

Just that same small, quiet smile, the kind that broke his fucking heart in two.

He wasn’t sure how long they looked at each other, just that he noticed how the candlelight softened her features, how her fingers smoothed over the rim of her glass absentmindedly, how her braid had loosened slightly throughout the night, one long stray wisp of hair curling by her shoulder. God, she took his breath away.

And then he noticed the table. Maria. Tommy. Even Ellie. Side-eying and smirking like damn fools.

Joel scowled, bracing himself. “What now?”

“Not a damn thing,” Tommy said, though the way he fought back a grin suggested otherwise.

Ellie waggled her brows. “Oh, no, you just—look really wise right now.”

Joel fought the urge to groan, letting his head tip back slightly. “No, really. Thank you.”

Leela shifted, clearing her throat, poking at her plate like she wanted to disappear into it.

Tommy looked like he had more to say, something locked and loaded, but before he could get it out, across the table, Maya started to fuss, her hands curling and uncurling toward the plates on the table, making that small, needy noise. Baby girl was the centre of attention, as always. She had a way of pulling eyes to her without even trying like the whole world naturally revolved around her.

But the moment Maria chimed in, her voice carrying easily over the table—“Maya, honey”—that was when it happened.

Her eyes snapped up, searching the table with a determination far too strong for someone so small. Her fingers flexed, hands opening and closing in that telltale way, reaching, waiting—and then Maria tried something else, something that shouldn’t have stood out, except—

“You wanna say hi to Joel?”

The second it left her mouth, Maya’s little head swivelled, locking onto him with that same urgency, that same expectation. Maya made a soft, almost questioning noise, like she was waiting for something, her arm stretching further, fingers still curling and uncurling.

He didn’t even think about it. Didn’t think about how much she knew him now. How his name meant something to her, how she was already learning that when she reached, he would be there.

“Ugh. But I just got you,” Ellie clucked her tongue, bouncing Maya slightly. “Can’t believe this, you're straight-up ditching me for a fogey. Breaking my heart, kid.”

“Guess she's just sick of you, kid,” Joel teased.

“Shut up.”

Maya squirmed, unsatisfied, her arm stretching further. Then came that stubborn cry, the kind Joel had long since learned to recognize—the warning before real tears, before she got herself all worked up.

And, well, he had tried to resist it before. Tried to tell himself to let her be, that she needed to settle on her own, that he wasn’t supposed to get her used to always having him right there. Didn’t matter one fucking bit. The minute those eyes got glassy, he was already reaching across the table.

"C'mere, baby girl," he muttered, hands steady as he lifted her from Ellie’s grasp. “There you go. Hi.”

She melted against him instantly, her warm little body pressing into his chest, a fist curling into the fabric of his shirt. He barely had time to adjust before she shoved both hands into her mouth, hiding that big, gummy grin like she was suddenly shy.

He chucked her chin. "Happy now?"

Maya let out a tiny giggle, then dropped her head forward against his shoulder, burrowing in, pressing her face into his collar like she wanted to disappear inside him.

"Yeah, that tracks," Ellie said, smirking. "Guess she just likes dinosaurs."

Joel only fed the fire. "I think it's my rugged good looks."

That drew out a few annoyed groans around him.

Ellie snickered. "Not that she’s got much to compare to, though.”

It was a silly joke. A throwaway line. She didn't know any better.

But Joel felt it shift the air at the table, quiet but undeniable, like the slow pull of a storm rolling in.

Leela’s grip on her fork tightened, her knuckles paling around the metal. It was barely a reaction. Just the barest pause. A slow blink, calculated and measured, like she was pushing something down, pressing it deep, locking it behind her ribs before it could surface.

But Joel caught it. He wasn’t sure what it was—not exactly. He only knew the way it felt. The way a sharp sense of awareness dug into the back of his skull, the way his chest clenched, like something inside him had just brushed against a wound he hadn’t known was there.

Maria noticed, too. She shot Ellie a look. Just a quick, subtle thing, but full of meaning.

Ellie’s chewing slowed, the realization dawning. "Shit. Sorry," she muttered, suddenly fascinated with her plate. “I'm so sorry, Leela. I wasn’t trying to—”

Leela’s voice was too even, barely managing the dismissive smile. “It’s alright, Ellie. It's nothing.”

It wasn’t. She was practically forcing this lie out of her mouth.

She pushed her chair back. “I’ll go... um, be right back.”

Joel caught the way she moved—not hurried, not frantic, just a little too controlled, like she was forcing herself not to make it obvious that she needed to get out of there.

He should’ve stood. Should’ve gone after her, said something, done something.

Maria was already moving. “Let me check on her,” she said softly, chair scraping against the floor as she followed Leela through the kitchen doors.

Joel exhaled, slow through his nose.

The warmth of the meal, the easy hum of conversation—it all dissipated like heat off an open plate, leaving only the scrape of utensils, the occasional clink of glass. The space Leela left behind stretched thin, like a too-wide gap in a picket fence.

Ellie exhaled, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead. “I really wasn’t trying to… god, I have such a big fucking—”

Joel adjusted Maya in his arms who was busy combing fleece off the expensive cashmere on his chest. “Ain’t your fault, kid. 'S’all right. Just a touchy subject.”

He didn’t look at her when he said it. Just kept his eyes on the rim of his whiskey glass, watching the candlelight slice through the amber liquid.

Because it was the truth. It wasn’t Ellie’s fault. That didn’t mean he wasn’t wishing he could take back that moment, wipe it clean. Like smudging out a scuff on a wood floor—pretending it had never been there at all.

Ellie nodded, but her fork just scraped uselessly at the plate, pushing food around in slow, absent-minded circles. She curled in on herself, shoulders drawn tight.

Tommy cleared his throat, voice pushing for something lighter. “Think it’s time we brought out dessert, huh? Said it was some trifle or somethin’.”

The words hovered, waiting for someone to catch onto them, and keep the momentum going. But no one did.

Joel didn’t answer either. He just tipped his whiskey back, letting the burn roll slow down his throat.

“Ah, what the hell,” Tommy muttered, scratching at his jaw.

Joel barely registered it. His mind wasn’t here. It was behind that door, past the threshold of the kitchen, where Maria had gone.

He should’ve been the one to follow. But Maria knew better. Knew when to step in, when to let someone walk away without pressing.

And Joel—Joel just sat there, gripping his glass too tight, holding Maya closer, listening to the faint rattle of silverware, the flicker of candlelight, the distant creak of the floorboards in the kitchen.

The moment had died out. They just hadn’t called it yet.

Maya's nursery looked different now.

It used to be dim and quiet, a place half-lived in, half-abandoned—just a room with a crib shoved into it, like it didn’t belong there. Like she didn’t belong there.

Now, it felt like a home. A place meant for a child to grow. Soft, muted green stretched across the walls, warm in the glow of the low bedside lamp. Shelves lined with neatly folded onesies and tiny socks, stuffed animals tucked into corners like silent sentries. The window bench had been cleared of dust and laid out with a fresh quilt, facing the snowy street below—facing his house.

Joel rocked on his heels, shifting Maya higher in his arms as the low murmur of voices drifted up from downstairs. Goodbyes being said. Chairs scraping back. The door cracking open to the cool night air.

He should go. He knew that.

But hell, it was barely ten. He never left before Leela fell asleep—not until he was sure she was actually going to sleep. And that wasn’t for another couple of hours, at least.

Not that he was leaving anytime soon. Not unless he figured out a way to pry this little troublemaker off him.

Maya wasn’t having it.

He’d tried everything—rocking, pacing, humming low in his throat—but she refused to close those pretty eyes, just kept watching him, Her fingers patted at his chest, curling into his shirt. Then she'd reach up, clumsy and determined, fingers smushing against his nose, his cheek, his scruff.

Joel exhaled, shifting her slightly in his arms. "What's the matter, sweetheart?"

Maya blinked up at him, all big, dark eyes and stubborn little fists. He knew how much she loved conversing with him, even if it seemed deranged to talk to a fucking infant.

"You gonna let me put you down, or you plannin’ to keep me hostage all night?"

Maya made a breathy 'o' up at him, mouth parting in a wide, drooly grin. Like that would get her off the hook.

Joel snorted. "Yeah, that so?"

Another coo, this one higher-pitched, like she had a whole argument ready.

He shook his head, tired but amused. "Mhm. I'm convinced."

Joel sighed, lifting her up so they were at eye level, holding her by the armpits. Her legs kicked in the air, her chubby fists went straight to her mouth, and she tilted her head back, distracted by the warm glow of the nursery lights.

Too big. She was growing too damn fast.

He felt it in the way she relaxed against him now, her body stretching longer, heavier. Felt it in the way her head fit differently in the crook of his neck, in the way her fingers, once barely able to grasp his thumb, now had a grip strong enough to tug at his shirt.

It was frustrating. Fucking unfair. She'd only been in the world for a few weeks, and just when she was starting to fit perfectly in his arms, she was already growing out of them.

Joel swallowed thickly, staring at the soft roundness of her cheeks, the dark lashes fluttering against her skin. His fingers traced the slope of her back, feeling the tiny, steady rise and fall of her breath. How can you miss something that was not yet lost?

A lump pressed against his throat.

“You know I love you so goddamn much, right?”

It wasn’t much more than a whisper. A thought barely forced out past his lips. And yet—it felt so final. How long until he heard it back from her? Another year? Two years? Would he still be around when she said it to him?

Joel clenched his jaw, sighing. Hard as hell, saying it out loud. Felt damn near impossible, like something fragile, like something that wasn’t his to admit. Like if he said it too much, too often, he might have to face what it really meant. That he’d already taken responsibility for her, or if anything were to happen to her—

Maya let out a breathy giggle, legs kicking, fingers smacking against his cheek.

Joel blinked, barely catching himself before he smiled.

When he pulled her closer, she wriggled against him, pressing her small, warm face to his, her tiny palms patting at his chin, his nose, his temple. Soft puffs of air landed against his skin, clumsy, open-mouthed, like her own sloppy, little version of a kiss.

He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. This was really all he needed in whatever was left of his life. It seemed too easy to make it enough.

“Fine, you win this time,” he muttered, voice rough, thick.

Maya gurgled against his cheek, cooing, like she understood his plight.

He descended the stairs slowly, careful not to jostle Maya too much, hoping the rhythm might finally lull her to sleep. Her head lolled against his shoulder, tiny fingers curled into his collar again, but she was still awake, just blinking wide-eyed at the world.

Joel paused at the landing when he caught voices near the door—Ellie and Leela, still lingering. A strange sight, to be honest.

“Look, I really messed up back there and—” Ellie started, arms tight around herself, like she was bracing for impact.

Leela didn’t let her finish. Instead, she pressed something into Ellie’s palm—a tightly rolled set of charts. “Joel told me you love astronomy,” she said simply. “These belonged to my mother once. She was like you, too.” A beat. “They should go to someone who’ll actually use them.”

Joel shifted against the railing, watching as Ellie unrolled the top just enough to glimpse the faded celestial maps inside—one for each month, constellations inked in delicate, ghostly lines.

Her breath hitched. “Holy shit.”

Leela blinked. “Is that a good 'holy shit' or—”

Ellie nearly lunged forward—almost, but not quite. She caught herself, scratching the back of her head instead, a grin breaking through like she couldn’t hold it back. “Best fucking holy shit. Thank you.”

For a moment, she just held the maps, careful, reverent, like something fragile. Then she exhaled, shaking her head with a laugh—the kid really couldn’t believe her luck. “This is so sick. I’m gonna—I don’t even know, but it’s gonna be fucking awesome.” She clutched the charts to her chest, voice lighter than it had been all night. “Thanks, Leela. Really.”

Leela gave a slow nod, like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with the gratitude. She hesitated, then tested out a cautious, “Um. Have... fun.”

Ellie barely caught any of that. She whooped into the night as she left, the charts still hugged close. Oh, Joel was definitely not going to hear the end of this for at least a month.

Leela lingered in the doorway, lips parted, watching Ellie disappear down the street. Then, almost like she didn’t quite believe what had just happened, she slowly shut the door, pressing her back against it. Her hands lifted, covering her face, fingers threading through her hair. A breathy laugh escaped her—soft, disbelieving.

Joel caught the tail end of it, the faint curve of her smile before she tucked it away. Small. Quiet. Like she didn’t quite know what to do with it.

And hell, if that didn’t do something to him.

“I take it you enjoyed dinner then,” he said, his voice rough with amusement.

Leela startled slightly and hadn’t realized he was still there. Her eyes flicked first to Maya, softening instinctively before settling on him. The edges of that smile lingered—that wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

She stepped closer, hand brushing over Maya’s back. “Little troublemaker fighting sleep again?”

Maya let out a big, sleepy yawn, eyes drooping but still resisting, gripping the fabric of Joel’s shirt like she could anchor herself awake. Stubborn baby girl.

Joel huffed, shifting his hold on her. “Like she doesn’t even need it.”

Leela hummed, tracing slow, absentminded circles against the baby’s onesie. Joel expected her to say something, but when he glanced up, he found her watching him—something different in her gaze. A glint, teasing but warm, something playful in a way he hadn’t seen before. It softened him in places he wasn’t prepared for.

Then she took a step back, and before he could think too much about it, she reached above the shoe rack, retrieving something small and wooden. A box.

Joel tensed the second he saw it. Goddamnit. Should've buried that thing in the snow.

She bit back a smile, shaking the box near her ear. “So, um… Tommy found this on the porch shelf,” she mused. “Told me you went through a lot of trouble to get it.”

Joel clenched his jaw, exhaling hard through his nose. He knew exactly what Tommy had done—ran his mouth just enough to make sure Joel would have to sit through this whole damn thing.

Leela tipped her head, all exaggerated curiosity. “I wonder what it is.”

“Yeah, real mystery,” Joel muttered, walking past her like he could simply exit this situation.

Instead, he focused on Maya, carefully easing her onto the soft padding of the playmat. The thing was space-themed—little planets and stars dangling overhead, catching the dim glow of the living room. Her tiny fingers curled around a plush moon, legs kicking as she let out a gurgled sound of delight.

Joel let out a quiet breath. This was fine. He could watch her do that. Much easier than watching Leela.

But there was no avoiding it, not really. Not when she was already lowering herself onto the couch, patting the cushion beside her. “Come, sit.”

He hesitated, looking away. He could’ve bif goodnight, walked out the door, and left her to open the damn thing by herself. He could’ve avoided this whole moment, let it pass, let it go.

With a great, defeated sigh, he sank down beside her, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Leela carefully slid the lid open, and the ruby cherries sat there, dark and glistening, their juices staining every inch of the wood. The smell of them hit the air—ripe, sweet, unmistakable.

She sucked in a breath, quiet but sharp.

Joel pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to explain himself. That it was dumb. That it didn’t mean anything. That it was silly. That he’d done it because—hell, because. Because he wanted to see her smile for him. Because he wanted to leave some sort of a mark on her special day.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “Thought you liked ‘em. It's not much, but...” yeah, it was from his heart. And he went on with a gruff, “Happy birthday.”

Leela nodded with a gentle laugh, but she didn’t say anything at first. Just reached in, plucking one between her fingers, rolling it like she wanted to feel every dip and curve of it before finally slipping it past her lips.

Joel tried not to watch too closely. The way her lips curved around the fruit, the divots on that pillow-soft skin stretching, before her tongue darted out to catch the juice. His throat bobbed with a dry swallow. God, he was going to lose it.

“Mm,” she moaned, shaking her head. “This is wonderful, Joel. Thank you.” She held up a sudden finger as if lit up by an idea. “How about a blackforest cake?”

He winked. “Right on, darlin'.”

He reached for one, too, grinning, chewing in sync with her.

Then he caught the way she twirled the stem between her fingers, that amused little gleam returning in her eyes, and he knew exactly what she was about to do. Oh, come on. Right now?

Leela quickly popped the stem into her mouth, brows furrowed in concentration.

Joel smirked despite himself. Fine. They were doing this then.

He followed suit, slipping the stem between his lips, tongue working it in practised motions—an old skill, long-buried, but still easy enough to find. A long time ago, he’d done this a hundred times over, showing off for Sarah, besting Tommy every damn time.

Sure enough, when he held the knotted cherry stem between his teeth, he arched a brow, only slightly smug. “How ‘bout that?”

Leela let out a muffled laugh, sticking her tongue out to reveal hers. Looser, messier, but still knotted. “You’re way better.”

Joel huffed a small, satisfied sound, settling back against the couch. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Wait for it.”

She cocked her head, intrigued, and he felt it then—her undivided attention settling warm against him. That expectant little gleam in her eye.

Well, hell. No turning back now. He worked his tongue around the stem again, shifting it between his teeth, coaxing it into another trick—one a little tougher, one he hadn’t pulled off in years. One wrong move, and he'd choke.

It took longer, and she was watching him too damn close, like she was trying to map every movement, every small shift in his jaw.

Then, finally, when he held it back out—the knot was gone.

Leela gasped, surprised, hands flying to her mouth. “How?”

Joel smirked, slow and deep, feeling a ridiculous amount of satisfaction at her reaction. He tapped his fingers against his knee. “Sworn to secrecy.” Then, just because he could, he added, “It’s a Miller thing.”

She laughed, warm and unguarded, shaking her head. “So dumb.”

Joel chuckled along with her, feeling ten pounds lighter at that sweet sound.

Leela, still grinning, tossed another cherry into her mouth. And then another. And another. Until her cheeks puffed up like a damn chipmunk, lips barely able to contain the burst of juice dribbling at the corner of her mouth.

Joel snickered at her, shaking his head. “Jesus, girl,” he muttered, reaching out without thinking. His thumb swiped slowly and easily at the corner of her lip, gathering the stray stain. “Slow down. It’s all yours.”

And that should’ve been it. The moment she pushed him away. But.

Leela didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just watched him. Not startled, not uncomfortable, not embarrassed. Just… watching. Chewing. Observing. Curious.

Her lips, still slick with juice, parted the smallest bit, like she might say something, but she didn’t. And neither did he.

But instead of pulling back—God help him—his gaze flickered down, just for a second, tracking the spot where his thumb had been. And before he even fully processed what he was doing, he brought it to his mouth, pressing the tip between his lips, tasting the cherry juice there.

A big fucking mistake.

Because it wasn’t just the cherry. It was her. All Leela and sweetness. He'd imagined moments like this for hours on end in his lonesome.

It was the heat of her skin, the warmth lingering on his fingertip. A trace of something softer beneath the tartness of the fruit. Something that made his breath go tight in his chest.

Leela inhaled, shallow and quiet.

See, Joel should’ve drawn off her. Should’ve laughed it off or said something—anything—to keep this from tipping too far. He shouldn’t have let it get this far.

Because for a second, just a second, he allowed himself to imagine it—let himself fucking want it. Joel wasn’t a man who let himself have much. Wasn’t the kind who asked for more than what was given, especially when life loved to take so much away from him. Sarah, his softness, his humanity.

But this? This, he wanted. He wanted it so bad.

Not just in passing, not just in a way he could ignore, but in a way that curled deep in his gut, low and slow. In a way that had him tilting forward before he could stop himself, his breath hitching ever so slightly, just as any man would attempting to her, his hands grounding against his knee like that might steady him, like that might make this less surreal.

Because she was right there. Close enough that he could see the flicker of amber light in her eyes, the crease between her eyes, the way her breath had changed, softened, like she’d been expecting this.

Maybe she had. And maybe that should’ve been enough to make him stop. Because, Jesus Christ, what the hell was he doing? What was he hoping to accomplish? Kiss her? Laugh? Maybe for once not leave this home feeling like a drop-in?

Leela was younger, cleverer, and healing. She was light, and he was nothing but a warm, dark, empty void pressing down on her, on this moment, on the air between them, threatened to swallow any hope of life.

She wasn’t flinching. Wasn’t moving away. But God, she should’ve.

She should've punched him square in the jaw, woken him up from whatever dream he was walking. She should’ve recoiled at the smell of whiskey on his breath, should’ve been weirded out that he’d even dared to lean in, that some old, beat-up man thought he had any goddamn right to touch something as brilliant as her.

Because that’s all he was, wasn’t he? Worthless. Worn down. Hands stained in more blood than he cared to admit. A hardass heart that refused to stop beating.

And she? She wasn’t for him. She was for someone who could meet her in the daylight, who didn’t have to carry every sin, every regret, every ounce of grief in their bones. Someone who hadn’t done the things he’d done.

Yet, something pushed him on. Told him to take that chance.

His breath came rough, unsteady. The space between them felt impossibly small, thinning with every heartbeat, every second, every goddamn pull of the air between them—

Except—just then—

Leela’s shoulders dropped with a slow, measured breath, and instead of leaning in, closing the last bit of space, she leaned away.

Her voice was a sigh, not scolding, not sharp. Just beaten. “Joel.”

It settled somewhere in his ribs, dull and heavy. The truth of it. That this had been a mistake. That she was kind enough, maybe even foolish enough, to let him down gently.

He didn’t pull back fast—he had a little more dignity than that. But he did pull back, gritting his jaw, clearing his throat, nodding once like that had been nothing, like he hadn’t just let himself be stupid, let himself slip into the foolish idea that he could have this, even for a second.

Because he wasn’t that man. He never had been.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and brittle. Joel could hear the soft tick of the clock in the next room, and the low hum of the wind against the windowpane, Maya's soft, sleepy puffs from the playmat. He could hear his own breathing, slower now, measured, because he had to make it so.

Leela stared down at her lap, at the way her hands twisted against each other. Her shoulders had drawn in, tightening like she was trying to make herself smaller, and he hated that—hated that he’d put that look on her face, that he’d made her feel like this.

He tried to work his voice, to apologize, tell her that he'd leave and never look her way again. Nothing came out. Because, ultimately, in doing so, he knew he stood to lose Maya, too. And he just couldn't let that happen.

But, when she finally spoke, her voice wasn’t accusing. It wasn’t sharp or angry. It was just… hollow. Blank. Terrifying.

“I’m rotting inside, Joel.” Her fingers curled, nails pressing into her palm. “I can’t do anything to stop it.”

Joel frowned, something uneasy stirring in his chest. He waited, but she didn’t look at him. Just kept staring at her hands like they held something, some mark or stain, only she could see.

“It’s a good thing Maya needs you more. I'm glad she has you.” She let out a small, breathless laugh—except it wasn’t really a laugh at all. “She's better off with you than me. You're good for her.”

A fit of unexpected anger rose in him—not at her, never at her. He wanted to tell he she was wrong. That Maya was hers. That no matter what she thought, no matter how deep she believed the 'rot' had gone, she wasn’t something Maya needed to be protected from.

“Any longer, and I’ll sicken her with me. She’s so small and pure… the softest part of me. And I can’t bear to even touch her. To feed her. To just be with her. I'm so afraid...” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and then, quieter: “I think I might really kill her, Joel.”

Joel froze.

The words hit him like a stab to the abdomen, like a goddamn gunshot, something he wasn’t ready for but should’ve seen coming. He’d heard her say those words before, hadn’t he?

That night—Maya’s first bout of colic. He’d rushed up to her nursery, rubbing at her back, murmuring low nothings just to calm her down. The screaming had gone on for hours, splitting apart the thin walls, rattling through the house like something relentless and starving. When he'd hatefully asked her to pull herself together, blamed her for knowing nothing.

And Leela had been standing at the threshold, watching. Her hands limp at her sides. Hollowed out. She had whispered it then, too. I think I might kill her.

And back then, he had thought it was the average… exhaustion. Fear. That helpless kind of inadequacy that came with first-time mothers.

But that wasn’t it at all, was it?

No, this wasn’t about being unsure.

This was agony. That bitter edge, that raw, bleeding thing inside her. That feeling of being left to die in her own body. And she was still living in it, with that numbness within.

Joel swallowed hard, his pulse beating thick in his ears. “Leela,” he managed, rough and uneven. It was the first time he had ever said her name out loud, and it landed heavier than he knew how to carry.

She sniffled, fingers curling tighter into her palms.

“I disgust me,” she whispered. “I stain everything, I know this. I’d never forgive myself if I did it to you.”

He exhaled, slow and steady, because if he didn’t keep himself calm, if he didn’t keep himself grounded in this moment, he didn’t know what he’d do. What he’d say. He didn't trust his instincts anymore.

And Leela was still looking down, fingers twitching in her lap, like she could feel something crawling under her skin. If she dug her nails in deep enough, if she pressed hard enough, maybe she could carve out whatever filth she thought was still inside her.

Joel knew that feeling. The itch of it. The glare from his mind's eye.

He’d stood in front of a mirror after things he could never undo, scrubbing his hands raw, watching the way the clear blood seemed to seep deeper between his nailbed and fingertips, no matter how much water ran down the drain. But no, this wasn’t the same. Not even remotely.

Joel had earned his stains.

Leela had been made to bear hers.

The thought clawed at him, made his ribs feel too tight, his breath too shallow. Because she wasn’t talking in metaphors. Not really. Not the way he might have, not the way he sometimes felt it, an unbearable burden in his gut, an ache in his chest.

She was talking about it like it was real, like it was something rotting inside her body right now. Like it was fouling her up, stinking only to her.

Because it was. Because someone had done that to her.

He clenched his jaw, heat rising behind his ribs. He didn’t know how. Didn’t know when. Didn’t know the details, and Jesus, did he even want to? He'd lose his shit.

A part of him did. A part of him wanted to be the man he used to be, the man who wouldn’t ask questions, who would just take his rifle and hunt down whoever had put this look on her face, this disgust in her voice, this strife in her bones. If that was what she wanted...

He could still kill for her. He absolutely would, without hesitation. If she said it, he'd walk right out that door and make for the front gates. He could wipe those motherfuckers off the face of the earth, make them suffer, bleed, scream, and beg before he pulled the trigger. He'd done it before, to less violent people. Why not now? What were a few more bodies to him? Nothing but newer ghosts.

But really, what would that do for Leela? What would that change?

She had to wake up every morning in the body they left her with, haunted, festering. And worse—she had to live in the mind, unable to outrun the moments between the others, the life they had shattered.

She had to look at Maya every day and wonder if she was capable of being her mother. Wonder if she was capable of loving her, if she was capable of keeping her safe. How could she when couldn't even protect herself?

Joel wanted to tell her that she could. That she already did. But that wasn’t something his words would fix. Especially not his.

So he didn’t say it.

Didn’t say anything for a long time, just watched her, just took in the way her shoulders hunched, the way she trembled like the truth had broken something loose inside her, and now she couldn’t shove it back down.

His fingers twitched.

He wanted to touch her, wanted to ground her, but he knew better than to startle her. He was stupid, just not a fucking idiot. He knew the way the past could reach through time, could grab hold of you even when you were safe, even when you were far away from where it happened. And fuck, she was drowning in it, wasn’t she?

Drowning in memories she hadn’t spoken aloud.

He didn’t need to hear them to see them.

Because her eyes—those dark, gripping, hollowed-out eyes—were far away, looking at something else. Someone else.

A room. A face. Hands. A warning. A little help.

The moment he thought it, bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t know, not really. But he could imagine. And it made him fucking sick.

He knew, somehow, that she had spent months alone, trying to live past this, trying to bury it under silence, under time, under the thousand little ways she kept people at arm’s length.

Leela sniffled sharply, yanking herself back to the present, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Just wiped her nose with the back of her hand, her fingers curling inward again like she wanted to disappear into herself. Like she deserved to.

Joel wouldn’t let her.

Carefully—slowly—he reached forward, brushing the tips of his fingers against the back of her hand.

She flinched. A slight tremor. A barely-there shake in her breath. Fuck, it hurt him, too. That some part of her—some deep, instinctual part—still thought she had to brace herself for what might come next.

But she didn’t pull away.

He worked at her fingers, gentle, patient, until she let him unfold her hand from the tight, white-knuckled fist she had made. Her palm was damp, warm from being clenched for too long. There were crescent moon indents where her nails had pressed into her skin.

Without thinking, without hesitating, he laid his own hand over hers. Mangled beyond repair, scarred, spoiled, lost to time.

Leela finally looked up at him. Finally, he let him see her.

Her face was blotchy, her dark eyes rimmed red, lashes wet, and God, she had never looked more exhausted. More fragile. This girl, who could accomplish anything and everything, looked helpless.

And she didn’t believe him. Not a single thing he’d just said. Yeah, she was right not to.

Maybe he was stained. Maybe he was rotting, too. Maybe it was too late for him, too late for a man who had done what he’d done, lost what he’d lost, to be anything else.

But not for her. Never for her.

He brought her fingers to his lips, brushing them softly against her knuckles.

She made a noise—small, unsure and confused. But she didn’t pull away. God, she didn't pull away.

His grip tightened just slightly, cradling her hand in both of his now to brush another kiss, like it was a lifeline, like it was the only thing tethering him to this moment, to her. He let his forehead rest gently against hers, breathing slow, trying to keep himself from gripping too tight, from pulling too close.

"There's nothin’ left to stain or rot in me," he admitted. "Just a lot of space left for the two of you."

The words landed soft, like he hadn’t meant to say them aloud, like maybe he was trying to convince her that they were true.

And Joel—he knew what that felt like. To be left alone with it. To drown in it. To have no one there to pull you out of it. So he didn’t try to stop her. Didn’t try to fix what couldn’t be fixed. This time, he wasn't heading for the door.

All he did was stay.

Leela sucked in a breath, sharp and shallow, like she was trying to hold herself together, but Joel could already see it—she was already falling.

And he wasn’t about to let her hit the ground alone.

His fingers curled tighter around hers, his other hand coming up to the back of her head, his thumb brushing just barely along her hairline. He felt her shudder beneath his touch, felt the way her breath came uneven, quick and unsure.

Close enough that he could feel every tremor in her body, every sharp, shallow breath she took. But he didn’t shush her. Didn’t tell her to breathe. Didn’t whisper that it would be okay.

Because he wasn’t a goddamn liar.

And because this—this agony, this slow, rotting thing inside her—wasn’t something words could untangle. It wasn’t something she could be reassured out of, something she could be reasoned or comforted or willed away from.

It was in her bones. In her blood. It lived there, like a sickness that had no cure.

So what the hell could he say? What good would empty do?

All he had—all he could offer—was this. His hands around hers. His touch, light, present. The slow press of his forehead against hers, grounding, real, unmoving.

And he held her. Not tightly, not desperately—just enough.

Enough for her to know. Enough for her to feel, just for a second, what it was to be held and not taken.

To be seen and not used.

To be broken and not discarded.

Joel breathed out slowly, before pulling back just enough to see her. Leela didn’t move or speak, just watched him quietly. Hoping for something from him.

His palm lifted to touch her cheek. Not enough to startle, just enough to remind her he was still here. That he would be.

“Alright then, birthday girl,” he murmured. “I’ll put Maya to bed. See you in the morning.”

No reluctance. No more questions. No trying to make sense of whatever had just passed between them.

Because nothing had changed. And that was the point. Whatever had been said, whatever had happened—he wasn’t going anywhere.

Leela didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. He caught the way her fingers curled into her palm gently like she was holding onto the warmth he’d left behind. There was a little curve that rested on the edge of her lips.

Joel didn’t look back as he left the room, didn’t linger in the doorway like he sometimes did. He just walked upstairs to Maya's quiet little corner of the world, enduring, sure, carrying her small weight against his chest.

Carefully, he lowered her into the crib, unfurling her fists from his collar. She stirred, a breathy sigh escaping her lips as she calmed into a deeper sleep.

Joel sighed, pressing his hands against the crib’s edge, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring down at her, at the impossible being that she was.

Warm, breathing, real. A perfect thing born from ruin.

Joel swallowed against the knot tightening in his throat. How the hell did something like her come from so much pain? From something that had swallowed her mother whole?

He didn’t know how it had happened. Didn’t know when he had stopped just watching from the outside and stepped into the mess of it. Didn’t know how someone like him—someone as stained, someone as wrecked—had ended up here, standing over something so goddamn perfect.

Nothing mattered because the truth was—he wouldn’t undo it. Wouldn’t take back a single second of this.

His breath ached with that same old, familiar twist as he reached down, brushing his fingers over Maya’s impossibly small hand.

She twitched, her lips parting slightly in sleep, and goddamn it—he felt it everywhere. Joel let a small grin pull at his lips as he curled his fingers around hers, feeling the faintest squeeze in return. Yeah, she was all his.

He sighed, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. Once. Then again. Then a third time, lingering, his lips brushing over her fine, downy hair, drinking in the warmth of her, the scent of her, the sheer, impossible realness of her.

No, nothing had changed.

But somehow, everything had.

{ taglist 🫶: @darknight3904 , @guiltyasdave , @letsgobarbs , @helskemes , @jodiswiftle , @tinawantstobeadoll , @bergamote-catsandbooks , @cheekychaos28 , @randofantfic , @justagalwhowrites , @emerald-evans , @amyispxnk , @corazondebeskar-reads , @wildemaven , @tuquoquebrute , @elli3williams , @bluemusickid , @bumblepony , @legoemma , @chantelle-mh , @heartlessvirgo , @possiblyafangirl , @pedropascalsbbg , @brklynln -> @kaseynsfws , @prose-before-hoes , @kateg88 , @laliceee , @escaping-reality8 , @mystickittytaco , @penvisions , @elliaze , @eviispunk , @lola-lola-lola , @peepawispunk , @sarahhxx03 , @julielightwood , @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi , @arten1234 , @jhiddles03 , @everinlove , @nobodycanknoww , @ashleyfilm , @rainbowcosmicchaos , @i-howl-like-a-wolf-at-the-moon , @orcasoul , @nunya7394 , @noisynightmarepoetry , @picketniffler , @ameagrice , @mojaveghst , @dinomecanico , @guelyury , @staytrueblue , @queenb-42069 , @suzysface , @btskzfav , @ali-in-w0nderland , @ashhlsstuff , @devotedlypaleluminary , @sagexsenorita , @serenadingtigers , @yourgirlcin , @henrywintersgun , @jadagirl15 , @misshoneypaper , @lunnaisjustvibing , @enchantingchildkitten , @senhoritamayblog , @isla-finke-blog , @millercontracting , @tinawantstobeadoll , @funerals-with-cake , @txlady37 , @inasunlitroom , @clya4 , @callmebyyournick-name , @axshadows , @littlemissoblivious } - thank you!! awwwww we're like a little family <3

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mrgoldmc26 · 1 day ago

Text

IU's Contract Renewal

Tags: Gangbang, blowbang, spitroasting, airtight, betrayal, bondage, piss play, humiliation, degradation and more...

Word Count: 9.2k

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

With just a little bit over six months remaining on her current contract, today was a big day for IU. It was a quiet Sunday morning, the kind that made the world feel slower, emptier.

After arriving at EDAM Entertainment's building, she stepped out of the car, flanked by her lawyer and bodyguard as they made their way toward the elevator—the familiar routine of a contract renewal settling in her mind.

She thought this would just be another simple contract renewal, but little did she know, it was going to be far from it.

Over the past few weeks, she had asked Bae Jong-han, her manager of fifteen years and also CEO of EDAM Entertainment, for details about the renewal. Usually, he was transparent, walking her through every clause and adjustment. But this time, he had been uncharacteristically vague, offering nothing but polite reassurances.

When she got to the place where the meeting was set to take place, it was empty. It was an office she had been in countless times before. It was spacious, with a large, oval wooden table dominating the center of the room, its polished surface reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lighting. At the far end, directly opposite the entrance, a TV hung on the wall, its black screen blank and unassuming for now. Just beneath it, a wall-mounted safe was embedded into the wall, its digital keypad and sturdy steel door a silent guardian of the valuables that were stored inside. To the right, a door led to a small private bathroom, a convenience she had used more times than she could count during long discussions.

IU exhaled softly, placing her bag on one of the chairs before turning to her lawyer and bodyguard.

"I'm going to do a quick makeup check." She said, making her way to the small bathroom.

Inside, she stood before the mirror, adjusting a stray strand of hair before carefully inspecting her makeup. Everything was in place, but the habit had become second nature—one final check before any important meeting. As she smoothed out the edge of her lipstick, a faint noise came from outside, signaling more people had arrived. Without wasting any more time, she hurried to finish up and stepped out of the bathroom, returning to the office.

Upon her return, she saw none other than Bae Jong-han, the man who had guided her career from the very beginning, standing with the same composed expression he always wore in these contract renewals. Beside him stood EDAM's lawyer, a man in his forties with sharp, observant eyes, and several board members seated at the table, waiting in silence. Near the double doors, on opposite sides, stood two bodyguards—EDAM's on the left, a tall, strong black guy, and IU’s on the right. Both remained still, their presence a silent yet heavy reminder of the power struggle unfolding in the room.

A warm smile broke across IU's face as she approached her longtime friend and manager.

"Jong-han oppa." IU said, as she, without hesitation, wrapped her arms around him in a brief but sincere hug, feeling the familiarity of fifteen years of trust.

"Good to see you, Jieun. Are you ready to get started?"

"I'm not sure. You always tell me details ahead of contract renewals, but this time you didn't say anything."

"Well, there are some changes we want to implement, and I didn't want to address them in private."

"Very well. Let's get started." He said, as he made his way to the TV and turned it on to begin a PowerPoint presentation. IU sat down next to her lawyer, with EDAM's lawyer sitting in front of them.

"Before we go over the contract in detail, I want to give you a brief overview. It's largely the same as before, but we've made some adjustments, particularly on the musical side of things."

"But before we get into that, let's talk about Jieun's acting career very briefly."

"The board is extremely pleased with the results. IU has proven herself as a top-tier actress, and the numbers reflect that. We want her to continue pursuing acting, since it’s a valuable part of her brand, and it's by far what earns us the most money."

IU gave a small nod, a quiet sense of pride settling in. Acting had always been something she cared about, and hearing it acknowledged so positively, even in business terms, felt validating.

"Now, onto the music."

"As you all know, our primary goal over the past few years has been to solidify IU as the top female soloist in Korea."

"I believe we've done a pretty good job with that up until recently. However, there are some new threats."

"Our main threats are these four ladies." He added, showing a picture of each Blackpink member.

"They are obviously the most popular female K-Pop idols in the world, and ever since they have started doing solo activities, their popularity has only gotten bigger. Also, if we add up all of their solo songs, and compare them to their group songs, their solo discography is now bigger than their group discography."

"Because of that, the rest of the company and I believe that IU is no longer the most popular soloist in Korea."

The words stung, and despite her best efforts to remain composed, a flicker of disappointment crossed IU's face. She shifted slightly in her seat, fingers brushing over the fabric of her skirt as if grounding herself. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard something like this in a business meeting, but that didn’t make it any easier. She had dedicated years to reaching the top, and hearing that her position was slipping, even from a strictly analytical standpoint, left an uneasy feeling settling in her chest.

"Now, that wasn't our only goal. We also believed that it was possible to fight against those K-Pop groups, but that has turned out to be a total failure."

"We are still not bigger than the most popular 3rd gen girl groups, like Blackpink, Twice and Red Velvet. And now, not only we have been overtaken by almost all the biggest 4th gen girl groups, but also by some of the 5th gen girl groups. This cannot happen! It's unacceptable!"

"These groups are known all around the world, but you...Jieun...you are only known in Korea, and we need to change that."

"Your songs are just not good enough." He added, as IU's disappointment only grew more apparent, the words hitting her like a stab to the chest.

"But do not fear...I've got a solution."

"Jieun...you might not like this, but...the company and I believe you should change your concept, and approach a more main stream vibe."

"We believe that you should try a Pop-Rock concept. It's very popular in the West."

"What? No! That would be selling my soul to the devil. I will not do it. I don't care about numbers, or views. I care about my fans and what is real to me."

"I was afraid you would say that, but I got another solution..."

"How about we change the way you dress?"

"I don't wanna bring them up again, but Blackpink has been wearing less and less clothes lately, and it seems to be working. Also, girls like Wonyoung have been showing up a whole lot more skin lately, and it's been driving everyone insane."

"Bae Jong-han...are you serious right now? How could you? This has to be a joke, right?"

"We are not joking. The industry has changed, and we need change...we need YOU to change. Our numbers are horrible right now, and we need to do something about it."

"I can't believe you would suggest those things...change my concept and dress like a slut? No chance."

"Jieun...you have no other options. We got the final saying."

"No, I refuse to believe that. I'm not signing anything right now. We'll see you next week." She said, a tear running down her face as she rushed out of the office, followed by her bodyguard and her lawyer.

IU was furious, sad and disappointed. She couldn't believe her CEO, but most importantly her manager and long time friend would suggest those things. IU knew the numbers were bad, and she wanted to do everything in her power to fix them, but not by compromising her values.

She spent the next week locked in her apartment with her lawyer, reading the new proposed contract and going over her current contract to try and find something she could use to make her way out of it. After going through both contracts a thousand times, her lawyer told her there was no way out.

IU couldn't believe it, and she refused to accept her fate. She called her manager over and over again, begging him, pleading with him to change the contract, but he wasn't having it. Desperation turned to anger, and she finally snapped, firing him right then and there over the phone, her voice sharp and unwavering. Yet his reaction was as indifferent as ever, unbothered and almost amused, as if he had expected this all along.

By the time Sunday arrived, IU had barely slept the night before. No matter how many times she went over the possibilities, they all led back to the same cold, hard truth—there was no easy way out. Still, she refused to let them win.

Around 11 AM, she arrived at the building, her bodyguard walking beside her in silence, whilst her lawyer carried a folder filled with notes from the past week. Last time, she had stepped through these doors feeling hopeful, even relaxed, trusting that they would find a solution. Now, that hope was gone. Her chest was tight, her jaw clenched, and every step felt heavier than the last. There was no more room for wishful thinking. Just quiet, unwavering determination to protect her image and the creative freedom she had spent years fighting for.

As they entered the conference room, IU immediately saw that something was different. Last time, she had been the first to arrive, left waiting while they made her stew in uncertainty, but this time around, they were already there. However, unlike before, the rest of the board members were nowhere to be seen.

Bae Jong-han sat comfortably at the head of the table, with his lawyer beside him and his own bodyguard standing near the door. There was no act of concern this time around. Just a smug expression as he leaned back in his chair, watching her like he had already won.

"Where are the others?"

"Not here. They are not coming."

IU didn’t waste time with greetings. No handshakes, no pleasantries. She simply set her bag down, took her seat, and folded her hands in front of her, meeting his gaze without an ounce of hesitation.

"So, Jieun...are you ready to sign?"

"IU. My name is IU." She said, stopping him from using her real name.

"And no. I refuse to sign the contract."

"What's your plan, then?...IU?..."

"I'm going to run down my contract, and I'll find another company."

"Good luck with that." He said, chuckling at IU's words.

"Tell me, IU...what company do you think is going to take you? Who's going to sign a 31 year-old who's past her prime? Someone who can't compete in streams or views against today's idols?" He said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

"You're irrelevant now, IU. It's not 2017 anymore...you're no longer the industry's golden girl. You don't have the numbers, you don't have the youth, and most importantly, you don't have the power."

"So tell me, who's going to waste their money on you?"

"Let me answer that for you...NOBODY!!!"

"YOU need us just as much as we need you!" He said, slamming his fist on the table.

With IU being the sole artist under EDAM's wing, she was their only real source of revenue. However, from their perspective, her music career wasn’t keeping up with the rapidly changing K-pop landscape. Compared to today’s idols, her Spotify monthly listeners lagged behind, her music videos didn’t rack up views as quickly, and international streaming numbers weren’t what they could be. The company saw a clear solution. If IU abandoned her creative freedom and let them take control, they could reshape her image, Westernize her sound, and push her into the mainstream global market. They knew the potential was there, and if she just played along, the profits could be astronomical.

"What happened? Where is this side coming from?" She asked.

"You were supposed to be my best friend, my manager, my emotional support, and all of a sudden, you've turned into this corporate monster." IU added, her eyes starting to tear up.

"The industry has changed, IU, and so has EDAM."

"We have to adapt, or we'll die, and I won't let us die." He said, his tone sounding like your typical day-to-day CEO of a company, obsessed with numbers, power and control.

"What about us, what about the friendship we had for the past FIFTEEN years?"

"IU...I'm just doing what's best for business. I hope you can understand."

The room went silent for the next couple of minutes, neither side wanting to back down from their positions. From IU's side, it was a matter of protecting her values and her brand. On EDAM's side, it was a matter of optimizing IU, and turning her into the biggest money-making machine as possible.

IU knew he was right. There was no way any company was going to sign her, not at her age. Starting from scratch was a no-go either. She was rich, but not that filthy rich, to create a company from nothing, especially now without her manager.

"Jieun...listen..."

"Don't...don't you dare call me that."

"How important is this for you? To stay true to your roots and to keep your identity as a K-Pop idol?"

"Everything. It...it means everything to me."

"Very well..." He said, reaching into his briefcase and pulling out yet another contract.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but..."

"The rest of the board members and I discussed another possibility. One that would allow you to do whatever you wanted, without any pressure from us." He added, tossing the contract onto the large wooden oval table.

"What's the catch?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took his time walking around the table, stopping beside her. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You see...there's something I've wanted from you for a very long time."

"Do I need to say it, or do you know where this is going?" He added, with a sickening grin spread across his face.

"I...I know where this going..." IU responded, her heart practically shattering into a million pieces, and her body feeling disgusted at the thought.

She had heard the stories...so many of them. Trainees who had their dreams dangled in front of them like bait, only to be forced into submission behind closed doors. Idols, some of whom had come to her in confidence, broken and ashamed, whispering about the things they had endured to secure a debut, a comeback, a single opportunity to further their careers and achieve their dreams in an industry that never played fair.

It had scorched her for years, haunted her in ways she never spoke about. Because she knew the truth...she knew it firsthand. Because once, a long time ago, when she was just a girl fighting for a place in this world, it happened to her. And now, after all these years, after everything she had built, everything she had overcome, it was happening again.

She thought those days were long gone. Never in a million years she thought she'd have to go through it again, especially this late into her music career, but she was wrong. It turned out that the industry hadn't changed. It had always been the same, and no matter how much time passed, there was nothing people could do to stop the monsters that lurked within it.

"Is this really the only way?"

"Yes...that is what the board wants. They want to see you, in ALL your glory." He said, moving behind her and rubbing his hands on her nude, cold shoulders.

"But they're not here."

"But the camera is." He said, pointing at the camera on the corner of the ceiling.

"If you agree, I'll press a button, and they'll be able to watch and listen to EVERYTHING that happens here."

"So that's it? I just need to suck your cock, and I'm free forever?"

"Oh, no. Hell no. No, no, no, IU. You're going to have to do a whole lot more than that."

"The board wants to see you used and humiliated. They want to see you get taken by everyone in this room."

IU's stomach churned, and a wave of nausea rose up inside her. This was not the path she ever wanted to take. IU knew she had other options. She had a way out of this, and yet, somehow, this was still her best option.

"And that is all? If I give you my body, you promise that you will leave my creative freedom alone?"

"If you do this and accept it, you are allowed to do whatever you want with your career from now on. We will never push you to do something you don't want. You will have full control."

Everything that the CEO said beforehand stung like a thousand needles, but that last line was the light at the end of the tunnel. What IU had always wanted. What she thought she had and was suddenly taken away from her for just some more money, at the cost of creative control. She could have it once again, and forever this time. All she had to do was let them have their way with her, and record everything.

"So...do we have a deal?"

"If this is what it takes...then yes. Take me." She said, surrendering her body to him. The CEO's grin only grew bigger, and he didn't hesitate pressing the button and turning on the camera, making sure the red light was on, so that the rest of the board could watch what was about to go down.

"Jieun, are you sure about this?" Her lawyer said.

"Yes. I w-want this...I...I need this."

Before IU could say any more words, she felt a pair of hands grab her neck and push over onto the table. It was the company's black bodyguard, just following orders from his boss. IU's own bodyguard stepped up to protect her, but IU intervened.

"No. Let him."

"Are you sure, miss Lee?"

"Yes...this needs to happen. It's for my future."

Her lawyer and bodyguard watched as IU got put on her knees and got surrounded by the three other men, all eager for her touch and attention.

"C'mon Jieun...take out our cocks and start sucking." He said, loosening the tie around his neck and removing his suit jacket.

"I told you to not call me that. You've lost that privilege." She said, resentment flickering across her face as she dropped his pants and took out his cock.

To her surprise, it was much bigger than she had expected—far larger than any of her past boyfriends. Not that she would ever admit it. She would rather let him fuck her than give him the satisfaction of hearing her say it.

"I can call you whatever the fuck I want. I've waited for this for more than ten years. Ten fucking years, praying that one day you'd turn to me and ask me to fuck you senseless, and here I am, finally getting what I want."

"WHAT I DESERVE!!!" He shouted, stomping his foot on the table.

"Are you going to let me suck your cock or what?! I can't fucking do it if you keep complaining and moving around like a corporate little BITCH." She shouted back, showing the real anger and resentment she was feeling.

"Uhhh, feisty...I like that. Fifteen years together, and this is the first time I've seen this side of you."

Her former manager stayed still, and IU parted her lips. Her mouth had barely opened before it was stuffed with cock. It was hot and throbbing, and she felt his hand tighten around her hair.

"Fuck...I've wanted this for so long."

He gave a satisfied moan and pushed her head deeper, her throat stretching to accommodate his thickness. IU struggled to breathe, her nose pressing against his pubes and the smell of musk invading her nostrils, and the problem was, it was not an unpleasant one.

IU couldn't explain it, but the way his cock stretched her lips and got harder in her mouth, the musky scent filling her senses, and the salty taste of his pre-cum on her tongue sent an unexpected shiver through her body. Despite the anger and frustration burning inside her, she couldn't ignore the way her body responded to it. She could feel her panties getting wetter with each thrust of his hips, and the sight of her own drool trickling down her chin was making her pussy ache with need.

She'd never imagined herself in this position, but there was no denying that it felt good. So good, that despite her best efforts, she couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped her lips as he buried his cock deep inside her throat.

Around her, the other two men dropped their pants to reveal their hard cocks. The lawyer's dick had some decent size to it, but IU's eyes were all over the bodyguards massive black cock. She reached out to grab both of them and stroked them slowly.

"Look at you, doing things so willingly. I didn't have to ask you."

IU ignored him and instead remained focused on the task at hand. Her tongue lapped at the underside of his shaft, and her lips slid up and down his length, her saliva making it slick and easy to glide in and out. He threw his head back, lost in the pleasure of her mouth, and that's when he noticed her lawyer and her bodyguard still watching from the sidelines.

"Hey, you two. Come here. The company wants all of us to use this slut, and that includes both of you."

They looked at each other before looking at IU, as if asking for her permission. She nodded at them and continued sucking off her former manager. IU switched soon after, taking another dick into her mouth and stroking two more as she waited for her lawyer's and bodyguard's cocks.

Just like the company's bodyguard, hers was also packing, but that's something she already knew. When she was on tour, he was her form of stress relief after long shows. Truth be told, it had been a long time since IU had seen his huge dick, as she was on hiatus, due to her acting commitments.

As for her lawyer, he wasn't far behind. She had never seen him naked, and she was quite surprised by the length of his shaft. IU finally found herself surrounded by them and their big cocks. It had been months since the last time she had sex with anyone, so now, to be surrounded by five big dicks, her body couldn't help but respond.

IU needed her creative freedom, and her body needed this...badly!

Her CEO moved behind her, dropping to his knees and lifting her dress, exposing her perky tits. He started to squeeze and grope them, as IU kept switching from one cock to another, constantly trying to give each one an equal amount of attention.

IU's tight skirt was up next. He quickly pulled it down to her knees alongside her underwear, giving him an unobstructed view of her tight pussy and her plump ass. She had an amazing ass, round and juicy, and it looked even better when it was naked and on display. But as much as he liked IU's ass, her pussy had his full attention.

He put his hand between her legs and ran a finger along her slit, causing her to gasp and her entire body to shiver. IU's pussy was beyond soaked. She was dripping, and he could feel her wetness coating his fingers. He couldn't help but smirk at the knowledge that despite all her protests, IU was secretly enjoying this.

"Fucking slut. Look at this." He said, bringing his fingers up and showing them to her.

"You are enjoying this, I knew it."

IU looked at his fingers and couldn't help but smile around the cock in her mouth. She hated the way her body was betraying her, and yet, there was something incredibly arousing about being the center of attention and getting pleasured by five men at the same time.

He rubbed her clit a couple more times, and then plunged a finger deep inside her, pumping it in and out, causing her body to jerk and her moans to increase. Her pussy was tight and wet, and the sounds of his fingers moving inside her were intoxicating.

"Do you have nothing to say, Jieun?"

IU stopped bobbing her head around the cock in her mouth and let it drop from her lips, before tilting her head to the side and glancing over her shoulder at him, her eyes burning with lust and her chest rising and falling as she panted for air.

"Shut up and just fuck me already."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt his hands on her back, pushing her forward. IU used her hands to soften the impact, and she found herself on all fours, ass raised and exposed, her face hovering just inches from her bodyguard's cock.

"Do it...fuck my face. It's not like you haven't done it before."

"Are you sure, miss Lee?"

"Yes...make me gag on it."

IU could tell her bodyguard was still feeling a bit guilty, but his urges won over, and he grabbed a hold of her head. She felt him guide her towards his shaft, and she parted her lips to welcome it inside her warm and inviting mouth.

"Wait, what? You seriously let him fuck you before me?" Her former manager said, furious that she had let her own bodyguard have her before him, the man who had spent years supporting her.

"That's none of your fucking business." IU said, after pulling away from the dick in her mouth.

She grabbed his length and slapped it on her tongue a few times, before putting his cock back in her mouth.

"You are gonna pay for that, slut." The CEO said.

He didn't waste any time, immediately burying his face between her legs and running his tongue up her slit, lapping up her juices. It had been a long time since she'd had anything inside her pussy, so it was a shock when his tongue entered her and his fingers spread her folds open, sending sparks of pleasure throughout her body.

IU had no idea her pussy could be so sensitive, and her mind went fuzzy as he devoured her. The feeling of his lips and tongue working her clit was incredible, and the sensation of him sucking on her inner lips and flicking his tongue back and forth had her gasping and moaning.

A pool of IU's spit had formed underneath her head, as the lawyers and the bodyguards took turns fucking her face over and over again. She was a drooling mess for their big cocks, and she was having way too much fun taking their lengths down her throat. So much so, that she was caught off guard when her CEO's tongue slipped out of her pussy, only to be replaced by the tip of his cock.

The sensation of him pushing himself inside her, inch by inch, was something that she had almost forgotten what it felt like—to have a cock inside her pussy.

"So fucking tight...just like I thought it would be."

"Can't believe I finally get the chance to fuck the shit out of you."

He gripped her ass and began pounding into her, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room. His thrusts were relentless, and IU found herself struggling to stay focused on the cocks in front of her, the feeling of her CEO's dick pounding into her, and the pleasure that was building deep within her was almost overwhelming, and she started moaning out loudly.

Her moans were muffled by the dick in her mouth, and her pussy tightened around her former manager's cock as she rocked her hips back and forth. Being spitroasted on top of the table and getting passed around like a slut was definitely not on her bingo card when she woke up that morning, but the truth was, she had never felt more alive.

Wanting to hear her moans, her former manager pulled her up by the hair, forcing her back to arch and her tits to bounce freely with each thrust. His hand slid around her waist, and he started playing with her clit, rubbing it and squeezing it between his fingers.

"Oh fuck, yesss. Right there, just like that." She said, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

"You love this, don't you? Admit it. You love getting fucked by five men at the same time." He whispered into her ear.

Whatever game IU was playing, of not wanting to admit it, was long gone—she had lost that game ages ago. There was no more point to keep denying, so she stopped fighting her body and mind. She decided to embrace her true desires, and just enjoy the moment.

"Mmmm hmmm...I love it. I love having five big cocks to play with."

"I want to feel all of your cocks inside me, please." She added, biting her fingernail.

"I knew it. You are nothing but a slut."

"A pathetic whore, standing up for yourself and your stupid creative freedom."

"You should let us fuck you and still let me control your career."

"Never! Just shut up and fuck me. Make me cum on your dick."

IU's wish was exactly what he wanted, so he gave her just that. He slammed his cock deeper inside her and increased the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room.

The more he fucked her, the harder it was for her to focus on the cocks in her mouth, and she had to let them go, and rest her face on the wooden table, drooling uncontrollably as the CEO slammed into her pussy.

That didn't stop the men from finding an angle in which they could offer their throbbing cocks to IU, and she gladly took them in. Whenever she was slurping on a dick, the others were either stroking their shafts or they were slapping them hard cocks on her messy face.

Her orgasm was building, and she could feel it approaching fast. The sensation of being stuffed full, the feeling of his balls smacking against her clit, and the way he was massaging it had her on the edge of climaxing. She tried to fight it, tried to hold back for as long as she could, but her body betrayed her, and she exploded in ecstasy, her body trembling and her pussy clamping down on the CEO's cock inside her.

"Good fucking slut. I thought I would never see this day...the day you came on my cock." He said, pulling out of her and slapping her ass with all his might, making her jolt slightly and let out a muffled whimper around the cock currently stuffed down her throat.

"I need a fucking rest. You boys have fun with that dumb slut." He added, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator before sitting down on a chair.

Initially, they behaved like a pack of hyenas, fighting each other to see which one could fuck IU's pussy first, but after arguing in for a while, they came to the conclusion that there was no point in fighting since they were all going to take turns on her.

The company's men were up first, with the lawyer taking her from behind whilst IU slobbered all over the bodyguard's huge black dick. She wrapped her hand around the base of his length and stroked him, as she swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock, making him groan in pleasure.

"Fuckkkk, suck my black cock just like that, bitch. I'm going to fuck the shit out of that ass later on."

IU looked at him and gave him a dirty look, as if she was challenging him to do his worst. She was a bit scared, since it had been ages since the last time she had a cock up her ass, but she was also too far gone in the pleasure to want anything else. She couldn't wait to have his massive black cock stretching her asshole.

The two of them were not holding anything back. They were using her like a fuckdoll, slamming into her over and over, forcing her to gag and choke on the bodyguard's black dick, and making her tits bounce with every thrust. It was the most intense sexual experience she had ever had, and she couldn't get enough of it.

Eventually, they made way for IU's own personnel to use her. Unlike the company's men, they went much slower, taking their time to enjoy her body. They also knew the situation IU was in, only doing this to get what she wanted, so they decided to go easy on her. As much as IU wanted to be taken, she was never going to complain about a little "break".

Being his first time with IU, her lawyer was thrusting in faster than her bodyguard, unable to contain his excitement of finally fucking the most respected soloist in South Korea. Her bodyguard let IU do whatever she wanted to his long, hard cock, and fortunately for him, that was rapid deepthroats, with a little bit of ball sucking mixed in.

Whenever she wasn't impaling her head on his shaft, her hand was taking care of it, sliding up and down on it as her mouth concentrated on his balls, taking them both in her mouth and giving them the attention they deserved.

"Fuckkkk, I love this cock so fucking much."

"Damn...it's been ages since the last time we did this, Miss Lee."

"Don't tell me about it. I need to release an album and go on tour again, so I can have this cock every day, before and after the shows." She said, before going back to worship his massive shaft.

The four guys kept swapping between themselves as they kept spitroasting IU, and they couldn't help but wonder how she was able to take all their dicks over and over again, and still talk and moan as they fucked both of her holes. She was like a machine, never getting tired, no matter how much cock was stuffing her.

IU kept getting pounded and passed around like a slut nonstop, loving every single second of it. The taste of their pre-cum on her tongue and the feeling of their big, thick cocks sliding in and out of her mouth and pussy was intoxicating, and the knowledge that she was bringing these men pleasure with her body was extremely arousing.

"Looks like you're having fun, Jieun...taking cock after cock, huh?" The CEO pointed out, to which IU simply nodded her head the best she could, with her lips sealed tight around her lawyer's cock.

"I can't hear you...I wanna hear you say it."

IU let go of the dick in her mouth before she answered his question.

"I do. I love taking all of your cocks. I need moreeee!" She said, her eyes full lust.

"I'm so glad we are in agreement, Jieun." He said, letting out a laugh, before turning around and making his way to the wall-mounted safe.

At this point, IU no longer cared about him using her real name. All she wanted was to drain their cocks so that she could have the contract that she so badly desired.

"Remember this? So many reunions in this office...you always asked what's inside, and I never told you. You spent several minutes before and after each meeting, trying to crack the code without any success."

"Are you ready to find out what's inside?"

IU, naked and on her knees in the middle of table, with spit running down her chin, simply nodded her head, eager to finally know the contents of the safe.

Her former manager didn't keep her waiting for too long. He entered the passcode and turned the handle, causing the safe door to open. Once opened, he pulled the door fully open, and showed her the content.

From what IU could see, inside the safe there were stacks of money, a bunch of documents, and a gun. However, that wasn't what her CEO was looking for. He reached inside, searching through the contents until his fingers closed around something specific. When he pulled out a thick coil of rope, IU's breath caught in her throat. She knew exactly what was about to happen.

She had never been tied up during sex before, and the thought of being restrained and used entirely for their pleasure sent a shiver down her spine. It was both intriguing and terrifying.

As IU tried to process what was coming, the company's bodyguard suddenly moved her aside, taking her spot where she had been kneeling. He lay down on his back, broad and steady, before he turned to her.

"Come here, bitch."

She obeyed, settling on top of him, her back pressing against his chest. He adjusted her, pulling her higher until her shoulders rested on his, her head hanging back over his shoulder. As for IU's own bodyguard stepped between her legs, waiting for the CEO's next orders.

The CEO handed him the rope, while gripping IU's legs. At the same time, the company's lawyers took hold of her arms, forcing them against her legs.

"Tie her up like this."

Her bodyguard hesitated for a split second before nodding.

"I'm sorry, Miss Lee."

"It's okay. I want this. Trust me."

Even with her reassurance, guilt flickered across his face. He made sure to tie the knots just loose enough to keep her comfortable, but still tight enough to keep her restrained.

When he was finished, the others slowly let go, leaving IU bound and immobilized, her limbs tightly secured, with only the strength of her muscles and the rope keeping her restrained.

The CEO placed himself in front of her and started to stroke his hard cock inches away from her face, whilst he played with her tits with his other.

"Are you ready Jieun?"

"Yes. Shove those big dicks inside me and pump me full of cum."

"My holes are yours to use and play with."

There was no more hesitation in IU's. There was no hole of hers that was off limits. She was bound and helpless, completely at their mercy, and she loved it.

With a grin on his face, the CEO pressed the tip of his cock against her lips, and they parted instantly, welcoming his shaft inside. As her tongue ran along his length, he started thrusting in and out of her mouth.

As for the bodyguards, they each grabbed hold of their shafts and pressed them against IU's respective holes, before slowly sliding them inside her, one inch at a time. Even with a cock down her throat, a loud moan could still be heard, as she felt the sensation of her pussy and asshole being filled with their thick shafts.

They started off slowly, savoring the moment and letting IU adjust to having their big cocks inside her. With her legs tied and her hands secured, there was no way for her to move or to guide their pace, so she was completely at their mercy, forced to lay there and take whatever they had to offer.

After a couple of minutes, they picked up the pace, and unsurprisingly out of the two bodyguards, it was IU's who was fucking her slowest, taking his time with her and making sure she was comfortable.

As much as IU loved having her bodyguard treating her like a delicate flower, she wanted more. She needed him to fuck her pussy harder and make her scream. But she couldn't speak, not when her throat was currently filled with a huge cock.

Her former manager was giving her no quarter, pounding her throat hard. He was thrusting in and out of her, filling her mouth with his length, and causing her to choke and gag on his cock.

"Look at you, taking these cocks so well. I should've done this sooner." He said, putting one hand on her breast and pinching her nipple.

Her other nipple was not getting any less attention. The company's bodyguard had his hand wrapped around it and was twisting it hard, making IU gasp sharply before letting out a muffled moan. He had his other hand around her waist, holding her still as he fucked her tight asshole with his big black cock.

"You are such an anal slut, taking my black dick like that."

"I'm going to fuck it hard until I cum deep inside it."

"Gonna make sure you won't be able to walk for a whole week after I'm done with you."

These weren't just words being thrown around—he was dead serious. The guy was relentless, using her body however he wanted, thrusting in and out of her ass with authority and claiming her asshole for himself.

The two lawyers were the only ones left without a place to put their cocks, so they decided to join the CEO, kneeling next to IU's head so that they could slap their hard cocks across her face. They were enjoying the view in front of them, seeing an airtight bound IU being used like a whore.

IU had been double penetrated a handful of times before, but not with cocks as big as these. She could feel their lengths sliding in and out of her holes, filling her up and stretching her to new limits. It was an incredible feeling, one that had her moaning around the dick currently stuffed down her throat.

"Are you enjoying this Jieun?" The CEO asked, obviously not getting an answer.

"Don't you know it's rude not to reply?" He added, pulling his cock out of her mouth.

Before IU could respond, his cock was already back inside her mouth, hitting the back of her throat a couple of times, before pulling it out once more, this time to slap her in the face.

"Answer me, Jieun."

"Mmmm, I'm enjoying it...a lot." She replied, her voice barely audible.

She was completely cock drunk, unable to think or process anything besides the sensation of her holes being filled.

"How does it feel, slut? To have a big cock inside each and every single one of your holes?"

"Taking all of them at the same time? ANSWER ME!"

IU took her sweet time, trying to form a sentence in her mind. In her defense, it was kinda hard to come up with anything when she had two massive cocks in her holes, and another two constantly hitting her face, with another one just inches away from her lips.

"Good...it...it feels good. But I want more, though. I need more, please."

"What more can we give you? What the fuck?"

"Your cum. Don't stop using me until you drain those balls inside me."

"And please tell my bodyguard to go as hard as he can."

"Fuck...you are nothing but a dumb, cockhungry slut."

"You heard her, big fella. Go wild on that pussy and make her scream." He said, slapping IU's bodyguard on the shoulder.

IU's bodyguard shot the CEO a sharp glare, his expression making it clear he didn’t appreciate the slap on his shoulder, or being ordered around. But then his gaze dropped to IU, her body trembling, her muffled moans pleading for more. He exhaled sharply through his nose, holding back his displeasure. This wasn’t about the CEO. It was about her. Tightening his grip on her waist, he pushed his frustration aside and focused on giving IU exactly what she wanted—his big cock, deep inside her.

IU let out a sharp gasp as his hips started hammering into her. The sudden force took her by surprise, but the pain quickly morphed into pleasure. His cock was pounding her pussy with the kind of intensity she had never experienced before—not even with him. The noise of their bodies colliding echoed throughout the room, as he repeatedly thrust into her, holding nothing back.

The same thing could be said for CEO and his bodyguard. They were using her like a ragdoll, hammering away at her holes and fucking her brains out, showing her no mercy. IU's body belonged to them, and they were not going to stop until they had drained their balls inside her.

IU was an absolute mess. Her arms and legs ached from being tied up, a dull numbness creeping in as circulation slowed. Sweat coated her entire skin, making her body slick against the one beneath her. With her head hanging upside down, the rush of blood made her feel lightheaded, a dizzy haze settling over her senses. Her neck throbbed from the unnatural angle, but she barely registered the discomfort, too lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

Her pussy and ass were sore, the sensation of her holes being stretched and filled to the brim was borderline unbearable. But at the same time, it was also an addictive feeling, and she couldn't get enough. She didn't care how sore she would be after this experience, all she wanted was to drain their balls dry.

Luckily for her, she didn't have to wait much longer. Her former manager's dick was starting to pulse, the signs that he was close. He had been using her mouth like his personal fleshlight for the past several minutes now, with IU having long lost the ability to lick and suck his shaft properly. The constant throat fucking had not only left her jaw was tired, but had also left her in a complete daze, and she had been reduced to nothing but a tool for him to fuck.

"Do you want my cum, Jieun?" He asked, pulling his cock out of her mouth.

IU tried to reply, but no sound came out. His dick had stolen almost all of her ability to speak, leaving her pretty much incapable of doing anything else besides moaning and groaning around his shaft.

"Well, I hope you're ready, cuz I'm about to fill your slutty little mouth."

He held her head in place and rammed his cock down her throat as fast as he could, hitting the back of it several times, before finally erupting. IU's eyes went wide and a muffled, gagging sound could be heard as she felt the hot spurts of his cum splashing inside her mouth and hitting the back of her throat.

After what seemed like ages, he finally pulled out of her mouth, and IU was left with no other choice but to swallow every last drop of his cum.

"Fuck...I've waited for this moment for longer than you can imagine..."

"Thank you for caring about such a worthless thing, Jieun." He added, getting off the table and stumbling towards a chair.

With the CEO now out of the picture, she thought her mouth would catch a break, but the lawyers had other ideas. Both of them were eager to have their dicks stuffed down any hole of hers, and with her mouth being the only one available, they shoved their cocks inside, forcing her to suck on their shafts at the same time.

It was one thing to have three cocks inside her, but to have four of them...it was something entirely different. It was too much for IU, and even with having an orgasm earlier on, it wasn't long until she reached another climax.

Her bodyguard felt her pussy walls tighten around his dick, her orgasm crashing into her like a tidal wave, and it was enough to push him over the edge. He had dumped his load inside her many times before, but this was different. He was always alone with her in those previous times, and now he was here, cumming inside her as she was being taken and used like a slut by everyone in the room.

IU barely had any time to process that her bodyguard had given her a creampie before she felt another thick load of cum being deposited inside her, this time in her round ass.

"I told you I was going to ruin you and make a mess out of your ass, bitch." He said, pulling his massive black cock out of her asshole.

She had no way to see the damage his big black cock had done, but judging from the feeling, she knew her asshole was gaping and stretched wide open. Her bodyguard had the perfect view, and even he was shocked by seeing IU's gaping asshole, and the cum dripping out of it.

With the bodyguards done with her holes, they decided to pull her to the side and untie her. As soon as they did so, IU's limbs came crashing down, and they were so numb that she barely had the strength to move them. She lay there motionless, her entire body aching and stinging, the ache settling deep into her bones.

However, that wasn't stopping her from having more. Despite everything, her desire was still burning, and she wanted more cocks, more cum, and most importantly, the contract.

"Cum...please..."

It was all she could say, and the lawyers didn't need more convincing. They moved IU and placed her on her knees, on top of the table. She was so out of it, that her head just kept falling forward, and her own lawyer had to grab it, or else they would just have to be pleased with covering her hair in their seed.

Neither of them wanted that, and neither did IU. Her face might've said otherwise, but she was eager to get their loads plastered all over her face, and they were excitedly stroking their shafts, getting ready to give her the facial of her life.

IU could barely see the outlines of the cocks that were now jerking off in front of her, but that didn't stop her from sticking out her tongue and opening her mouth wide, begging for their cum.

It was a matter of seconds before their cocks exploded at the same time, and she felt their warm cum being splattered across her face. They shot load after load of their cum all over her pretty face, covering it completely.

She looked unrecognizable. IU's hair was messy, her body was covered in sweat, and now her face was covered in multiple layers of cum, with most of it dripping down her chin. Her lawyer let go of her head, and she collapsed face first on the wooden table.

The CEO, already with his clothes back on, picked up the contract and signed it, before tossing it on the table once again.

"Hope it was worth it, Jieun."

"And don't forget to clean this mess." He added, instructing everyone to leave the room, including IU's men.

IU heard the sound of the doors being closed, and she was now alone in the room. After the intense experience she had just gone through, her brain was still struggling to process anything. Her head was spinning, and the taste of their cum was still present in her mouth, the scent lingering in her nostrils.

For the next fifteen minutes, IU didn’t move. She lay there, sprawled out on the table, her naked body sticky with sweat and cum, cooling rapidly in the empty room. The silence felt deafening, broken only by her slow, shallow breaths. A shiver ran down her spine as the cold air pricked at her damp skin, making her long for the warmth of a bath, the feeling of hot water washing away every trace of what had just happened.

Her thoughts were sluggish, drifting in and out, until the faint sound of the doors opening pulled her back. She could hear footsteps, but her vision was still blurry, and she couldn't make out who was walking into the room.

"You're still here? I thought you would have left by now." The CEO said.

"Don't mind me. Just using the bathroom. Gotta take a quick piss."

"No, s-stop..."

The CEO did stop in his tracks, not because of what she said, but mostly because he couldn't hear what was coming out of her mouth, her voice so low that it was barely audible.

"Use me...use me as your personal toilet."

He couldn't believe it. IU already had the contract and here she was, still asking for more, her mind undoubtedly broken beyond repair from the experience.

The CEO didn't waste any time, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. With one hand on his dick and the other on the back of her head, he lowered his cock towards her face, and let go. His warm piss started spraying out, covering IU's face, and then slowly running down her forehead and onto her eyes and nose.

Wanting to humiliate even further, he stood up and started pissing all over her naked body, coating it in his piss. Her skin turned golden under the yellow stream, his hot piss splashing down her tits and stomach. It was the ultimate humiliation, the final degradation.

IU didn't know what had come over her, but the idea of being used and degraded by this man, who was once her best friend, was so incredibly hot.

"You really are no different from all the other sluts in this industry."

He spat on her face and zipped up his pants. He took one last look at IU, laying there motionless, her naked body soaked in sweat, cum and his piss.

"What a fucking whore."

He walked away, and once again, the doors were shut, leaving her alone. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for IU. She had no idea how she was going to get herself out of this, but right now, she couldn't even bring herself to think about it. She was exhausted, her limbs felt like lead and her muscles were on fire. Her body was aching and begging for relief.

As IU lay there, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She was overwhelmed, her body wracked with emotion, the weight of everything she had just done crashing down on her. It was too much...too much.

But even then, even as she cried and sobbed, a part of her didn't regret any of it. The contract was hers and even though her dignity had been stripped from her, and her body was completely and utterly ruined, she couldn't deny that the feeling of having cum in all her holes, her face, and the CEO pissing all over her was so incredibly satisfying, to the point where she was already looking forward to the next meeting.

#iu smut #lee ji eun #kpop #iu #kpop smut

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animamii · 2 days ago

Text

Hit Different | Eren Jaeger

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Eren meets his match when Ymir's cousin crashes into his life. Classic playboy meets maneater. ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

𖹭.ᐟ modern aot verse! college au!

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・

Eren sat there on the couch in his garage, legs spread out as his brows were furrowed deep in thought. Arm slung over the worn-out edge of the armrest, blunt ashes falling to the cold cement floor. He stopped smoking inside of his house when you said you didn't like the smell of tobacco, didn't like the way it stuck to your hair. That was months ago, but he still kept the habit. Or tried to. He told himself it wasn’t because of you, that it was just better this way. But he would almost catch himself saying your name when Connie tried to spark up in the living room.

"Don't light that shit up in here y/n doesn't like that shit—" His eyes would go wide, stopping himself midsentence, lowering his raised hand as a confused Connie moves the lighter away from the tip of his dutch.

Now he's sitting here, irritated as hell with thoughts of you. It hits different. The silence. Wondering what the hell you were doing right now. Wondering if you were with somebody else. Eren takes another slow drag, the cherry at the tip of his blunt glowing in the dim light of the garage. He exhales through his nose, jaw tightening as the smoke curls around him, dissolving into the cold night air. His leg bounces, restless, and he hates that he's thinking about you again. Hates that the silence only makes him wonder more.

He tells himself he doesn't care. That it's none of his business if you're out, if you're with someone else. But the thought sticks, stubborn and unwanted like gum to his shoe. He could just text you. Just ask what you’re doing. Maybe something casual—Where you at? or You good? Something that wouldn't make it so obvious that you're in his head. But his phone stays face down on the armrest, screen dark, and his fingers twitch with the urge to reach for it anyway.

His jaw clenches as he swipes his tongue over his teeth, eyes narrowing at nothing in particular. It's fine. He’s fine. He doesn’t need to know. It’s not like you owe him anything. Then his mind wanders to thoughts of you under someone else. Makes his other hand ball up into a fist, has his chest tighten for a second as his jaw feels tension. He hates how even just the thought has him sick to his stomach.

The garage door is cracked open just enough for the night breeze to slip through, and Eren finds himself staring at the empty street beyond it. It would be so easy to get in his car, drive to wherever you are, just to see for himself. Just to make sure. His fingers tighten around the blunt as he exhales sharply. He needs to get a grip. Needs to stop thinking about you like this. How did he even start thinking about you like this?

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

8 months ago

Eren had never really been one for romantic attachments. He simply preferred the hit it and quit it, no strings attached life. In short, he was just a slut. Everyone knew that. Everyone was fine with it. Except the occasional girl who would think they knew what they were getting themselves into but fall into the sinkhole of charm that was Eren Jaeger.

"Yo, Jaeger!" Ymir bursts into Eren's place, plopping herself onto the couch across from Eren, who was laying with a blunt lazily between his lips, preoccupied with his game of Rainbow Six. Flicking through the operators before he goes with his main, Kali.

"W'ssup Ymir?" His eyes flit to her for a second, greeting muffled as he tries to keep the lit blunt balanced, tiny tufts of smoke leaving his mouth with each word.

"Nothin' much. Just got back from helping my cousin move into her place. Girl has so much shit, my back is fuckin' aching from carrying her dresser. I know I'm a masc lesbian but fuck, I'm still a damn girl," Ymir rubs her aching back as she sits up, watching Eren snipe yet another person. "I need some damn indo to help with this back pain."

"Cousin?" Although Eren and Ymir were close, Eren felt like he knew jack shit about her. He didn't even think she had actual parents. In his mind she just spawned onto the earth with no attachments.

"Yeah. My cousin on my pop's side," Ymir leans forward to grab the blunt dangling from Eren's lip, which he side eyes but allows, "We used to be hella close growing up as kids til she moved up north. But she just moved back for school. Got into some fashion design program or some shit." She takes a fat puff, coughing a bit as she leans back into the couch once more.

Eren hums, barely paying attention as he respawned in-game, fingers moving lazily over the controller. “Fashion design, huh? Sounds high maintenance.” In his mind he was envisioning a bubbly, ditzy girl who could barely form a coherent sentence without using the word 'like'.

Ymir snorts, shifting to get more comfortable on the couch, blunt between her thumb and index finger as her other hand rests behind her head. “Please, she’d eat you alive, Jaeger.”

That caught his attention. His brows lift slightly as he glances at Ymir out of the corner of his eye. Taking the blunt back for another hit, the ember at the tip of his blunt glows a fiery red as he took another slow drag, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before exhaling through his nose. His free hand runs through his already-messy hair before he leans back, posture relaxed but interest piqued.

“That so?” He drawls, as if the idea of someone getting the best of him was comical. It was utterly laughable.

Ymir smirks knowingly. “Yeah. She’s not like those girls that throw themselves at you.” She reaches over to grab the blunt from his fingers again, taking a slow inhale before flicking the ashes onto the dirtied rolling tray that sits on Eren's beat up coffee table. “She’s a fuckin' problem.”

Eren lets out a short laugh, eyes still trained on the screen, but the way his leg bounces slightly betrayed how much she had his attention now. “A problem, huh?”

Ymir rolls her eyes, exhaling deeply. “Don’t do that.” She already knows what's going on in Eren's head. She can already see that conniving look on his face. Like a bad ass kid plotting.

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like a challenge,” she scoffs, watching as the smirk tugged at his lips. Aaaaand there it was, that conniving look.

His fingers twitched slightly against the controller, but he shrugs, feigning indifference. “You make it sound like I couldn’t handle her.” But the tone in his voice was anything but indifferent.

Ymir lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Handle her?” She stretches her arms behind her head, amused. “Jaeger, she’d ruin you.”

That made him pause, just for a second. He tilts his head toward Ymir now, fully interested. “How so?”

“She’s just like you,” Ymir says simply with a casual shrug of her shoulders, blowing out a fat swirling cloud of smoke before handing the blunt back to him. “Except worse.”

Eren raises a brow, taking a slow hit before exhaling toward the ceiling. “Worse?”

“Oh yeah.” Ymir’s grin was almost cruel. “She’s got a new guy every other week. Doesn’t do relationships, doesn’t do feelings. The second she gets bored? You’re out. No explanations. No second chances. Sound familiar?”

His fingers momentarily stilled over the controller. “Lemme get this straight,” he says after a beat, bringing the blunt back to his lips. “She’s a maneater?”

“That’s an understatement,” Ymir mutters, rolling her neck. “She’d chew you up and spit you out, Jaeger. And I’d pay good money to see it.”

Eren exhales sharply, shaking his head, but the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips gives him away. He wasn’t used to hearing about a girl like this. Someone who played the same game he did, who knew how to keep things casual and clean.

But the way Ymir spoke about you… the certainty in her voice, the absolute conviction that you were the one who would wreck him and not the other way around—it irked him. Because no one ever got the best of Eren Jaeger. No one.

“She ever try to sink her teeth into you?” he asks, mostly just to push Ymir’s buttons.

Ymir lets out a barking laugh, smacking her knee. “Fuck no. I'm one of the few lucky ones. She actually respects me.” Then her grin widens. “Which is more than I can say for you, by the way.”

Eren clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes as he gives Ymir a dubious smile, but he couldn’t shake the way his mind was suddenly fixated on you. For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t about how fast he could get someone into bed. It was about how long he could last before you decided he was disposable. And for some reason, he really wanted to find out.

Eren exhales a thin stream of smoke, tapping ash onto the makeshift ashtray as he gives Ymir a sideways glance. “You talk about her like she’s some kind of myth.”

Ymir snorts, kicking her feet up on the edge of the coffee table. “She might as well be. Every dude she’s been with thinks they’re gonna be the one to change her, to get her to stay. And every single one of them ends up ghosted, wondering what the fuck just happened.”

Eren smirks, tilting his head slightly. “Sounds like they’re just weak pussies.” He can't imagine any self-respecting guy to be groveling at a girl's feet.

Ymir lets out another laugh. “Nah, they’re just dumb. She makes them feel like they’re special, lets them think they’re running the show. But the second she’s bored? She moves the fuck on, no hesitation.” She takes the blunt from him again, flicking the accumulated ash onto the coffee table by accident when she misses the ashtray. “Shit’s actually impressive.”

Eren leans back against the couch, stretching his arms over his head, pensive smirk still in place. “So, what? You’re warning me?”

“I’m telling you not to waste your time,” Ymir says casually, leaning forward. “You think you’re hot shit because girls let you do whatever you want, but she ain’t like that. She’ll let you hit, sure—if she even finds you interesting enough—but she won’t think about you after. You won’t be special, Jaeger.”

That had something curling hot and stubborn in his chest, something he wasn’t used to feeling. Not special? Eren Jaeger was always special. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed the blunt back from Ymir and took a slow drag, eyes narrowing at the screen in front of him, pretending her words didn’t get under his skin.

Ymir watches him, and when he stays silent, she grins knowingly. “Ohhh shit,” she drags out. “You’re actually interested, aren’t you?”

Eren exhales a faux laugh through his nose, jaw tightening. “Relax. I’m just curious.” But Ymir already knows you have your claws sunk into him, even before he met you. That's just the type of hold you had on boys.

“Curious, my ass,” Ymir cackles. “This is gonna be fucking hilarious. I cannot wait to see you get humbled.”

Eren scoffs, shaking his head, but Ymir’s words stick to him like gum on pavement. He hated how much this was getting under his skin, how much he already wanted to see for himself. Because if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was someone thinking they had him figured out. And right now? It sounded like you were the one to beat.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Music lowly plays from the tiny Bluetooth speaker on the white dresser, bass thrumming low as you stand in front of the full-length mirror that sat in the corner of Ymir and Historia's room, applying a final coat of lip gloss, rubbing your lips together to blend your lipliner just right. The dim amber-yellow light of the bedroom reflects the shimmer against your lips, and you press them together with a satisfied smirk, blowing a kiss to yourself.

Behind you, Historia sprawls on the bed, one knee bent, her phone resting against her thigh. She scrolls lazily, barely sparing you a glance until something about your outfit catches her attention. She looks up briefly, eyes flicking over your outfit before raising a brow. “You’re actually trying tonight?”

You turn, placing a hand on your hip as you pose for her, making those cunty faces you two see on Rupaul's Drag Race. “This is minimal effort, babe. I'm going easy tonight.”

Historia rolls her eyes but smiles, propping herself up on her elbows. “Yeah, yeah. You just like making it look easy.”

You grab your pair of hoop earrings from the nightstand, sliding them on as you check your reflection again. Tight, flattering, just the right amount of skin—tonight is going to be fun. “Speaking of looking easy, what about you? You’re not pulling up in that sweater, right?”

Historia huffs dramatically, tossing a pillow at you. “I’ll change later. Ymir is taking forever in the bathroom, and I am not getting dressed in front of her just so she can talk shit about every outfit I try on the entire time.”

You snicker, knowing she’s not wrong. Ymir has a talent for running her mouth, and Historia—despite her sharp tongue—usually ends up the easiest target. Blame the innate sweetness that she harbors. Something you don't really have.

As if on cue, Ymir’s voice calls from the echoing hallway. “y/n, you better not be corrupting my girlfriend again!"

You turn to Historia with a grin. “As if she needs my help.” Historia flips you off before sitting all the way up, long blonde hair cascading down her back.

“Who’s gonna be at this party tonight? Anybody interesting?” You ask, turning back to the mirror as you adjust your top with a shift and a squeeze.

“Dunno. Sasha said she’d be there, and Connie’s probably already pregaming," Historia swings her short legs off the bed.

“And the guys?” You ask, voice laced with mild interest. Might as well peruse the menu before you get to the restaurant. Maybe choose who you want to sink your teeth into before you arrive, make things easier.

“Why? You got your eye on someone?” Historia raises an eyebrow, curious as to what your chaotic ass would have planned for tonight. You and Historia have been out together countless times, and each outing has its own insane story.

“I’m just asking," shrugging your shoulders, you walk over, plopping onto the bed beside her.

“I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘interesting.’ Jean will probably be there. You know how he is—loves the attention but gets all soft when a girl actually plays back," She explains to you. You've met some of Ymir and Historia's friends, become slightly acquainted.

You hum in acknowledgment. “Reiner, probably? Bert too. I think they were talking about it last night,” you continue, running through the other friends you had met in passing.

Historia tilts her head, looking down at you as you stare up at the ceiling. “What about Eren?” She knows exactly why she's bringing him up. Little freakin' instigator.

At that, you pause, blinking once before snorting. “Eren Jaeger?”

She nods, her cerulean eyes still focused on you and your reaction to the boy. “Yeah. You two have never met, right?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Ymir’s mentioned him before, though. Total playboy, right?” You had only been in town for a couple of weeks, and it seemed like every other conversation was 'Eren this, Eren that". It was annoying, really. Ymir's friends acted like he was some kind of God.

Historia smirks. “Yeah, textbook.”

Your lips curl at the corner. “Hmm.” You don’t say anything else, but you can feel Historia watching you closely.

“What?” she finally asks, nudging your arm.

You stretch your body before standing up from the bed with a slow, lazy smile. “Nothing. Just wondering what kind of playboy we’re talking about here.” You've dealt with more than a handful of so called 'playboys' and they've all crumbled before you. Reduced to groveling messes. Snot nosed, teary eyed, on their knees begging pathetic puddles of men.

Historia rolls her eyes, but she's smiling something mischievous. “Don’t even try it. Ymir already said you’d destroy him.”

Your smirk widens, that's exactly what you wanna do. “Then maybe it’ll be fun to prove her right.”

Before Historia can respond, Ymir strolls into the room, towel draped over her defined shoulders, damp strands of chocolate brown hair sticking to her forehead. She takes one look at you, then at Historia, and groans, throwing her head back.

“Oh, hell no,” she says, rubbing a hand down her grimaced face. “What are you two talking about? And why do I feel like it’s something that’ll piss me off?”

Historia smiles, tilting her head innocently. “We were just talking about the party.”

Ymir narrows her eyes before turning to you. “Uh-huh. And why do I get the feeling that you’re plotting something?”

You shrug with a toothy grin, smoothing out your top as you turn back to the mirror. “I don’t plot, Miri, you know that. I just go with the flow.”

Ymir scoffs, rolling her eyes as she sits down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, and that ‘flow’ usually leaves a trail of broken hearts and emotionally scarred men in its wake.”

You laugh, tossing a menacing wink at her. “Not my fault they can’t keep up.”

Historia snorts, and Ymir groans again, rubbing at her temples. “Alright, for real. What’s the topic of the night? Who are you planning on destroying this time?”

You turn back to them, leaning casually against the dresser. “We were just talking about Eren Jaeger.” Your tongue presses against your cheek as your lips curl into a conniving smile.

Ymir stops mid-motion, eyes locking onto yours, and grimaces. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You raise a brow, your lips slightly parting in feigned innocence and confusion. “What?”

Ymir throws her hands up. “Nope. No. I refuse to let this happen.”

Historia leans back against the bed frame, amused. “You say that like you can stop it.”

Ymir groans, looking between you and Historia. “Listen, I know my cousin. And I know Jaeger. You two? That’s a goddamn collision waiting to happen.”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “Sounds fun.”

Ymir points at you, eyes sharp. “No, sounds like a mess. He’s the worst kind of playboy—thinks he’s untouchable, gets what he wants, then bounces. And you?” She gestures vaguely yet dramatically at you. “You’re the female version of that. The only difference is that you don’t even let them think they had you in the first place.”

You tap a manicured finger against your lips, feigning deep thought. “So, what you’re saying is… I’m better at it?” A devilish smile forms on your glossed lips, perfect brows rising in satisfaction.

Historia cackles, and Ymir grabs a pillow off the bed, throwing it at you. “I’m serious, dumbass! Eren’s the type who doesn’t get played, and you—” She shakes her head, eyes shut. “You’re gonna ruin his fucking ego.”

You shrug, catching the pillow and tossing it onto the bed. “And? Sounds like a him problem.”

Ymir drags a hand down her face. “I don’t got the energy for this.”

Historia grins. “Oh, I do. This is gonna be hilarious.” If there was popcorn she would definitely be eating it right now.

You laugh, stretching before grabbing your phone from the dresser. “Well, guess we’ll just have to see for ourselves, won’t we?”

Ymir groans one last time, muttering something about needing a drink already, while Historia smirks knowingly. The three of you are just about ready to head out when chaos strikes—in true you and Ymir fashion. It starts with a missing sneaker.

“Where the fuck is my shoe?” you mutter, crouching near the bed, tossing aside a hoodie, a hairbrush, and what looks like a half-eaten granola bar (probably Ymir’s). “I literally just had them both here.”

Historia, standing by the door with her arms crossed, sighs. “Ymir probably kicked it under the bed or something.”

“Excuse me?” Ymir squints, sitting on the dresser with her arms draped over her knees. “Why do I get blamed automatically?”

“Because you’re always the reason,” Historia deadpans, icy blue eyes lidded.

“Valid,” Ymir admits with a sensible nod, but then tilts her head. “Still not my fault.”

You blink at her before getting down on your hands and knees, blindly reaching under the bed. “I swear to God, if I find some weird ass shit down here, I’m gonna kill both of you.”

“I told you not to look under there,” Historia says, completely unhelpful. All she wants right now is to be downing vodka cranberries and dancing to Saweetie. She might even pretend to be straight so guys will pay her to kiss Ymir like at the last party they went to.

Your fingers graze something soft and cold and squishy, and you scream. Ymir howls with laughter as you jerk back so fast you nearly smack your head on the nightstand. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”

Historia wheezes, clutching her stomach as she leans against the doorframe. “Oh my god, I forgot about that!”

“Forgot about what?!” you snap, eyes wide and chest heaving, with your hands raised up as if they were contaminated. Which they probably were with the rest of the stuff Ymir hid under her bed.

Ymir can barely get words out between gasps of laughter. “Bro, it’s the ice pack! The one Historia left down there weeks ago when she fucked up her knee!”

Historia nods furiously, laughing so hard she has to brace herself against the wall. “I— I was icing it while watching TV and then it just… stayed there.”

You stare at both of them, disgusted. “You two are feral. Ymir, I understand. But you, Historia?”

Ymir wipes a tear from her eye, finally catching her breath. If she laughed any harder, she'd be having an asthma attack. “Oh, man. You’re so fucking dramatic.”

You shake your head, completely over it, and reach back under, finally finding your missing sneaker. “If I die from some unknown bacteria because of you two, my ghost is haunting this place.”

Historia, still snickering, straightens up. “Noted. Now can we go? I need some Grey Goose in my system pronto.”

You dust yourself off and slip your shoe on. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go before I change my mind.”

Ymir hops off the dresser, slinging an arm around Historia’s shoulder. “Finally. I need a fucking drink.” With that, the three of you head out the door—completely unaware that tonight is about to be the beginning of something more dramatic than a damn Shakespeare play.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

“Bro, hurry the fuck up!” Connie yells from the living room, mouth probably full of chips if the muffled sound of his voice is anything to go by. “You take longer to get ready than my sister.”

“Shut up, Connie,” Eren calls back, dragging a comb through his hair one last time. He’s not even trying that hard—just the usual: white tee, black jeans, and a flannel he doesn't care all that much about just in case his overly drunk ass misplaces it. Simple. Easy. Still, something feels off, like he’s overthinking tonight. And Eren Jaeger never overthinks.

He steps back from the mirror, eyes scanning himself once more. Sharp jaw, messy hair that still somehow looks good, green eyes that’ve gotten him out of more trouble than he cares to admit. Yeah. Still got it. He grabs his phone from the bathroom counter, ignoring the flood of unread texts sitting in his inbox—three different girls, all wanting to know if they’d “run into him” tonight. His thumb hovers over one of their names for a second before he snorts to himself and shoves the phone in his back pocket. Not in the mood.

He’s not really sure what he’s in the mood for. Lately, all of it’s been feeling… boring. Same faces, same lines, same routine. A couple of drinks, a little flirting, and by the end of the night, they’re tangled up in his sheets. No attachments. No feelings. Easy. It’s supposed to be easy. But for some reason, Eren can’t shake this weird, restless feeling creeping under his skin tonight.

He walks into the living room, where Connie and Jean are already half a bottle deep into Eren’s liquor stash like they pay rent here or something. Connie’s stretched across the couch, feet shamelessly on the coffee table, while Jean flips through a playlist on his phone, back slightly hunched, sitting on top of one of the kitchen counters.

Jean glances up before doing a double take. “You’re still wearing that flannel?” Jean raises a brow. “Thought you’d retired it after that blonde last month—what was her name again?”

Eren rolls his eyes, snatching a bottle of Hennessy off the table. “Mind your business.”

Connie chortles. “Man, you are off tonight. Usually, you’re already texting some poor girl by now, setting up your after party plans.”

“Yeah, what gives?” Jean adds, leaning back against the cupboards. “Having an identity crisis or somethin'?”

Eren ignores both of them, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a swig. The burn slides smooth down his throat, but it doesn’t do much to quiet his thoughts. He doesn’t know why he’s on edge tonight—he’s been to a thousand of these. Same people, same drinks, same easy hookups. Girls who know what they’re getting into with him and guys who pretend not to care that Eren always seems to be the center of the room. But tonight? Tonight feels different.

Maybe it’s because Ymir mentioned that her cousin would be there—you—the so-called female version of him. He leers at the memory of Ymir's warning. The way she said you’d ruin him like it was an undeniable fact. Like it was already written in the stars. Like it was already decided. Please. No one ruins Eren Jaeger.

Connie’s voice cuts through again. “Ohhh wait.” His eyes narrow playfully. “This got something to do with Ymir’s cousin? What’s her name again?” Eren doesn't answer, just stays quiet. Connie grins. “y/n, right? Yeah, I heard bout her. She’s bad.”

Eren’s jaw flexes again, his grip tightening slightly around his phone. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Connie raises a brow, sparking up a blunt that he seemingly pulled out of thin air. “Means she's bad, bro. As in hot. As in way outta your league.” Connie takes a hit, pulling it back to see if it's burning just right before passing it to Eren, who takes it without glancing.

Eren scoffs, smoke curling from his lips. “No one’s outta my league.” He says it with the confidence of a man who’s never heard the word ‘no’ in a way that actually mattered. Since birth Eren had been one cocky son of a bitch, and for good reason too.

“Yeah? She might be.” Connie smirks, pouring himself another shot. "Heard she's already got a roster and she's barely been here a couple weeks."

Eren leans forward, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter, blunt dangling between his fingers. “So?”

“So,” Connie says, shrugging as knocks back the Hennessy like its water, “I’m just saying—she’s like you. Probably already got some dude lined up for tonight and won’t give a shit about whatever game you think you’re running.”

Eren’s tongue presses against his cheek, brows furrow and his gaze darkening. He doesn't like the way that sounds. Doesn’t like the idea of you brushing him off—of anyone brushing him off.

“She’s just another girl,” Eren mutters, more to himself than to Connie. “They all play hard to get till they aren’t.”

Connie laughs. “Yeah? Well, good luck with that.”

Eren takes another drag, holding the smoke in his lungs like he’s locking in a decision. On the outside, he’s calm, collected, the usual brand of cocky. But inside? Oh, he’s already made up his mind. If you’re really as untouchable as they say, there’s only one thing to do. Find out for himself.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

The bass shakes the walls, vibrating through the floorboards and straight into the bones of anyone standing too close to the speakers. Red plastic cups litter the countertops some half full some tipped over. The air is thick with the sting of liquor, the stench of sweat, and the occasional hint of weed. Floors sticky as they get covered in track marks.

Eren spots you the second you walk in. He doesn’t mean to. It’s not like he was waiting for you or anything. But the second the door swings open and you step inside, it’s like the party shifts. Like you shift the air just by being here.

And fuck, do you look good. Your hair is tousled, lips glossed, and that skimpy outfit—shit. Eren’s eyes flicker down for a split second, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as he takes in the way it clings to you just right. Top hugging your tits just right and skirt shifting with each step. He doesn’t even have to try to picture it bunched up around your hips. The thought just plants itself in his head like it belongs there. He exhales through his nose, rolling his jaw. He’s seen beautiful before. Had them in his bed, in his car, against bathroom sinks at parties just like this one. But there’s something different about this. About you.

And then? You fucking ignore him.

You and Historia weave through the crowd like you own the place with your arms interlinked, Ymir following close behind, and you don’t even spare him a glance. No knowing smirk, no subtle check-over, nothing. You just flick your hair over your shoulder and move straight for the kitchen, where a handful of people are already pouring drinks.

Eren’s smirk twitches. Oh. This is gonna be fun.

He watches as some guy—Jean, of all people—gravitates toward you, already pulling that smooth nice guy act. Eren doesn’t even have to hear the conversation to know exactly what’s happening. Jean leans in just a little, eyes dipping to your lips between words, smiling like he’s got a shot. And then you laugh—head tilted back just enough to make it look effortless. Eren’s fingers tighten around his cup.

Connie, now posted up against the wall beside him, follows his gaze and grins, letting out a low whistle. “Daaaamn,” he drawls out the single syllable just for the dramatics. “Jean’s already on that? Tough break, bro.”

Eren scoffs, tipping his drink back and swallowing slow like he wants the liquor to burn his throat on purpose. “Not my break to be tough.”

“Sure.” Connie sneers, stretching the word out like he’s not buying a damn thing. “So it’s not pissing you off that he’s—”

“I don’t give a fuck what he’s doing.” The words snap out faster than intended.

Connie raises a brow, like he’s just caught onto something real interesting. “Yeah? Then why do you look like you wanna knock his ass out?”

Eren doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. Instead, he pushes off the wall, weaving through the party with that lazy, self-assured stride that’s gotten him anything he’s ever wanted. People move out of his way without him even trying, girls trailing their eyes over him as he passes. But his focus? Locked. Jean is still talking, still smiling like he has a chance—until Eren’s presence shifts the entire energy of the space. Jean notices first. Then you do. And finally—you meet his eyes.

Eren doesn’t look away. He doesn’t break that charged stare, doesn’t let you see anything but that knowing smirk playing at his lips. You knew this was coming. You had to. The way your own lips curve at the edges tells him everything. He expects you to turn, to give him your full attention. After all, you're such a lucky girl to be graced with the presence of Eren Jaeger.

But no. You let out a soft snort, flipping your hair as you continue your conversation with Jean. Eren’s smirk falters for half a second. Oh, so that’s how you wanna play it? His grip tightens around his cup, but then—he laughs. A deep, low chuckle that rumbles through his chest as he tilts his head, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. You think you can just brush him off like that? Like he’s nobody?

Alright, sweetheart. Let’s see how long you last.

Eren leans back against the counter, swirling the liquor in his cup as he watches you, waiting for the moment you’ll crack and finally look at him. He’s patient—cocky, but patient. Girls always fold first. But you? You don’t even glance his way. Instead, you tilt your head at Jean, lashes fluttering just enough to make the poor guy swallow hard.

“You were saying?” you prompt, voice smooth as silk. Eyes looking up at him so steadfast, making him feel like the only boy in the world.

Jean blinks, briefly thrown off before he collects himself. “Uh—yeah. I was saying—you should totally let me take you out sometime.” He leans against the counter, confidence settling back into his stance. “No pressure. Just two good lookin' people getting food together. Maybe some drinks.”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Sounds more like a date.”

Jean grins. “It can be. Or it can just be a good time. Your call.”

Eren scoffs under his breath, barely audible over the thrum of music. This guy. Jean thinks he’s smooth. Thinks he can keep your attention just because he’s playing nice. Cute.

You smirk, tipping your cup toward Jean. “I like the idea of a good time.”

Jean raises a brow. “Yeah?” Eren can just hear the excitement in his voice, the undertone of him surprised that you'd even consider it.

“Mhmm,” you sip, eyes flickering over him as you size him up and down. “And you’ve been looking real good tonight, Jean.” You can't deny that Jean is attractive. Six foot something, muscular but not too much. Stubble highlighting his sharp jawline.

Jean’s brows lift slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” You lean in a little, lowering your voice like you’re telling a secret. “Been hitting the gym, haven’t you?” Your breath is warm against his ear, subtle but effective. Jean tenses, then exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to play it cool.

Jean then chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck to calm his nervousness. “Maybe a little.”

“It’s working,” your voice is soft and sweet, masking your devilish intentions. A sly hand creeps up his arm, gently squeezing his bicep. Jean subconsciously flexes it, an obvious attempt to impress you.

Jean’s ears go a little pink, and Eren rolls his eyes. Jesus. This is painful. You’re just playing with the guy, toying with him like a cat with a string, and he’s eating it up. His fingers tighten around the rim of his cup. Pathetic. Jean’s lapping it up, oblivious to the fact that he’s just another name on your list, just another temporary distraction. And maybe that’s what really pisses Eren off.

Eren bites the inside of his cheek, swirling the liquor in his cup with a slow flick of his wrist. The ice rattles against the plastic, but his focus is razor sharp on you. On the way your fingers graze Jean’s forearm, the way your lips curve at something he says—something that wasn’t even funny. The sudden tug on his wrist rips his attention away.

"Eren," a voice purrs, dragging his name out like a slow sip of honey. He barely has time to register who it is before soft hands pull him away from the counter, dragging him into the depths of the party. He exhales sharply. Of course. One of the girls from Mikasa's sorority, Louise. She’s all over him before he even gets a word out, pressing against his side like she belongs there. “Where the hell have you been, Jaeger? Too good to say hi now?”

Eren scoffs, eyes flickering toward the kitchen one last time, but you’re still wrapped up in Jean, still laughing at whatever dumb thing he’s saying, still not sparing Eren a single glance. Fine. He lets Louise pull him toward the hallway, weaving through sweaty bodies and the fog of cheap liquor and weed. Her grip is possessive, like she thinks she can stake some kind of claim over him just because they fucked once. They stop near the base of the stairs, away from the worst of the party but still close enough that the music pulses through the walls.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” Louise hums, pressing a manicured hand to his chest, almond shaped nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his shirt as she tilts her chin up, batting her false lashes. Eren notices the inner corner of her strip lash lifting up a bit, making her look wonky, but he doesn't care enough to say anything.

Eren’s smirk is lazy, practiced. “Should I be?”

Her lips part slightly, caught between intrigue and challenge. “I don’t know. You tell me.” Flashing him a smile, she tilts her head to the side, blue eyes trying to pierce through the emotional wall Eren currently had up.

Eren exhales through his nose, tipping his head back slightly, bored. She’s doing that thing—the same thing every girl does when they want to get a second round with him. Soft touches, sultry looks, a voice dipped in sugar and suggestion. It’s textbook.

It would be so easy. He could take her upstairs, let her kill the frustration building in his chest, let her drag him under and replace the image of you and Jean still talking. Laughing. Touching. But when he looks down at Louise—he doesn’t see you. Doesn’t feel anything.

His jaw tightens, body burning with frustrations that you're the irritating source of. “Not happening.”

Louise blinks dumbfounded, jaw going slack. “What?”

Eren steps back, shaking her hand off his chest. “I’m good. Go find someone else.”

Her lips part, the briefest flicker of shock crossing her face before it hardens into something sharper. Annoyance, maybe. Embarrassment. Either way, she doesn’t like it. “You’re serious?”

Eren just shrugs, rolling his shoulders as he shoves his hands into his pockets, already feeling like this conversation is a complete waste of his precious time. “Dead serious.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms, agitation showing in her posture as one leg steps out, her hip pointed. “You really think you’re all that, huh?”

He just shrugs. Doesn’t deny it. Pursing his lips and swirling his solo cup of henny and coke, waiting for her to catch the damn hint and kick rocks.

“Whatever,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “Your loss.” She flips her hair and stalks off, disappearing into the party with a dramatic sway of her hips.

Eren exhales, rolling his tongue over his teeth with a tchht before turning back toward the kitchen. And when he does—you’re looking right at him. Not with jealousy. Not with anger. Just amusement. Like you knew this would happen all along. Eren smirks, shaking his head slightly as he lifts up his drink to his pink lips. He takes a slow sip, holding your gaze over the rim of his cup.

You hold eye contact for a small second before you turn your attention back to Jean. He's actually such a sweetheart you're genuinely enjoying the conversation. Which was... refreshing. You don't remember when the last time you had such an interesting conversation with a person of the opposite sex. One that didn't consist of hook ups or how 'fuckin' hot' you looked.

Jean was in the middle of a passionate tangent about Sailor Moon being able to solo Goku if they were to go one on one. It was cute to see such a straight browed guy defend a shoujo protagonist against the poster boy for shonens.

“I know, I know. Everyone always goes ‘But Goku’s a Super Saiyan, blah blah blah,’ right? But Sailor Moon—she’s got that moon power, bro. You know how powerful the moon is? No one knows the moon’s potential. It’s like, this massive source of energy.” He takes a few more gulps of his drink, making that little ahh' sound before he continues, “And Goku’s just a dude, right? Yeah, he’s got all this strength, but Sailor Moon? She’s literally a magical being. She can manipulate the power of the moon—and that’s not even the best part. She’s got that Silver Crystal, man. That thing can destroy entire universes. If Goku’s even trying to throw a Kamehameha at her, she can just use that to, like, wipe him out before he even finishes charging it.”

Jean huffs out a breath, swaying slightly as he sets his drink down. All that Jameson was going straight through him. “Shit—I gotta take a piss.” He flashes you an easy grin, thumb pointing over his shoulder toward the hallway. “Don’t go anywhere, yeah?”

You let out a tiny laugh of air, smiling as he gives you a flushed boyish grin. “No promises.”

Jean chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully before he disappears into the crowded party. You shake your head, turning back toward the counter, scrolling through your phone like you’re not hyperaware of the gaze burning into the side of your face. Then, before you can even process it—he’s there. A slow, lazy presence stepping into your space like he belongs there. You don’t look up, don’t acknowledge him, but you hear the way he exhales, the entitlement practically dripping from his voice.

"You done playing yet?" It’s smooth, teasing, but there’s an edge underneath. Like he's nagging like an impatient child.

You hum, taking another sip from your drink, still not looking at him as you half watch people's instagram stories. “Playing what?”

Eren chuckles, trying to cover the bratty scoff that somehow leaves his breath. You can hear the way he shifts, arms crossing, the way he fixes his stance. "You tell me."

Finally, you glance up, tilting your head as your squinted eyes flick over him. Jaw tight, bottom lip catching in his teeth, biceps flexing under his shirt like he doesn’t even realize it. Oh, he’s pissed. Amused, but still pissed. Your lips part, a retort on your tongue—

"y/n, we gotta go. Like right now." Ymir’s voice slices through the tension like a blade. You blink, turning just in time to see her hoisting Historia up by the waist, the blonde giggling into her shoulder. "Before Christina Aguillera here falls off another table and gets a concussion," Ymir grumbles, adjusting her grip as Historia hiccups dramatically. You sigh, downing the rest of your drink before setting the cup down. Eren is still looking at you, now frowning like a child whose ice cream just fell off the cone.

You smirk, letting your eyes trail over him one last time before pushing off the counter. “Night, Jaeger.”

Eren exhales sharply as he watches you leave. That was his shot. He should’ve said something—should’ve done something. But no. You slipped away. He licks his lips, tongue pressing against his cheek as he tips his head back, exhaling through his nose.

Next time, sweetheart.

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dismalflo · 3 days ago

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hiii! love your poly! marauders fic, love how you write them

i wanted to request a poly! marauders x reader where the r gets into an argument with their family and the boys comfort r? or anything else poly!marauders

ily

hi anon! hope you enjoy!! <3 i liked writing this one but struggled a little bit with the ending.

poly!marauders x reader who has a frustrating call with their mother ✩ 1k words

cw: modern au, hurt/comfort, reader has a complicated relationship with their mum

The boys are exactly as they were when you left to answer your phone. James and Sirius are a tangle of limbs, giggling and curled up on the big sofa, their laughter filling the air. Remus sits on the loveseat, scrolling through the movie catalog on the TV, your blanket draped over his lap, waiting for your return.

“Everything alright, poppet?” Sirius asks, concern flickering in his eyes. You hate that it’s Sirius who asks—if anyone understands a difficult family, even if this isn't the same, it’s him. He seems to see straight through you.

“Yeah, all good, Siri,” you say, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes as you sit down beside Remus. You tuck your legs underneath you, a stiffness in your posture that betrays you. You think you’ve managed to avoid the conversation, convinced you won’t have to talk about your mum and the hurtful things she said.

You miss the way the boys are exchanging looks with each other, able to read you like a book. They're having a conversation made up entirely of facial expressions. They’re all looking at you with concern, even as you focus on the TV, biting your lip, lost in thought.

It’s Remus who breaks the quiet. “Stop biting your lip, dovey,” he murmurs gently. “You’ll make yourself bleed.” He takes a breath, as if steeling himself. “What was that about?”

You sigh, your gaze falling to your lap as you absently twist your fingers together. “Oh, it was just my parents asking me to visit,” you mumble, trying to keep your voice steady.

“You look so sad though, gorgeous” it's James' heartbroken tone that makes your head snap up.

His expression is equally as sad as his tone, it makes your heart squeeze. When you make eye contact with the boy, you flush and you know you're caught.

“Well she asked me to come home and i was trying to explain that I couldn't just drop everything i have going on here but i would when I can” you pause for a breath, “she just kept interrupting and the she… she”

The words get stuck in your throat as tears fill your eyes, you look at each boy and see they're all sat at attention now, looking doubly concerned for you. Remus moves his hand to sweep over your back in soothing motions, encouraging you to keep talking.

“She called me a useless disappointment,” you whisper, voice cracking. “She said she didn’t know what happened to me, where she went so wrong.” The tears are flowing freely now, and you can’t stop them.

There's a sharp breath from Remus next to you, as if he's feeling your pain for you, before he pulls you into his chest, his arms circling around you protectively. James is quick to follow his lead, sitting next to you both and stroking your leg soothingly.

“Well, fuck her,” Sirius says, standing abruptly, his voice low but fiery. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Sirius…” James hisses, his expression warning. He knows you don’t want to hear curses aimed at your mother.

Sirius immediately softens, crouching down in front of you. “Sorry, doll,” he says, his voice gentler now. “What I mean is… you’re the most incredible person I– any of us have met. If she doesn’t see that, it’s her loss.”

You swallow thickly, still feeling the sting of the words. But as you meet Sirius’ eyes, something in you starts to soften. His words are genuine, no hint of sarcasm or condescension—just the truth, and that makes your heart ache in a way you're not quite prepared for.

“That's what you all think?” you ask.

"Of course," Remus says softly, pulling you just a little closer in his arms, "you’re everything we could ever ask for, dove."

James’ hand finds yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You are not a disappointment," he says firmly, his voice low but filled with conviction. “You’re perfect.”

The warmth of their words wraps around you like a soft, comforting blanket, but the ache still lingers in your chest. You swallow hard, trying to push the lump in your throat away, but it’s a losing battle.

“You really mean that?” Your voice comes out small, unsure, as though you need their validation more than you care to admit.

James’s grip on your hand tightens, a reassuring pressure that makes you feel anchored in the moment. He’s looking at you with that soft, earnest look and his eyes are filled with astounding sincerity.

"Absolutely," he affirms, his voice steady.

Sirius is still crouched in front of you, his face a mix of concern and something fiercer, something protective. He lifts a hand, reaching out to cup your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that have continued to fall. "She’s wrong, doll." he sounds desperate now, “I promise you, she's wrong.”

You let out a shaky breath, and for the first time since the call, you find yourself able to smile—small, but genuine. It feels like a relief.

"Thank you," you whisper, voice trembling but grateful.

Sirius smiles softly at you, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. "Anytime, doll.”

The ache in your chest starts to fade as you take in the soft smiles of the three of them, their eyes all focused solely on you. You let out a long, steadying breath and snuggle closer to Remus, who gives you a reassuring squeeze.

When Sirius moves, ready to go back to the big sofa, confident that you’re well taken care of, you reach out to stop him, a gentle hand on his wrist.

“Can we all sit together? Just for a bit?” you ask, your voice a little bashful, a touch of insecurity creeping in.

Sirius smiles that soft, affectionate smile of his. “Of course we can, poppet.” Without missing a beat, he plops down into James’s lap. James huffs in mock exasperation, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

The quiet of the living room, cuddled up with the boys, feels safe. And for the first time since the start of that call, you allow yourself to relax, to lean into them, and let the weight of the world drift away, if only for a moment.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! i appreciate any feedback <3

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homeofthelonelywriter · 2 days ago

Text

Pt. 1

You couldn't help but anxiously fiddle with the hem of your dress as you sat beside Simon, one of his hands resting on your thigh, while the other gripped the steering wheel. "It's going to be fine, sweetheart. They're going to love you." Unsure, you glanced up at him, a frown on your pretty face. "Are you sure? Maybe they'll just see me as an inconvenience that will keep you from them in the future. Or maybe they'll-" Simon interrupted you as he tightly squeezed the fat of your thigh, a possessive growl leaving his throat. "They'd never. Trust me." With a sigh, you nodded. And he was right.

From the moment you two walked into the same dingy pub where you first met, the others treated you as if they'd known you for years, and you were a part of the friend group. The entire evening, you laughed and drank, Simon's hand constantly on you. At least until he left to go take a piss and smoke a cigarette.

The moment you were alone with the three men, the Scottish one leaned across the table, a gigantic grin on his face. "So? How did ya two meet?" The older one quickly pulled the Scottish one back, a scowl on his face, as he regarded his team member, but there was a certain hint of curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

You chuckled, thinking back to the day.

Excitement cursed through you as you stepped out of the cab, your phone in your hand as you watched your best friend type. But the moment she sent her message, the excitement dissipated. "I'm so sorry, but I can't make it! I'll make it up to you though!"

You rolled your eyes, glancing at the sign of the pub you were standing in front of. She couldn't have let you know before you made your way there, could she? Inside you, two demons started to fight. One yelling at you to go back home and gulp down an entire ice cream pint. The other one calmly stating that you were already here and should at least get a little bit wasted. Before you knew it, the calm demon had won and you walked into the pub, quickly finding a place at the bar. But you noticed him immediately. Sitting in a dark corner, his face almost completely hidden. And very obviously staring at you. It didn't matter when during the evening you turned around, his eyes were always on you. At first, it creeped you out, but before long, you felt warmth spread through you. You almost felt protected, his obvious attention keeping all the usual creepers at bay. So, you decided you at least wanted his number.

But when you paid for your tab, hoping to be able to join him at his table, you watched as he stood up and walked outside. As quickly as you could, without tripping over the air, you rushed after him, finding him outside, leaning against a wall. After taking a deep breath, you started to walk over to him, but he immediately pushed off the wall and started to walk away. Were you really this repulsing?

Before doubts could start to fill you, you called out to him. "Uhm, I'm sorry, Sir?" He stopped and slowly turned around to face you. With a small and hopeful smile, you crossed the distance. The closer you got to him, the more you could really see him. While the lower half of his face was hidden behind a black surgical mask, you could see the top of his cheeks. And they were red, practically glowing with heat. Adorable.

"I'm sorry, I hope this isn't too direct, but I wanted to ask if I could have your number? You're really handsome and seem like a nice man. Of course, it's okay if not, I don't want to pressure you or anything. I-" You stopped, your eyes wide as you watched his entire body trembling slightly. Like a robot, he slowly stretched out his hand to you. Your eyes focused on it and you watched for a few beats as the trembling only got worse. Then, you quickly pulled out your phone and handed it to him.

Once again moving like a robot, the man slowly plugged in his number, his hands trembling bad enough, that you thought he would drop your phone at some point. When he handed your phone back, you looked down and saw that he had also put in his name. But it was a mix of upper and lower cases, making you chuckle. You grinned up at him and pocketed your phone. “Thank you…well…have a good night.”

You turned around and walked a couple of steps before his shaking hand on your elbow stopped you. “U-Uh…uhm…eat? Uh now?” His voice was shaking even more than his hands and he kept stumbling over his words, but when he got the question out, you couldn’t help but nod with a smile.

“And yeah, that’s it.” The Scottish and the pretty one immediately burst into laughter, slapping their thighs and each other, while the older one just smirked, slowly shaking his head. You looked at them, confused. “What…?”

“What did I miss?” Simon slid into his chair beside you, his arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders. His friends immediately started to tease him, recounting points from what you had just told them. Immediately, the blush was back on his face, and you couldn’t help but chuckle along. At least until his hand came to rest on your thigh, and squeezed tightly. Oh, you were in for a night.

A/N: Here we go! Part two and the real story all wrapped up in one! Hope you like it! Edit: Re-upload because I forgot to add tags... :)

@skeletonsucker

#ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cod #cod fanfiction #cod x reader

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marauder-misprint · 2 days ago

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do you think you can write a part two to ‚He looks like his father‘? It’s just really great and I’d like to see how it goes on

Here it is! The rest of the day with Sirius and Percy! I 100% put some of Sirius' lines from canon into this - it wasn't planned but it fits.

Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎❤︎❤︎

Old school friends

part one

Sirius Black x fem!Slytherin!reader (mum reader)

3.3k words

cw: mention of war, y/n y/l/n, fluff?

You locked eyes with Narcissa the moment you and Sirius entered the Three Broomsticks. She gave you a small, knowing smile. With a quick glance to the side, you saw that Sirius was tensed up, his jaw clenched. Frankly, you’re not sure if he was scanning the gaggle of students looking for the boy who could be his son or if he saw Lucius and Narcissa and decided that this was a mistake.

“I know you said you were meeting them here, but ugh,” he mumbled as you weaved through the busy pub.

So the latter. You laughed lightly and scanned the teenagers. You discreetly pointed toward the end of the table where Percy was sitting in between Draco and Theodore Nott.

“Percy’s next to Draco,” you said.

Sirius looked where you pointed. He tried to see what you and Remus meant by the boy looking like him. He supposed the dark hair and light eyes could be similar, but he didn’t see it as strikingly as Remus did. Sirius’ eyes went wide when you turned for the parents’ end of the table instead of toward Percy.

“I thought I was-” Sirius started to say until you reached to grab his arm.

“I’m not going to interrupt him with his friends to introduce an old school friend,” you said, reminding him of who he was to Percy. “You will tolerate the adults for a few drinks. We’ll probably stop by Honeydukes or something after and you can meet him then.”

Sirius nodded and followed you to where the adults were sitting.

“Cousin!” Narcissa greeted Sirius brightly as you sat down next to her and Sirius next to you. “How is the Potter boy doing?”

“Harry’s well. Brilliant as his parents were,” Sirius answered, although his answer sounded strained. He obviously wasn’t used to talking politely with the Malfoys or the other smattering of parents around you.

You looked around the table and realized you recognized a few faces. It made sense that some of Draco’s friends’ families would’ve been invited to the Malfoy’s Christmas parties.

“Gloria Greengrass! Were you at the game?” you asked a woman across the table.

“Oh, Y/N, I thought that was your Percy down there,” Gloria responded, a saccharine smile appearing on her face. “Yes, I did attend. Since when has Percy been attending Hogwarts? I could have sworn you said he was at Durmstrang?”

“He was,” you drawled. It was easy to fall back into the almost pretentious conversation that these pure blood-centric families doled out. “But a promotion brought us to this neck of the woods and, you know Dumbledore, can’t refuse legacy students. I must say, Percy jumped at the opportunity to attend with Draco.”

Gloria laughed and then turned her piercing gaze to Sirius. She gave him an obvious once over.

“And this is?”

“Sirius Black,” you answered for him. “An old friend that I wasn’t expecting to run into today and we decided that we must catch up.”

Gloria nodded and whispered something to the woman next to her. You looked at Sirius briefly, but he was trying to wave down Madam Rosmerta to get drinks brought over for you two.

Then Narcissa leaned over to you and whispered, “Gloria is next to Bridget Zabini. Then, you have the Boyles, the Parkinsons and Marcus Montague.”

“Thank you,” you whispered back, placing your hand on top of hers.

Between the Christmas parties and Percy’s occasional letters, you recognized some of the names. However, Gloria was the only you had ever really conversed with. You sat and listened politely to their conversations. Sirius got you both butterbeers. You felt less awkward at the table with a drink in your hands.

“Do you know any of them?” you asked Sirius in a low voice.

“Remus and I keep to the Gryffindor families. But I do know Marcus next to me. Parents were friends.”

“Ah, so you’re best friends,” you teased, earning an eye roll from Sirius.

“Barely. He’s older than Bellatrix.”

“Maybe you have a thing for older men now. It has been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

He scoffed and took a swig of his drink, the foam sticking to his upper lip. You handed him a napkin.

“Good to know you still hate the foam,” Sirius muttered as he wiped it away.

“I don’t hate it. I just think it looks sloppy,” you corrected him.

Narcissa leaned forward and said, “She’s right. It does look sloppy. Anyways, Y/N, can I assume that you two have… caught up on big life occurrences?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Narcissa had a certain kind of tact, that was for sure.

“He is aware, yes,” you said firmly.

Sirius looked from you to Narcissa to Percy and back to you.

“And what of it? Where does that leave things?” she pressed.

“Cissa. We can discuss it over tea at a later date. Now is not the time, nor the place.”

She gave you an annoyed look. She wanted details and to know how things were going to move forward with this since Sirius now knew about Percy and you brought him to butterbeers. You were mildly amused that she thought it was something you’d be willing to discuss in front of people you barely knew.

Both you and Sirius opted to listen more than participate in the conversations around you. You shared low comments here and there and responded when spoken to, but that was about it. You felt like you were a little kid being allowed to sit at the adult table for once. You understood most of the conversations but not enough to contribute. From how rigid Sirius was, you assumed he felt the same way. Some pure blood families never changed.

After a while and a few refills, you stood and signaled for Sirius to do the same.

“It’s been lovely seeing you all, but I have some errands to run before I leave the village,” you told the adults before calling down to the end of the table, “Percy, we’re leaving.”

Percy said a quick bye to his friends before joining you and Sirius near the exit of the pub.

“Percy, this is one of my friends from when I went here, Sirius Black.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” your son said, holding out his hand which Sirius shook. “Oh, I saw you earlier! After the match!”

“Yes. You were in quite a hurry to get to your mum. Can’t say I blame you,” Sirius said with a smirk.

You elbowed him in the side.

“Ow,” Sirius hissed as you gave him a sickly sweet smile.

“Wait, Mum, did you say Black? Sir, are you related to Aunt Cissa?”

You could tell that Sirius wanted to gag or say something rude. It was instinct for him, but he swallowed the urge down.

“She’s my cousin, yes.”

“Wicked.”

“Oh, and Sirius is fine. None of that sir business.”

“Perc, do you mind if he tags along? I literally haven't seen him since before you were born.”

“Yeah, whatever, Mum. Honeydukes?”

“Lead the way,” you laughed.

Percy pushed open the doors. The warm afternoon air enveloped you as you stepped out into the sunlight. Percy wasted no time and headed toward the sweets shop. You and Sirius walked behind him. You couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips. It was amusing to see Sirius watch Percy, trying to see what similarities others saw and imagining everything he missed in this child’s upbringing.

Just outside Honeydukes, Percy stopped and turned to face you.

“Sirius, sir, if you don’t mind me asking, which house were you in?”

“I don’t mind at all. Gryffindor.”

Percy’s face lit up. “Oh! So you must’ve known my dad!”

You froze.

“Mum says he was in Gryffindor. Any of your old mates dead?”

Embarrassment washed over you. Your son, despite all the respect and manners Durmstrang taught him, still was a teenager. You looked to Sirius to see how he would respond and you wanted to laugh at his expression. At least you did until he answered.

“Too many of them, Percy. Far too many of them.” His tone was grave.

“The war,” Percy breathed in realization. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

Okay, maybe Durmstrang did alright.

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout, kit. I like to think that the ones we love never really leave us. They’re always in here,” he said, patting his chest. “Anyways, what’s your favorite sweet? I’m buying. A thank you for letting me tag along.”

“Awesome! We’re so getting Shock-o-chocs!”

Percy bolted into the store to find his most frequented stand. You nudged Sirius’ as you took a step forward.

“Thanks for… not being hard on him about the war.”

“Please, least I could do. And don’t think I’m not getting you Chocolate Eternals.”

Your heart fluttered. He had remembered your favorite after all these years. It must’ve shown on your face.

As Sirius started walking toward the door, he said, “If I recall, you never could turn them down.”

You followed the boys into the shop. It wasn’t exactly as you remembered it. It felt more crowded with additional stands and a larger variety of sweets. Sirius and Percy were standing among the chocolate options, putting an ungodly amount of packages into a basket that Sirius was holding onto. You shook your head as you walked up to them.

“Not trying to drain his bank account, are you?” you asked.

“Mum, your friend insisted.”

You gave Sirius a soft glare. He had often been the recipient of your glares and knew every variation. Just like he did when you were students, he flashed you his most charming grin.

“Sirius…”

“What? If he’s really your kid, then chocolate’s one of his most important food groups and Hogwarts is depriving him of it.”

“I’m deprived, Mum,” Percy added, suddenly sporting an identical grin to Sirius.

Merlin, they were practically twins. Had this kid not inherited a single one of your genes?

“I mean, I’m not saying no. Just pointing out that Sirius is going to run himself broke.” You crossed your arms and popped your hip out. “I’m surprised you’re broke already.”

“I’m financially responsible.”

You snorted as you tossed a few Chocolate Cauldrons into the basket.

“You and the word ‘responsible’ will never be in the same sentence.”

He shrugged. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Go buy this before we end up buying the whole place out,” you told Sirius.

Percy gave you a wide-eyed look. “Can we do that?”

“No, Percy, no. You have to pace yourself.”

Sirius, despite being a short distance away as he stood in line, said, “Godric, he’s fifteen. Cut ‘im some slack, love!”

You pressed your lips together at the endearment. The apologetic look that crossed Sirius’ face showed that he noticed his slipup too. You glanced at Percy, but he didn’t seem to think anything of it. You sighed and slung an arm over his shoulder.

“Let’s wait for Sirius outside,” you said, steering your son out of the store. “Classes going well?”

He nodded. “Bit easier than Durmstrang. Library’s better here. The moving staircases? Stupid,” he said, voice turning bitter at the mention of the stairs.

You tried not to laugh. Those stairs have always been a struggle for certain students. If Percy had started here when he was eleven, he likely wouldn't be so irritated with them now.

“Everything else is good though? Sleeping okay? Eating enough? Friends? Girlfriends?”

“Mum!” he whined. “Yeah, I’m good. All good. Got friends.”

You smiled impishly as your son turned bright red. It was your motherly duty to embarrass your son every once in a while. The bell above the Honeydukes door tinkled, announcing Sirius’ return to you.

“Where to next, L/Ns? Harry usually insists on Spintwitches, like he needs anything from there.”

“Harry?” Percy asked.

“Did I not mention? I’m Harry Potter’s uncle. You know, Gryffindor seeker,” Sirius answered.

Percy made a slight face at the clarification. You chuckled. Your indifference-leaning-dislike of James was apparently being relived by Percy and Harry.

“Not a fan, I take it?” Sirius said.

Percy tutted to buy him a moment before answering. He spoke slowly as if choosing his words carefully. “He’s not my favorite Gryffindor so far.”

“His father wasn’t mine either,” you told Percy, earning yourself an eye roll from Sirius. “Don’t think we need anything from Spintwitches… Uh, Percy, need any supplies? They got parchment, books, ink, quills, potion ingredients. Practically whatever you need.”

“I know, Mum. Not my first Hogsmeade visit,” Percy said. “Can we stop by Dogwood and Deathcap? I checked the Magic Neep for dittany last week and they were out. Draco wouldn’t go to Dogwood with me.”

You looked at Sirius, both of you nodding and then turning in the direction of the ingredients shop. Sirius kept looking at you with a smile on his face. You tried to ignore it and the way it sent butterflies into your stomach. You weren’t a teenager anymore. You were an adult with adult responsibilities and adult control over your feelings. Sirius should not have this effect on you anymore.

“How close were you two?” Percy asked, catching you and Sirius in the act of making eye contact and then immediately looking away.

“Ah, how do you kids say it these days? Frenemies?” you offered.

Sirius barked a loud laugh. He knew it was a fairly accurate description, it just left out the ‘more than friends’ portions.

“Frenemies?” Percy repeated.

“A very love-hate relationship. Don’t think your mum approved of all the trouble I got into,” Sirius confirmed. “She really didn’t like it when she got detention for something I did.”

You groaned at the memory.

“Sirius had me be his lookout while he stole from Professor Slughorn’s private stores. Potion master. And someone walked out of the closet when I clearly hadn’t given an ‘all clear’ signal.”

“I couldn’t hear you talking to Sluggy. I’ve apologized hundreds of times!”

“What other trouble did you get her into?” Percy asked eagerly.

The stories you had told him about your days weren’t the ones that ended with you in detention. You left out the stories that involved stealing from professors and the dueling in the corridors and sneaking around with Sirius and any pranks that you happened to be a part of.

Sirius hummed. “Did your mum ever tell you about the time she sent me flying into a wall? I was in the hospital wing for a week.”

“What? No? Mum?” Percy gasped. He looked between you. “What happened?”

“Your-ahem.” You cleared your throat. You had almost just called Sirius “your father” to Percy. That was a slip up you didn’t need happening. “Sirius was being an idiot and he ended up on the wrong side of my wand. It happens.” You hoped your nonchalance covered up your earlier mistake.

“The wrong side of your wand,” Sirius muttered with a shake of his head. “She hit me with Bombarda!”

“You deserved it.”

Sirius knew better than to argue with that point, especially since he didn’t fancy landing on a pumpkin in the field next to them. Sirius had been breaking up with you, again, when you sent him into the wall. You recalled it coming out of nowhere, but Sirius knew that James and Remus had urged him to get away from you. While he had been in the hospital wing due to his resulting injuries, you had nightly detention for a week.

“You went around Bombarda-ing people?” Percy asked.

“I did deserve it,” Sirius said before you could answer.

“Glad you admit it,” you told him before turning to Percy. “This is a ‘do as I say, not as I did’ situation. I’ve sat through more than my fair share of detention.”

“A whole new side to Mum… When did you stop being wild?”

You scrunched the left side of your face in thought. “Let’s see, you’re fifteen so somewhere around fifteen years ago?”

Percy made a face at you. The three of you walked up to Dogwood and Deathcap. Sirius held open the door for you. The shopkeeper greeted you from behind the counter but only Sirius got named.

“Do you have any dittany, ma’am?” Percy asked, leaning his arms on the counter to look behind her.

“That I do… Just let me grab it,” the witch answered.

As she turned to get it, Sirius stepped forward and pulled out his pouch of coins. Then you stepped forward, putting a hand over the pouch.

“I can pay,” you told him firmly.

“I want to.”

You glared at each other, each waiting for the other to back down. Somehow, you both missed Percy pulling out his own galleon and sliding it across the counter when the shopkeeper turned around with a package of dittany flowers.

“Thank you, ma’am. Mum? Sirius? You ready?”

You blinked and then looked at Percy.

“Oh, yeah. How much was it?”

“Just a galleon. Don’t worry about it. Money’s from Uncle.”

When you got back to the main street of Hogsmeade, Percy saw some of his friends heading back to the castle. He gave you one last hug and shook Sirius’ hand again before joining up with them. You and Sirius stood next to each other and watched him practically tackle Draco. Draco glanced back at you, offering a quick wave before they continued down the path.

“Didn’t tell him much about me, did you?” Sirius asked, still looking where the boys had disappeared into the horizon.

“He knows enough,” you said. “Sorry I didn’t tell him about the countless times you broke my heart.”

Sirius sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“He knows his father was smart, kind and loyal. Stuck up for his friends. I told him that his father had the brightest smile and he got it too. And he does. He has your smile.” You took a sharp breath. “I’m not sorry for leaving certain aspects out so he can have a good image of who his father is.”

“Thank you, then. For making me sound better than I am.”

You scoffed, or laughed. It was a mix.

“It’s all true, Sirius. The only lie I’ve told him about you is that you’re dead.”

“How did I die?”

This time, it was a real laugh that left your lips, full of warmth. It was the laugh that made Sirius fall in love with you time after time during your time at Hogwarts.

“At the hands of dark magic. If you had died in the war, it would’ve been the truth.”

“Ah, too bad I survived.”

You hummed. “Too bad.” You gave Sirius a kind smile. “I really should be going. And you should be finding Remus.”

You made to step off to the side where the Floo network was connected, but Sirius reached out to stop you.

“Where are you living nowadays?” he asked rushedly.

“Um, London. Why?”

“I told you, if you’d want to, I want to try again. Let me take you on a date. I’m in Godric’s Hollow, but I’ll go to wherever if you’re there.”

You pursed your lips as you considered it. You had said you would talk about it later. Sirius had played nice with the Malfoys and other Slytherin families. He did well with Percy. It had been a nice afternoon.

“Do you have a phone?” you asked.

“No? That’s a muggle thingy, right?”

You exhaled out of your nose. “Yeah. Then, I mean, I’m reachable by owl. We can grab a drink sometime.”

Sirius smiled widely and let go of your arm. You returned his smile, although yours was more polite while his was full of joy. You grabbed a handful of powder and vanished in a flash of green flames. Sirius waited a moment, staring where you had previously been standing. He had a son and the promise of a drink with you. He shook his head in disbelief as he turned to make his way back to the castle so he could find Remus. This really hadn’t been the day he was expecting when they arrived for the quidditch match, but he wasn’t complaining.

tags: @corawithfanfiction, @bruxa0007, @ayyeitssarahh, @jgdhmeynsgn

#marauders #marauders fic #marauder-misprint #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #slytherin!reader #request

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dfstolenart · 3 days ago

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Home With You | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: After a long and emotionally exhausting day, you come home feeling overwhelmed from the weight of your job but luckily your sweet loving boyfriend is there to comfort you.

A/N: so cuteeeee, love this one. Lmk your thots<33

BYR (B4 u Reid): sweet Spencer!, hard day at work, hints at abuse, child gets taken away, sad reader, sweet talk, flirting and feeling of not being enough. | kissing <— [warnings]

Your home was dimly lit when you entered the smell of a vanilla candle filled your nose, and your boyfriend was on the couch with a book on his lap

The weight of the day still pressing on your shoulders, you shut the door quietly behind you and drop your bag down with little care to where it lands

The exhaustion isn’t just physical, it sits in your bones heavy and aching, like the stories you’ve heard today, the ones you can’t unhear. The ones that make you question if you’re even making a difference.

You forget you’re standing in the middle of the entry way until a soft gentle voice pull you out “You’re late.”

He’s still sat on the couch only this time his eyes are on you scanning your face the way he does when he profiles a suspect “I know.” You murmur as you kick off your shoes “Didn’t expect to be.”

You make your way towards him, and he quickly closes his book moving it to the side of him “Come here.” He softly says as he pulls you onto his lap “tough day?”

The laugh that leaves you is hallow “That’s one way to put it.” Before you can say anything else Spencer’s hand is cupping your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones

His touch is grounding, pulling you back from the spiral you feel yourself slipping into.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head “not yet”

He nods, understanding in his eyes “okay”

You rest your head on him, and grab his hands interlacing them together

For a while neither of you speak. The silence is comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. But Spencer is patient, he always is. He knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. Eventually you break the silence, your voice barely above a whisper.

“There was a little boy today. Six years old. His mom.. she” your voice cracked “She wasn’t a monster, Spencer. She wasn’t some evil person, but she was sick, and he was the one paying for it.” You feel his arms tighten around you, and he presses a soft gentle kiss to the side of your head “I’m sorry” he murmurs

“I had to take him away. He cried the whole time for his mommy, telling me she didn’t mean it trying to convince me to take him back home.” Your eyes stung with tears and you squeeze them shut “I know I did the right thing, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Spencer sighed, and squeezed your hand “Do you know how many times I’ve asked myself if I’ve done the right thing? If all of us at the BAU have? We don’t always get happy endings. Sometimes we don’t even get closure, But what keeps me going, what keeps us all going is knowing that we tried. That we did everything we could.”

You met his gaze, searching for something understanding, reassurance. And you find it.

His hand leaves yours to brush a tear from your cheek “That little boy… he might not understand now, but one day, he will. And because of you he’ll have a chance at something better.”

You let out a shaky breath

“I just feel like I’m suffocating sometimes, like no matter how much I do it’s never enough for these kids. I want to do more for them, i wish I could just take all their pain from them.”

Spencer pulled you in closer to him “you’re doing more than enough.” You close your eyes allowing yourself to believe him, even if it’s just for tonight.

“I love you” you whisper

“I love you too.” He says, holding you tighter, as if he could shield you from all the darkness in the world.

Spencer holds you against him for a long time, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your arm. His warmth, his presence, it’s enough to keep you tethered even when your mind still lingers on the weight of the day

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice lighter now, teasing “cuddling releases oxytocin, which reduces stress and promotes emotional bonding. So technically I am scientifically proven to be good for you.”

You both look at each other smiles both plastered on your faces “oh, is that so Dr. Reid?”

“Mhm” he hums clearly pleased with himself “Also prolonged physical affection can also lower blood pressure and improve someone’s overall mood. So, really, I’d be doing you a disservice if I let you go.”

Amusement flickered through your tired eyes “To me, that sounds like an excuse to keep me in your arms.”

He smirked “It’s science. Don’t argue against it.”

You shake your head rolling your eyes “I think you just like having me close.”

“I do” he admits easily, his voice dropping just slightly sending a shiver down your spine, his fingers continue to trail lightly up and down your arm “You’re warm, you smell good and well I’m very fond of you.”

“Fond of me?” You raised an eyebrow “You’re supposed to be utterly obsessed with me.”

He let out a small laugh “what if I say I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you? That I think about you every second we’re apart, and when you’re not in my arms, I wish you were.”

Your breath catches, your heart flutters you feel so special to hear these words come from the man in front of you “That's better.” you say

Spencer leans in, brushing his nose against yours before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. It's slow, lingering, and so sweet

Then he pulls back, you feel empty without his lips on yours “Then i’ll remind you every day for as long as I live.” your heart swelled

“You're really good at this whole comforting thing.” You smile as you rest your forehead against his, he grins “Well I do have an IQ of 18-”

“Shut up” you cut him off with a desperate kiss . . .

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid series #criminal minds bau

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odoraful · 1 day ago

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𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹, 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹.ᐟ

xiao has been noticing some symptoms in you lately and decides to go to baizhu for some advice…

⟡ content — xiao x gn!reader ; absolute fluff, i'm talking very silly and cute ; baizhu and qiqi appearance ; reader has a massive crush on xiao and it goes utterly over his head ; but xiao is just trying his best to be caring ; 3.2k words

⟡ a/n — xiao lovers please rise 🙂‍↕️ banner art by dsmile9 on twitter!

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In his time as a doctor, Baizhu had seen it all. Every weird and wonderful thing about the human body. Every high and low of the human experience. He thought there was little that could shock him now. However, he was disproven at this very moment when the Conqueror of Demons showed up at Bubu Pharmacy.

There actually didn’t seem to be wrong with the yaksha in terms of ailments. No gaping wounds or visible signs of karmic corruption. Baizhu did observe that he appeared more bashful that usual with how tight his arms were folded across his chest, but he did well to hide it under his stone-faced expression.

What was wrong was that he was standing here.

Willingly standing here.

Not being dragged in a half-conscious state by little Qiqi or another one of his companions who certainly cared about his health more than himself.

If Xiao was at his doorstep, the situation must be rather serious.

“Conqueror of Demons,” he greeted, resting his chin on his hand. “Now, isn’t this a welcome surprise?”

Qiqi hopped down from her stool behind the counter, shuffling towards Xiao with unbelieving eyes. She poked at his leg, checking that it was really the yaksha in the flesh. Xiao let the young girl prod as he unfolded his arms and spoke.

“Baizhu, I need your assistance.”

A request for aid? From the Conqueror of Demons himself? Baizhu stood up straighter, his curiosity changing from amused to serious.

“I-it’s about Y/N.”

Ah, I should have known. Yes, he was familiar with you. The person who had brought Xiao to the pharmacy in the aftermath of a particularly dangerous patrol. He could never forget the worry carved into your face and the tenderness in how you brushed his hair away from his sweat slicked skin. As to your relationship together, he had his internal speculations, but never heard anything official as of yet.

Baizhu nodded. “Qiqi, would you mind closing up the pharmacy early today?”

He looked over at Xiao with a soft smile, “Come with me to the back. We can have a discussion there.”

The room Baizhu led Xiao into was reserved for consultations with patients who had more complicated presentations. The furniture inside were all crafted from the same dark wood with gold embellishments. It contained a bed with white linens, a chest of multiple drawers containing all sorts of herbalist components, a low table for working with accompanying stools and chairs, and a bamboo screen for privacy where a wash bucket and cloth were set up behind.

Rather than sit on the bed or in any available chair, Xiao chose to stand. Baizhu sat in his chair by the table, legs crossed. Qiqi joined them soon after, plopping herself onto a stool.

“What seems to be the problem?” Baizhu asked.

Xiao sighed, brow twisted with concern. It was probably the most emotion he had seen in the yaksha. “Y/N hasn’t been themself lately… I believe they might be ill, but I can’t conclude what the ailment is.”

“And may I ask why you came to me? Wouldn’t it make greater sense to have them see me directly than through a middle man?”

Xiao shook his head. “Each time I’ve asked about the state of their health, they dismiss me.”

“I see…” Baizhu hummed with understanding.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask about the condition of their loved ones. But to see the Conqueror of Demons show such care for someone despite his reclusive nature. Curious indeed.

“Well then,” he continued, taking his pen and flicking open a notebook in front of him to a fresh page, “what symptoms have you’ve observed so far?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

patient has been showing signs of increased clumsiness…

Xiao wasn’t a master at interpreting emotion, but he was adept at observing them. Any flicker of change in someone or something’s manner could be the difference between blocking a strike or being fatally injured. Not that being in mortal danger applied to this situation right now, but the skill was transferrable. Right now, Xiao was observing you from the balcony of his room at Wangshu Inn. You were assiting Verr Goldet with hanging some new decorations far below. The boss, however, had currently been pulled aside to help an elderly couple with directions.

Standing on a step ladder, he watched as you hung up a red colored ornament to one of the lantern poles that lined the deck of the inn. His keen senses spiked. The combination of you on your tippy toes, the unstable structure supporting you, and your focus being entirely on hanging the decoration instead of yourself did not have many positive outcomes. Instantly, Xiao went from being on the topmost floor to behind you. Traces of his teleportation manifesting as green wisps of energy in the air.

You felt the ladder stabilize beneath your. Your heels fell back down as you stood properly.

“Thanks Goldet!” you called over your shoulder before turning around fully to ask, “Tell me, would the flower or butterfly one look better—”

The rest of your question caught in your throat. Verr Goldet was not there behind you. Rather, a certain teal haired protector who you had grown close to.

You were introduced to Xiao by Verr Goldet herself who believed it would be good for you and him to meet. Being apart of the adventurer’s guild meant that you had interacted with many different individuals, and could share your knowledge of the mortal world. As time passed, strangers would turn to acquaintances, then acquaintances would turn into friends. The label of which Xiao himself bestowed upon you on an ordinary afternoon. It made your heart both soar at the heartfelt admission and sink to hear such a definitive term. You always hoped there would be room for something more.

Xiao blinked up at you on the ladder. In a matter of seconds, he saw your eyes go wide with recognition, then your feet slipping against the ladder’s surface. Thankfully, he had reflexes as quick as an electro thunderstorm. You tumbled forward, straight into his arms.

“X-Xiao?!” you squeaked.

He didn’t let you go just yet. Instead, he tightened his hold on you, trying to let the shock of the fall pass over you.

“This ladder is too unbalanced,” he said. “You should be more careful.”

You could only nod. Your brain was more occupied with your proximity to Xiao. How you could see the different shades of amber in the irises of his eyes, and the shape of his lips.

Some part of your consciousness pinched itself, and you whipped your head away.

“I-I didn’t realize. That’s my mistake,” you answered with a sheepish chuckle.

He gave a short sigh before gently letting you stand. The places where his strong grip held you still tingled against your skin.

“Also… the flower one,” Xiao mumbled.

You cocked your head, thinking you had misheard him. “I’m sorry?”

Xiao folded his arms, nodding towards the lantern pole.

“You asked about the decorations. The flower one would… look nice.”

Never had such simple words caused a flutter in your stomach.

If that wasn’t enough, Xiao remained with you, lending a hand where he could. He didn’t want there to be an accident if he had left you alone. What he didn’t expect was that you seemed to be more clumsier as time continued. Unable to step on the ladder without your knees wobbling, tripping over the boxes of decorations, dropping the tools every time you went to hang a decoration up. Considerate as he was, Xiao climbed ladders, moved boxes, and hammered things in place for you without protest. Though, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but be concerned.

Verr Goldet returned to find the pair hard at work. She observed, amusingly, how obvious you were being about your feelings and how oblivious the other was in seeing them.

Ah, youth, she mused to herself.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

patient has been experiencing raised bodily temperature…

Telling Xiao not to worry was like telling the waters in Chenyu Vale not to flow. It was a simple law of nature; a force unable to be stopped.

“I’m feeling perfectly fine,” you emphasized for a second time.

You were seated on the small sofa in your living room. Beside you, Xiao also sat, straight-backed and gloved hands in his lap.

Xiao had come to your home to visit. Both out of curiosity as to how mortals lived in their own dwellings and curiosity about you. More specifically, why you had been so flushed recently. Whenever he saw you, he noticed the pink that spread from tips of your ears to apples of your cheeks.

“There are signs that show otherwise,” he stated, bluntly.

Ever since that time he helped you decorate the inn, Xiao had been much, much more attentive towards you. Eyes examining you up and down with little subtlety. Under such a gaze, how couldn’t you become hot and bothered?

“I am not familiar with mortal health, but I have noticed you’ve grown more…” Xiao searched for the right descriptor in his head, “…redder, recently.”

Archons, does he know about it?! you thought to yourself with alarm. He turned towards you, and you stifled a yelp. There was no way in Celestia this was how he would find out.

“It may be due to some kind of illness.”

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. An… illness?

Sensing the confusion on your face, Xiao moved nearer until he was right by your side. He lifted a hand up to your forehead, an action he had observed many adults perform on children to assess their temperature. If he was correct in its function, then this should allow him to draw an appropriate conclusion.

Your body locked up.

He was so, so close once again.

“Even now,” the slight gravel of his tone reverberated in your ears, “your face is heating up. It is likely a fever.”

He pulled away. You exhaled a breath that you subconsciously held.

“I can take you to see Baizhu. He will know what to do.”

Xiao stood up, implying that he would take you there right now.

“No, no! There’s absolutely no need!” you protested.

The emphatic rejection made Xiao frown.

“I-it’s nothing that bedrest can’t fix.” you said, attempting to provide a convincing cover. “There’s no need to waste your teleportation powers to transport me.”

“It is no waste if it concerns your health,” he answered.

“You know what,” you shot up from the sofa, “I’ll go to my room right now to get some sleep!”

Xiao opened his mouth, prepared with his own protest. However, you were faster than him in continuing your sentence.

“You should go now, Xiao. I wouldn’t want you to catch whatever sickness I have.”

Though he appreciated your consideration, as an adeptus with a completely different constitution, he was certain mortal ailments would hardly affect him. However, he couldn't explain all that to you with how fast you marched away to your room, leaving him behind.

He saw your head poke out from behind the door of your bedroom.

“Thank you for visiting me!” you called out before shutting the door.

If Xiao knew this word, he would have used it to describe the exact emotion he was feeling at this moment: Flabbergasted.

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patient’s heartrate is frequently elevated…

Even after the fever incident, Xiao, to your relief, still wished to see you. You half expected him to be so bewildered by your actions that he would no longer want to be associated with you. So, you two returned to your ordinary routines of meeting with each other.

Xiao liked having your company in the evenings before he went out on patrol. As you sat on the edge of his bed, you would tell him about your week’s completed commissions. For Xiao, it served many purposes. Tactically, he could get insight any threats to Liyue that he couldn’t detect if you were involved in or overheard any significant commissions. In those first instances of meeting with you, Xiao would have said that that was the only purpose your stories held for him. But, with each passing night, Xiao realized he rather enjoyed hearing your voice. The cadence of your tone soothed him the same way notes played by a skilled musician captured an audience. He then found his lips curving into a hidden smile whenever you described a particularly frustrating encounter. Cheeks puffed in annoyance that drew a word from his vocabulary that he seldom used: cute.

Tonight, however, you appeared to be in no such mood for stories.

You were quiet, slowly flipping through pages of a novel as you read. It wasn’t strange for you to complete your own activity during this time, but Xiao had come to anticipate your conversation. His concerns about your health bubbled to the surface once again.

If he had focused more closely on you, he would have seen that your attention was far from the words on the page. Not looking at Xiao meant your heart could be less out on your sleeve and instead encased within muscle and bone where its supposed to be.

Xiao glanced back at you, eyes glued to the novel. He wouldn’t push it. Maybe this was the rest you were speaking about previously to help you recover.

He grabbed his shoulder armor from the bedside table, preparing to put it on himself using one hand as he had done hundreds of times before.

Two hands grasped the armor, lifting it from his own grasp.

“Let me help you.”

Your voice was delicate, almost hesitant as you reached out.

Xiao wordlessly accepted, sitting down on the bed to grant you easier access. You adjusted the spiked armor piece, making sure it laid flat and the black material beneath was secure around his shoulder.

Whilst you didn’t look up at him, he freely observed you. There was something beneath your avoidant gaze and bitten lower lip he couldn’t quite decipher. At the same time, there was something in his chest that stirred.

So unfamiliar with these new emotions you seemed to bring for him, Xiao could only think in somethings.

“Thank you,” he said. “You are very kind.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “It’s always easier to have someone else helping you out.”

Fitting the amour in place, you went to pull away. Suddenly, Xiao caught your wrist with his hand.

The breath escaped your lungs. You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were imagining all this in your head. Xiao brought two fingers to your wrist, applying light pressure onto your skin.

“Your pulse...” concern laced his voice as he spoke. “It is quite fast.”

How could he even sense such a thing!? You cleared your throat, trying to temper your shock.

“It’s always naturally this high,” you answered as light-hearted as possible.

“Mhm,” Xiao could only hum with mild suspicion.

Willing his jade spear to materialize, Xiao weighed it in his hand, readying for the night’s patrol.

“Look after yourself,” he said gently. “I’ll return tomorrow.”

With a nod and a lilt in your voice you replied, “I know. You always do.”

Xiao headed to the balcony. He did not turn around to face you, and therefore missed your tender gaze and your fingers brushing over your wrist where his gloved touch still lingered on your skin.

Disappearing into the night, Xiao made up his mind. He would go consult Baizhu about your condition and see what the course of action he should take. Surely the well practiced doctor could provide some necessary answers.

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During the first part of Xiao’s recounts, Baizhu had a pretty good guess about what was happening with you. By the halfway point, he wondered if he should even continue feigning writing patient notes.

Xiao finished relaying his information, hands now on his hips—expectantly. “What do you think is happening?”

Baizhu tapped his pen against the page of the notebook. It certainly is a very special type of sickness… he thought to himself. How would Xiao react if he told him he diagnosed you with 'lovesickness'?

“Will Y/N be okay?” Qiqi asked, tugging on Baizhu’s white coat. “I like Y/N. They always give warm hugs.”

The doctor gave a reassuring smile and patted Qiqi’s head. “Yes, they’ll be alright. I’ve made my assessment.”

Xiao prepared himself. If it was serious, he needed to know how to best help you. Comparatively, Baizhu appeared not the least bit troubled. Turning to the adeptus, he drummed his fingers against the table.

“Did you notice a particular trend in the occurrence of these symptoms?”

“A trend?” Xiao repeated, resting his chin on his hand.

Maybe it had to do with the weather? Or something you had eaten on those days?

“Yes, they all seem to happen when you’re there,” Baizhu answered seeing Xiao unable to come to a conclusion. “Being more clumsy, feeling hot, a fast beating heart, but only around a certain someone…”

Xiao’s brows raised. “Am I the cause of Y/N’s illness? Is my karmic debt responsible for this?”

Baizhu shook his head immediately. “No, no, Archons no! I can assure you that these symptoms have nothing to do with your karma.”

He sighed, trying to switch his words. “Rather, it’s more to do with your… character.”

“My character?” Exasperated confusion was permanently affixed to Xiao’s face. “This ambiguity you speak with is unhelpful.”

Baizhu had done some tough things as a doctor. But trying to subtly hint to a somewhat emotionally unaware individual that someone had a crush on him was certainly one of the hardest.

He paused a moment. Was it really his place to reveal this? Wouldn’t it be far better, and more meaningful, for you to tell him on your own?

“Some symptoms that people report are actually very normal parts of everyday living,” he said, adopting his most professional tone. "My recommendation is for you to ask Y/N how they’ve been feeling recently, and to tell them that it’s never healthy to keep things bottled up inside.”

Finally, some advice for Xiao to action.

“You think I should be more direct in my confrontation?” he asked.

“Yes, but not too much to arouse anxiety.”

Xiao nodded thoughtfully. He should have known that it didn’t have to be a physical illness—maybe your symptoms were a manifestation of stress or worry you were experiencing. Talking it out would be a good step. Even if he was not the most skilled at it, he would try anything to help you feel better.

“I will take your advice. Thank you, Baizhu.”

He bowed his head in thanks. Baizhu gave a hum of what sounded like satisfaction.

“Tell me how it all goes, Conqueror of Demons.”

Baizhu’s voice as he spoke was a little too singsong for Xiao’s taste. But, he was one of the best doctors in Liyue, so who was he to second guess his words?

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